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Ezra leaned against the railing, hands gripping tight to the wood. It was a ghost of the sensation of earlier, but not half so nice.
The wind blew cold. It stole every bit of warmth that Morgan had planted in him earlier while teasing him into an inferno—over hours it had seemed like, hours at the other man's mercy—but the ice in the air helped keep his mind clear. He was smooth and blank as the snow piled up around the cabin. Their footprints from the trek into town were nearly gone already. The wind had scoured them away, but it couldn't cover everything.
There was a presence in the woods tonight. And it was close.
While he waited for it to find him, Ezra drew out the knife he'd taken from Morgan's things. The hunter was passed out, sprawled diagonally across the bed, and wouldn't miss it. He hadn't even stirred when Ezra slid out from beneath his arm and tiptoed from the room.
Ezra wondered, if he disappeared tonight, would Morgan miss him once he was gone? He wanted to be missed. He wanted the hunter to remember the way his skin felt and the exact color of his eyes and the fact that his left fang was the slightest bit crooked, because there wouldn't be a day that went by when Ezra smelled chocolate and didn't think of him.
He pressed the tip of the knife, a hunting knife with a partially serrated edge, into the soft wood of the railing until it made a small groove. Then he made another mark beside the first. He'd made a line of tiny grooves—at least two dozen—before he felt the presence again. It was even closer this time.
Ezra made the next mark with shaking hands.
The forest was a blue-black blur even to his eyes, but the wind tossing the tree branches made it look like it was writhing. Some great beast rippling around him in a living wall.
Something rustled and cracked in the dark. He almost dropped the knife.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are." He descended the porch steps. They were still ice slicked and snow crusted so he moved slowly with the knife held out before him. It was as much for his own protection in case he slipped as it was to be threatening. The blade was silver coated and would work just as well on him as it did on any other vampire, but it comforted him to have it. He wasn't defenseless this time. He'd prepared, even if only with a knife and hypervigilance.
Another crack sounded in the trees.
Vampires had a song all their own, the slow waltz of blood and old magic, so different from the constant and frenetic thrum of humanity. There was no mistaking it.
"Come out. I know you're there."
This time the presence obliged.
It emerged from the trees like a streak of light and Ezra stumbled backwards, almost all the way to the steps before he caught himself. Retreating didn't project strength. He'd meant to be strong. There was no chance to shift his stance before it collided with him.
Ezra swung wildly with the knife, his growl a mixture of fear and exertion.
A hand caught his wrist. "Careful there, little brother." The tone was amused. Ezra had missed that voice and dreaded it in equal measure these last few days. "You almost hit me." Seraphine smiled dashingly as she tossed the hair from her eyes.
No. It was too soon.
Ezra had barely begun to mist before Seraphine caught his wrist to anchor him.
"Shh, Ezra. It's only me."
He pulled against his sister's grip on his arms. "I know that. Let me go."
She held him a moment longer just to prove she could, then dropped her hands and took a step back. The knife had stuck itself into the snow a few feet away. He didn't remember dropping it.
Seraphine looked as she always did—beautiful and calm. The warmth of her amber skin washed out by moonlight. No nonsense with her strong jaw and short dark hair swept back from her forehead. It was mussed from the wind and she ran a hand through it to put it back into order, tucking the ends behind her ear on one side. She smelled faintly of blood, but he couldn't see any sign of it on her black suit.
Ezra shifted back a step and froze again when her eyes narrowed. "What's going on here, Ez? Four days we've been looking for you and not a word. You look well enough."
"I can explain—"
She folded her arms. "Do tell."
"How much do you know?"
"Assume I know just enough to make me unhappy." She looked it. Then again, Seraphine made an art out of displeasure. His eldest sister ruled the family's day-to-day management with an iron fist and an equal amount of zeal, whether it was a business contract or the lives of the other siblings. Nothing happened without her knowing about it. That was the official story. Seraphine always took it as a personal slight whenever anyone got something around her. It was twice as bad when that someone was Ezra. More than ten years and she still hadn't forgiven him for the time he'd accidentally stowed away on a plane carrying one of their blood shipments. In his defense, no one had told him the plane was bound for the other side of the country. He had only wanted to see if the blood was really kept in an enormous jar like his friend Vox had claimed. It wasn't.
Ezra fumbled for where to begin that might satisfy Seraphine. "You know I snuck out," he began tentatively, eyes trained on her face in the hopes of reading her expression. It was as indecipherable as always.
