Ben’s vampiric hangover went down the drain with the last of the hot water. He returned to the spare room entirely transformed, a towel around his hips and his skin tingling with the shock of the cold water. Who says water doesn’t have any magical properties? Ben felt alert, alive, and aware enough to be amused at his earlier reactions. Had I really thought Nate kidnapped me? Just because someone was unknown didn’t make them suspect―despite numerous ARX employee memos on the subject. None of which apply to me anymore.
But no amount of magic―or showers―could transform Ben into someone capable of pulling off the clothes left out on the bed. Ben held the jeans up to his hips. The ends trailed on the ground, and the waist had inches on Ben’s. Fortunately Ma had provided a belt. And underpants.
Ben felt his face heat. Not two weeks into meeting Nate, and he was borrowing underwear from him. At least, Ben fervently hoped he was pulling on Nate’s briefs. Nate and Ben had some form of relationship, even if it wasn’t one Nate wanted to share with his family. Borrowing Ethan’s on the other hand? No. Just no.
Ben stepped into the jeans. Even with the belt on its tightest loop, one good tug would cause the jeans to slide off. Still, the voluminous T-shirt Ma had left would prevent him from flashing anyone. The faded T-shirt would adhere snugly to Nate’s torso. On Ben it was a tunic, the collar stretching almost to Ben’s bony shoulder. Tugging at the neck to see if there was enough give to tie it, Ben caught the smell of dried grass and sunlight. Nate’s smell. He smiled, smoothing the fabric down, remembering Nate’s hands on him only a few hours earlier. Nate had brought Ben home, introduced him to his family. Actions counted more than words. And Nate’s actions… Nate’s actions said a lot.
Ben took one step and immediately tripped over the ends of the jeans.
When he stepped out of the room, it was with the cuffs rolled up to mid shin. I look like a kid playing dress up. Nate was going to have a field day with him. “Nate?”
Ma stood at the kitchen sink, up to her elbows in dishwater. “If he’s not still with his brother, he’ll be down by the river. Do you have everything you need, Ben?”
“Yes, thank you.” Ben rubbed his elbow. “Can I help?”
Ma shook her head, adding another clean plate to the rack beside her. “You’re a guest. You just relax.”
Ben nodded. “Thank you.” He wasn’t sure what to say to Ma, uneasily aware that he stood in her kitchen under false pretenses. Then again, she gave me Nate’s underwear. She must suspect something―
“How long have you known Nate?”
Ben took a deep breath. “Not long. About two weeks.” It’s a totally normal question! It was only the coincidence of it coming so soon after his thought that made it feel interrogative.
“How did you meet?” Ma continued doing the dishes.
“A party at a friend’s house. Nate was one of his guests.” Technically true, but the party had been the anniversary of Ben’s death, and Nate was there professionally. Am I blushing? Ben fought to keep his expression calm.
“Do you usually accept invitations to stay from people you’ve known for two weeks?”
Put like that Ben’s spur-of-the-moment mistake sounded even worse. She must think I’m an idiot. “No.” Ben tugged at the hem of the T-shirt. “Nate…” How to explain Nate without giving away that Nate was not merely a friend? “Nate was really welcoming.”
Ma pursed her mouth. She finished the plate she was washing and reached for the next. “Nate’s got a good heart, but he doesn’t think things through.”
Ben rested his hand on the kitchen table. Didn’t think me through. That’s what she means.
Ma continued calmly. “Your family will be wondering where you are.”
Ben snorted. A hint? “They’re dead.”
Ma stared at him. “Dead?”
I should have put that better. “I’m an only child. My father died a year ago and my mother when I was nine.”
Ma lowered the plate she was holding. “Not the necromancer?”
Ben grimaced. Technically his father had been the first of Peter’s victims, but the connection was not public knowledge. “Not much is known about it.” Which was true. ARX covered it up the best they could. A home invasion in the house of one of their senior executives would have been damaging to any firm that specialized in security, even without revealing that Hunter was a vampire and Austin’s duties as butler sometimes included occult research.
