Chapter Thirty-Three #2
They leave not long after that, just as the sun is beginning to dip towards the horizon. Orange streaks paint the sky and I stretch my legs out in the sand to watch it go down, occasionally munching on one of the leftover doughnuts.
Vlad joins me about ten minutes after it gets dark. He lowers himself into the sand by my side and when I pass him half a doughnut, he takes a bite and lets out a contented hum.
“It went well?” he asks. There are too many lights here to really see the stars, but I tip my head back to try to get a glimpse of them anyway.
“Better than I could have hoped for. I asked about my parents.”
“And?”
“I need to think on it for a while. But they’re okay, Rachel said. At least I know.”
“Good.” Vlad kisses my temple, arm a welcome weight around my shoulders, and I’m not against the idea of going back, going home, but part of me would like to stay here forever. It’s a perfect moment in a long line of perfect moments that stretch ahead of us.
“We should go back to the hotel,” I say. “Get packed up.”
Vlad huffs. “I did that,” he replies, as though it should be obvious. “The bags are in the car, and we are all checked out. I had time today.”
“Are you saying I’m a distraction?” I turn and really look at him. He’s still wearing suit trousers and a shirt, but the top two buttons of the shirt are unfastened and my eyes drop to that patch of exposed skin. “You’re the distraction.”
Vlad laughs and kisses me. I taste sugar on his lips, in his mouth. He gentles it when I try to climb into his lap, holding me in place.
“We are not exactly alone.”
He’s not wrong. I kiss him again, tug his beard, and brush off the soles of my feet before I pull on my shoes. “I know. We should head back, anyway.”
“We have time.”
“We’ll come back. Won’t we?”
“Of course.”
I jump to my feet and when I hold out a hand to help him up, he doesn’t hesitate to take it. We walk to the car like that, hand in hand, and I think Vlad would never let go at all except he needs both hands to drive us back.
The journey is nice. I roll my window down, breathing in the cool night air, and chatter away as Vlad drives.
I want to spend more time with Quinn—when he’s not with Asher and I’m not with Vlad, of course.
I want to meet his pack. Once everything is safer, I want to have more people in our home, but not all the time because I want time for me and Vlad, too.
I don’t notice how quiet Vlad has gone until we pull up outside the base. He shuts off the engine and I listen as it begins to cool. The bond tells me nothing, and I don’t really want it to. I want to be able to read him all on my own.
“What’s going on? Things aren’t going to be different now that we’re back, are they?”
“No, of course not.”
“Because you’re mine now. You said it. My boyfriend, partner, whatever.”
“Grant.” He says my name with such fondness, and I still. “I have no doubts about us. I have no compunction about telling the others. I am preparing myself for what the consequences may be.”
“Consequences?”
“The Huntsman may be unhappy.”
I growl, and my magic grows to fill the car, pressing down on both of us. I won’t let him do to Vlad what he did to Maurice. I won’t let him hurt any of us. Not again.
Vlad stretches one arm across the centre console and presses his thumb to my lips. I shiver and go quiet.
“We will be fine. He knows of the bond already. I am simply… I like to be prepared.”
“Okay. Yeah, okay.”
Vlad smiles, and God, every smile is devastating, just a little bit, and then he kisses me, dragging me close. My magic doesn’t recede. It pulses again, wrapping around both of us, ready to sink into the bond and—
Someone raps on the window at my back. I pull back with a yelp and Vlad glares at whoever has disturbed us.
Maurice. He raises his eyebrows, and I open the door, just enough that I can hear him.
“When you’ve quite finished,” he says, trying not to laugh, I can see it, “we’re all waiting for you inside. All of us.”
The Huntsman is here, then.
Vlad doesn’t let go of me, but his tone is cool and detached when he replies, “We will be with you shortly.”
Maurice almost breaks. He presses his lips together and swallows and when he says, “Right,” it comes out with a tremor.
Fucker. I’ll get him back about Njáll if I have to—though maybe when Njáll isn’t around.
For being one of the only people I know who isn’t fae or fae-blessed, he’s surprisingly intimidating.
Vlad waits until Maurice is firmly inside, door closed behind him, before he draws me in for another kiss. “Boyfriend,” he breathes against my mouth. “I like that.”
“You don’t think it’s…” I trail off. Immature? I can’t ignore the difference in our ages, not all the time. I don’t want to make it into a thing.
“I have never been anyone’s boyfriend before,” Vlad says, cheeks pink. Oh. Well. That settles that then.
“Well, you’re mine. Now let’s go see what this is all about.”
The atmosphere as we enter the living room is strained at best. Maurice wasn’t kidding—Njáll and Quinn are here, along with all the Hunt, with the exception of Moreau. And Rook and Saide, but I figure they’re long gone by now.
Quinn is sitting where I usually would on the sofa, but he moves when we walk in.
Asher grumbles at him when he drops to sit on the floor—he’s right; Quinn doesn’t need to move for me—but then moves to sit next to his mate.
Don’t know why he’s bothered. Vlad often doesn’t sit when the Huntsman is here. He stands on tenterhooks, instead.
Only, when I sit today, exchanging smiles with Paxton and Jeremiah first, Vlad takes the now-vacant spot to my left. He sits close enough that our thighs press together, and when he levels his gaze on the Huntsman, my heart beats a little faster.
