Chapter 2
EVAN
My heart is beating a mile a minute as I head down the hall toward the kitchen. I need vodka, and I need it fast. It has been a total mind-fuck of a day. From getting fired at work, to having Trace knock on my door again, and then to have my best friend, Jericho Whilde, show up out of the blue…
Only, he didn’t just “show up.” No. Jericho literally tore the door down and killed Trace right in front of me.
That definitely calls for a drink.
Jericho's footsteps are nearly nonexistent on the carpet as he follows me, which is crazy. He’s such a big man, his presence so demanding that he’s never been capable of being subtle.
I pour myself a glass of Smirnoff and wince at the burn as I toss it back. I offer Jericho a shot too, but he shakes his head. Can he even drink alcohol yet? New vamps typically can’t eat human food for a few years, but some adjust more quickly than others. At least, that’s what I’ve been told.
I can’t look away from him, still reeling from the fact that he’s even here.
For a long time, I just stare at him, his clenched teeth and fisted hands.
It’s not that I'm not happy to see Jericho—I’m thrilled, actually—I just don't know what to think about it yet. I wasn’t prepared to see him tonight.
And I sure as fuck wasn’t prepared to drink his blood to save my own life.
Just… damn. Did that really happen?
I wipe my mouth, remembering the bittersweet taste of his blood. It wasn’t like mine—not metallic or sharp. Just, different.
Jericho has definitely changed these last ten months.
His arms and chest have filled out and his black hair has gotten longer, making the curls in the back even more noticeable.
They fit him somehow, though, giving him a softer edge.
Revealing more of his true heart. Because deep down, Jericho is as sweet as they come, and he’s loyal too.
Which is why it confused the hell out of me when he’d told me over the phone that he was in Prodigy for a job interview.
No warning or explanation. Just a statement that things would be changing.
It gutted me. I never expected him to leave without telling me.
Jericho's skin seems different too. Healthy and smooth. Not oily like it had been before. His eyes are the most startling. I’d noticed them as he fed me his blood.
They aren't that perfect shade of seafoam green anymore, but a cold, deep emerald. It’s the only thing about this new Jericho I’m not sure I like.
“Why haven't you answered my calls? Or any of my texts?” I finally ask. “And don't say you didn't get them, because I know you did.” Every green checkmark as my texts were read but unanswered felt like a punch to the gut. I didn’t understand it. I still don’t.
Jericho stands across the small kitchen from me, crossing his arms in a way that takes me right back to another time. When we used to party and hang out together for hours, not giving a flying fuck about the world at large. It was always us. Just us.
It feels like a lifetime ago.
He shrugs. “I didn't know what to say.”
I scoff. “How about, 'I'm alive,' for starters?”
Jericho grimaces.
“Don’t you get it? I thought you were dead.
When you didn’t come back from that interview, I thought something happened to you.
But then I saw you in Prodigy, and I…” I shake my head, hating the bitter memories.
I haven’t slept at all since that day. “How long have you been back in Comstead, anyway?”
He hesitates. “About a month.”
I suck in a breath. He’s been here a month and he hasn't even tried to see me? That hurts worse than when he left. “Were you in Prodigy the whole time otherwise?”
“Yes. Mostly.”
“Why, though? The company you interviewed with said they never offered you the job. So why did you stay?”
He seems surprised. “You talked to them?”
“Of course I did!” I snap. “It was the first place I went as soon as I got there! Even before checking in to the fucking hotel.”
Jericho looks away, his nostrils flaring. I don’t know why it surprises him that I drove across state lines to find him. Wouldn’t he do the same for me? We’re best friends, for fuck’s sake.
Or we were.
Shit, it kills me to think that might have changed. Makes it hard to breathe. Does Jericho not want this anymore?
“You know what I really want to know? Why did you even leave in the first place? And don’t say it was for the job, because I know you didn’t really want it. So, why?”
Jericho rolls a shoulder again in a half-hearted shrug, but his face is stiff and uncomfortable.
“Why did you leave, Jericho?”
“I can't answer that.”
I shake my head and huff. “Seriously? Since when do we keep secrets from each other?”
He closes his eyes, like the question pains him. Good. Maybe it’ll give him a taste of what I’ve been through.
“At least tell me why you didn't come back!”
“I would've, but…”
“But what?”
He lifts his gaze, his green eyes piercing. “I was turned that night.”
