Chapter Six

“You were with him at the end, weren’t you?” Bonny’s accented voice was all at once ageless and light as a child’s. Her glass-green eyes were large, fringed with thick lashes, strengthening the illusion of youth. But the years in their depths and the motionless, almost rigid way she held herself made me feel as though she was looking at an ancient painting.

“Yes. Yes, I was.”

The faintest of lines appeared between her arching eyebrows. “Did he suffer?”

“Yes.”

Bonny was silent for a long time then shifted forward in her chair, leaning close, staring at me. “He fought the Blood, didn’t he? Let death take him rather than let it kill to survive?” Her eyes shone. I realized with a shock that there were tears in them.

“You knew him?”

She nodded. “I did.”

Tendrils of something unpleasant wound their way around my spine. “I tried so hard to understand him. Now I’m wondering if I ever had a chance.”

She glanced at Jay then back at me. “Can any living being truly know the truth of another?”

“What do you mean?”

“The gulf may be wider between our kinds,” she murmured, “but it’s the same darkness that lies between us all.”

“Darkness?”

“The darkness of unknowing,” she said softly, “of never being able to know… But in that darkness…that’s where trust exists.” She took my hand. Her flesh was cool and she was careful not to press her long, glass-like fingernails into my skin. “He trusted you, Alec MacCarthy—trusted your kind more than most of us do.”

“What do you know about him?” I asked, shifting forward on my seat. “Where did he grow up? What was he like before?”

The start of a pained smile turned up the corner of her too-red mouth. “Darling, those aren’t the important questions.”

“They’re not?”

“You’re asking who he was when he was human?”

“I…” I glanced at Jay. He was watching me intently, but I turned back to Bonny. “I want to know.”

“Why?”

“Because…” I took a breath. Her eyes stripped away my defenses and suddenly the truth was pouring out of me like blood from a wound. “Because I can’t stop wondering whether it would have been better…whether I’d’ve been enough for him if he was human.”

“But you wouldn’t ever have met.”

“I know it doesn’t make sense—but I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Poor darlings. You’re all so young. You can never really understand. You don’t live long enough.”

“Do you know? What he was like before?”

She shook her head. “I joined this commune in the seventies. He’d been with them almost forty years by then. But our human lives had been around the same time, even though we’d never met then. So we grew close.” Her gaze went far away, and I experienced a stab of jealousy. “I knew him well—but only as one of our own kind.”

“And he never told you about his life when he was human?”

“We don’t really remember the life before—not the way, say…humans remember their childhoods. It just…fades away. Some of us remember scraps, the ghosts of memories, of feelings. Some try to hold on. Some relish letting it go. But however we decide to feel about it, the Blood defines our existence. It’s what makes us what we are, for better or worse.” She stood. “I’m glad he had you, Alec MacCarthy,” she said. “He was drawn to humans. But they rarely have the strength to cope with us…and vice versa.” She threw Jay an intriguing smile. “It’s why it’s best if we keep apart, especially now that we’re together…if you understand my meaning.”

“So it was always doomed?”

Something like surprise flattened her face. “What do you mean?”

“Our relationship. Could a human and a haemophile ever be happy together?”

She looked at me so closely then that I was certain I’d given everything away. But then her soft smile was back, and the emerald of her eyes warmed to the color of summer grass. “Of course we can be happy…for a while. A long while, for your kind. Happiness in any partnership depends on our willingness to be happy with ourselves, with what we have…not yearning for what we don’t.” She sighed. “Humans know that in principle, but it takes a lot of practice to master, sometimes more than one lifetime’s worth.” She dimpled at Jay. “Some of you get closer than others, though. Terje seemed to be able to find those.”

“I’m not sure I’m…was…anywhere near good enough at that to make it work…” I felt gutted, finally putting the fear into words.

“You might have been…one day.”

Another stab through my chest. “He’d had relationships with humans before. Your ex-Magister told me that. And they didn’t end well.”

Her face hardened. “That’s both right and wrong.”

“That girl…Shelly…she died because of one of them.”

Jay started. “Shelly Morris?”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek and kept my focus on Bonny. “I can’t talk about that,” she said in a low voice. “But it wasn’t Terje’s fault.”

“Terje Kristiansen killed Shelly Morris?” Jay’s face was stricken.

“No,” I said, hurriedly. “No, he did not.”

“Alec,” he said breathlessly, “that murder is a major roadblock to progress. If you know the truth about it—”

“I don’t,” I insisted. “I really don’t. I just know Terje didn’t kill her…”

“What do you know?” Jay asked, his expression tight.

I swallowed. I couldn’t read Bonny’s face. “He blamed himself for it. But it wasn’t him. It was another haemophile sent to follow him by Evgeniya, when she got suspicious of the human he was seeing…”

“Someone from Forest Hill?” Jay breathed.

