Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Noah
When I was a young boy, I used to have photos and magazine cutouts of all my favorite actors and singers and even some sports players. I used to idolize them for their looks, charisma or talent.
Every wall of my bedroom was covered, even the back of my door had a photo of my favorite k-pop band. And it wasn’t until I turned sixteen that my family began questioning why I had so many photos of men and not a single woman.
Maybe it was just who I was, deep down in the darkness of my soul.
For those few years of my life, I was blissfully unaware of my sexuality.
Sure, some girls in school were cute, but I never had a desire to talk to them.
Maybe it was the bright orange hair I could never seem to tame, the kind that made me stick out no matter where I went.
And if my classmates were anything to go by, orange definitely wasn’t cool.
I was 17 before I finally noticed it. On my birthday, with all our friends crowded around the pool, my best friend’s eyes kept drifting back to mine… a little too often to be accidental.
His name was Callum. He was smart and funny and had a girlfriend, Chelsea. They were going to prom together and were even trying to get into the same college just so they wouldn’t have to go long-distance.
I never thought of Callum as more than my best friend. But that particular day, under the July sun, did his blue gaze catch mine.
It was subtle at first. A joke had been told, and we both laughed while Maroon 5 played on the speaker.
I caught him watching me while I lounged on my pool float, his gaze lingering just long enough to make my stomach flip.
Later that night, at the barbecue, I looked up and found him staring again, standing beside my dad as he dished up burgers.
Callum smiled. But it wasn’t like his normal, toothy grin. No, this smile was something shy and gentle. Shy didn’t fit with Callum.
So of course I asked him about it later that night after everyone had left the party and it was just the two of us in my bedroom. Me in my bed and Callum on a mattress on the floor.
‘Why did you smile at me like that?’
‘Like what?’
I couldn't find an answer. Partially because I didn't know but also because I couldn't understand why my heart fluttered or why my body heated at the thought of my best friend.
After my birthday, Callum began hanging out with Chelsea a lot more. His excuse to not come over was because he had to study to get into college and on the weekends he was somehow always out of town.
That summer I took down all my posters and cutouts. It was the same summer I lost my best friend.
The smell of coffee draws me from my sleep. My mouth is dry and my body aches as I sit up. I expect to find my desk sitting across from me, or Pumpkin at my feet. But instead, Xander’s leathery scent bombards me and I soothe my hands across the velvety covers of his coffin.
The lid is open, allowing a faint trickle of morning light to peel into through the window. But the house is still quiet, besides the echoes of footsteps that drone up and down the hallway.
I smile. This is home. Forever.
Pulling myself into a sitting position, I wince at the sudden twang shooting up my spine. My hips are tight and my thighs are tingly but everything still seems to be in working order. Despite the pale red bite marks that decorate my body, I feel rather well rested.
My hand slides along the smooth wooden trim, noticing the redness of the wood and the intricate embellishments carved into the side. Xander’s coffin is beautiful.
I climb onto my knees, feeling myself, and gasp when my fingers brush over my gaping hole. I’m still slippery with lube… or is it ointment? I tentatively sniff my fingers to find a hint of lemon and lavender. So, it is ointment.
My skin is softer than ever and my scalp feels freshly washed. Had Xander cleaned me up in my sleep?
Cutlery clatters downstairs, and a few eager meows ensue. I guess he’s feeding the cats.
I stand on shaky legs, my stomach grumbles to life, and I amble over to Xander’s closet, finding a pair of sleep shorts that are far too large for my hips and a thick jumper that reaches my thighs.
Tapping with bare feet, I make my way from his room and down the stairs, watching him pat Pumpkin between the ears as he eats from his bowl.
Two steaming mugs of coffee sit waiting at the kitchen counter. One in a plain black mug and the other in a bright pink mug decorated with tiny yellow flowers.
“Good morning, sweetheart.” Xander looks up at me from his kneeling spot.
I rush to him, and he stands, enveloping me in a hug. “Hi,” is all I manage, feeling how hot my cheeks grow.
“Are you hungry?” Xander asks, pulling away and opening the fridge. “I can make you an omelet.”
“Yes, thank you.” I slide into the bar stool and take hold of the black mug, leaving the flowery one for Xander.