"Evidently. I don't suppose you would like to provide the names of your co-conspirators this time."
He shook his head. The question was only a formality. She knew he wouldn't say and they both knew that she would figure it out in time anyway. He would have to get word to Vox's witch friend somehow. She might want to make herself scarce for a few months. Or even a year. Two just to be safe. "I planned to be gone only a few hours. A day at most. You would hardly have noticed."
"Because you brought a witch into our territory. The entire floor reeked of magic for days after we broke that spell you left in your room. You're lucky Mother wasn't around to smell it."
He scowled at her, lifting his chin. "I wouldn't have to go to all this trouble if you would let me go. I can take care of myself."
"You were kidnapped."
"And I escaped. What more do you want from me?" he snapped back.
"I want you to think, Ezra. For once in your life, think about something besides yourself." Her voice stayed perfectly flat, the only indication of her anger in the tightness of her jaw.
He almost laughed at that. "Think? You want me to think? All I do is think. You won't let me do anything else."
"And yet somehow after all that thinking you never learn to clean up your own messes. Do you want to take a guess about why I smell like blood, little brother?"
He flinched at her words. It hurt more because there was a kernel of truth in it.
"Don't worry. No one touches you and gets away with it. It's been handled."
Ezra let out a long breath as that worry fell off him. "Was it?"
She nodded once. "We cleared the house where they tried to hold you." Her face was hard, but her hands were gentle as she smoothed his hair back from his forehead. She tilted his head up to the moonlight as if examining it for cracks. Though they were the same height, she seemed taller. "Stuart was frantic when he couldn't find you. The other siblings too. At first we feared the worst."
He shrank one final bit he hadn't known he had left. "I'm sorry."
"Then you know it's time you came home."
"But—"
He resisted even as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and turned him, looking back towards the sleeping cabin. It wasn't so sleepy after all.
Morgan vaulted the railing, knife flashing in the blue moonlight, all fierceness in a way Ezra had never seen before. "Get away from him."
Seraphine tsked impatiently and lifted a hand to swat him aside.
Ezra knocked her hand back down. "Leave him alone."
"So it really is like that."
He didn't have a chance to answer before Morgan reached them, ready to start swinging. Ezra caught his wrist too and peeled the knife out of his fingers. There was no sense wasting any blood in a fight they were all going to lose. "She's my sister. One of them." He guided Morgan back a step, using his own body as leverage, taking as much comfort from the contact as Morgan seemed to. He smelled warm and spicy, like cinnamon now. Ezra kissed him to see if he could taste it on his lips.
Morgan's arms came around his waist.
Seraphine cleared her throat. "We weren't finished. I asked you a question, Ezra, and you still owe me an answer. What do you think you're doing here?" She didn't have to add with a human. He could hear it in her voice. She stood with her arms folded again and it made her look unmovable, like a warrior carved out of stone. She gazed between Ezra and Morgan. Her jaw clenched.
Ezra turned in the circle of Morgan's arms, holding tightly to him to be sure he didn't let go. "I'm doing what I want. Finally."
"You've always done whatever you wanted, Ezra. We coddled you too much." She sounded bored again. Dismissive. It hurt even though he was expecting it. And it made him angry. That he hadn't expected.
"You're still not listening to me," he growled. "I've been your little doll. No going outside the walls alone. Wait my turn. Play nice with the friends you chose. Live the life you chose. I'm not doing it anymore. Now I get to choose."
"So that's it, is it? You find a convenient new rescuer and you have no use for your family anymore?" She leveled a stare like an icepick on Morgan. "Not even a single call to tell us you were well."
"It's not about him. I didn't call you because I knew you would be like this," Ezra said. He stomped one foot so he wouldn't scream. "I've waited years for you all to decide I was ready to be on my own and stop treating me like I'm made of glass. I missed everyone more than you know, but I'm not going back to that. You can't keep me locked up forever."
Seraphine's expression darkened. "You know it's not up to me."
Ezra pressed back into Morgan's body. "Does Mother know?"
"Not so far. But she will."
"Don't tell her. Please. I'm... happy."
She actually looked sympathetic for a moment before the look vanished. "I won't have to tell her. She'll know it the second she steps foot in the building. You should know that too. I never wanted to be your jailer, Ez. But you know the rules." She looked pointedly at Morgan. "And you just broke at least a dozen. I hope it was worth it."
Morgan growled something from behind him. "It has been," Ezra said.
She nodded. "Good. But it has to be over now. You can't stay here."