“That’s enough,” Bonny cut in, voice firm. “I’m happy to talk to you about Terje, Alec—but not that.”

I nodded, staring into the fire then jumped when she laid a hand on my arm. I could feel the strength in it, the prick of the claw-like fingernails through my jacket. She was so close that I could smell the heady, wine-like odor of her Blood in the air between us.

“I knew Terje well,” she said softly. “Loved him, in a way—and he me. But what he felt for you was different, Alec.” I met her green gaze with something both amazing and terrifying taking hold of my insides. “You might not be able to understand it…ever. But you can trust in it. I promise.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“If you loved him…” Pain tightened my throat. She watched me steadily. “Why do you care about what he thought about me?”

“Because I cared for him. And knowing he had the potential to be happy is important to me…even if it killed him.”

She squeezed my arm then turned to leave. Jay stood silent at my elbow, but I couldn’t look at him.

Bonny paused at the door. “Oh and, just so you know, the Magister was telling the truth about Evgeniya, about her not being in contact with any of us. But that in itself should tell you something.”

I blinked, my mind not wanting to switch focus.

“In what way?” Jay asked, frowning.

“We know she’s…around.” She made a vague gesture with her hand. “We know because she—how would you say it?—passed by several months ago. As in”—she frowned at the floor, as though searching for words—“she passed within, oh, maybe a hundred miles of here? We all felt it. But she didn’t stop, and she didn’t make contact.” Her soft lips tightened. She looked at Jay. He was frowning.

“And that’s significant?” I asked carefully.

“It’s…unexpected,” she said softly. “Hedda is right when she says Evgeniya wouldn’t need our help, and neither would she willfully endanger us. But we’ve been together for hundreds of years, some of us. The fact that she passed us by without even a word?” Hurt brightened her eyes and she looked away. “It’s telling.”

“Of what?” I asked.

She tapped a code into the door pad and the doors slid open. “I don’t know. But whatever she is planning, it doesn’t involve us.” The hurt was still evident in her childlike face. But then she blinked, and the emotion was gone. She nodded to each of us in turn. “Good luck to you both. Maybe we’ll see you again. But perhaps ring ahead next time.”

She winked, then she was gone.

 

* * * *

 

It started to drizzle as we made our way back to Jay’s car. The drops were cool against my flushed skin. Jay left the lantern by the gate and we climbed into the car in silence. He steered along the country lanes without speaking. I stared out into the night, not even trying to untangle the wreath of emotions winding themselves around my heart.

“I’m sorry, Alec,” Jay murmured when the orange of London’s light pollution became visible as a stain on the horizon.

“What for?” I asked dully.

“That must have been hard.”

I didn’t answer and he said no more. The miles fell away, and soon the drizzle stopped and the western sky started to lighten. The next thing I knew, Jay had pulled over and turned off the engine. I blinked out at a large red-brick terrace.

“Where are we?”

“My place. I thought you could use a drink.”

His smile was tinged with sadness. I was distantly aware that under other circumstances it would have annoyed me intensely. But in that moment, I found myself grateful for such a flawed, human display of emotion. He took in my expression and laid a hand on my knee.

I stared at it. Electricity rippled up my leg and lit in the dark hallow in my chest. The synthetic leather of the upholstery creaked as he leaned in and pressed a kiss against my cheek. He sighed into my ear. “Come up, just for a bit.”

I followed him out of the car in a daze then up the steps to the front door. He put a key into the heavy lock then we climbed a set of stairs. He unlocked a door on the top floor and opened it into a dim, airy space with sloping ceilings, simple, comfortable furniture and tall casement windows looking out onto rooftops, glistening with the recent rain. He sat me on the sofa and brought me a glass of whiskey. It was a blend, but the heat and strong flavor were welcome and went some way to reviving the dullness that threatened to numb every inch of me.

“It was right, what Bonny said,” he said softly, sitting beside me.

“What? That we can be happy with a haemophile so long as we’re happy about what they can’t give us?” I shook my head and downed the drink.

He pulled the empty glass from my fingers and set it on the coffee table. The low light bathed his skin. The color reminded me of fires and fertile earth, the shade of tree bark and strong, sweet tea. He locked his gaze on mine and it darkened, like ceramic fired in a kiln. He edged closer. His face was inches from mine, his aftershave a woody, natural scent. My mouth dried out.

“You’re amazing, Alec,” he murmured. “Everything you’ve been through, and yet here you are, still fighting, still wanting to understand.” He trailed his thumb down the stubble on my cheek. I grabbed his hand. His flesh was so warm, his face so intent and his eyes fixed on mine. I could barely breathe.

