Chapter 4
FOUR
Quin
It had been a while since Quin needed to chain himself up to change. But he’d taken the precaution of doing so over the last couple of nights, lest his beast lead him back into town.
It wanted to chase the vampire again—to seek him out and make him theirs.
His beast was a possessive creature, apparently.
Quin couldn’t remember his beast feeling this way about Lark. Sure, he’d followed him around like a pup and sought him out when in a group, but Lark had never made him feral with desire.
Before now, Quin hadn’t come across a vampire.
None lived close to the packs’ territories.
He’d only recognised the vampire as a vampire thanks to his fangs and talons.
Otherwise, Quin might have assumed that the vampire was just a particularly pretty little human, who smelt better than anything Quin had ever smelt before.
But maybe all werewolves found themselves attracted to the scent of vampires.
Regardless, Quin had been forced to keep his beast in check.
Nothing a few heavy-duty chains from the harbour couldn’t fix.
He’d also bought extra cuts of meat as a distraction.
The full rack of ribs and tomahawk steak made a dent in his bank balance, but he’d simply pick up a couple more freelance jobs before the next full moon to supplement his income.
Quin looked at his phone again, swiping through apps with no new notifications before triple-checking the weather app.
He’d pottered around the house after a deliberate and necessary lie-in, waiting for the sun to go down.
Although he hadn’t wanted his beast to chase after the vampire, now that he was back to his usual self, he could go searching.
Another hour before sundown would arrive. He knew the vampire resided in Anstruther, close to Quin’s own place. Other than that, he’d have to follow his nose. The village wouldn’t be big enough for the vampire to hide from Quin for long.
Not that he was stalking the vampire. He was simply seeking with good intentions.
He hadn’t even learned the vampire’s name. It felt rude in his head to refer to him as the little vampire, even if he was so small that Quin could fit him in his pocket.
He made a mental note not to say that to the vampire’s face, however. It might make it harder for Quin to convince the vampire they should be friends.
Because Quin hadn’t moved across the UK to wallow. Well, not only to wallow. He needed to make pals other than Mabel. His doggie companion was great, but he occasionally enjoyed communicating in more than barks.
Quin rubbed a hand through his hair, remembering how the vampire’s nails had dug satisfyingly into his scalp when he’d touched him. Quin missed the easy touches he would get with his pack. Werewolves were tactile beings, and it’d been wonderful to be the one being given attention for once.
It took him little time to catch the vampire’s sweetly spiced scent.
There was something so singular about it that, even amongst the competing smells across the village, Quin picked it out.
He followed it to a general area—a short side street with identical, white-painted houses—and only then did he consider his next step.
His nose could sniff out the vampire’s exact address, but knocking on the door would cross a line.
As it was, he skirted close to it already.
So, he waited at the end of the street, chilling on a wall and scrolling on his phone in a bid to look nonchalant.
Luck won out. Not long after sundown, one of the front doors opened, and he spotted a familiar head of blond curls bobbing behind a car and onto the road. The vampire looked even smaller now that Quin was on two legs and not four.
Quin stood up as the vampire walked down the middle of the road. The vampire stopped dead, his gaze locked onto Quin.
Quin waved, and the vampire tilted his head instead of responding.
“Hello,” Quin called, risking a step forward.
The vampire narrowed his eyes.
“Yes, I’m talking to you.”
The vampire slunk closer. His nostrils flared, and his eyes widened, making them appear impossibly large. “Werewolf,” he whispered. If Quin hadn’t been a supernatural creature, there was no way that he would have heard him.
“I’m Quin. It’s nice to meet you properly.” Quin took another tentative step, holding out his hand for a handshake, the gesture automatic even though he was still far from touching distance.
The vampire still appeared shell-shocked at his appearance.
Quin began to sweat. “Uh, okay, I’m sorry to spring up on you, but I suppose I wanted to come and introduce myself. I mean, we already met, of course. But I figured since you’d petted me, you might want to learn my name. Seems the polite thing.”
The vampire’s lips parted, but no sound came out.
“What was that?” Quin asked.
The vampire bolted forward, stopping mere feet from Quin. “I did not pet you.”
“You kinda did, though,” Quin pointed out, demonstrating in the air what the vampire had done to his head the other night.
The vampire eyed Quin’s fingers. “But you weren’t…you.”
Quin see-sawed one hand and bobbed his head in unison. “It was me, and it wasn’t me.”
The vampire—Quin needed to get his name—furrowed his brow.
It made him look adorable, his delicate features screwing up.
He looked like one of those images of someone’s pet cat they’d Photoshopped with angry eyebrows.
