5

They curled up on the couch together, a blanket wrapped around their shoulders and Ezra wrapped around Morgan—who was still almost fully dressed, he noticed. Morgan hadn't taken off his shirt until after. A network of old scars lay beneath, faint spots and newer streaks of pink against his golden-brown skin, some lost beneath the dark hair on his chest.

Ezra stiffened at the brand-new scratches on Morgan's shoulders, raised lines of red that neatly fit the shape of his hands. "Oh shit. I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

Morgan grinned at him. "I'm not complaining." He leaned up to kiss Ezra, one hand tangling in his hair.

"I tried not to. I didn't want to hurt you."

"You didn't. I've gotten worse than this just wrangling my nieces and nephew." Morgan peered up into his face, a wicked sparkle in his eyes. "But if you're so worried maybe next time we'll just have to strap you down."

Each word was like a jolt of electricity straight through him. Ezra blushed, burying his face against Morgan's shoulder so he wouldn't see. "There's going to be a next time?" That was easier to focus on. Safer.

"I was hoping so, yeah." Morgan's touch played over Ezra's spine until he was practically vibrating with pleasure again.

He'd started to drift off into a contented doze when Morgan cleared his throat. "There's really no good time to ask this, but how about you explain what you were talking about earlier? You said a lot of words real fast and I only caught about half of it, but it sounded... serious."

Ezra's immediate reaction was to say "no" and wriggle out of Morgan's lap. He stood, taking the blanket with him as he stomped off to find his clothes. The sweater might technically be Morgan's, but after two days it was as good as his. He tugged it on. "I was hoping you forgot about that." He threw the blanket at Morgan's head.

The hunter had the audacity to smile, stretching his arms over the back of the couch. "Nope."

"This is why I hate humans. You don't know anything."

"You didn't hate me when your dick was in my mouth." He patted the couch at his side. "Come back over here so we can talk."

"Don't tell me what to do," Ezra snapped, but his feet were already carrying him closer. He sat with his back against the armrest, as far away as he could get, planted both feet against Morgan's thigh, and pushed in an effort to force him to move over.

Instead of obliging, Morgan wrapped one big hand around his ankle and tugged gently. "Talk to me."

"Why do you even care?" He sounded petulant, he knew.

Morgan's expression was curious as he shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe because we're both stuck here for at least another day and I still barely know a thing about you besides the fact that you're a vampire and sucking you off was the best thing I've done in years. I'd like to do it again sometime soon. But first I'd like to know why you showed up here half starved and covered in bruises. You laughed off all my attacks so I'm guessing it had to be something pretty big to do that to you. Thought you might want to talk about it."

Ezra pulled weakly against the grip on his ankle, testing it. Morgan let go. That hadn't been his intention. He'd only wanted to test the feeling, to find the shape of it, the edges and the angles. It was still new to be touched by anyone beyond family. Most were too scared. Those that weren't, wanted something. It was part of why he'd never accepted any of the offers he'd gotten over the years—and there had been plenty. No matter how much they might have wanted Ezra they would always want his family more. Their name, their status, their money, their favor. But Morgan seemed to be content with the touch itself. Skin against skin. Ezra reached down and put Morgan's hand back where it had been, closing his fingers around one ankle. Almost immediately Morgan's thumb began to massage in slow circles. Ezra focused on that instead of the words he had to find.

"It's not like it was my aim to be lost in the woods in the snow," he began. Petulant again. He didn't care. It was a familiar habit too. As the youngest he got whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it—as long as what he wanted wasn't freedom. There was always someone there to watch over him. Nannies as a child. Then he'd graduated to tutors. Minders. Bodyguards. Spies, more like. These last few days were the closest he'd ever been to alone and the longer it went on the more terrifyingly real it became. He felt like a flipped coin, both sides flashing as they caught the light.

He missed his family.

He never wanted to go back.

Family.

Freedom.

Why couldn't he have both? Why had things gone so horribly awry? All he'd wanted was what was his already—life, and the ability to live it.

And, like a wedge between the two halves of him, sat that spike of fear. A mean little voice said he'd deserved it all. For running away. For being willful.

He looked down, spotting a hangnail. His manicure was ruined. He picked at the chipped polish that remained, unable to look at Morgan as he spoke, his voice carefully flat. Told like that it could be someone else's life.

"It's not a brief story," he said. "But I can tell it to you. If you want."

"I do."

"I explained the clans to you before. The infighting. Politics. The only thing that happens when you live centuries is that you can keep grudges longer and harder than anyone."

"So you really do live that long, huh?"

"Yes."

"How old are you then? You don't look that old."

Ezra flushed. "Twenty-four. Stop interrupting."

"Huh." Morgan lips turned out in a thoughtful pout. "We're practically the same age. That's a surprise. Go on."

"I've been trying—"

"Wait, one more question first: were you turned? How does that work?"

Ezra kicked him in the thigh. "I said stop interrupting. And no it doesn't work that way. Not with us. I mean... we can. Even I could turn someone if I wished. But it's against our laws. No turning without an appeal to the clan leader first, which is part of the problem. Some are very lax. Sloppy. And they outnumber us now. Turning is unpredictable. It's just as likely to make a monster as a lesser vampire. If you've ever seen what you thought was a vampire, it was probably one of those. That's why it's supposed to be monitored."