“I’m sorry.” Ma watched him a moment and then turned back to the sink. “To get to the river, take the back gate. There’s a path.”
That was clear dismissal. Ben took it with relief.
✩✩✩
I’m overthinking this. Ben followed the path worn in the carpet to the front door. He carefully navigated around the jacket dropped on the floor to open the door and step onto the porch. Any concerned mother would ask those questions! Nate’s family just met me. No way―
His foot skidded out from under him. Ben flung his arms out as his body pitched backward. He caught the doorframe, the impact jarring his body.
Ben let out a shuddering breath and lowered himself to the welcome mat. No way they’re out to get me? His arms ached, and a muscle throbbed in his leg.
At least the quiet had one thing going for it. If Ben had skidded like that anywhere in New Camden, his near miss would have been greeted with a chorus of jeers and sarcastic applause. Here, the only sound that greeted Ben’s disaster was the shuffling leaves of the wisteria that overhung the porch.
With a grunt, Ben levered himself to his feet. He took a moment to stuff the too-big socks into his pockets―a vampire only had to be bitten once―and stepped onto the porch.
No wonder Ben slipped. The wooden porch must have been as old as the house, big, broad slabs worn smooth by generations of feet. The warm timbre of the timber didn’t match the coolness Ben felt underfoot, but his bare feet had grip. Certain he wasn’t going to fall again, Ben looked for his shoes.
A pair of sneakers sprawled next to a prim pair of crisp blue gardening boots. Those could only be Ma’s, too small and dainty to be either sons’. Ben thought the sneakers were Nate’s, but there was no sign of his own shoes.
I know I had them yesterday. Ben vaguely remembered leaning on Nate’s arm as he kicked off his sneakers the night before, but that was all. Could I have taken them inside with me? He didn’t remember carrying his shoes, but Ben didn’t remember much at all besides Nate’s arm, guiding him down the hall. Careless. He bit his tongue. Given the interview he’d just had with Ma, he didn’t exactly want to go back through the house. I’ll look later.
Ben cast a look down the porch just in case and smirked. So much for country stereotypes. No rocking chairs here. Instead, a faded sofa, presumably retired from the living room, occupied the far end of the porch, looking out at the farm. A sawn-off stump acted as a side table, holding a stack of farming magazines. How much time has Nate spent here? Ben wandered over to take in the view.
The house perched at the highest point of the property, commanding a view of the entire valley. Presumably, the original homesteader had enjoyed surveying the fruits of his labor after a long day’s work. To Ben, the surrounding countryside looked like nothing so much as a carelessly thrown quilt. Beyond the lush lawn and the border of flowering shrubs, the paddocks formed a patchwork pattern, either brown speckled with green where the field was planted with lines of crops, or the uniform rich green of pasture. The road continued to the left of the farm, the land on the other side varying hues of dusty yellow. Even the barn, the biggest of the scattering of small sheds Ben could see, matched the color scheme. Its red paint might once have stood out against the dark, forested peaks of the mountain range framing the valley, but faded with time and cracked to display the wooden boards beneath, it now appeared a natural part of the landscape.
Not that the farm lacked color―or even brightness. Ben’s initial impression of overwhelming green faded as he stepped off the porch. The thick grass of the lawn was speckled through with yellow dandelions and the glossy, dark-green leaves of the bushes forming the border between garden and farm, featured richly colored blossoms of pink and crimson. Flowerbeds surrounded the house and made small islands of color within the ample lawn. There was so much color, in fact, there were only a few places where the wooden fence was visible at all. The picturesque effect was lessened by the chicken wire nailed to it to stop the gaps.
Not pretty―but definitely practical. Ben studied the fence, wondering what it protected the garden from. Cattle? Pigs? He hadn’t seen any stock in the fields. Wild animals? He turned to consider the forest, rising above the farm on all sides.