He brought my hand to his face and brushed his lips over the knuckles. His breath, quickening, brushed over my skin. The hair on the backs of my hands rose. My heart thumped against my ribs. He raised his hot brown eyes to meet mine then turned our joined hands over and took my index finger into his mouth. I jolted, blood surging into my groin. The warm, moist wetness slid against my skin and the feel of his tongue looping around the sensitive pad had my breath catching in my throat. I closed my eyes, but it was no good. I could still feel it…feel him. How hot, how young…how alive. How unlike Terje.

I pulled my hand away, stood then stepped to the window.

“It’s okay.” Jay’s voice was soft as he came up behind me. His firm chest and the hardness of his arousal pressed against my back. He slid a hand into my shirt. His breath was hot against my neck as he kissed my nape, more gently than a butterfly landing on the skin. “It’s okay to be afraid, Alec. It’s okay if you don’t want to let go. I’m not asking you to. I just want to help you feel something different for a while.”

He trailed his hand down my belly then slid it slowly into the front of my jeans. I inhaled sharply. He held me close, taking hold of my cock with one hand and sliding the other farther into my shirt to tease my nipples. They hardened and tingled under his touch. Fire and electricity built behind my ribs. It was a hot, sudden storm, so different without Blood, instantly urgent and clamoring to be sated.

I turned and shoved Jay against the wall. He moaned as I thrust my hips against his and my tongue into his mouth. He tasted like whiskey and warmth and human male. He hooked a leg around my thighs to draw me closer. The pressure was all at once delicious and maddening. I deepened the kiss, swallowing the taste of him, so different, so easy to understand…so easy to get lost in.

He pulled my shirt over my head, then his mouth was on my sternum. He licked my nipples, making me gasp as he undid the fly of my jeans.

“Jay,” I started, but he kissed me again, taking the lead this time, thrusting his tongue into my mouth as if he would devour my protests. He backed me up until my legs hit the sofa, then pushed me onto it. He pulled his own shirt off and I just had time to register the scarring on his neck before he bent over me, kissing me and shoving my jeans down.

“You’re gorgeous,” he panted in my ear, taking my cock in his hand again. “So fucking gorgeous, Alec.”

I tried to speak again, but all that came out was a low moan as he worked the hard flesh of my erection with skillful, eager hands. “Fuck, Jay,” I breathed.

“Let go,” he said, turning me so we lay on our sides, facing each other. “Just let go, Alec.”

I crushed my eyes shut and grasped his hard cock where it rocked against my belly. He made a noise that had every inch of my flesh rippling. I sank myself into the feel, the smell and the sounds of his increasingly urgent need. I forced my eyes open so I could see him, see his flushed face, the sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. His eyes were closed, his mouth open. He looked amazing, loose, vulnerable and desperate.

I kissed him and he moaned my name against my lips. A charge was building like a thundercloud in my pelvis, and as his breathing caught in his throat, I knew he was close too.

“I want to taste you,” I rasped.

He shot his eyes open. All he managed was a nod. I shifted down the sofa, pumping my own cock when it fell out of his reach, then took his slick, salty member into my mouth. I moaned at the heat, the living taste and smell sending answering jolts through my flesh.

“Alec,” he warned. His head was thrown back against the sofa arm and he was digging his fingers into the cushions. “Alec, Jesus, I’m gonna—”

I sucked him hard and took him deeper, opening my jaw wide to allow him into my throat. He cried and his hips bucked as he thrust into my mouth. After he made a strangled sound, hot, salty fluid spurted onto the back of my tongue. I pumped my own cock once, twice more, then thunder and fire avalanched through my belly, down my legs and up my spine as I came.

 

* * * *

 

“You loved him, didn’t you?”

I jerked from the warm, honey-colored stupor I’d been drifting in. Half-asleep, we’d cleaned up in the en suite then crawled into bed. I was on my back, Jay’s head on my shoulder, his warm weight solid and comforting along my side.

I had successfully put off thinking until those words were out of his mouth. I now went cold, despite the warmth of the room and the naked body pressed against mine.

“I…I could have.” The words croaked out of me as if they were being pried out with a crowbar.

Jay propped his head on his elbow and gazed into my face. “It won’t hurt forever, Alec.”

I swallowed, remembering when Novák had told me the same thing and thinking about how I was still, somehow, waiting for that to come true. I tentatively ran my fingers over the scarring on his neck. He didn’t move, but his expression changed. “Did he do this to you?” I murmured. “Your haemophile partner?”

Jay gave me a crooked smile. “Well, it wasn’t a human, was it?” he said, brushing his fingers over the similar marks on my own neck. “What about this?” he asked, softly.

“Evgeniya,” I said, hoarsely and his expression darkened. “They’re not supposed to do it. Even consensually.”

“We’re not supposed to drink theirs either,” he said. “But you’ve done that. Right?”

