Chapter 3
RILEY
Riley ran through the forest as fast as his feet could carry him.
Which was, to be honest, very, very fast. It was a good thing too, since his house in the woods was a twenty-minute drive from the little coastal town on a good day. And it seemed really important, in this moment, to get to that house. To get very far away from…other places.
Because the sights and sounds and smells of the forest were surrounding Riley on every side, but all he could see were messy brown curls, and soft cheeks, and strong-looking hands with delicate fingers.
All he could hear was a bright, warm voice asking if Riley would be okay.
All he could smell was tart orange, and sugar, and a hint of what he thought might be vanilla.
Like a cake. A bright sunshine cake with sticky-sweet icing.
Riley had eaten a lot of human food over the years—any intake helped with the hunger pains—but it had always been about quantity, not quality. Nothing made in an oven or on a stove had ever compared to the hot, rich burst of blood on his tongue, so what had been the difference?
But now—now Riley could see the appeal. A big slice of cake, placed oh so carefully on a beautiful, breakable plate. Just for him. Just for Riley.
Mine. Mine, mine, mine, MINE. Turn back. Turn BACK.
Okay, not just for him. Because Riley still had his stupid fucking voice to think about, because he was still a stupid fucking vampire.
The thing inside him was mad as hell that Riley had made them leave. It was throwing a tantrum, furious enough that it hurt to think, its yelling and snarling creating a pounding rhythm behind Riley’s eyes.
Riley hadn’t been able to say anything to the beautiful baker with the voice raging inside him like that. He’d barely been able to nod. And now the voice was yelling about mates, and biting, and…other stuff.
But that was fine. Riley was used to ignoring its tantrums. He’d had years of practice.
Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off! he yelled inside his own head, a childish counter to its enraged growls.
It didn’t like that, but whatever. Sometimes it was nice to yell back, even if it was a useless exercise.
When Riley finally made it home, he didn’t pause on the porch or stop in the entryway to toe off his muddy shoes. He ran straight to the dining room, where his moms were playing cards on their oversize, ornately engraved, admittedly ostentatious dining room table.
His moms were used to him running—in the forest, in the house, to and from town—and barely blinked at the speed of his entrance. “Oh, but the mud, darling,” Mama Daphne only scolded softly, as Mama Sybil cursed under her breath at whatever strategic move Mama Daphne had just pulled.
“How was town?” Mama Sybil asked without looking away from the cards arranged on the table.
They hadn’t used to be so casual about Riley returning from town. It had once been a whole event, every time he’d managed to surround himself with humans without trying to tear into someone’s throat.
But things had changed over the past year, as Riley’s growth had leveled out and his hunger had eased. His moms were trying their best to treat him like the adult he’d grown to be and not the child they’d worked so tirelessly to protect.
Riley stood there for a few moments, working to catch breath he didn’t technically need.
His moms were beautiful women on their own terms, and as a pair they were pretty damn striking.
Mama Sybil, all tall and pale and curvaceous, with bountiful chestnut waves and a preference for formfitting dresses.
And Mama Daphne, petite and slim, with rich brown skin and sleek black curls, who matched Mama Sybil in ferocity but tricked people into thinking otherwise with sweet smiles and a cottagecore aesthetic.
They were mates—bonded by fate and by blood—and they loved each other so deeply it was a mystery that they had room to love Riley at all. But they did, with a devotion he wasn’t sure he deserved. And they were clever and cautious, and they would know what to do here.
Oh fuck, Riley hoped they knew what to do.
Every vampire was supposed to have a fated mate, a matching soul that would tether them to their humanity and keep them from going feral. A bond that would keep them from giving in fully to that whispering, growling entity inside them that demanded blood and violence and the thrill of a hunt.
But Riley had been half-feral since the day he’d turned, and since vampire children didn’t usually survive until adulthood, he and his moms didn’t have any prior cases to help guide them.