"So you..."

Ezra glared at Morgan. "I was never human. Vampires can have children, you know. I have a number of siblings that could prove that to you. We're just uncommon. My next older sister would have been forty-six now. They weren't even expecting me so soon."

"Would have?"

"Dead. Killed in a fight with another clan. I was born not long after, much to everyone's surprise. The miracle child. But the wars still continued and it only took one security breach to sentence me to an armed guard for every one of my twenty-four fucking years."

Morgan's fingers drummed lightly against Ezra's shin as he looked him up and down. "And yet here you are," he drawled.

Ezra looked away. "I snuck out. Again, technically. It's what I do when I can't take it anymore. Previous attempts ended much more quickly." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Morgan raise an eyebrow. "One of my brothers usually. He's very good at finding me. And back to my seclusion I would go, everyone watching me like a hawk until enough time passed and they forgot they had ever worried about me."

"But not this time."

"No. Not this time." Ezra bit his lip. Unease crawled beneath his skin, vibrating up and out from every pore. "I fucked up. Badly. I just wanted to go out. Alone. For one night. So I paid a witch to help me get out of the building without anyone knowing. It was only a simple spell to cover my presence. A friend had used her before and they vouched for her skills. I planned everything so perfectly." He nipped at the hangnail with his teeth. Shrank in on himself.

"I didn't think anyone would recognize me at the club, but they must have somehow. The human I left with... it was a setup. They weren't alone and they were prepared for me. Vampires I would have sensed. Blood calls to blood. I thought being around humans would be safer." He waved a hand. It was shaking. He curled it into a fist in his lap so Morgan wouldn't see. "I don't know where they took me, but when I woke up I was in a house in the woods and I felt a vampire getting closer so I panicked. I thought it might be one of the other clans. Like my family warned me." Morgan looked horrified. Ezra didn't like having put that expression on his face. "I didn't kill any of them. And I didn't drink. I just ran," he assured him almost desperately.

Morgan shook himself like he'd been in a trance. "You were... kidnapped. By another vampire clan?"

Ezra nodded slowly. He had no other explanation for it.

"That's why you showed up here like that? Holy shit. That sounds scary as hell."

Maybe it was the look on his face or the absolute certainty with which he'd said it, or maybe just the fact that Ezra was warm and safe with someone he should have been neither with, but finally something cracked, a fissure straight through his breastbone and into his heart. He burst into tears.

Morgan gathered him up in strong arms, hands rubbing the tension out of his back, soft voice babbling comforting nonsense in his ears. "It's okay, baby. You're safe now. You're safe."

Ezra sobbed against his chest, melting into every touch and whispered word. Fingers ran down his spine like water. Wrapped in the smell that was uniquely Morgan. He might never be able to smell chocolate again without immediately reaching for Morgan.

Morgan squeezed his hip and Ezra raised his head. "Are you—" He cocked his head and licked his lips. "Are you okay? Under the circumstances, I mean. Is that everything that happened? They didn't try anything else?"

Ezra sniffled and shook his head. "Almost as soon as I woke up, I got out. I think they expected me to be weaker." He attempted a smirk. It was somewhat ruined by the hiccupping sob that followed it.

Morgan brushed the tendrils of hair back from his forehead before he framed Ezra's face with both warm hands. "It's not your fault, you know. None of it."

His first impulse was to turn away, but Morgan held him there with his eyes and his touch. So gentle. Why did every word out of Morgan's mouth sound like truth?

Morgan rubbed his back and smiled up at him reassuringly. With one thumb he brushed away the tear under one of Ezra's eyes. "You're safe."

Ezra kissed him. There was something so perfectly easy about it. The way Morgan's tongue swept into his mouth as one hand cupped the back of his neck. It claimed him without saying a word. He had only to relax into it. He'd been through so much to get here. He wanted his prize, for however long it lasted.

One hand pressed to Morgan's chest right over the rapid beat of his heart. It was fast, faster than Ezra's. Was it always or was that excitement he was feeling? He wanted to know. Experimentally he ground their hips together. Morgan's pulse quickened beneath his fingertips.

Morgan groaned. "Shit. You're gonna kill me." Despite the complaint, his hands had already shifted lower to knead Ezra's ass. "We were supposed to be talking."

"We were. And now I want to be done talking." He still felt ready to rattle out of his skin and the only thing keeping him together was Morgan's grip, his smell, his warmth. It made everything else feel so distant. Inconsequential. If he could just hold onto this moment forever, nothing else would ever be able to touch him. Morgan's head dropped back and Ezra licked a stripe up his neck. "Please. You smell so good. Edible."

"Just what every guy longs to hear." He groaned again. Then he sat up, eyes glazed but determined. "This is going to be a thing with you, isn't it? You can't just avoid talking about shit by being pretty."

Ezra's grin was all deviousness. He rocked forward, pressing into Morgan's growing arousal until the hunter's breath caught. "Are you sure?"

Morgan's answer came out a whine. "You make a persuasive argument."