44. Less reverent worship.
Chapter forty-four
Less reverent worship...
Nick
N ick learned to find peace in small, ordinary tasks.
Tonight it was dishes—the simple rhythm of washing, rinsing, and stacking clean plates in the rack beside the sink.
The farmhouse was just stirring to life around him as evening settled in, everyone accustomed to the nocturnal schedule that came with living alongside vampires.
His movements had adapted over the past two months, muscle memory adjusting to compensate for his missing hand.
He braced plates against his forearm, used his stump to steady larger items, moved with the efficient grace of someone who refused to see his limitation as defeat.
His ears tracked the sounds of the house—Petrov’s heavy footsteps upstairs, the distant murmur of Vincent’s voice from the living room, the familiar creaks and settling that meant home.
Ophelia sat on the counter beside him, legs swinging, watching him work with that peculiar intensity she brought to everything.
She’d been visiting for three days now,ostensiblyto discuss some business matter with Vincent, but Nick suspected she just liked observing their strange household dynamics.
She didn’t offer to help. Nick didn’t expect her to.
A pasta bowl slipped as he transferred it from soapy water to rinse, his stump not quite catching it in time.
The ceramic clattered against the sink basin but didn’t break.
The sound made himglance toward the kitchen’s two exits, old habits checking for potential threats even though his shoulders remained relaxed.
Ophelia’s blank eyes tracked the near-miss with clinical interest.“Why haven’t you gotten a prosthetic?”
The question was delivered with her characteristic bluntness, no preamble or social cushioning. Nick found her directnessoddlyreassuring—there was never any hidden agenda with Ophelia, no need to parse subtext or search for manipulation.
“I don’t really need one,” Nick said, continuing his washing. “I’ve adapted.”
“It’s impractical. You drop things.”She tilted her head, studying his technique.“Dad cut your hand off. He’dprobablypay for a replacement if you asked. Guilt pays well.”
Nick considered this as he worked soap over a stubborn pot.
Marcusprobablywould pay for a prosthetic without hesitation—the vampire had alreadyquietlyhandled Nick’s medical expenses, therapy costs, everything related to his recovery.
But the idea of artificial fingers, plastic and metal trying to replace what was gone, felt wrong somehow.
“Maybe eventually,” Nick said. “It’s not a priority right now.”
Ophelia nodded once, accepting the answer without argument. She hopped down from the counter and picked up a dish towel, beginning to dry the clean plates without saying another word.
They worked in easy silence, Ophelia’s help offered without acknowledgment or expectation of gratitude.
Caleb warned Nick about this weeks ago—Ophelia was kind to people she liked, but he couldn’t point it out or thank her for it.
Her emotional wiring was different, and drawing attention to her gestures of care would only make her do the exact opposite.
Nick learned to accept her strange affection with the same quiet grace she offered it.
The last dish dried and put away, they drifted outside into the warm evening air.
Nick’s eyesswept the property’s perimeter—old training that felt more like background awareness now rather than hypervigilance.
The farmhouse sat surrounded by fields of young corn and soybeans, neat rows stretching toward the horizon under a sky deepening from gold to purple.
In the distance, he caught the sound of a car on the county road, but it passed without slowing.
Nick wonderedinitiallyhow the crops got planted and harvested when none of the vampires could work in daylight.
“University agricultural program,”Ophelia had explained with typical brevity when he’d asked.“Vincent leases the land. Students do the work. Everyone wins.”
It was practical, profitable, and kept the property lookingauthenticallyagricultural—perfect cover for a house full of vampires who preferred their privacy.
Nick was approaching one of the old tractors parked near the barn when Adam’s voice cut through the evening quiet.
“I want to try driving it,”Adam announced, heading toward the massive machinery with obvious fascination.“Vincent always tells me no.”
“Get away from that thing,”Ophelia calledsharply, her voice carrying unusual venom.“You’ll fuck up the land and fuck up the lease if you crash it.”
“Come on,”Adam wheedled, already hauling himself up toward the driver’s seat.“How hard can it be? It’s just areallybig car, right?”
“Adam Nolan, I swear to god, if you so much as touch that ignition, I will steal your prosthetic while you sleep and hide it somewhere you’ll never find it.”
The threat was delivered with such deadpan sincerity that Nick burst into laughter. These people—his people now, he supposed—were chaotic and strange and wonderful in ways he was still discovering. Adam paused in his tractor exploration, grinning at Nick’s reaction.
