Chapter 36
Chapter
Thirty-Six
Simon had experienced the world through enhanced senses for a decade, but this was something else entirely.
The motel room Viktor had rented assaulted him with information his brain struggled to process.
Every fiber in the carpet stood out in excruciating detail.
The scent of industrial cleaner, the cigarette smoke and the faint traces of mouse droppings behind the baseboards all cried for his attention as if they were crucial information rather than just background noise.
Speaking of noise…
The noise was awful as well.
There was a couple two rooms down arguing about dinner plans—which wasn't as bad as the ice machine's compressor cycling on and off at irregular intervals. Or Brent's nervous tapping against the arm of a chair by the window.
The only comforting thing was Charlie's presence through their bond, steady and warm despite the chaos. He moved about the room with unusual purpose, checking the locks, pulling the drapes closed, arranging the meager supplies they'd gathered along the way.
"You need blood," he said, approaching the bed. "Viktor brought some supplies from the Organization's storage."
Simon blinked, trying to focus on Charlie's face rather than the symphony of stimuli crashing around him. "He did?"
If he listened, he could hear Viktor pacing outside, speaking to someone on his phone.
Charlie's lips quirked into a small smile. "Yeah." He sat beside Simon, the mattress dipping under his weight. "How are you feeling?"
Such a simple question. Such an impossible answer.
"Everything is loud," Simon managed after a moment.
Charlie nodded. "It's overwhelming, right? All the input."
"How do you stand it?" Simon ran a hand through his hair, wincing as even that small motion generated new sensations, each strand sliding against his fingers like individual wires.
"I've learned to ignore most of it." Charlie shrugged. "I'm kinda good at blocking out reality."
From his seat by the window, Brent snorted. "Understatement of the century, dude. You got turned into a vampire and kept working at a convenience store like rent still mattered."
Simon had almost forgotten Brent was there. He was grateful to the man for being Charlie's friend, but he wasn't overly fond of his presence in the room at this moment. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" Simon asked, his tone sharper than intended.
"Not really." Brent huffed a breath. "Considering I'm now on some secret organization's most wanted list for helping you escape."
Charlie shot Simon a look that clearly said be nice. "Brent, could you maybe check if Viktor needs any help? He's been on the phone for a while."
Brent looked between them, understanding dawning on his face. "Right. You two need... alone time. Got it." He pushed away from the window, grabbing a jacket from the back of his chair. "I'll go see what Mister Ex-Hunter is up to. Maybe get some food. For those of us who still eat normal stuff."
The door closed behind him with a click that felt like a thunderclap to Simon's new senses.
Charlie waited until Brent's footsteps faded before turning back to Simon. "He's trying, you know. This is all new to him."
"It's new to all of us." Simon's hand found the place where Reuben's silver bullet had grazed him. The wound had mostly closed, but the skin remained tender and angry.
Charlie followed the movement, his eyes softening with concern. "Here." He reached for a small cooler beside the bed, pulling out a blood bag. "Drink this. It'll help you heal."
Simon stared at the medical pouch. Deep red liquid sloshed inside the plastic. This was different from the pills, different from the injection Reuben had forced on him. This was a deliberate choice, accepting what he'd become.
"I killed him," Simon said suddenly. "Reuben. I killed him."
Charlie's hand stilled on the blood bag. "He was going to kill me."
"I know." Simon looked up, meeting Charlie's gaze. "I don't regret it. That's what bothers me. I don't feel anything."
"He controlled you for years." Charlie set the blood bag aside, moving closer until their shoulders touched. "He used your mother's death to manipulate you. Nobody would expect you to mourn him."
Simon leaned into the contact, the bond between them humming with shared warmth.
"It's not about mourning. It's about..." He struggled to articulate the hollow space inside him where Reuben's control had once lived.
"For ten years, everything I did was for him.
To make him proud. To prove I was worth saving. "
"And now?"
"Now I don't know what I am." Simon gestured at himself. "Hunter. Vampire. Both. Neither. Does it even matter anymore?"
Charlie was quiet for a moment, his fingers finding Simon's in a gentle tangle. "Do you remember how upset I was after everything that happened at Viktor's apartment?"
Simon winced. "I do."
