15. Chamomile tea, five sugars.
Chapter fifteen
Chamomile tea, five sugars...
Luka
L uka awakened with the weight of Nick curled against his chest, a warm bundle of limbs folded into himself even in sleep.
In the soft gray light filtering through boarded windows, Nick’s face showed none of the tension that haunted his waking hours.
His features were slack with genuine rest, eyelashes casting faint shadows across cheekbones that had more color in them than the day before.
Something warm and wet soaked through Luka’s shirt where Nick’s mouth pressed against the fabric. A small puddle of drool had gathered there, creating a dark patch against the cotton.
His beast stretched like a contented cat within his mind. Safe . Sleeping . Ours .
The possessiveness should have alarmed him, but Luka found himself agreeingcompletely. Whatever this feeling was growing between them, he wanted to follow it wherever it led.
Nick smelled different this morning. The hospital scent was gone, replaced by something that made Luka feel warm and fuzzy for the first time in eighty years.
Beneath the concrete and vanilla notes that had first caught his attention weeks ago, there was a light, almost floral undercurrent that hadn’t been there before.
It reminded him of jasmine at dawn, delicate but persistent.
His authentic self, Luka realized. This was what Nick Walsh actually smelled like when fear wasn’t coating everything else.
Taste him , his beast whispered, curious and appreciative. Just once . Quick . He wouldn’t know .
The thought sent heat through Luka’s veins—not about feeding, but something more intimate, more dangerous. The desire to know what Nick’s skin tasted like, to press his lips against the pulse point at his throat, to trace the line of his jaw with his tongue.
No, Luka told his beast. Not without permission. Never without permission.
But the memory of Nick’s impulsive kiss lingered like a phantom sensation against his lips. Sweet. Hesitant. Desperate. The way Nick had leaned forward with deliberate choice, claiming something for himself rather than offering submission.
He wanted it then , his beast reminded him. Could want it again .
He asked us to pretend it didn’t happen, Luka countered, though the words felt like swallowing glass.
His beast considered this, then purredsoftly. He needed control over the moment . Doesn’t mean he didn’t want it .
The distinction mattered. Luka wasn’t sure why, but it felt true. Nick’s request hadn’t been rejection—it had been self-protection, a boundary drawn around something too precious and confusing to examine in the moment. Luka could respect that while still holding the memory close.
He remained stone still, unwilling to disturb Nick’s rest. How long had it been since he held someone like this? Decades. The simple connection of bodies sharing warmth and space without demands felt like rediscovering something essential he forgot he wanted.
His thoughts drifted to Vincent the night he’d first brought Adam to meet them. The change had been immediate, a fundamental altering in his friend ofnearlysixty years. Vincent’s sharp edges softened when Adam entered a room, his customary cruelty giving way to tenderness.
Then Marcus with Caleb. One glimpse through his nightclub’s glass, and thenormallycomposed vampire had been transfixed. Marcus described it later as feeling like his dormant heart remembered how to beat.
Luka understood itintellectually—the profound connection some vampires formed with specific humans, the way these relationships made them feel almost human again. He’d nodded sympathetically while privately wondering if his friends were romanticizing normal attraction.
Now, cradling Nick against his chest, Lukafinallyunderstood. This wasn’t curiosity about a puzzle or protective instinct. This was something that made everything else fade to background noise.
Ours to protect . Ours to heal . Ours , his beast murmured with deep satisfaction.
The possessiveness should have alarmed him. Instead, Luka found himself sinking into the feeling, letting it wrap around him like warm honey. Whatever this was, whatever it might become, he would follow the certainty that whispered: this matters.
Nick stirred against Luka’s chest, eyelids fluttering as consciousness returned. His fingers twitched, curling into the fabric of Luka’s shirt as though anchoring himself. A small frown creased his forehead as the peaceful expression of sleep gave way to familiar tension.
Luka watched the transformation with fascination—this brief moment between states when Nick’s defenses hadn’t yet engaged. His breathing changed, deepening as his body tensed with awareness.
Nick’s eyes openedsuddenly, blinking in confusion at the fabric against his face.
Luka prepared for inevitable retreat, keeping his arms loose and unthreatening. The rejection would sting, but he understood its necessity. Nick needed control over his own boundaries more than Luka needed acknowledgment of what passed between them.