“See? Nick thinks it’s funny. Nick’s on my side.”
“Nick has sense enough not to destroy expensive farm equipment for fun,”Ophelia repliedcoolly.“Unlike some people.”
Nick watched their banter with warm amusement.
Adam wasusuallya considerate housemate—quiet when others were sleeping, helpful with chores, respectful of everyone’s space.
But he had a streak of mischievous curiosity that occasionally surfacedwhen Vincent wasn’t around to redirect his energy into more private pursuits.
Speaking of which, Nick was grateful his room was at the far end of the farmhouse. Vincent and Adam could be... enthusiastic in their physical relationship. The soundproofing wasn’t perfect.
“I’m going to find Luka,”Nick announced, stepping away from the tractor before Adam could convince him to join in whatever agricultural mayhem he was planning.
“Coward,”Adam called after him, but his tone was fond.
Nick waved them off and headed back toward the farmhouse, leaving Ophelia to continue threatening Adam’s prosthesis. Their voices faded as he crossed the back porch and slipped inside.
Nick found Luka in their room—their room, not just the guest room where Nick was staying—sitting on the edge of the bed with a book in his lap. The vampire looked up when Nick entered, jade eyes warming with the kind of automatic smile that still made Nick’s stomach do a somersault.
?Good evening,?Luka said, setting the book aside.
Nick’s ASL improveddramaticallyover the past two months, though he still relied on simple phrases and easy gestures.?Ophelia and Adam fighting about tractor.?
Luka’s eyebrows rose in amusement.?Adam wants to drive it??
?She threatened to steal his leg.?
Luka laughed, shaking his head. Nick loved that laugh—the way Luka’s whole body participated in his joy, unguarded and beautiful.
Nick crossed to the bed and settled beside Luka, close enough for their thighs to touch.
Eight weeks of sharing this space taught them each other’s rhythms, preferences, boundaries.
Nick knew Luka liked to read before their evening routine, that he whistledwhen he was content, that he always spent a go portion of his time after work running his fingers through Nick’s hair while Nick pretended to sleep.
“How was your day?”Nick asked, letting his shoulder bump against Luka’s.
Luka considered the question, his hands moving through a series of signs Nick was still learning.
When Nick looked confused, Luka reached for his phone and typed:‘ Matteo had a good start. Drank half a bag without issues. Vincent stressed about quarterly reports. Petrov fixed the washing machine again.’
“Busy,”Nick summarized, and Luka nodded.
They sat in contented quiet for a moment, Nick appreciating the simple pleasure of Luka’s presence. The vampire’s scent— clean skin and something that might have been cedar—became synonymous with safety in Nick’s mind. Sanctuary smelled like Luka now.
Nick reached over and picked up the book Luka had been reading, flipping through pages of what looked like a vampire mythology book.“Light reading?”
Luka’s mouth quirked in what might have been embarrassment. He typed on his phone: It’s amusing to see what people think about us.
“Learning anything interesting?”
Mostlythat vampires have always been dramatic.
Nick snorted with laughter.“Present company excluded, of course.”
Luka’s grin was answer enough.
Nick set the book aside and stretched, working out the kinks from dish duty.“I should practice piano before everyone gets too active. Less chance of interruption.”
?Play for me??Luka asked, and there was something hopeful in his expression.
“It’s not ready yet,”Nick said, feeling heat creep up his neck.“Still working out the fingering for the melody. One hand makes it complicated.”
Luka reached over and touched Nick’s wristgently, just above where his hand ended. The contact was casual, absent—the kind of unconscious affection that spoke to how settled they’d become with each other.
?No pressure,?Luka signed.?Just like hearing you play.?
The idea that Luka enjoyed his fumbling attempts at reclaiming music, that he found beauty in Nick’s halting progress rather than impatience with his limitations, made Nick's face feel too warm.
“Maybe later,”Nick saidsoftly.“When I get a bit more figured out.”
There was something different about Luka tonight. A tension that wasn’t quite restlessness, an energy that felt more focused than usual. When Luka turned to meet his gaze, Nick caught something in his expression that made his pulse quicken.
“What?” Nick asked.
Instead of signing a response, Luka leaned closer, his hand coming up to cup Nick’s cheek. The touch was gentle but deliberate, and Nick felt his breath catch at the hunger he saw in Luka’s eyes.