Chapter Twenty-Two
The pizzas had been ordered, delivered, and mostly consumed.
The remnants lay in the boxes on the coffee table.
Bryn was stretched out on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes, while Emmett sat cross-legged on the floor sorting through requests for help on his tablet that he’d brought through from the office.
Gunnar had made tea and produced an unopened box of Twinkies for dessert.
Bryn had eaten three, hence his current sugar coma.
They’d been sitting in comfortable silence for about twenty minutes when there was a soft knock at the door.
“I’ll get it,” Emmett said, bouncing to his feet.
“I thought Gunnar was supposed to be answering the door,” Bryn snarked.
“Go ahead, Emmett,” Gunnar said, “ignore him.”
Emmett returned with Giles and Bryn uncovered his eyes to find out what he wanted.
He looked…wrong. His usual perfect posture had given way to a slight slump, and his skin had taken on a grayish pallor that made him look older than his thirty-something years.
There was a tension around his eyes that spoke of controlled discomfort.
“Giles?” Bryn said, struggling to sit up despite his protesting ribs. “You look like shit. What are you doing here? I thought you’d gone back to your hotel to brood in private like a proper vampire.”
“I had intended to,” Giles said, ignoring the jibe and settling into an armchair. “But I find myself in need of…assistance.”
“Well, that’s refreshingly honest,” Bryn said. “You must be feeling bad.”
“When did you last eat?” Gunnar asked. “And I don’t mean whatever sad excuse for nutrition you’ve been subsisting on.”
Giles was quiet for a moment. “I’ve had plenty of raw steak, including some after we got back from the cathedral, but…”
“Oh, lovely,” Bryn said. “Bloody flesh is so tempting.”
“But that’s not enough, is it?” Gunnar said, ignoring Bryn’s commentary. “Raw meat usually sustains you fine, but not after what you did today.”
“No,” Giles admitted. “It’s not enough. When I move that fast and use my full strength, I need more. My reserves are more depleted than I anticipated.”
“I don’t understand,” Emmett said, looking confused.
“Giles isn’t a normal sanguine, Emmett. He’s much more vamp than most vamps, if you know what I mean?”
“Not really.”
“He’s strong, Emmett and very fast. You haven’t seen him in action but you have to have noticed he’s a bit…fangy.”
“Dear Lord help me,” Giles declared. “Emmett, what Bryn is so eloquently trying to say, and failing, is that I’m more akin to a true vampire than most sanguines.”
“Than any other sanguine,” Bryn clarified.
“Yes…but that also means that on occasion, when I’ve exerted myself, I need to consume blood. Fresh blood, from the vein.”
Bryn looked at Giles, then at Gunnar, then back at Giles. He’d been dreading this moment since Giles had arrived in Boston. It had been a year since his training ended, a year since he’d last done this, and he’d been perfectly happy to keep it that way.
“Okay,” Bryn said, rolling up his left sleeve with obvious reluctance. “Come here.”
“Bryn, no,” Giles said. “I won’t ask that of you. Not after—”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering. Grudgingly. Try to keep up.”
“You hate it.”
“I hate a lot of things about you,” Bryn said flatly. “But you’re verging on translucent at this point, and if something happens tomorrow, we need you functional. Not decorative. This isn’t the fucking Twilight saga. Don’t turn this into a damn drama.”
“I don’t give a fuck how hungry you are, Giles,” Gunnar snapped. “Figure it out. You don’t get to touch him. Not after what you put him through.”
“A blood bag might suffice,” Giles said.
“You need warm blood from a vein, so suck it up, vamp boy,” Bryn said from behind Gunnar. “Blood bags would leave you weaker and vulnerable if something went wrong. What happens when you collapse mid-fight because you were too proud to ask for help?”
Gunnar whirled around to face Bryn. “Are you out of your goddamn mind? After everything he did to you? The way he treated you in training?”
“Gunnar…”
“No.” Gunnar did his best impression of immovable granite. “I know what his ‘training’ did to you. This is a safe place. He doesn’t get to hurt you again.”
Giles flinched, but said nothing.
“Look,” Bryn said, his irritation building, “I know this is awkward. I know we all wish we didn’t have to do this. But, Gunnar, we need him alive and useful, not stubborn and dead. So let’s get it over with.”
“Over my dead body,” Gunnar said, stepping closer to Giles with predatory intent. “Touch him and I’ll tear your throat out with my bare hands.”
“Your conditions?” Giles asked Bryn, deliberately avoiding Gunnar’s murderous glare.
“Gunnar stays,” Bryn said without hesitation.