It went on as far as Ben could see. The only things showing above the hilltops were more hilltops, all carpeted in the same impenetrable green. It hid the road and blocked out the world they’d come from entirely. Ben rubbed the back of his neck. I grew up surrounded by skyscrapers! No way I feel claustrophobic!
Resolutely, he faced the hills, looking for the variations in color. By focusing, he could pick out individual trees among the mass. But breaking it down only made it worse. Where before there had been a single entity, now there was a faceless mass, waiting―
Ben snorted. Two minutes alone in Nate’s backyard, and I’m freaking out. If anyone should be teased about conforming to stereotypes, it’s me―total city boy. Not a Starbucks in sight and my heart starts racing.
Was it the lack of Starbucks or the lack of people? Ben had come outside to find Nate, but there was no sign of him―or anyone else.
Ben balanced on one leg to remove a blade of grass from the underside of his foot. The sun was warm on the back of his neck and shoulders but didn’t reach beneath the surface of the grass. His feet were clammy and cold, reminding him of the more basic kind of revenant.
I feel―vulnerable. That’s all it was. His bare feet made him more keenly aware that he lacked vampire strength and senses. That pressure he imagined on his shoulders, the weight of the mountains pressing down on him, was his body’s way of trying to fill in for an awareness that any human lacked. After all, the idea of anything magical lurking in the mountains was ridiculous. How many times had Nate apologized for how plain ordinary Little River was?
Of course, Nate also insisted he was human, and look how that turned out.
Ben pinched the bridge of his nose. I really need to find an off switch for my paranoia. The sooner, the better. There was still a lot he had to learn about Nate, but Ben knew no one with Nate’s confidence would be turned on by paranoia―
Something moved in the grass behind him. A chicken raised its head, stepping out of a bush, its strange, unblinking eyes fixed on Ben. He watched it. Chickens were a favored ingredient in many magical rites, but this was the first time he’d seen one in the wild, so to speak. Encouraged, other hens appeared, heads bobbing above their brown, feathered bodies, as they stepped through the grass with exaggerated daintiness.
Now I get why cockatrices are a thing. There was something really unnatural about the ladylike movement of the hens coupled with their ungainly claws that Ben could see easily appealing to a medieval imagination. Or maybe it was their beady stare? I’m being unfair. Vampires dislike roosters because they signal the coming dawn, not because they’re inherently nasty.
The hens were coming toward him. “That’s enough. Stop now.” Ben raised his hands in a shooing motion. “I don’t have any food if that’s what you’re looking for.”
The first hen tilted her head, ruminated on Ben’s words. With a shrug of her speckled feathers, she continued to advance.
“I mean it. Go away!” Ben wiped his hands on his jeans as he stepped back. None of his ARX training had prepared him for being confronted en masse by your almost-boyfriend’s family’s chickens. He caught sight of a side gate left ajar. Not like anyone’s here to see me run.
One quick dash later and Ben slid the chain of the gate home. The chickens cast him baleful looks, but Ben was firmly on the other side of the fence with no one to witness his undignified retreat. Score one for quiet! Ben turned and plunged his foot directly onto an upturned twig.
His yelp was swallowed immediately by the surrounding woods. Eyes watering, Ben balanced precariously as he looked at his throbbing foot. It felt like he’d been stabbed, but the skin wasn’t broken. Ben cautiously lowered his foot to the ground. First step, find my shoes! Maybe Nate remembered what happened to them?
Come to think of it, how am I going to find Nate?
A dirt path meandered through the grass in front of him. The path Ma spoke of? Maybe I am finally getting somewhere.
A loud crack called Ben’s attention to the trees that surrounded him. They were planted in rows, with gnarled gray bark and light green leaves. Moss grew between their roots. The orchard? Ben peered down the first row. He couldn’t see anyone, but another sharp crack indicated someone was present. Hesitantly, feeling out the grass before resting his full weight on it, Ben made his way through the trees.
