Chapter Eighteen
Hollen
He slipped in and out of consciousness as George used his body to walk them home, the skip in his step a stark contrast to the sticky blood on his fingers. Every few minutes George would hold up one fang to the light, a smile on his lips as he stared at the stained surface.
Hollen couldn’t help the nausea that clawed at his throat, but George seemed to be able to dismiss it as easily as he ignored Hollen’s weak thoughts. A few times Hollen had tried to speak as tears welled up, but George blinked them away with a satisfied hum.
Adair was waiting for them when they got home, his smile faltering as they stepped through the door. Darkness had spread over every part of Hollen’s skin with scrawled tattoos and mysterious symbols. The blood seemed to almost glow against the canvas of his flesh, the four white jewels of teeth stark in his palm.
“Hollen, oh my God.” Adair’s eyes went wide as he clutched at his pajama shirt. He was ready for bed, his shirt loose and slipping off one shoulder and his shorts ending just below his ass. He was vulnerable, a bruise on his thigh that he’d probably picked up from dancing— hopefully.
Hollen tried to avert his eyes, a flush rising to his cheeks for no reason at all, but George stopped the movement. He swept any glimpse of control away, staring with no shame at all.
“Hollen?” Adair caught his gaze, whatever he saw making him take a step back. “You aren’t Hollen.”
“No, I’m not,” said George, his voice rumbling in the kitchen. It had to be some sort of magic that made it so deep, even though he was sharing Hollen’s vocal cords.
Adair took another step, pressing his back against the wall. Hollen had never seen terror like that etched over his features, his chest cracking wider at the sight. He’d already ruined one relationship today. He couldn’t do that a second time.
Hollen thrust ahead, trying to gain control, but George swatted him aside easily.
“I brought you a gift.” George opened his palm, the four sticky teeth resting in the center. Bright vermillion had dried dark, flaking bits falling to the floor.
Adair covered his mouth, retching. He turned, stumbling against the wall as he fled toward the direction of the shared bathroom.
“Huh.” George glanced at his hand, rolling the teeth around. The pulp was thick, the roots dwarfing the sharp tips that Rhys had probably used thousands of times. Thick satisfaction curled in his shared gut when he looked at them, even as Hollen continued to struggle.
Stop. Hollen tried—he truly did—but George just shook his head, closing his hand into a fist as he followed Adair.
*****
George
Adair was bent over the toilet, his hair strewn about his face and his sides heaving as whatever was in his stomach hit the bowl. From the smell, it must’ve been something deplorable, like pizza.
“I thought you would have had a stronger stomach than Hollen.” George dropped the teeth into the garbage, having to flick one from his palm when it stuck to a layer of congealed blood. They hit the bottom of the can with the strangest sound of rock and glass.
Sweat stuck to his skin in the close room, the scent of tea and fresh bread still clinging to him. He curled his lip, pulling at his clothes as Adair continued to heave. He flicked on the shower before dropping the stark uniform to the floor next to Adair, stepping beneath the lukewarm spray.
“That’s better.” George tilted his head into the spray, letting the scents roll off his skin. The tattoos were stretched across every part of him, each telling a story that hardly anyone alive could recall, let alone read. He’d never regretted them, gritting his teeth against the pain of each one as it was burned into his flesh.
Steam swirled in the air, and he reached for the tap, turning off the flow of water and standing in the small, curtained shower. Water dripped in the drain, overshadowed by Adair’s deep breaths. The heaving had stopped.
George stepped out, his skin prickling in the cold as goosebumps rose on his skin. The overheat fan kicked on, drowning out the sound of Adair’s whimper as he clutched the porcelain bowl.
Adair stared at him with wide eyes as he panted, his eyes streaked red. “You— Where’s Hollen?”
Hollen tried to speak up, desperate to get to his friend, but it was no use. He fell deeper into the swirling mass of darkness in his chest, buried beneath layers of exhaustion. George greeted him there with open arms, wrapping him in something soft that anchored him.
George kept his lips sealed, blinking as he smothered the last bit of Hollen’s presence for the moment. It would just be like being trapped in a soundproofed room, his legs and arms bound and away from his control with any sounds sinking into the walls. Only, Hollen could still feel everything, including the water dripping down his back and the coolness of the tiles against his feet.
“He’s safe,” said George, kneeling next to Adair and touching his shoulder. He was clammy and cold to the touch, sweat and humidity clinging to his skin.
The first time he’d seen Adair was before Hollen had realized George had taken up residence. Adair had been curled on the couch in pajamas a few sizes too big, a man next to him who had disappeared from their lives shortly after that encounter.
He had been caught by Adair’s exotic brown eyes, perfectly symmetrical but large and soft. Hollen had leaned in to place a kiss on Adair’s lips as George had squirmed, desire flaring through him. Some of it was his own, and some was Hollen’s.
What parts were his were directly tied to the rush of adrenalin that had been plaguing him since Hollen had offered himself so willingly.
