16. I like hearing him laugh.
Chapter sixteen
I like hearing him laugh...
Nick
T he headlights of passing cars created rhythmic patterns across the dashboard as Nick stared out the passenger window. The highway stretched before them like a black ribbon unfurling into pre-dawn darkness. Four AM—later than planned.
His fingers traced the backpack zipper absently, feeling the outline of medical supplies, clean clothes, and food inside. He found himself moving slower than necessary while packing, checking and rechecking items that didn’t need checking. Creating excuses to linger in the farmhouse kitchen.
The delayhadbeen deliberate. I chose that.
The recognition felt strange, worth examining.
Whenwasthe last time he chose to prolong something pleasant rather than escape it?
The part of him that felt increasingly realwanted those extra moments.
Wanted to memorize the way morning light filtered through dusty windows, the comfortable weight of Luka’s presence nearby.
Something about the farmhousefelt right in a way that terrified and comforted him simultaneously.
The worn floorboards, the mismatched furniture, even the faint smell of dust and abandonmenthadsomehow become home in less than two days.
The thought should have triggered warnings about attachment and vulnerability.
Instead, Nick found himself missing it already.
He glanced at Luka, whose hands rested at precisely ten and two on the steering wheel.
Dashboard lights cast soft shadows across his profile, illuminating the careful attention he paid to the road.
Even driving, Luka maintained that quality of presence thatbecame so familiar—alert without tension, watchful without fear.
The silence comfortable rather than strained.
Occasionally, Luka would point toward something—a road sign, an unusual car, the time-honored midwestern tradition of pointing out a cow in a field—but mostly they existed in companionable quiet that Nickhadnever experienced with another person.
No pressure to fill space with words, no hidden expectations lurking beneath surface calm.
I chose this too. The sleeping arrangement before they left. Nick’s mind returned to that moment, analyzing his own decision-making process with something approaching wonder.
He’dpositioned himself in the living room initially, telling himself itwastactical to monitor Luka’s movements and keep watch on the front door.
But when exhaustion began dragging his eyelids down, he settled on the floor in the exact same spot.
He wrapped himself in the same blanket, arranged his body in the same defensive curl.
And waited.
The hunter catalogued vulnerabilities and escape routes. But it still felt distant, muffled, like hearing an argument through thick walls. He remained in control, making a conscious choice to seek comfort rather than endure isolation.
When Luka tentatively lowered himself to the floor nearby, Nick didn’t move away.
He didn’t flinch when the vampire opened his arms in silent invitation.
Instead,he’d chosen to move closer. Chosen to press his head against Luka’s chest, absorbing the steady rhythm of unnecessary breathing.
Chosen to let Luka’s coolness soothe the infection’s lingering heat.
He’dfallen asleep almost immediately, his body going slack with a trust that now, conscious and alert, left him breathless with its implications.
How did I feel safe enough to sleep that deeply? The question circled his mind without the desperate edge it would have carried weeks ago. Now it felt like genuine curiosity about his own transformation rather than panic at his perceived weakness.
The submissive voice that provided self-recriminating answers remained silent, fading like an echo in an empty room. Its absence felt like shedding weight he didn’t realize hehadbeen carrying.
Nick’s gaze drifted to the side mirror, scanning automatically.
Empty road. The movementwashabit rather than fear, his training operating on autopilot while his mind focused elsewhere.
He checked the rearview mirror, then back to the side mirror.
The rhythm felt familiar, comforting in its predictability.
But underneath the tactical awareness, something elsewashappening. Something that made his chest warm with each glance at Luka’s profile.
Attraction. The word surfaced without shame or panic, just quiet recognition. Not the mechanical arousal Gianmarcohadconditionedor the clinical detachment the Societyhaddemanded. This felt... personal. His. A response generated by his own desire rather than external manipulation.
The realization should have terrified him. Instead, it felt like discovering a room in his own house he forgotexisted.
Nick’s thoughts drifted to the kiss. Heasked Luka to pretend it didn’t happen, and the vampire respected that boundary. No pressure, no subtle manipulation, no attempts to leverage Nick’s moment of vulnerability. Just acceptance.