"I was convinced I couldn't be a proper vampire. You made me see that it didn't matter." Charlie's voice grew softer, more intense. "That being a vampire didn't define me. That I got to choose who and what I wanted to be."
The memory surfaced through the noise of Simon's new vampire senses. Charlie pressed against the wall, tears streaming down his face, apologizing for existing wrong. Simon's own rage at seeing someone so gentle brought so low.
"That was different," Simon said.
"Why? Because it was me and not you?" Charlie shook his head. "The same principle applies. What matters isn't what Reuben made you, or what vampire blood did to you. What matters is what you choose now."
Simon looked down at their joined hands. "What if I make the wrong choice?"
Charlie's smile was small but genuine. "Welcome to my entire existence." He squeezed Simon's hand. "But you don't have to figure it all out right this second."
Through their bond, Simon felt Charlie's unwavering acceptance, his steadfast belief that Simon was more than the weapon Reuben had forged, more than the monster he'd feared becoming.
Simon reached for the blood bag Charlie had set aside. The plastic crinkled between his fingers, the scent tantalizing even through the tight seal. With a decisive motion, he tore the tab open and brought it to his lips.
The first taste was a revelation. None of the burning emptiness of Reuben's blood. Nothing that stole his thoughts away and turned him into a puppet. Just clean, sustaining life flowing through him, healing the silver burns, clearing his mind.
Charlie watched—which was a big thing for someone who used to faint at the sight of blood. "Better?"
Simon lowered the nearly empty bag. "Yes. But that's not just because of the blood."
"No?"
"No." Simon set the bag aside and turned fully toward Charlie. "It's because of you."
Charlie ducked his head, that familiar self-consciousness Simon had come to recognize and somehow, impossibly, cherish.
"I didn't do anything special," Charlie said.
"That's where you're wrong." Simon reached out, tilting Charlie's chin up until their eyes met. "You are special, and so is everything you do."
Charlie's doubt crept into their bond, his reflexive dismissal of his own importance. But beneath that ran a current of hope so strong it nearly took Simon's breath away.
"What happens now?" Charlie asked, the question hanging between them.
"I don't know," Simon admitted. "The Organization will fragment without Reuben, but it won't disappear overnight. There are others who believe in what they're doing."
"And other vampires will try to fill the power vacuum," Charlie added.
"Probably." Simon's fingers traced the line of Charlie's jaw, still marveling at the sharpness of sensation, the rightness of the touch. "But that's tomorrow's problem."
Charlie leaned into the touch. "And tonight's?"
Simon closed the distance between them, pressing his forehead against Charlie's. "Tonight is for remembering why we're fighting in the first place."
The kiss that followed wasn't like their first—desperate and confused—or their second—passionate and raw.
This was slower, deeper, a promise written in the language of lips and breath.
Simon poured everything he couldn't yet articulate into it: gratitude, wonder, the terrifying realization that Charlie had become essential to him in ways he was only beginning to understand.
When they broke apart, Charlie's eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted. "Wow."
"Yeah," Simon agreed.
Outside, the noise continued. Viktor's voice rose and fell as he coordinated with whatever underground network he'd maintained since leaving the Organization.
Brent's footsteps returned, then retreated again, respecting the space they needed.
Somewhere, Noah was dismantling the power structure that had defined Simon's existence for a decade.
But here, in this moment, Simon found a pocket of quiet. A space where the overwhelming input of his new vampire senses zeroed in on only one individual.
"I meant what I said earlier," Charlie murmured, his hand coming to rest over Simon's undead heart, which felt fuller than it ever had. "You get to choose what you want to be now."
Simon covered Charlie's hand with his own. "I'm choosing to be with you."
The simple declaration lit Charlie's face with a joy so bright it almost hurt to look at directly. But Simon didn't look away. Couldn't look away. Not from something as beautiful and precious as the man before him.
He kissed Charlie again, drinking in his warmth. His scent. Everything that made him unique and extraordinary and irreplaceable.
Charlie melted into the kiss with abandon, his hands sliding up Simon's chest, around his neck, tugging their bodies together.
"Are we really doing this now?" he gasped when he could breathe again.
"Do you not want to—"
"No, I absolutely do," Charlie interrupted. "I'm just saying...there's a lot going on outside this room. Like, literally right outside that door."
Simon grinned. "Then you better learn how to be quiet."