But there was something so purely handsome about Adair, even when his eyes were filled with tears. George had noticed early on, resisting the attraction until the moment he saw Adair dance. After that, he knew it was no use resisting.
George shifted, his naked knees pressing against the cracks between the tiles. A shiver worked over his skin, all but his hair quickly drying. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He moved his hand along Adair’s arm to the spot of nakedness beneath his sleeve. He was drawn to it, staring as his fingertips brushed warmth and softness. “Did you need a shower to get cleaned up?”
“I— How do I know you didn’t hurt him? I want to talk to Hollen.” Adair flinched away, swiping at his mouth with the back of his arm. His gaze was locked on George, his eyes narrowed. When his gaze strayed for the slightest moment, a flush rose to his cheeks, smothered by his golden freckles
George shook his head. “He’s too weak right now.” He reached deep, only to find Hollen slumbering in the same spot he himself had called home for months. “I’m only watching over him until he’s strong enough to come back.”
He’d told many lies in his extended lifetime, but this wasn’t one.
Standing, George grabbed a glass from beside the sink, filling it and holding it out to Adair. “You need to trust me to keep him safe.”
“I don’t trust you,” said Adair, glaring at the cup as if he hadn’t seen George fill it a moment before. “You just came home with four fucking teeth in your hand.”
Touche. This century had been quite the eye-opener. No seemed to want trophies anymore unless they were stuffed and hanging on the wall. Should I suggest a necklace? Hollen would never let him live it down if he heard something like that.
“I plucked them from a vampire who tried to attack Hollen.” George squeezed his hand shut, only a bit of dampness remaining. The tattoos flexed as his knuckles strained. Hell, he had missed them. “I had to protect Hollen. He’s the most important one.”
Adair opened and closed his mouth a few times. “Oh.”
“Let me help you as I helped him.” George pulled the shower curtain back, starting the water again. Instead of the cooler water he’d used, he turned it warm, until steam filled the room. “I won’t hurt you.”
Adair didn’t run from him or turn away. “Promise?” The question was heartbreakingly soft.
“I would gladly die before I hurt you or Hollen.” Hollen was a given—his host, his life force, and his current source of amusement. Adair should have meant nothing in comparison. But perhaps Hollen was rubbing off on him more than he cared to admit, the pureness of his soul matching with the love for his best friend.
Adair reached out, flinching when George clasped his hand and gently led him closer to the open bit of the curtain where steam billowed out in great gray clouds. They were close—close enough that George could scent his skin and see a stray sparkle caught in his eyelash.
He could feel the small shivers go through Adair’s body from the warmth, every bit of attention pinpointed on their connection. The slight chill of the bathroom was gone, heat pouring between them instead.
“I need to get undressed,” said Adair softly, his hand still clasped in George’s. He turned his wrist, sliding their fingers together until they were entwined. Perhaps it would not have felt quite so intimate if George wasn’t naked, his accomplishments and failures on display.
Adair let out a sigh, his eyes slipping shut as his trembling finally stopped. “I’m so tired.”
“That’s the adrenalin crash.” George released him, slowly clasping the bottom edge of Adair’s shirt and pulling it over his head. There was no resistance left. Perhaps Adair had given in to him—or maybe it was the strange connection between them that snapped into place when George had first seen him dance.
It was difficult to undress someone when they were taller than you, but Adair helped him by freeing his arms and tossing the shirt to the ground. He wobbled, his face still pale and his eyes clenched shut.
“You’re here with me. I’ll take care of you.” George trailed a finger down Adair’s now-naked chest. He was unreal perfection, faultless muscles bound to a lithe frame that hid the true extent of his immaculate fluidity.
Centuries ago, George had looked after someone, bathing their skin and kissing the tears from their cheeks. Looking at Adair, the memories of those days washed over him with the warmth of the sun and the scent of the turbulent ocean. There was bitterness, too.
Although his love had lived, he had eventually failed, as all men do. The empty husk he left behind had haunted George so fiercely that he’d driven himself to madness. The people who had taken him from George had burned brighter than the eerie moments before an eclipse.
But now, so much time had passed, he couldn’t recall his lover’s name. It was buried along with every happy bit he’d had in his life. Hollen was the first thing to bring that back, pulling him from his weak existence and his darkness.
But Adair…
George didn’t hesitate before clasping the stretchy waist of Adair’s pants, easing them to the ground. There was nothing underneath except more perfection, perking with interest as George stared.
When he finally looked to Adair’s face, he was flushed, dark pink scrawled over his cheeks and dipping to his chest.
“ This is so weird ,” said Hollen as he stirred from his slumber, his voice echoing in his own head but no further.
George quirked his lips as he tested the water again. It was perfect, the warmth tingling over his fingertips that had cooled in the air. When wet, his tattoos seemed to glow, coming alive beneath the droplets.
“Do you need help?” George couldn’t deny his own interest or his disappointment when Adair shook his head.
When Adair turned, George spotted two small scars on his back, so blatant against the tanned skin that they were startling. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and pressing a fingertip to one of the lines. It was flat and healed pale. “What’s this?”