One of the twins stood with his back to Ben. He stuck the secateurs he used under his arm, stretching out his hand to the trunk of the tree in front of them. Two clipped branches lay at his feet, the source of the noise Ben had heard.
Ben hesitated. Nate? Or Ethan? Neither twin had worn that jacket at breakfast, and the breeze whispering through the row of trees, lifting Ben’s hair into his eyes, could easily have undone Nate’s meticulous styling. The man’s silence brought to mind Ethan’s quiet demeanor, but the casual ease with which the twin peeled off his gloves and stretched indicated a comfort with himself and his surroundings that was all Nate, perfectly at home with himself in any situation. Ben fought the urge to shift, feeling very uneasy. He’d never seen Nate when he was alone―obviously, that was the definition of alone―but the lack of any facial expression alarmed him. Nate’s face so readily expressed what he was feeling, that to have that missing felt like a trick.
The breeze lifted the branches of the tree the twin stood in front of, brushing its leaves across his cheek. He smiled slowly, an inward, unpracticed smile, catching the leaf between his fingers.
Ben knew. “Hello, Ethan.”
Nate’s brother turned his head to give Ben a half-second glance. The smile, slight as it was, disappeared entirely.
Ben carefully picked his way through the grass to join Ethan. “Still working?”
Ethan grunted.
We’re talking! “So, this must be the orchard? It’s bigger than I thought.” Ben glanced around, searching for something to say. “Not that I’ve seen many orchards, of course.”
Ethan snorted. He reached for the back pocket of his jeans, the matching pair of the ones balanced on Ben’s hips, and pulled out a knife.
Ben raised an eyebrow. The knife was impressively big, but as Ethan removed its sheath, Ben saw the shape was completely wrong for a dagger. The blade was sharp but in serious need of a good wipe down. “You know, you really should clean that.”
Ethan paused, hand around one truncated branch-stump, to give Ben a look. Had Ben thought Ethan lacked emotion? There was enough annoyance there for both twins. “Does its job.”
“I didn’t mean to criticize. It’s just, I’m just good with knives.” Ben rubbed his elbow. Way to go! Ma thought he was weird, and now Ethan was going to think he was some kind of violent nutjob. “I’ve helped clean a lot of them. I could help you, if you’d like.”
Ethan placed the knife across the center of the stump and began to work it down in a gentle sawing motion. He did this until there was a crack through the stump, about a thumbnail deep.
Ben took a step closer to better see the stump. He watched Ethan kneel to take a twig from the bucket at the base of the tree. “Are you…grafting?”
Ethan might have nodded.
Ben leaned in, watching as Ethan took the knife to the base of the twig, whittling it to a fine point. “My botany professor described the process, but I’ve never actually seen it done.”
Ethan didn’t respond verbally, but he took a step sideways, making it easier for Ben to observe. He carefully inserted the twig into the cut he’d made in the stump and then, once satisfied with its position, placed his hand around stump and twig and let it rest there a long moment. Finally, he knelt to pick up the ball of twine at his feet.
“And you just bind it?” Ben shook his head, watching Ethan wrap the twine carefully around stump and branch. “And that branch is going to become a part of the tree, just like that?”
Ethan gave Ben a flat look. “That’s what grafting is.”
“I know.” Ben set his hands in the pockets of the voluminous jeans as he explained. “It’s just―it still seems incredible. Humans have spent thousands of years studying medicine, made all sorts of advances, and even the most skilled surgeon can’t guarantee that an organ transplant will work. And yet anyone can take a branch from one apple tree and attach it to another and it grows.” Ben caught himself abruptly. Did I just imply that Nate’s brother is stupid?
Ethan picked up the knife. “Don’t underestimate trees.” He turned toward Ben, waving an arm toward their surroundings with the most animation Ben had seen him display ever. “Look around. These trees. How old are they?”
Ben fought the urge to step back. Showing alarm would only escalate the situation. “What do you mean?”