Instead, Nick remained frozen, neither pulling away nor settling back. His heart hammered against Luka’s chest, racing with indecision. The moment stretched between them, taut with unspoken possibility.
Then Luka caught it—the subtle shift in Nick’s scent. The floral undertone wavered, threatened by something sharper. Not the acrid-sweet of pure terror, but the earthy musk of tang of anxiety. Nick’s authentic self was still there, but uncertainty crept in around the edges.
Why isn’t he moving? Luka wondered.
“Am I allowed to get up?”Nick whispered, his voicebarelyaudible.
Allowed. As if Nick needed permission to move his own body, as if freedom required approval from whoever held him. The scent of anxiety spiked, overlaying the jasmine with familiar fear-markers.
His beast roared within, furious. Find them . Hunt them . Make them suffer for teaching him to ask permission to exist .
Luka kept his facecarefullyneutral despite rage boiling beneath his skin. He nodded once, opening his arms in a clear gesture of release. His beast mournedinstantlyat the loss of Nick’s warmth, but Nick’s right to choose mattered more.
He reached for the notepad abandoned on the couch, fingers finding the pen. The words came without thought: ‘ Don’t need to ask permission. Just do.’
Nick read the note as he extracted himself from Luka’s embrace. Some tensionvisiblydrained from his shoulders, but the flicker of disbelief in his eyes told Luka he didn’t accept the words yet.
But the floral scent strengthened again, pushing back against the anxiety. His authentic self fighting to surface.
“What time is it?”Nick asked, his voice steadier now that physical distance separated them.
Luka checked the phone Ophelia had given him, turning the screen toward Nick: 8:00 PM.
Nick’s scent shifted—surprise mixed with something warmer.“We slept on the floor for ten hours?”
Luka nodded, watching as Nick stood and began adjusting his clothing.
The hunter tugged his long sleeves down over his stump, straightened his collar, smoothed fabric over places where Luka knew words were carved into his skin.
Each movement was methodical, practiced—armor being reassembled piece by piece.
The jasmine scent fadedslightlyas Nick rebuilt his defenses, but it didn’t disappear. Progress.
Luka fought the urge to ask about the scars, about which monster had left such extensive markings. His beast growledhungrilyat the thought of hunting down whoever hurt Nick, but revengerarelyhealed wounds this deep.
Taste his lips again , his beast whisperedunexpectedly. Sweet . Warm . He liked it too .
The memory sent heat through Luka’s chest—Nick leaning forward with deliberate choice, claiming something for himself. But then the quiet embarrassment afterward, the soft request:“Can we pretend that didn’t happen?”
Luka understood. Nick needed control over this more than Luka needed acknowledgment. But understanding didn’t make the ache in his chest any less sharp.
He wanted it then , his beast insisted. Still wants it . Can smell the interest beneath the fear .
Then we wait, Luka decided. Until he’s ready to claim it again.
His beast purred approval at this logic. Patient hunter .
He reached for the notepad, pen hovering over paper as he considered what to write. The words came from intuition rather than strategy: ‘ Hungry? I can make something to eat.’
“I’d kill for some coffee,”Nick said, his eyes scanning the room with automatic caution before settling back on Luka.
Still scared , his beast observed. But less . Getting stronger .
Luka watched Nick down three cups of coffee in rapid succession before reaching for a fourth. Each time, he added an absurd amount of sugar—six packets emptied into the mug with methodical precision.
Likes sweet things , his beast noted with satisfaction. Remember this .
The kitchen held comfortable quiet—coffee brewing, ceramic clinking, Nick’s contentment warming the air around them.
Despite obvious exhaustion, Nick hadn’t retreated to any of the bedrooms Lukashowed him earlier.
Instead, he remained at the kitchen table, maintaining clear sightlines to both exits while keeping Luka in view.
Getting stronger, but still careful. Good.
Luka caught himself staring at Nick’s lips for the third time in as many minutes, remembering their softness, the way they’d trembledslightlybefore pressing against his own. The memory made longing twist in his throat.
Want to kiss him again , his beast whispered. Want to taste that sweetnessproperly.
He asked us to pretend it didn’t happen.
Doesn’t mean it didn’t matter to him . Just means he needs control over when it happens again .
The distinction mattered, though Luka wasn’t sure why.
“So when are we going to find these neutral hunters in Peoria?”Nick’s question broke the silence.