Chapter 15 Vidar
Chapter fifteen
Vidar
After the room empties, Golden having dragged Kai off, I make my way out to do something I’ve been putting off. My steps are heavy while walking down the well-decorated hallway, Ramy’s work I’m certain. Yet before I can reach my destination, my phone rings.
“What?”
“No ‘hello’? Vidar, you’re losing your charm,” Grey says, the obnoxious bastard.
“I had to endure you only a few hours ago, isn’t that enough, pup?”
His highly amused chuckle coasts from the speaker, and the temptation to hang up on the Direwolf is strong. Instead, I find myself leaning against the wall. We do need to talk, especially after the sham meeting with Astra.
“So you’re working with blood mages now, Grey? And I always thought you had some self-respect. How is it rolling around in their muck?”
Grey chuckles low. “Probably as pleasant as a ramshackle mansion. How was apathy, by the way?”
A smirk full of fangs pulls at my lips. “Great, since it was nowhere near your hairy ass, werewolf.”
“Well, aren’t you lucky. And if you seriously think I’d show my neck to a blood mage, then you don’t know me very well.”
“What’s changed then? You can't seriously believe Astra’s sob story.”
“Have you considered,” Grey begins with some bite to his words, “that my land—my pack—is smack in the middle of both your claims? As charming as you and Astra are, I’d rather not be wedged in the middle if things get bloody.”
“So the land she’s promising has nothing to do with it?” I throw back.
“That’s just business, Vidar,” Grey replies with a grating smugness. “Not that it’ll work out for Astra and her lot, it doesn’t matter if the other packs agree to meet her or not.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask why he’s even helping the Blood Mage Sovereign. But vampires don’t get involved in politics, and I have no plans to start now.
“Grey, what’s the point of this call?”
“I wanted to remind you I’m still on your side.”
My lip curls, as if I’ve finally found the bad smell in this conversation.
When a kernel of disappointment lodges itself between my ribs, I realise I must’ve longed for connection far more than I assumed since leaving my self-imposed confinement. Grey and I have never been close, but to know the only reason for his call is to play politics has my hackles rising.
“The only side I’m on is my family. I’ll deal with Emma, then I want you out of my family business. Understood?”
There’s a pause, barely a second, but it hangs all the same. “Understood.”
I hang up and shove my phone back into my pocket as I stride towards my destination, and knock twice.
After a beat, Ramy calls, “I guess you can come in.”
Taking a deep breath, I exhale as I step into Ramy’s room.
The walls are soft beiges, fluffy creams, and warm browns. Blankets are tossed on chairs; his bed is scattered with silky pillows, and a picture of him, me, Rurik, and Lucero stands on one side of his bed. Another of Ramy, Golden and Kai on the other.
Ramy is curled up into a loveseat beside an unlit fireplace, a blanket over his lap and is pointedly staring at a book.
“Hello, Rahim.”
I’ve always liked the sound of Ramy’s full name, how Rahim ends in a release of breath. And as the only person who uses it, I’m somewhat possessive of the singular word.
My youngest remains quiet, flicking through pages like a dismissal.
I move towards him. “You’re angry with me.”
Silence, his lips a thin line while pretending to scan the page.
“Rahim.” A soft smile pulls at my lips as I crouch in front of him and reach for a strand of his long hair, twirling the lock around my finger. So lovely, my Rahim. My neglected offspring, who’s a slip of darkest silk—so quiet and mysterious.
“You and Kai became close quickly.” I tug on his hair slightly. “Should I be jealous?”
Ramy’s head snaps up to pin me with an unimpressed glare, and my lip quirks up.
“Kai and I are just friends, Maker. Obviously.”
I hum, nodding. “And what of your lonely Maker? Am I no longer your friend?”
His response is an indignant sniff.
I grin. I can’t help myself. Ramy is kind and patient with others; only I get this side of him. A thought comes to me out of nowhere—how similar he is to Kai. While different, they're both beautiful, smaller and delicate than I could ever be, and call on a deep need within my soul to protect them.
And I’ve failed them both. Sighing, my thoughts return to why I’m here.
I lean closer, filling my nose with his sweet rose scent. “I’ve come to apologise.”
“Have you apologised properly to Kai first?” Ramy says, waving me off.
“That’s between him and me.”
Ramy opens his mouth, but I hold a finger up to stop him.
“I have to apologise for the way I’ve treated you when I was in my apathy. Before that, even. I called you horrible things and treated you with no respect. If another man dared behave that way to you, I would’ve slaughtered him.”
While Ramy has never brought a lover home—that I’m aware of, anyway—even the thought of him being taken for granted makes me itch for a weapon.
“Kai is more important—”
“You, Rahim,” I tug on his hair so he has no other choice but to see my honesty, “are very important to me, too.”
Ramy huffs, levelling me with an exasperated expression.
“Honestly, poor Kai.” And he pulls his hair from my grasp. “Those hurts are all in the past now, Maker, can’t they just stay there? I only want to focus on the future.”
“No, Rahim. I made you a vampire ten years ago because I thought you would cure me of my apathy and make me happy again—or at the very least, help me feel anything. I promised you’d be welcomed into my family, but all I did was demand that you look after me while the rest of us fell apart.”
Ramy places his book on the arm of the chair and runs slender fingers over his knitted blanket.
“You didn’t demand anything, Maker. I came willingly. I wanted a change,” he replies gently.
“A change, yes.” I hesitate before tucking his long hair behind his ear, then lay my hand on his cheek. “Not a burden. I want you to have your adventures, so once this blood mage mess is cleaned up, I’ll show you the world—just like I promised you in a little tea shop ten years ago.”
Ramy searches my face.
“Can I trust you, Maker?” His voice may be little more than a whisper, yet each word packs enough punch to crush my heart. It hurts to be asked. It hurts more that he has to.
“You can,” I vow. “Things will change now I’ve returned. Get better.”
Finally, Ramy smiles, small and hesitant and wonderful, like the first time I met him in a forgotten shop, in the corner of a forgotten town.
“I guess I’ll forgive you,” Ramy says, sighing in a long-suffering way, his smile never shifting. “But you promise we’ll live by the sea one day?”
I grin, glad that I didn’t completely ruin something. “Of course, Rahim. One day you’ll get everything you desire and more.”
I know my youngest hasn’t forgiven all my mistakes. That will take longer than a few exchanged words. But it’s a start, at least.