The Vampire’s Hunter, Part One (Supernatural Lovers #3)

Chapter 1

Maxim had always studied the laws of whichever country and people he’d lived under, for practicality if nothing else. To him, preventing harm, not causing it was the greatest law, the one he always strived to abide by.

The making of a new vampire should never be a snap decision, spontaneous, or spur of the moment. This was not a law but a truth. A human desiring the turn ought to be guided, sometimes over years, into the world they would be part of after the shift.

It was a maker's duty always to ensure no spontaneity existed, either on the fledge's side or in their own heart.

Young vampires needed to be stable, with a healthy soul, as Maxim's own maker had taught him.

She was more mother to him than maker, and he respected her wisdom.

In what he had done, he had utterly failed her.

The room lay dark, though not quiet. “Unquiet” was the best description Maxim could come up with.

Raven’s breathing was ragged as his body adapted. He was in the balance now, transitional and quiet. It came in ebbs and flows, this unquiet, and if nothing else, Maxim would be here when it ebbed.

He might hate me. He might hate himself and what I’ve made him.

Maxim rested his hand in the place where he kept his blades normally.

Not today, not as he was sitting by Raven’s bedside, watching over the soon-to-be vampire.

He was a survivor, though whether he would want to survive as a vampire remained to be seen.

They were in one of the empty apartments, of which 43 Ruthaven had many.

Donors came and went, and guests passed through.

Bryan was glad to have the rooms to watch when they were unoccupied, making sure they remained spotless, ready at a moment’s notice.

Maxim wasn’t sure whether Raven would like this apartment.

It was white and airy, clean looking to the point of being impersonal.

It will be easier on his senses when they sharpen, that at least is true. It also feels so very empty though. I don’t think he used to cherish emptiness, before.

Maxim was almost certain about that. While Raven hadn’t been the most urgent concern with the murders taking precedence, Maxim had looked into him. He’d seen photos: Raven at his desk, books around him, cheap prints taped to the wall behind him. No, emptiness did not suit him.

Past the hallway, the door opened, and the almost inaudibly soft footsteps made Maxim tense rather than allowing him to relax—not that he was going to, not when he had wrought this, a young human turning without any choice in the matter whatsoever.

“Uhm, Dad?” Heath spoke quietly, in that way he reserved for when they were alone.

“Darling. Did you need something? A bedtime story?”

Heath huffed. “Fuck bedtime stories. I…brought you blood jelly. I think we should call it something else, but I figured you’d prefer that over me bringing one of the donors in here.”

Maxim turned. Heath stood in the doorway, looking like a child despite his age. Maxim could smell the jelly in the bowl his son was holding.

“Ah, you warm my heart. Come here, let me kiss you.”

“Ugh, no, thanks.” Heath’s rejection had none of its customary fire, and he came forward, pulled out a chair from a small vanity, and sat next to Maxim, holding out the bowl.

“It’s chilled. Because you like it that way.

Fucking weird if you ask me. Not like I’m a huge fan, but even I know blood is better at the right temperature. ”

“You have such strong opinions, darling. If only you had someone you could talk to about all of them.”

Heath shrugged. “I’m here, aren’t I? We’re talking.”

“Darling, I meant we should sign you up to 2Hawt or the like. If you hand me your cellphone, I will do it right this minute.”

Heath’s eyes narrowed on Maxim as if he were a bug in some neat lines of code. “Don’t you fucking dare, not after the last time you tried setting me up. Who even takes his son to a date and then just leaves him there?”

Maxim shrugged, spooning some of the cool jelly into his mouth. “You were not going to take yourself, dear. What was I supposed to do? I worry. You should take your example from our sweet doctor and his besotted werewolf.”

Heath snorted. “Those two’re too damn much.

They’re staying the night, by the way. I mean, can you imagine?

Fucking, I mean. Can you imagine fucking after a day like we just had?

Speaking of, did you talk to Professor Highgate or whatever the fuck we’re going to call that psycho? Or the day shifter?”

“Not much. Perhaps tomorrow. Perhaps a week from now. Neither of them is going anywhere, and I currently have more important things to attend to.”

Heath looked at Raven, who was in the depths of the suffering, blessedly unconscious. “Right. Gordon cleaned him up, I think.”

“I noticed.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Maxim watched as Heath began his fidgeting. With his big blue eyes and his golden-brown hair, he’d been a sweet child; still was to Maxim. He also cared deeply when another creature was suffering, more deeply than he’d easily admit, even to Maxim.

Which is why he’s here. He thinks I suffer, my poor boy.

“Is he… You don’t get past something like that, but at least he’s going to be all right physically. Right?” Heath’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Yes, the shift will heal his body.”

Heath nodded. “I told Gordon. It’s fucking scary. The shift I mean. How you two made it… Obviously you did, but why anyone would willingly go through this is beyond me.”

Maxim forced himself to smile brightly. “Why, darling, it was so that I could have you, welcome you into this world, and show you around it.”

Heath groaned and rolled his eyes. “Should we get therapy for him? For the… You know. For what happened to him. You should have therapy for that, right?”

For one slow heartbeat, Maxim was outside of himself, drifting. He couldn’t feel his body. Then the moment ended, and he said, “You should. But he cannot be forced through or into it. In fact, he may not be forced to do anything.”

“Hunter’s orders?”

“Yes.”

Heath ran a hand through his hair. “Should I call his roommate though? You said he was super concerned, right? Maybe if he’s here when Raven wakes up, that could be helpful?”

Raven was used. He was turned. None of it in accordance with his will. Who knows how he’s going to feel once he comes through and realizes he’s human no more? Shame is such a terrible specter on the mind. A hunter that stalks your thoughts.

Despite his reservations, Maxim nodded. “Wait until morning though. No reason to pull Jason from sleep. Tell him we’ll call him when Raven is ready to see him.”

Heath nodded, clearly glad to have something to do. Action was easier than waiting, Maxim couldn’t argue that. “Right. Makes sense. Are you going to stay here?”

Maxim looked at Raven. “I am. And you should go to bed, darling. No reason the both of us should lose sleep.”

Maxim could hear the frown in Heath’s voice.

“I can keep you company.” I can carry your sword, Daddy, he’d said as a young child, unwilling to let Maxim out of the house to do his work, scared his father might come back with memories of that work weighing him down, and in his child heart brave enough to do whatever he could to prevent it.

“I know you can. Ah, look at how adorable you are. Heath, dear, I swear, if you’d agree to letting your hair grow out, just slightly, everyone would think us brothers.

Twins, even. I could take you out to a few clubs, help you talk to handsome men.

” He forced his smile to brighten. “I will find you handsome men.”

Heath snorted. “You fucking wish, old bat.”

“I do! Come here. I’ll give you a kiss.”

“Ew. No, thank you.”

“A good night kiss, darling, to help ward off any monsters that might be hiding under your bed. Come into my arms.”

Maxim opened them for his son, and in turn, a deep frown appeared on Heath’s otherwise smooth forehead. “No, thank you. Why do you always have to make every little thing so fucking weird?”

Maxim kept his arms open. “Weird, darling?”

Heath grumbled, cursing under his breath. “I’m leaving.” He looked at Raven. “He’s going to be okay, right?”

Maxim lowered his arms. “I don’t know, Heath. I don’t know.”