That surprises me. “The first night there?”
“Yeah. I went to a club the night after my interview, but I guess I didn't understand the symbol on the door. It was a supe club. You know, for supernaturals? By the time I realized it, it was too late. The leader of a small coven flagged me.”
I narrow my eyes. “What does that mean?”
“He… claimed me as his. Made it so no one else could talk to me. And I couldn't leave without giving him something.”
My stomach drops. “Blood?” He doesn't answer, so I take a step closer. “Would you fucking talk to me?”
“That's what he wanted, yeah.” His face hardens.
“If it wasn't blood, what did you give him? Money?” I know for a fact that Jericho didn’t have much when he left town, but he could’ve offered a few thousand in a tight spot.
The subtle tick of his jaw tells me it’s something else, though.
“Wait. Do you mean sex? He forced himself on you?”
Jericho scoffs. “He didn’t force anything, Ev. I offered it. It was either that or blood and, yeah, I was too chickenshit to let him bite me.”
Bile rises in my throat. “That doesn't make it okay. What he did, it wasn’t—Jer, you’re saying he forced you into it!”
Something flashes across his face too quick for me to read. A sadness almost, but I can’t be sure. “The only thing he forced me into was the change,” he says firmly. “The sex wasn't forced.”
He talks about it so distantly, like he’s tried to convince himself a thousand times over, make himself believe it was his choice. But I’m not buying it.
I cross the distance to stand directly in front of him, our breaths mixing. “He gave you an ultimatum. That's the same thing as forcing you. And transition by force is against the law.”
He doesn’t look away, unfazed that I know supe law.
But it’s just a fact. Everyone knows how regulated transition is now.
Vamps can’t just go around changing people, or else there would be more vamps than humans and their life source would be depleted.
Vampires have to submit an application to the paranormal government to take away someone’s mortality, but they’re rarely approved.
“Why haven’t you turned him in?”
Jericho's expression is a mix of guilt and shame, but there’s something else too. Something buried beneath a mountain of self-hate. He seems… defeated. “Because it wouldn’t go anywhere, Ev. All they’d hear is that I offered myself to him, and that would be the end of it.”
“But transition—”
“It doesn’t matter! Do you really think they’re going to do anything about it? I’m not the only one who has been turned against their will!”
I swallow back my reply. He’s right. The news is filled with stories of unwanted turnings, and more often than not, the vampire is forgiven—as long as they train their new fledgling to control the bloodlust.
Jericho sighs, his face falling like he wants to say more.
“What?”
He hesitates. “I may have offered the sex in a bad situation, but I wanted it, Evan. It’s why I was there, why I was talking to him.
I chose him that night just as much as he chose me.
I wanted him—yes, a guy—to make me feel good.
” Jericho’s voice is heavy, full of something I can’t quite understand.
“I just didn’t realize he was a vampire, and by the time I did…
I don’t know. I guess I was too intrigued.
There was some part of me that still wanted him.
I just didn’t want him to bite me. So that was our agreement. ”
I hear what he’s saying, but am too distracted by the faint blush coloring his cheeks to really process it. It makes this whole thing even more surreal. I can’t remember a time when Jericho ever blushed, but here, now… as a vampire? Talking about wanting a guy?
And how did I not know Jer was attracted to men?
He picks at something on his shirt. “I should've known I'd fuck it up, though.”
“What do you mean?”
He gives a heartless laugh and walks away. “It doesn't matter. The point is, I fucked up. And from then on, I had no chance of walking out of there as a human.”
I want him to explain, but Jericho is quickly bringing this conversation to a close.
I can hear it in his tone. The finality.
He used to do that before too, when he wanted to change subjects.
I can only hope that if we spend some time together, he’ll trust me again to tell me the truth.
Because I don’t just want to know what happened to him.
I need to. How did he go from leaving for a job interview, to cutting a deal with a vampire and walking away as a non-human? It makes no sense.
“I don't care, you know,” I say.
He looks over his shoulder, avoiding my eyes. “About what?”
“You said you wanted to sleep with a guy, like it should've been some big thing. But it's not. I don't care if you fuck guys. I just don’t want you to do it in bad situations.”
“Guy,” Jericho clarifies, keeping his back to me. “He's the only one I've been with. But yeah, I'm gay. It was the one secret I kept from you. Well, until this.”