Chapter 3
Max
Ihad sensed Damon’s presence the instant I rode into town, but it had taken me getting my boots dusty—stalking up and down what the locals considered “Main Street”—before I finally determined he was inside the House of Eternal Moonlight.
A particularly fitting name for my kind.
This had me quickly securing two rooms at the nearby Paris Hotel—one for sleep and one for appearances—assuming I was being drawn to claim a “lady of the evening” as my eternal companion.
Finally.
After all this time…
Imagine my surprise when, upon entering the brothel, I was pulled past the preening cluster of painted ladies and into the alleged “cardroom.”
With nary a poker game in sight!
The decor matched the parlor—imported wood, heavy brocade curtains, plush seating, and stained glass lamps lit with electricity—but the lack of a proper card game was a black mark on the establishment, in my opinion.
While wrinkling my nose in disgust at the mere existence of the faro table, my gaze fell on the dealer—the most otherworldly creature I had ever laid eyes upon.
My salvation.
Long black hair was draped over broad shoulders, autumn highlights gleaming in the atmospheric lamplight.
A jawline chiseled from marble, lips as full and soft as a pair of feather pillows, and a secretive smile that had me clutching my chest, as if my heart would start beating on its own again after hundreds of years.
His clothing was neat—though not as fine as the gentlemen playing against the house—with arm garters holding his shirt sleeves away from his work while also accentuating his impressive biceps.
Absolute perfection.
My eternal companion being a man was not a problem in the least. In fact, given the time period and geographical location, the logistics of traversing the West would be far easier with someone of his gender.
Now, to convince him to leave this one-horse town far behind us…
I could have simply abducted my mate in the night—or compelled him to join me—but as someone who wasn’t given the choice of eternal life, I wanted to at least allow Damon to come to the decision on his own.
And something tells me he will.
It wasn’t only the instinctual certainty I had at our unholy union—it was the way this gorgeous human was currently pretending not to steal glances at me as we awaited our food at the hotel’s “Parisian” restaurant.
“French-inspired” sauces are apparently the best they can do.
“I pray this isn’t a rude question…” Damon abruptly spoke, and I perked up at the concern in his expression. “Madam Roulette mentioned you were from San Francisco, but… where do you—does your family, rather—hail from originally?”
My chest ached at the memory of my family—of what befell them, and my entire village—but then warmed at the care with which he’d framed the question.
Such a perfect mate…
“Ah, so you’ve noticed I look different than the average American stock?” I hedged, if only to watch the blood rise to his cheeks again. When he rewarded me by blushing prettily, I smiled. “I’m only teasing, pet, but thank you for not simply assuming you know what I am.”
Because, I assure you, you don’t.
Damon cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly on his ornately carved wooden chair. “I do my best not to make assumptions about people.”
Oh, to be so unjaded by life…
I dismissed the maudlin thought and refocused, because my mate wished to know me better. “Well, I appreciate that. And it wasn’t a rude question, in my opinion.”
While I had experienced my fair share of inflammatory comments about my appearance—even in “cosmopolitan” San Francisco—Damon’s question was clearly coming from a place of natural curiosity and a willingness to learn.
I’ll teach you everything about my world.
Even if it’s painful…
Taking a steady inhale, I tamped down the rage threatening to bubble up at the thought of home. “I was born in the country now known as the Philippines.” When his brow furrowed, I patiently explained, “It’s an island chain located on the opposite side of the Pacific Ocean.”
Damon’s amber eyes widened adorably. “That must have been quite the journey to get here.”
I couldn’t help grinning at the memory of every Spanish sailor I’d drained on the way to this country. “Indeed. A long journey, but one that was most enjoyable.”
“Why did you leave?” he asked—an innocent question, but the one I was dreading the most.
I chose the easiest answer. For now. “For a fresh start. I felt a pull and I followed it.”
Across the ocean.
To you.
He took a sip of the top-shelf whiskey I’d assured him I could afford. “What troubles did you leave behind?”
By Selene!
A prayer to my adopted goddess seemed appropriate, as this surprisingly astute man had just located my deepest wounds—as if the moon herself was illuminating them for all to see.
Very well.
I’ll bleed for you.
“When I was young—when my country was still made up of various kingdoms—a fleet of foreigners arrived… to wrongfully claim our land as their own.” I searched his face, exhaling in relief to find no recognition of just how long ago this tale occurred.
Then, I continued to share what I’d never told another living soul.
“By the time they were done, my home was destroyed and my family was gone. I managed to escape the slaughter… at first.”
But not for long.
I paused, carefully deciding how to frame what happened next. “These invaders brought with them a… virus—something my people had no immunity to. Most died from the exposure. I survived, but… I was never the same.”
To say it lightly.
Damon nodded thoughtfully, absorbing my words. “It sounds awfully similar to what happened here.” He glanced around before lowering his voice. “To the native population of this country, I mean.”
It was my turn to stare, astonished. Manifest Destiny was treated as a divinely-destined right by American settlers.