“How old do you think the trees are?” Ethan shoved the knife into the sheath.
Ben took his eyes off Ethan to glance at the trees. They weren’t big, not like the oak in Mason’s Park, but their trunks were twisted and wrinkled, putting Ben in mind of a stooping senior citizen. “Um… Thirty years old?”
“Seventy. Planted by our grandfather.” Ethan rested his hand on the trunk of the tree beside him. “How many seventy-year-olds you know who are still growing?”
“That is―” More words than Ben had ever heard Ethan say. “―impressive.” Ben gave the surrounding apple trees a considering glance. “And they still produce fruit?”
Ethan smirked. “More productive in one season than some people in their entire lifetime.” He smiled at the tree, giving it an affectionate pat before bending to pick up his bucket.
When Nate said his brother liked plants, he meant really liked plants. Ben couldn’t help but be amused. Ethan’s a geek for plants! Finally, something he could relate to. “If they still produce apples, why are you grafting?”
Ethan scowled. “Heard of Winesap?”
“Is that an emulator?”
“Type of apple. Popular seventy years ago.” Ethan waved his hand in the direction of the road. “Used to be this valley was full of orchards.”
Ben winced. Ethan’s scowl gave him an inkling where this conversation was going. “Now not so much?”
“Apple trees live to one hundred. But they just cut them down. Perfectly good trees, gone.” Ethan clenched the secateurs tightly. “Grafting is easy. Saves the tree, grows different apples to sell. Win-win. But they don’t care. Just chop down the entire orchard. Know what they replace them with?”
So much for thinking Ethan lacked emotion. The heat in his voice coupled with the angry rise of his chest was bringing home his relationship to Nate in a very immediate way. Ben swallowed. “I…don’t know?”
“Christmas trees.” Ethan punctuated the sentence with an angry snort. “Grown just to be cut down.” His scowl deepened. “It’s a criminal waste. Lots of people don’t earn their keep. But no one chops them down.”
“Ha.”
Ethan shot Ben a raised eyebrow and turned back to the tree in front of them.
Ben’s smile faded. Ethan’s face was completely flat, wiped clean of the emotion of a moment ago… Is he serious?
Ethan sized up the tree, weighing his options before coming to a decision. Tapping the tree in mute apology, he used the secateurs to clip a branch.
Ben watched the branch fall to the ground. He felt very out of his depth. “So… I can see you’re busy.”
Crack! Another branch fell to the grass.
Ben resisted the urge to shift. “Looks like you have a lot of work to do.” He tugged at the edge of the T-shirt. “It can’t be easy, running a farm this big by yourself.”
“Nate helps.” The words were sharp and punctuated by the crack of another severed branch. “It’s his home too.”
“And it’s beautiful.” Ben cast around for something to say.
“Nate belongs here.” Ethan turned to face Ben, the secateurs casually resting in his hand. “Not New Camden.”
Ben blinked. There was a definite note of challenge in Ethan’s voice. He ignored the grass tickling his bare ankles, holding himself still to meet Ethan’s gaze. “That’s Nate’s decision, don’t you think?”
Ethan matched him gaze for gaze.
They really are identical. It was too easy to imagine that cold look coming from Nate, the thought of it sending a shiver over Ben’s spine.
As if also feeling the weight of the conversation, the breeze dropped entirely. The strange pressure Ben had imagined earlier seemed to bear down on him again, a palpable weight. The gentle rustling of the tree leaves died away, and even the grass that tickled Ben’s bare feet ceased.
There’s a word for this. Hyperawareness, or something. Being a vampire was a traumatic experience. This was probably a hangover of some sort. Ben forced himself to look away. Not every encounter I have is life or death. I need to stop thinking like a vampire, start thinking human. “Speaking of Nate, is he out here?”
Ethan turned away but not fast enough to hide his smirk.
Ben gritted his teeth. This is Nate’s brother. Don’t start anything. “Your mother mentioned a river?”