Those turned young were too driven by hunger, too much of a risk of discovery, and they were often put down by others of their kind to keep their species’s secret safe.
Riley knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the only reason he’d escaped that fate himself was because of his mothers’ care. Their constant efforts to remind him who he was, the person inside him that was separate from the hunger and bloodlust. Their care in keeping him fed and keeping him full.
Still, none of them had been sure if Riley would have a mate like the rest of his kind. He was an anomaly, and he hadn’t…meshed with his inner vampire like he was supposed to.
They hadn’t known if fate would give him a match.
But the baker smelled like his, and he made that voice inside Riley rage in a different, new way. A confusing way.
Like…Riley wanted to sink his teeth into the pretty man—that wasn’t exactly a foreign desire—but he also wanted to hold him so close that their skin merged together. He wanted that orange cake scent covering him from head to toe.
He wasn’t sure what that was about.
His moms seemed to finally notice Riley hadn’t answered their question. They turned in unison to look at him fully. At whatever they saw on his face, they each placed their cards face down on the table.
Mama Sybil cocked her head, red lips pursed. “Did you eat something before going into town, Riley?”
Riley couldn’t help clenching his hands into fists.
Some inner part of him rebelled at being treated like a child again—he was nineteen, not a little boy anymore.
But he’d only been going into town for the past year.
His appetite as an adolescent had been too voracious to allow it.
And it had only been the past six months that he’d been able to go alone, without his moms to chaperone.
That kind of timeline was a blink of an eye to vampires like his moms.
It would be a blink of an eye to him one day too, although it was hard to believe it. Not when every day since he’d been turned had felt like its own eternity.
“I ate,” Riley said, unable to go into further detail with so many thoughts in his head.
“A human?” Mama Daphne asked. Even with all their efforts to keep Riley from harming anyone, there was no judgment in the question—most vampires had taken a life or twelve in the early days of their new lives, when they were still learning how to manage their hunger—but Riley could hear the calculation behind it.
The steps that would need to be taken if he’d snapped and drained someone dry.
He shook his head.
Mama Daphne studied his face. “Was it a hard visit?” she asked eventually. “Someone had an accident, maybe? Fresh blood?”
Riley took a deep breath and let it out deliberately. With the familiarity of home and the reassurance of his mothers’ light, floral scents, both with their hint of copper, the voice inside him had quieted a bit. “There’s a new bakery,” he managed to say.
“Oh, yes. Coastal something or other, wasn’t it?” Mama Sybil drawled. “We wanted to try it. I’ve been dying for a decent croissant.” She pronounced the word with a perfect French accent.
“And—and a new baker. The owner.”
There was an almost imperceptible shift in the air. Riley could sense it, even as Mama Sybil kept her voice carefully neutral as she asked, “Is there? And what are they like, this baker?”
“Soft cheeks,” Riley said instantly. “Delicate hands, but they’re strong. Smells good.”
Riley watched as Mama Daphne grabbed for Mama Sybil’s hand, her voice not quite as calm as her mate’s as she asked, “Smelled good like blood or good like…?”
“Like cake. Orange cake with vanilla icing.”
“I see.”
“I want to eat him,” Riley said in a rush, unable to stop himself. “I want to eat him more than I’ve ever wanted to eat anything.”
He could picture it now. Pulling the baker close and tucking his head into that sweet-smelling neck, right where the blood pounded so fiercely. Opening his mouth to breathe in the warmth of his skin.
The voice inside him agreed, bringing to Riley’s mind visions of the bits he’d missed. The curve of the baker’s throat, the pounding of his jumpy pulse when Riley had tackled him, a stray freckle under his left eye.
Riley hadn’t meant to jump on him the other night.
He really hadn’t. He’d been walking in the woods, wanting to be close to town but not around any people yet, and he’d smelled something so delicious he hadn’t been able to stop himself.
He’d lost control, leaping onto the stranger before he’d even known he was moving, only coming back to himself when he’d been met by a pair of frightened eyes, their color not quite green, not quite brown, but something dancing in between.