“If something goes wrong, he pulls you off. And next time, figure out your feeding schedule before you get to the point of collapse. I’m not your fucking juice box.
Gunnar, take a step back. This is my decision, much as I appreciate your willingness to dismember him.
Maybe stick a pin in it and we can revisit that idea later. ”
Gunnar growled but moved back. “If I so much as sense you’re taking more than you need, or causing him unnecessary pain,” he said, “I’ll make what you did to Russo look like a pleasure flight.”
Emmett’s eyes were huge. “You mean Giles is going to…” He made fang gestures with two fingers.
Bryn couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, Emmett, he is. Maybe you could create a nice chart for him to monitor his energy levels or something?”
“Yeah, I could figure something out. Oh! I could sync it to his phone and watch.”
“Great idea!”
Gunnar moved to sit on the couch beside Bryn, his body radiating tension as he positioned himself like a guard dog. His hand settled on Bryn’s shoulder, but his eyes never left Giles, tracking every movement.
Giles rose from his chair, his usual grace absent as he approached with obvious reluctance.
“Wrist,” Bryn said, extending his left arm. “And Giles? Gunnar’s got excellent reflexes and, as you may have noticed, very little patience when it comes to people hurting me. More than they already have.”
The pointed comment made Giles wince. “Understood.”
“Two minutes,” Gunnar said. “Not a second more, and if you traumatize him the way you did during training, I’ll hunt you down and feed you your own fangs.”
The bite was quick and clinical, nothing like the dramatic neck wounds of vampire movies.
Giles pierced the skin below Bryn’s wrist, and Bryn felt the familiar but strange sensation of feeding.
Not quite pain, not quite pleasure, but something that made his skin prickle and brought back unwelcome memories.
Gunnar’s grip on his shoulder tightened to the point of pain, and his free hand hovered inches from Giles’ throat, ready to make good on his threats.
The protective fury radiating from him was palpable, and Emmett had unconsciously scooted further away. Bryn didn’t blame him.
The feeding lasted maybe two minutes before Gunnar’s patience snapped. “Enough,” he snarled, his hand shooting out to grab Giles by the throat. “Get off him. Now.”
Giles pulled back immediately, already looking better with color returning to his face and the tension around his eyes easing.
Gunnar didn’t let go, his fingers tightening on Giles’ throat as he leaned in close.
“If you ever ask for this again, I’ll stake you myself.
Find another way to manage your feeding, or find another donor.
He’s not your fucking personal blood bank. ”
“Better?” Bryn asked, rolling his sleeve down with a jerk, unbothered by Gunnar’s reaction.
“Much. Thank you,” Giles managed, once Gunnar finally released him with a shove.
“Don’t mention it. Seriously. To anyone. Ever. I don’t need to get a reputation as a vamp’s snack dispenser.”
Gunnar remained tense, his eyes never leaving Giles as the vampire moved back to his chair. “This was a one-time exception, Delacourt. Don’t mistake necessity for forgiveness.”
Before anyone could respond, there was another knock at the door. This time Gunnar answered it, returning with Warden in tow.
“How are you feeling?” Warden asked, taking in the scene.
“Like I was the one that got thrown out a window,” Bryn said. “But alive, so there’s that.”
“Good. I wanted to speak with all of you before you turned in for the night.” Warden settled into the chair Giles had vacated. “I’ve been on the phone with Washington for the past hour, briefing them on today’s events.”
“And?” Gunnar prompted. “Are we getting medals or official reprimands?”
“And they’re impressed. Disturbed by the implications of Russo’s enhancement program, but impressed by how we handled it. There will be an investigation into the source of some of his funding.” Warden’s gaze shifted to Giles. “They were particularly flattering about your contribution, Giles.”
Giles straightened. “I didn’t do anything special.”
“Apart from saving my life, probably Gunnar’s too, along with a whole load of FBI agents and half the Kozlov crime family,” Bryn contributed.
“Which brings me to my next point,” Warden said. “I’d like you to move here on a permanent transfer from The Facility.”
Bryn gaped at his boss in horror. “A what now?”
“You mean it?” Giles looked surprised.
“Was anything I said unclear? I’m offering you a permanent position with this team, Giles. You’d be working with them exclusively.”
The room fell silent. Giles stared at Warden, clearly processing the offer. Bryn scowled like he’d been offered a root canal without lidocaine.
“You want him to transfer permanently?” Bryn asked. “Here? With us? Every day?”
“I want him to consider it,” Warden said. “Giles works well with this team. He understands your abilities and…history. And after today, I think we need someone with his particular skill set on a permanent basis.”