“Vladimir,” the Huntsman says, inclining his head. His dark eyes move to me. “Grant.”
I start in surprise. He’s never acknowledged me by name before, and it feels like that’s important. He stands before all of us, and my stomach twists because his expression is never anything but stern, but there’s something different to the lines of it right now, something deeper.
“The queen is dead.”
The air stills. Quinn darts a look at me, and I think we’re both in a similar boat, where yeah, we know that’s important, but the true ramifications are beyond us. Vlad clenches one hand on his thigh. “And her heirs?”
“We have to hope they are up to the task,” the Huntsman replies.
I dart looks at the others. Maurice has gone flinty-eyed in that way that means he knows something the rest of us don’t.
I can figure it out, though. I’ve spent all my vampire life talking to fae. I knew the name Iagan long before Eirian said it.
I just didn’t know who it belonged to back then.
“There is much still to do,” the Huntsman says, “and until this matter is settled, things will only be more volatile. I hope you are all prepared.”
His gaze moves from Njáll to Quinn and finally lands on me. I feel his magic reach out, brush against mine, and I push back against it. I’ll obey him because Vlad obeys him and I’m not trying to cause trouble, but I keep the decision I made earlier close to my heart. He won’t hurt us. Any of us.
He nods again, and I get the distinct feeling he knows exactly what I’m thinking and isn’t surprised at all. When he tilts his head in farewell, I get a strange, uncomfortable feeling.
Déjà vu.
Puca aren’t the only fae who can shapeshift. I know that, too. Some high fae—royal high fae—have powers they keep close, keep to themselves.
He sweeps out, heading for the door, and I find myself on my feet, Vlad looking up at me in surprise. “Be right back.” I leave before he can protest or anyone can ask. I don’t want to explain the whole thing. Not yet.
But I have a feeling…
He’s standing just outside the wards when I get to the door, so I close it behind me and step out into the night. When he simply looks at me, I leave the wards, too.
“I expected it would be a few more years before you came to me,” the Huntsman says. He’s wearing his glamour out here, but if I squint and try, I see the way his magic sneaks around the edge. “These events have accelerated everything.”
“Can you shapeshift into a deer?”
Direct questions are hard for the fae to avoid. Like the rest of them, he can’t lie.
To his credit, he doesn’t try to.
“Yes. A stag, rather, but yes.”
I see that, too. Like with Asher’s absent wolf, I’ve just not been able to recognise what’s been before me the entire time.
“You killed me.”
“You were driving.”
“You—”
“How else would the two of you have met?”
“You don’t trust the bonds?”
“The bonds do nothing alone, and particularly not for a human and a vampire. I would not have him spend eternity with no one by his side.”
I glance up at the house and a laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “You’ve been matchmaking this entire time, haven’t you?”
He doesn’t answer. His human face struggles to hide emotions as well as its fae counterpart, though, and I see his irritation at being found out.
“Are you going to take the throne? From what Eirian said, you’ll need someone beside you, won’t you? Will Mor—”
“Enough, Grant,” he says, but not as sharply as I expect. I’ve overstepped, and I’m angry at him, but there’s nothing to be done about that here and now. “The court observes a sennight of mourning. Even the most rebellious of fae should respect that.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you have four more days with minimal fae mischief.” The Huntsman gives me a tight, unpractised smile. “Enjoy your time with him. Cement your bond, if you must. But be prepared to fight for everything you hold dear once this respite is done.”
With that, he walks away, and I let him, my head spinning. It’s not just about what he told Vlad, about the bonds. He’s been shifting us into position—Paxton to Jeremiah, Maurice to Njáll, and perhaps he was warier about Asher and Quinn, but he never stood in their way, either.
I bound back up into the house, which goes suspiciously quiet when I walk in. All gazes swivel to me when I walk into the living room, but I ignore them and drop down next to Vlad again.
I’ll tell them all soon, but I want to talk to Vlad about it first. About the fact that the Huntsman ran me off the road, for one. Dickhead.
“So…” Maurice says, leaning around Vlad to look at me. “You both worked it out, then?”
I take one of Vlad’s hands between mine. Paxton makes a soft sound, just out of my line of sight. “Yes. Meet my new—and last—boyfriend.”
Jeremiah snorts and the rest laugh as Maurice says, “Boyfriend?” He sounds incredulous.
“Maurice,” Njáll murmurs.
Vlad squeezes my hand tightly.
Maurice rolls his eyes. “It’s not about that,” he says. “I just figured you might have eloped while you were away.”
I huff, and they all laugh again, and warmth settles in my chest, my magic wrapping around the room, around all of us.
“You know we’ll still be training you,” Paxton says to me. He levels Vlad with a look.
Vlad nods. “Give us a few days first.”
“We have that,” I say. “Four days before everything goes to shit, apparently.”
Maurice gets to his feet. “That’s our cue then,” he says and drags Njáll over to the door. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I intend to spend the time before we get dragged into the middle of a fae civil war having the time of my life.”
They leave, and Asher and Quinn follow them out, then Jeremiah and Paxton head upstairs not long after. Vlad drags me onto his lap once the room is empty and I loop my arms around his neck.
“That is not all he told you.”
“It’s not.”
“Can it wait until later?”
“It absolutely will,” I say, and a second later, his mouth descends on mine. I smile into our kiss. Four days and shit will hit the fan, but for now, I have everything I need.