Riley had meant to run home, to tell his moms that very night about what had happened, but he hadn’t.
Instead, he’d lurked outside the stranger’s home, listening while he tried to catch glimpses through the window.
The baker had a friend he’d been telling about his day.
He’d been sad about his bakery, the new one in town that didn’t have enough customers.
When the baker had finally gone to sleep, tucked away where Riley couldn’t see him, Riley had wandered the forest, draining small animals to fill him up. He’d crossed the highway and sat on the sandy beach, and then, while it was still dark, he’d headed back into town. Straight to the bakery.
Riley had thought he’d have a handle on things, now that he’d known what the baker smelled like. He’d thought he wouldn’t be caught by surprise this time, and he could have a conversation with him, maybe ask him if all bakers smelled like walking, talking cake.
But Riley had been just as overwhelmed the second time, unable to say a word, and now the baker probably thought he was a creep.
Riley’s moms exchanged a glance and then immediately began murmuring between themselves. “We’ll need blood,” Mama Sybil said. “Lots of it. We need to keep him full.”
“Is it wise?” Mama Daphne asked. “Perhaps if he remained—”
“He won’t be able to resist. Not for long. Caution is better than avoidance.”
Riley’s stomach sank at their whispered plans. He’d been in better control for the last year, and he’d forgotten this feeling of panic, this sense of being some rabid creature in need of shackling. It was depressing to be back in it so quickly, after just one mistaken encounter.
But also…soft cheeks. Strong hands. Warm voice.
Riley wanted to see him again. Maybe even more than the monster inside him did. He wanted to see if he’d misjudged how good the baker smelled. Wanted to see if the human would speak so warmly to him again, even though Riley had disappeared without a word.
Maybe the discomfort would be worth it, for that. To see his baker again without worrying about draining him.
“What does it mean—” Riley started to ask, then stopped.
His moms turned to face him again. “What does what mean, darling?” Mama Daphne asked.
“What does it mean that I want to bite him but also want to…I don’t know…lick him?” Riley frowned, trying to parse through it even as he spoke the words. “Touch him, maybe. I think I want to wrap my fingers around his throat and see if it feels just as delicate as it looks.”
“Well.” Mama Sybil cleared her throat, sharing a look with Mama Daphne. “That sounds like it might be attraction, darling.”
Oh. Right, that could be it. Riley wouldn’t really know.
He’d never had so much as a kiss, and he’d never really wanted one.
His moms had asked him a few times over the past year, if anyone in town had caught his eye, now that he was interacting with humans.
But even though Riley could see on the surface if someone was good-looking or not, he hadn’t ever wanted to press them back against the door of their bakery and… Riley didn’t know exactly what.
But the baker’s lips had looked soft. And Riley sort of wanted to see if they tasted like cake.
So maybe he did know. Maybe, now that he thought about it, he had a really good idea of exactly what he’d like to do with the sweet-smelling human.
And then maybe it was okay if his moms fussed over him again. Riley’s entire life until now had been a study in hunger, a fight for control. This was only more of the same, but also…different. Better.
Because the prize at the end of this, if Riley could manage it, wasn’t just survival. The prize was a kind of hope, wasn’t it? For something more. For someone who wasn’t a parent, or some older vampire friend of the family being nice to Riley because he was a lonely anomaly.
Riley could have something like what his moms shared, couldn’t he, if he could only be…
good. Normal. Normal enough to hold a conversation, at least, because judging from that phone call, it seemed like the baker liked to talk.
So Riley should try to manage a few words in a row, and maybe practice smiling at his pretty human instead of just growling.
Because now that Riley had seen him, smelled him, pressed him against the dirt—he was almost certain he wanted to keep this mate he’d been given. The voice inside him agreed.
But Riley had to acknowledge—looking down at his mud-splattered jeans, his long fingers trembling from the need to chase something down and drain it of its blood—that his mate might not want him back.