I wanted it to happen. I made it happen.
The memory made his stomach flip a few times, accompanied by something that might have been anticipation. What would it feel like to kiss Luka again? To make that choice from a conscious place rather than desperate comfort-seeking?
A deafening bang shattered his contemplation. The car lurched violently to the right, tires screeching against asphalt as Luka fought for control. They skidded across the empty highway, gravel pinging against the undercarriage before jolting to a stop on the shoulder.
The hunter exploded into Nick’s consciousness like a flare in darkness. Every muscle tensed, adrenaline flooding his system as his training kicked in. Threat assessment. Escape routes. Weapon inventory. The familiar litany of survival calculations drowned out everything else.
Hewasout of the car before conscious thought could form, his knife in his hand as he scanned the dark fields surrounding them.
Newly planted crops offered little concealment for attackers but also little cover for them.
His eyes tracked movement patterns in the darkness, cataloging potential approaches and defensive positions.
“Stay in the car,”he ordered. Cold. Efficient. In control .
Nick circled the vehicle, checking for signs of sabotage—cut brake lines, tracking devices, anything indicating Society involvement. His body moved through practiced motions while his mind calculated probabilities and contingencies.
Luka stepped out of the driver’s side, his movements deliberately slow as he took in Nick’s defensive posture. He raised his hands, fingers forming a circle—the sign for“OK?”
The hunter processed the gesture but couldn’t integrate it with current threat analysis. The Society wouldn’t give up.They’dbe tracking, hunting. This timingwastoo convenient, too perfect.
“We need to move,”Nick muttered, continuing his inspection.“They could have planted something. Could be watching us right now.”
Luka approached the flat tire, crouching to examine it. After a moment, he shook his head and pointed to the tread where a ragged holewasvisible. He fingerspelled “OLD”, indicating the tirehadsimply failed.
Nick’s eyes narrowed as conflicting information warred in his mind. The tire did look old, cracked from sun exposure and use. But the hunter insisted on patterns, on conspiracy, on never accepting coincidence.
It’s just a flat tire, he spoke into his mind quietly but firmly, cutting through the tactical noise. Look at the evidence. This isn’t the Society.
The hunter snarled back, listing protocols and procedures, citing statistics about enemy action.
But it felt... smaller now. Less overwhelming.
Like turning down the volume on a radio thathadbeen blasting for months.
Nick found himself able to examine its arguments rather than obey them.
The voice still offered tactical analysis, but it no longer felt like commands from a superior officer.
Luka’s right. Old tire. Bad timing. Nothing more.
Luka moved to the trunk and popped it open. Nick tensed at the sound, but the reaction felt automatic rather than necessary. The vampire’s expression shifted to concern as he gestured at the empty wheel well where a spare should have been.
Luka pulled out his phone, screen illuminating his face in the darkness. Nick’s hand shot out, grabbing his wrist.
“What are you doing?”he asked.
Luka pointed to the phone, then made a talking gesture.
“No calls,”Nick said.“The Society monitors emergency services. We can’t risk it.”
Understanding flickered across Luka’s features. He nodded and typed something on his phone, showing the screen to Nick:
We can walk to next exit. About 3 miles according to last road sign. Find motel.
Nick glanced at the dark highway, weighing options with returning clarity. The hunter continued its protests, but he found he could consider its input without being controlled by it. Standing beside a disabled vehicle would make them conspicuous. Walking offered better tactical options.
“Okay,”he said, breathing easier as the adrenaline began to fade.“But we move fast.”
The hunter quieted as they gathered their things and started walking. The threat assessment faded to background awareness—still present, still useful, but no longer screaming for attention. Nick maintained alert awareness, but it felt manageable now rather than overwhelming.
After twenty minutes of walking, Nick’s shoulders relaxed completely. The immediate threat response faded, leaving him with an unexpected realization:he’dbeen worried about Luka’s safety as much as his own.
He stopped mid-step. Whenhadthat happened? When had the vampire’s wellbeing become a factor in his tactical calculations?
I care about him. I want him to be safe.