While I’d already learned from Pearl that Damon had lived his entire life in this town, with seemingly no ambitions for more, I’d yet to meet a red-blooded man who didn’t desire to stake his claim—if not claim everything in his path.
What a peculiar creature you are…
“Indeed.” I agreed before deciding to lighten the mood with more teasing. “Did you learn critical reasoning from all those books in your possession?”
Or are you simply naturally perfect?
He rolled his eyes with a smile. “Most of the books were given to me by Mattie, who also taught me and some of the doves how to read and write. She worked as a schoolteacher upon first arriving from Ireland but, well… evening work pays better.”
I bet it does.
“A few books came from clients,” he continued before blushing deliciously. “Not my clients—not that I have clients… not officially—but the men sure like to talk while liquored up and waiting for a dove, and the conversation sometimes strays to books.”
I nodded. “Yes, I have noticed the literacy rate of this country has improved since I first arrived…” Realizing I was potentially giving more clues than I wanted to, I steered the conversation back to us.
To our future.
“While I’ve been in America for quite some time, I have only recently felt a… pull to explore the infamous ‘Wild West.’ Your lovely town of Opalite was one of the first stops on my tour.”
If you don’t count the various camps and homesteads that made the mistake of inviting me in along the way.
Damon brightened, and while I was trying to behave and stay out of his head, I caught enough of his thoughts to determine he liked the idea of knowing something I didn’t.
That’s right, pet.
You can teach me things as well.
“Well, I know Opalite is no San Francisco—at least, from what I’ve heard…” He trailed off as our food arrived. “But I would be more than willing to show you the sights, as long as you’re not opposed to my nocturnal lifestyle.”
I barked a laugh, causing a well-dressed woman seated nearby to scowl disapprovingly.
“Not at all,” I hummed, pleasure buzzing through me as he cut into a bloody steak slathered in a Bordelaise sauce that smelled suspiciously like plain red wine.
Perhaps it will loosen him up a bit.
Raising my gaze, I found Damon warily eyeing my supposed supper—oysters on the half shell with a side of butter.
I suppose mignonette was too much to hope for.
“How in the blazes does one eat those?” He gestured toward the oysters with his knife as he popped a chunk of steak into his mouth.
“Would you like a demonstration?” I purred, loosening the oyster with my fork before tipping the shell to my lips and swallowing it down.
Exactly as I would like to do to you…
When I glanced at Damon, I saw he had stopped chewing and was now staring at me with a heady combination of astonishment and intrigue. I also couldn’t help noticing the spot of Bordelaise—or blood, perhaps—caught in the corner of his plush lips, taunting me further.
I simply want to devour him.
He carefully finished his bite, swallowing thickly. “May I… try one?”
“Of course!” I grinned, loosening another oyster before stretching my arm across the table, carefully holding the shell aloft. “Open up.”
I expected hesitation considering we were in a semi-public place, but Damon dutifully held my gaze and opened his mouth.
Such a good little pet.
“Hold the meat on your tongue for a moment before letting it slide down your throat,” I murmured, subtly compelling our fellow diners to look away as I focused on the bobbing column of his throat. “Then tell me what it tastes like.”
Yes, I was testing his obedience, but there was another reason for my request. Human food had sadly lost its flavor once I turned, so vicariously enjoying Damon’s lived experience—no matter how fleeting it now was—was too great a temptation to resist.
Especially as he’ll be joining me in death soon enough.
“It tastes… sweet…” He licked his lips and I tracked the movement hungrily. “But also metallic—like blood.”
My fangs threatened to lengthen as I imagined sharing blood with him. “Very good. What else?”
His gaze snapped to mine as a secretive smile curled his lip. “Salty. Like…”
Oh, you want to play?
“Are you trying to make me jealous,” I tutted, loosening another oyster before handing it over. “I already told you, your past transgressions do not concern me. I only care how we might transgress together.”
He shook his head with a disbelieving huff. “You seem mighty sure you’ll have me on my knees in an alleyway before the night is through.”
I smirked. “Who said anything about an alleyway, pet?” Or that you’ll be the one on your knees… “I intend to take you upstairs to my well-appointed room once you’re fed.”
So I can feed on you.
“Why do you keep calling me pet?” He asked, surprising me yet again with his directness. “I’m no one’s pet.”
You will be.
“It’s simply a term of endearment.” I smiled openly, knowing my fangs were hidden from view. “I fully intend to spoil you, like a pampered pet, but if you’d like, I can call you something else…”
Like mine.
Damon observed me silently for a moment as I forced myself to stay away from his thoughts.
Behave, Max.
“Do you also intend to murder me?” he asked, although the smile twitching his lips told me he was joking. “Once we’re upstairs…”
“Not completely,” I matched his teasing tone. “Only slightly.”
He nodded and set aside the oyster shell before slicing off another piece of bloody steak. “I believe I can handle a little death—especially from the likes of you.”
Perfect.