“Yes…but them drinking from us is way more dangerous. It’s too easy for them to get carried away.”

“He told you that, did he?”

“Yes.”

“So he never asked you…?”

“No,” I said quickly. “I offered once. He was offended.”

Jay shrugged a little awkwardly. “Some of them don’t like it, especially the ones who have gone through a lot to ensure that direct feeding isn’t necessary anymore. But between two willing partners? What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s dangerous,” I repeated.

“Just being with one of them is dangerous, Alec. But that’s what’s so irresistible, right?” I couldn’t find an answer to that. He smiled and pressed a kiss against my forehead. “Sleep. It’s been a long night.”

What had been a comfortable embrace now felt stiff and awkward. He must have sensed it too, because he rolled away from me. I listened to his breathing slow and level out as he drifted off, but it was a long time before sleep came for me.

 

* * * *

 

I woke to lamplight spilling in through the bedroom door, the smell of cooking spices and the sound of Jay moving around in the kitchen. For a blissful moment I didn’t understand where I was, then it all came screaming back.

I fumbled my way across the room to the bathroom, locked the door behind me, leaned against it and covered my face with my hands until my pulse calmed. I made myself take a long, hot shower. But when I was done, I could still smell him on me, still taste him in my throat and still knew that I’d liked it.

I stared at the door, knowing I couldn’t stay locked in forever but not quite able to move.

A knock on the wood made me jump.

“Alec? All okay in there?”

I hung my head, kneading my temples. “Yeah. Fine.”

“Okay,” Jay said uncertainly. “You hungry? I made breakfast…dinner, whatever.”

I took a deep breath and opened the door, keeping my expression neutral. “Thanks. Sounds good.”

Jay was smiling but his eyes were uneasy. Whatever he read in my face caused him to look away. Night had fallen outside, and Jay went around the living room drawing the blinds. I sat at a round table near the wall and he laid a cup of strong coffee and a plate of spiced potatoes, flatbread and homemade chutney in front of me. The smell was rich and made my belly clench with hunger, but it took a huge amount of effort to lift a forkful to my mouth.

“How are you doing?”

I chewed to delay answering. “Good.” Jay watched me over the rim of his coffee mug. “You didn’t need to do all this,” I said, pronging another forkful.

“It’s fine,” he said, glancing at the clock, which read a little after eight p.m. “I usually get up around this time. It makes my work easier.”

I nodded absently and drank some of the coffee. It was good and strong. I swallowed it greedily, willing it to jumpstart my reasoning.

“Look, Alec,” Jay said, putting his mug down, “about yesterday…”

“You don’t need to say anything.”

“Shouldn’t we talk about it?”

“Why?” He blinked at me. “Sorry. I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

He sighed. “I don’t want you to say anything. It’s just that…it was good, I thought. We were good. I’m not attaching strings or anything.” Jay shrugged and looked into his coffee. “It just felt like there was something there.”

Heat flooded my face. I laid down my fork. “I just… It’s not… It’s complicated.”

“I know it is,” he said. “I understand. I do. But there’s no harm in admitting you enjoyed it.” His smile turned wolfish. “I think you did. Didn’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Well then,” he said, turning his attention to his own plate, “we’ll leave it there for now.” He smiled to himself as he ate.

I finished my own food then retrieved my jacket from the back of the sofa.

“So, what now?” he said as he loaded dishes into his dishwasher.

“I need to speak to Novák, I guess,” I said sullenly. “Tell him what Bonny said, which was basically nothing. What a waste of time.”

“No, it wasn’t. You got to ask your questions and meet people who knew him, loved him.”

“Thanks for your help,” I said, though I couldn’t meet his eyes. “And for…” I glanced around the flat, flushed and coughed. “Yeah…for everything.”

“You should take me with you.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Take me with you. To meet Novák.”

“Why?”

“I’ve tried to get a meeting with Ivor Novák for years but never even got close. But if you take me, I know he’ll see me.”

“What do you want with him?”

“I can help,” he said, coming around the sofa. “And not just with the book. With everything I know, with my contacts in the human world, I could really make a difference if he made me part of his campaign.”

“He’s not my friend,” I said patiently. “He’s some alien overlord that has interfered with my life and tried to play god.”

Jay pursed his lips. “This is important to me. I want to be part of it.”

I glanced at his neck, now hidden behind the collar of his top, then glanced away. “It’s not up to me.”

“Alec—”

“Jay, please,” I said, putting my hand on the door handle. “Thank you for your help…really. But I’m going to talk to Novák, pass on what Ana Bonny said, then I’m going home. That’s it.”

His face fell. “That’s it?”

I sighed. “You know what I mean.”

He nodded stiffly, managing a ghost of his former smile. “I think I do.”