"No."
"Ezra."
"No. Not yet."
"Mother will return soon. You can take it up with her, but you're coming home."
"He's old enough to decide for himself," Morgan said. His arms tightened around Ezra.
She stared hard at him before she spoke. "Don't interrupt, human. This doesn't concern you."
"I think it does."
"Ezra—"
"Three more days." As his sister turned on him again, Ezra stiffened. But he'd made up his mind. "I'm promised to Morgan until New Year's. I need three more days. After that I'll return and I'll speak to Mother, but not before."
Seraphine scowled at him. "Promised? To a human?"
"Yes. To a human. It's still a promise. I gave my word."
"You know I could pick you up right now, promise or not."
"But you won't."
She made a face, eyes crinkling in irritation and lips pursed like she'd suddenly inhaled a lemon. It was a familiar expression. She got it every time she lost at chess. It comforted him a little to see it now. That look belonged to his sister, not to the guardian, the one who was always slamming doors on him.
She swore in something that sounded like Latin but was too fast for him to make out. "Fine. Three days. But if you don't march your spoiled ass home in three days I'll be back and I won't be happy about it."
"Maybe you should send Stuart then. I wouldn't want you to trouble yourself."
"Stuart is busy burning and burying the evidence of four deaths. They were Castor family, it looks like. So you'll be getting me."
"Four?" He held himself rigid when he would rather have fallen. Four. He'd hoped so hard that he had been wrong or overreacting about who had been behind his kidnapping. That had seemed better than the alternative. Clan involvement meant more trouble for the whole family in the future.
"Yes. The ones who took you had friends. That's how we figured out where you were. Clan doesn't mobilize outside the city like that unless there's a reason. We're dealing with it." She sighed. "I wish you had contacted us. We were worried. All of us." She held up three fingers as she retreated. "Three days. Don't be late."
He nodded even though her back was turned. He wouldn't be.
She disappeared as quickly as she'd appeared, a gust of wind carrying her off into the dark until he couldn't sense her anymore. He wasn't prepared for the loneliness her absence brought. Even though he was angry with her. Even though he'd meant every word that he'd said. A part of him still longed for his family.
"Well she seems wonderful," Morgan said in a quiet voice when they were alone again.
*****
THE DARKENED BEDROOM ticked silently around them. Morgan had no idea what time it was anymore, only that they'd been lying in bed, Ezra curled into his side, for what felt like hours, without sleeping. Outside the wind sighed and swirled, but in the bed—quiet.
They should talk about what would happen when the three days were up and Ezra had to return home. They should plan. Morgan had always been so good at planning. He used to make lists on rolls of paper like they were royal proclamations, back when he was a kid and thought he could get anywhere by car. Then he got older and graduated to organizing weapons and operations. Planning entries and exits. He'd been mapping his life one job at a time. Coming out to the cabin was supposed to simplify things so he could get his new life in order; instead it had just made everything more complicated.
Ezra's sister was six feet of solid muscle and class in a black suit that probably cost more than a small country. Ezra had said they were wealthy—influential—and Morgan believed him, but nothing rammed the truth home as quickly as seeing what that meant in real, concrete terms. They were fucking vampires. Rich and beautiful and lethal. A fantasy made flesh.
Morgan was still only himself and he didn't even know who the fuck that was anymore. He didn't have anything to offer besides shotgun in his car and... that was pretty much it. Without hunting, what was he? What did he want? What if it wasn't enough?
And what was Ezra?
They'd been living inside a bubble, but sooner or later it had to pop. What if Morgan stepped outside it and found himself alone? No hunting. No family. No Ezra. The idea chilled him.
"So you're promised to me, huh?" Morgan said, speaking into the darkened bedroom.
Ezra's teeth pricked his shoulder in a warning bite.
"I'm just asking."
There were a series of furtive movements beside him before Ezra rolled over, turning his back to Morgan. He seemed more vulnerable that way than when he'd been wrapped around Morgan's body like a vine. Morgan immediately set one hand against his back. He imagined he could feel the lines of the tattoo radiating out from beneath his fingers, but he knew it was only in his mind.
"It's how we do things," Ezra said in a low voice. "I told you. We're very traditional. If you give your word to someone, that's supposed to mean something. It's supposed to be... special."
He wanted to ask for more, more than just Ezra's word for the next few days. The question sat on his tongue like it had always lived there. Instead he said "thank you" and gathered Ezra as close as he could, kissing the nape of his neck. Just a little longer.