Ethan ignored him, running his thumb over the stump of the branch he’d just cut.
The silence had an unexpected bonus. As he weighed his options, Ben became aware of a gentle trickling sound, previously obscured by the plants’ rustling. “That must be it. I’ll go check it out.” He gave Ethan his blandest smile. “Nice talking to you.”
Ethan shot him an unimpressed look. “River’s rocky. You’ll want shoes.”
Ben paused.
The grass he stood in was long, long enough that his bare feet were entirely covered. Ethan had spent most of their conversation trying to ignore him. It was hard to imagine a moment where he might have noticed Ben’s lack of shoes. Does that mean…Ethan took them? Ben narrowed his eyes. That’s ridiculous―utterly childish! Ethan’s a grown man!
Ethan unsheathed his knife with unhurried ease. His posture was entirely casual.
Ben wasn’t fooled. “That’s fine. I’m tougher than I look.” He walked as fast as he dared through the long grass, determined that Ethan would not see him flinch.
✩✩✩
Why did I think this was a good idea? The dirt path that wound toward the river allowed Ben to see what he stepped on, but that was no guard against rocks. Ben hobbled toward the trickling sound. If this is just another bunch of trees…
The path led him around a corner, and abruptly apple trees and grass gave way to willow trees and ferns. Ben walked beside the path, using the carpet of fallen leaves to cushion his aching feet. Have I somehow wandered into the forest? In a matter of minutes, the farm was entirely lost from view. Ben could no longer hear Ethan working in the orchard. Only the gurgling river, getting closer with every bend in the path.
Ben limped grimly forward. No way was he turning around, but without a cell phone, he had no idea where he was. I didn’t think I’d need a map just to find Nate! Seriously, who has a forest in their backyard?
The path took a dip, and there it was―the river. It shone as clear as a mirror, the smooth brown and gray rocks breaking its surface barely distinguishable from those that made up its bed. Its soothing whisper was echoed by the ferns on its bank, raising their fronds in gentle welcome.
Ben stood still a long moment. He didn’t want to like the river, but all the same, there was something peaceful about its regular movement. He continued down the path at a much more relaxed pace.
Another bend in the path, and Ben saw a flash of red amongst the trees on the bank. “Nate!” Ben grinned, leaving the path to scramble up the bank. “I am so glad to see you―”
“Stop!” Nate half slid as he scrambled to his feet, throwing out a hand urgently. “Don’t move!”
Ben froze. “What is it?” He hadn’t heard anything, but with his newly dulled senses, that was no guarantee of safety. No weapon. Ben strained his ears for any indication of the threat. Daylight was no defense against all supernatural entities. Isolated locations had a way of amassing volatile spirits. And being incorporeal just makes them harder to fight. I should never have left the house without salt―
Nate edged carefully towards the river. “Just stay where you are.” He peered at the surface of the water, his body tensed for sudden movement.
The clean surface of the water was only obscured where it reflected the sunlight overhead. It was plain to see there was nothing there―and even plainer that nothing could be there. The water was shallow, barely ankle deep. No room for a lurking nyx, and running water deterred most forms of ghost. “Nate? There’s nothing there.”
Nate exhaled, running a hand over his face as he straightened up. “Nothing. Yeah.” He smiled ruefully as Ben approached him. “Sorry about that. I am not a lunatic, I promise.”
Nate’s words were so close to Ben’s own thought processes that only Nate’s bashful expression stopped him laughing out loud with relief. “I know the feeling. What’s up?”
Nate reached for Ben’s hand, tangling their fingers together. “You’ll laugh… But I had this dream, back in New Camden. About you.”