Quin had to bite his tongue to stop himself from smiling.
As much as the vampire appeared harmless, Quin hadn’t forgotten the sight of his fangs or talons.
“Quin Rheon,” he said, trying once again for a handshake.
The vampire pursed his perfectly pink bow-like lips. “Kit.” Kit looked at Quin’s outstretched hand but didn’t shake it. “Why did you come to find me? What do you want?”
Quin patted a hand over his hair, pretending that he’d always meant to tidy it up and that Kit hadn’t left him hanging. “To introduce myself, seeing as we’re neighbours.”
At this, Kit eyed the other houses on the street in alarm. “Neighbours?”
“Oh, not like those kinds of neighbours. I’m on the outskirts of Anstruther.”
Tension slipped off Kit’s shoulders. “Well, now that we know each other’s names, and where we both are, we can avoid one another from here on out. Should be easy.”
“Avoid one another?” Quin echoed. “Why would we want to do that?” And here he’d thought he might have found a friend.
Kit looked dumbfounded. “Why wouldn’t we?”
“Uh, because it’d be nice to hang out?”
“I don’t ‘hang out’. You’re what, in your thirties? I’m not in your age bracket.”
“Thirty-four. I presumed vampires wouldn’t conform to expectations like that. I mean, you look like you’re in your twenties.” If Quin was being generous. He assumed, however, that telling an immortal creature they looked like a perpetual teenager wouldn’t endear them to him.
“You’re a child compared to me,” Kit said haughtily.
Quin wondered if he should take offence.
Most people saw his height, width, beard and general appearance and guessed he was older than he was.
He’d been able to buy cider from off-licences since he was thirteen.
He’d not looked like a child in a long time.
But he found it funny that Kit—who in reality appeared well over a decade younger than him—considered him a child.
“All right,” Quin said. “Just thought we could go on a walk or something. Didn’t realise there was an age limit on that.”
“I—What?” Kit asked, incredulous. “You want me to take you on a walk? Like a literal dog?”
“Wait, no, not like that,” Quin said. “For a walk together,” he stressed.
“All I’m hearing is that you’d like to go walkies.”
Quin burst out laughing, a big belly laugh that had him holding his stomach. He swore he saw the ghost of a smile pass Kit’s lips before they pressed into a firm, unamused line.
Before the debate continued, a door along the street opened. A bickering older couple left their house, arguing under their breaths, and the distraction was enough that Quin realised he and Kit were having a face-off in full view of anyone—no discretion whatsoever.
Quin nodded at the couple as they passed, whilst Kit acted like they didn’t exist. Quin jerked his head at Kit once the humans had turned a corner. “We could wander down to the beach?”
Kit blinked. “What was it I said in the past five minutes that gave you the impression that I wanted to go anywhere with you?”
That retort hurt. Just a bit. “Right. Okay. Well.” Quin drummed his fingers on his legs as he tried to come up with a good reason to prolong their conversation. The only reason he wasn’t giving up was that Kit was still standing there. If Kit had wanted to leave, he could have sped off.
“Maybe I could tag along to wherever you were going?” Quin tried.
“I was going to feed. Typically a solo activity.”
“Two’s company?” Quin asked, mentally crossing his fingers.
“More like you should put two and two together,” Kit said, unamused.
“Ooh, idiom war!” Quin clapped his hands. “It takes two to tango. The third time’s a charm. Good things come in threes. Or in small packages, but that one’s more relevant to you than to me.”
Kit looked gobsmacked. “Did you just accuse me of having a small package?”
“No? Yes?”
“Rude.”
“We’ve got off on the wrong foot,” Quin said, now unable to speak in anything other than idioms. Things had been much easier when he’d been in his beast form. Perhaps he should shut his mouth. He did so, pressing his lips into a firm line, trying to stay quiet.
Kit looked him up and down. “I would agree.” When Quin said nothing, Kit filled the silence. “You can leave now.”
Quin fought not to hang his head. “I suppose so.” None of this had gone how he’d imagined it would at all. Making friends as an adult was hard. “It was good to see you. Maybe we’ll run into each other.”
“As long as it’s not in a dark forest with you chasing me,” Kit said. “That was super fucking creepy of you, by the way. And stalking me to my house is also creeper behaviour, just so you know.”
Quin’s stomach twisted. “Sorry. I didn’t—I’m not… Fuck. I only wanted to say hi.”
“Hi. Bye,” Kit said, and in a blink, disappeared.
Quin watched the space where Kit had stood for a few long seconds. That could have gone better.
But it also could have gone a whole lot worse.