He moves around the kitchen with practiced ease, pulling out ingredients and starting breakfast. Then his eyes flick to the mug, and something in his expression shifts as he reaches for it. He pauses and gives me an incredulous look. I wink and hide my grin behind my mug as I take a sip.
Shaking his head, his smile broadens and never drops as he picks up the pink mug and takes a drink. His eyes don't leave mine until I squirm. “How are you feeling?”
His question sounds simple but I can see the magnitude of it floating behind his gaze. The way he picks at the skin around his nail and how his chest is now frozen with a held breath.
“Good. A little sore. But I feel like I’m actually well rested,” I respond.
Xander nods. His shoulders relax as he lets out a quiet sigh and turns to the stove to start cooking. “Sore where?”
I blush, grateful his back is turned, and I swallow another mouthful of coffee. “Just my… ass.”
Xander looks over his shoulder and an evil grin slides across his face. “Which part of your ass?”
I nearly growl at him, but seeing his playfulness dart around the room and the light buzz of morning sunshine peeking through the windows, I sit back in my stool and return his grin with a smirk of my own. “The whole thing. I think you’ll have to kiss it better.”
Xander flips the omelet and grabs a plate. “You don’t need to ask me twice, sweetheart. But we will have company soon.”
My brows furrow and I tilt my head, my eyes darting around the living room as if this company is about to pop into existence.
“Who?” I ask.
Xander plates up the omelet, sprinkling it with some salt and pepper as well as some finely chopped spring onion, and slides it over to me. “My colony.”
I pick up the knife and fork and tuck into my meal. The eggs are perfectly cooked and the added bacon, cheese, and tomatoes pair well together. I barely bother to breathe as I hungrily chow down.
Xander watches me closely, his eyes darting across my body as if looking through my clothes. “You’re stiffer than normal. Are you sure you’re okay?”
I chew my mouthful and roll my shoulders, feeling the joints crack. “Maybe a bit tight, but don’t you dare go easy on me next time.”
His eyes light up. “So there will be a next time?”
So this is why he’s been hovering. Yes, having sex with someone for the first time is always a big step in any relationship, but now I can see what is truly bothering him. The fact that we did much more than just sex. The bites. Our declarations of love and devotion.
“Xander,” I press. He freezes under his name.
“I have told you this before and I will tell you again. I’m. Not. Going. Anywhere. I want to be with you. I want to live in Moonfell, in this house. And maybe, one day, I'll want to be like you.”
In a flash, Xander is by my side, cupping my cheek and tilting my head backwards so I can look up at him. His hair is a mess, like he’s been mushing it with his fingers all morning, but at least all the blood has been washed from his skin.
“You mean it? You want to be a vampire?” His hand shakes.
I open my mouth to reply when my voice is overpowered by a deep guttural roar of an engine.
Just like Xander’s motorbike, I can feel the vibrations of the engine dance through my chest. But then there’s another, and another, until there’s a deafening cacophony of revving motorbikes beyond the house.
Xander grits his teeth, his jaw ticking. Leaning down, he presses his lips to mine, his tongue dancing across mine and his leathery scent surrounding us. “My colony can be intense. If they get too much for you, let me know.”
I nod, feeling the way my heart stutters with anxiety. I’ve never met another vampire before, let alone multiple. Are they all like Xander? Kind? Gentle? Quiet?
“HELLOOO!!!” A rather high pitch voice explodes from the other side of the front door.
I guess not quiet then. But maybe friendly?
“Quit yelling, Harlan. You’ll bother the neighbors,” another voice grates. This one seems a little less than friendly.
“Because our motorbikes didn’t already do that?” A bored tone breaks the gap.
Xander gives me a final look before squeezing my shoulder and turning for the front door. Time freezes as he pulls it open, revealing four extremely different yet equally beautiful vampires.
A short one stands at the front of the group.
His smile is sweet like honey and he looks younger than me.
Maybe even a teenager. Behind him stands a burly mountain of a man.
He’s larger than Xander and seems to suck the light from the room as his dark black eyes dance across the living room before finding me.
But it’s the ethereal godlike man with luscious white hair trailing down his chest that catches my attention the most. His skin is porcelain white, and he has pale lashes and light pink lips. He could be mistaken for a marble statue.