“Me?” Ben let Nate lead him to the tree he’d been sitting by. “Is this TMI? I mean, we’re not technically dating…”
“Not that kind of a dream! Well, not exactly.” Nate sat down, leaning back against the tree. Tugging at Ben’s hand, he invited Ben to join him. “At first it was really nice. You were here at the farm, wearing what you’re wearing now.” Nate’s fingers traveled up underneath Ben’s T-shirt, lingering on the bare skin of his hips. “I was just thinking how hot you looked, when Peter exploded out of the water all skeletal and vengeful and―” Nate shrugged, dropping his hands. “―I woke up.”
Ben looked down at himself. There is already one skeleton here. Me. The turned-up jeans only made his pale legs look even skinnier, his ankle bones jutting out excessively. “You pictured me dressed this way?”
Nate nodded. “Exactly those clothes.” He chewed his lip, frowning up at Ben. “That’s weird, right?”
“Extremely weird.” Ben tugged the T-shirt down, settling next to Nate. “There is absolutely nothing sexy about this.”
Nate’s mouth curved, as if he knew something Ben didn’t. He settled his arm around Ben’s shoulders. “I don’t know,” he drawled. “Seeing you in my T-shirt, looking like you could slip out of it at any moment…” He leaned in, tickling Ben’s neck with his words. “Kind of does something for me.”
That throaty note in his voice did major things for Ben’s everything. He resisted the urge to shiver, cocking an eyebrow at Nate. “What sort of things?” he asked in his most unimpressed tone.
There was a twinkle in Nate’s eye that indicated he wasn’t buying it, but that wasn’t going to stop him from enjoying himself. “Things.”
“I’m not following you.” Ben shrugged, the T-shirt sliding farther down his shoulder and taking Nate’s attention with it. “Maybe you could give me, I don’t know…some kind of demonstration?”
Nate grinned. “I could be up for that.”
“Then what are you―” Waiting for? Ben gasped as warm fingers brushed over his unsuspecting skin. The wrinkles of the T-shirt had screened Nate’s hand from his view.
Nate stroked his fingers lazily across Ben’s chest. “That.” He used the arm around Ben’s shoulders to draw Ben closer, even as his free hand ghosted beneath the T-shirt. “Fuck, Ben. When you let yourself go―”
Ben ended Nate’s sentence for him, with his mouth on Nate’s. The kiss was unhurried, much like Nate’s explorations. I could get used to this. In New Camden, they’d been fighting against time, against Ben’s family, against each other. Now, Ben felt time stretch out before them, slow and meandering like the river. He hummed happily against Nate’s lips.
A loud splash came from the river. “Fuck!” Nate started to his knees, throwing out his arms protectively. “Stay…back?”
There was nothing there, only a trail of bubbles on the water’s surface.
Ben fought to keep from laughing. “Frog?”
Nate groaned, burying his face in his hands as he collapsed back into a sitting position. “I wanted to bring you here so you could relax. Instead, I’m jumping at every loud noise. You’re going to think I’m nuts.”
“I know what you went through.” Ben ran his fingers through Nate’s hair. “I’m not going to judge.” Nate’s skin was cold, his heart racing. “You want to talk about it?”
Nate hesitated a long moment. “Peter. He’s dead, right?”
“Twice dead.” Ben squeezed Nate’s hand. “He’s not coming back.”
“How do you know that? He set one trap; he might have others!”
“And if he does, ARX will find and eradicate them.” Ben watched Nate closely. “Are you worried that he’s coming back―or that he’s not?”
Nate flinched.
“That’s a good thing.” Ben settled his hand on Nate’s arm. “He tried to kill us, murdered dozens of people. His death was entirely his own fault.”
“I know, but―” Nate looked down, avoiding Ben’s eyes. “―I feel responsible in a way. Because it was my magic… I don’t like it.”
“Hey.” Ben nudged Nate with his elbow. “You told me being a vampire didn’t make me a monster.”
“Well, yeah.” Nate’s shoulders hunched. “But we don’t even know what I am. What if…” He bit his lip.
“We know who you are,” Ben told him. “That’s the important part. Being human didn’t make Peter a good person, any more than being―whatever you are―makes you a monster. It’s what you do that counts.” He stroked his fingers through Nate’s hair. “Would a monster be worrying about the death of a guy who actively tried to kill him?”