It was none of his goddamn business was what it was. He dropped his hand as Adair turned his face away, stepping into the shower.
“I’ve had some shitty boyfriends.”
Oh. George gritted his teeth, staring at the gap in the curtain. He’d terrified Adair, and he’d never stopped to consider that there was more to his past than sweet purity.
Jerking the curtain to the side, George followed Adair, crowding into his space until the hot water thudded against his back. He was soaked again in less than a second, the stream pounding into his muscles as the water pressure stuttered and strengthened.
“Did you want me to pull their teeth out?” asked George. “Now that I’ve had some practice, I’m sure I could do it even faster.”
Adair paled, even in the heat, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “I don’t like talking about them.” He reached for the soap, avoiding eye contact.
That won’t do. “Don’t let it fester.” George leaned against the shower wall, giving Adair room if he so chose.
Adair scoffed, shaking his head. “I’m not taking advice from a—whatever it is that you are—when I would really rather just talk to my friend.” He poured the body wash onto a cloth, lathering it up. “Why are you even in here?”
Good question. George shrugged. “I’m a demon, but I haven’t always been this way—suffering through life and latching onto a host just to stay alive. There was a time when I could love, then the isolated purgatory afterward.” That ache in his chest panged again. George pressed a sodden hand to his forehead. “I can’t remember his name. Why the hell can’t I remember? I can’t recall the moment that it slipped away, either. He meant everything to me for so long. I lost my sanity to him. If he passed me on the street today, I wouldn’t even be able to call out for him.”
He trailed off, the sound of the shower and his own breathing filling the space. Adair’s gaze was heavy, sweeping over his naked skin.
“Is this okay?” asked George, looking at his palms. They were etched with the same markings. For all of the writings and languages—some from a time where record keeping was through speech alone—not a single one carved his lover’s name. “I can leave if you want. Hollen and I could both use the rest.
“Stay.” Adair’s answer was almost drowned out by the shower. “Thank you for trying to help. You aren’t that different from Hollen, you know. He’s always trying to help people, even if it hurts him.”
“Can I?” George reached for him, placing a warm palm against an even warmer shoulder. Adair was slick with soap, bubbles floating against his skin.
“Hollen does all the time.” Adair shrugged. “I’m not sure it will be any different if you do it.”
It was different—breathtakingly so. George had been there—that little fly on the wall the last time Hollen had chatted to Adair while he waited for his turn in the shower, eventually abandoning his place on the stool to join him instead. The echoed sensations he’d received that day were nothing compared to doing it himself.
Adair seemed to notice, too. He stiffened, the flush on his cheeks stretching to his chest. His breathing grew heavy as George dragged the bubbles over his back and chest, staying strictly above the waist. Any lower, and he would be sorely tempted to do something that Adair might regret.
When the water started to cool, Adair shut the shower off, lingering as George grabbed for the single towel. Adair let himself be wrapped in the rough linen, shivering as the air rapidly cooled.
“Let me take you to bed,” said George, securing the tie and ignoring the prickling of his own skin as the cold battered him.
Hollen stirred, thrusting himself almost to the forefront of George’s thoughts. “ No way .”
George chuckled. “I can see how this is distracting.” He said it to himself, but Adair perked up, furrowing his forehead, so he decided to explain. “Hollen is quite adamant that nothing further happens between us.”
“Oh.” Adair moved shakily from the bathroom, sitting at the edge of his bed. The towel parted, showing a peek of his inner thigh. He was tanned, even there where the sun usually didn’t touch someone unless they spent hours on a beach somewhere. “I didn’t know you could hear him.” He rubbed his hand over his face, letting out a soft laugh as he shifted on the bed. “This is so weird.”
George reached for Adair’s hand, bringing it to his lips without touching. A kiss was too risky. It would mean something that he wasn’t willing to part with. That pathway was not meant to be trod upon. “I’ll keep you safe, and I’ll keep Hollen safe, too. Sleep well.”
Adair seemed to relax, the towel slipping a little more. “You’re different than I imagined.” He tilted his head, his eyes glowing. “Please never do that thing with the teeth again. The rest wasn’t so bad. A smile lit his lips. “What did Hollen say your name was?”
“He didn’t,” said George. He squeezed Adair’s hand, reveling in the smoothness of him and the heat blooming beneath his fingertips. It had been so long since he’d been able to touch someone like this, their body against his in its purest form. Every nerve was going haywire, his borrowed brain going at full speed. “When you’ve lived as long as I have, you tend to accumulate names. Hollen calls me George. Many years before that I was Gorgo. I’m not sure which I prefer.”
Adair clutched at a blanket, drawing it over his lap. “I like Gorgo. It suits you.”
“Indeed it does.” George smiled, his lips curling over his teeth. He was given that name at the very base of himself when he was more darkness and madness than man.
“Goodnight, Adair. In the morning, Hollen will be awake, and all of this will seem like a dream.”
George grinned as he backed out of the room. Vampires aren’t the only ones who can hypnotize someone.