That produced a slight smile. “Guess not.”
“So, what’s up?”
Nate leaned back against the tree. “Seeing you appear exactly as in my dream really freaked me out. I feel like something’s going to happen at any minute.” He sought Ben’s hand. “You don’t think it’s a premonition? Some kind of warning?”
“Against Peter?” Ben shook his head. “Sunlight is the most effective weapon against vampires.”
Nate’s frown deepened. “I had this feeling, the night Hunter came to the club. Like my world was about to change―and it did.”
Ben snorted, removing his hand. “Hunter has that effect on people.”
“I’m serious, Ben. I’ve never had a feeling like that.”
“So am I. Premonitions are incredibly rare, Nate.” Ben stood, stretching. “Does your family have a history of foresight?”
“Of what?”
“Seeing the future. Someone who always gets the weather right or had a knack for being in the right place at the right time.”
Nate shook his head. “Nothing like that. We’re solid, church-going farmer types, as far back as anyone can remember.”
Ben poked Nate with his foot. “Then that answers your question, Nate. It wasn’t a premonition.”
Nate refused to budge. “It was really vivid. When Hunter showed up at the club―I’ve never felt anything like it.”
“That’s your flight or fight response kicking in.”
Nate looked up. “You really think so?”
“Take it from a vampire―former vampire.” Ben couldn’t resist nudging Nate. “This explains so much about your inability to stay out of danger.”
Nate laughed, standing up. “You had something to do with that, you know.” He stretched out his hand to rest on Ben’s arm. “Thanks. I needed to hear that.”
Ben smirked. “I will happily remind you of your reckless behavior anytime.”
“Jerk.” Nate cheerfully folded his arms around Ben, drawing him into a hug. “Seriously, though. Thanks.”
A shot of warmth went right through Ben―That’s all my doing!―followed immediately by a stabbing guilt. What kind of sick person delights in his boyfriend’s―almost boyfriend―insecurities? Ben’s fingers gripped Nate’s T-shirt. “Nate―”
“You want to go for a hike or something?” Nate squeezed Ben’s arm before he stepped back, stretching.
“A hike?”
Nate grinned, his eyes lingering over Ben. “The views from the mountain are something else.”
Ben raised an eyebrow. What views is he talking about? “Pass. Don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but I don’t have any shoes.”
“What?” Nate’s gaze snapped to Ben’s feet. “Why would you come out here without shoes?”
“I couldn’t find them.” Ben hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think your brother might have put them somewhere.”
Nate snorted. “He didn’t waste time.”
Braced for Nate’s anger, it took Ben a moment to parse his sentence. “Does…Ethan do this a lot?”
“Only for people I date. And never right off the bat like this.” Nate was regarding Ben with a warmth entirely at odds with the situation. “Guess you made an impression.”
“Lucky me.”
“Don’t worry. I know how to deal with him.” Nate quickly dusted off his T-shirt and knelt before Ben. “Hop on.”
Ben didn’t move. “Are you offering me a piggyback ride? I walked out here, I can walk back.” His feet throbbed painfully, but Ben resolutely ignored them. Vulnerable, sure. But I’m not weak!
“Trust me.” Nate stayed put, turning his head to talk to Ben. “If Ethan sees you hanging over me, us acting all cozy because you have no shoes, then I’m willing to bet your shoes are going to appear real fast.”
Ben blinked. “That’s unexpectedly devious.”
Nate smirked up at Ben. “Younger brother. It’s my job. So, Ben. Are we doing this?”
Ben placed his hand on Nate’s shoulder, deliberately running over his biceps. Nate took pride in his body, and it showed. The interplay of muscle was endlessly fascinating. This could be a very interesting ride.
From Nate’s silence and the way his body went taut, Ben was certain the same thought had occurred to him. “Sure. Let’s do this.”