Chapter 20 Theo
Theo
Theo knew he was dreaming, and as he dreamed, he realized with unnatural clarity that the last few days had taken their toll on him. This is weird, he thought as the dream progressed.
Things had started out innocently enough, with Peter in some sexy, tight-fitting armor and with a waterfall of moonbeam-colored hair. He was the sexy version of a plundering Viking, and there was even a nice big sword strapped to his belt.
Since the dream was set in some grassy field, and since Viking Peter was just standing there, too hot for his armor, beckoning Theo over, Theo complied.
Dream logic made it so that the next thing he knew, Peter was lying on his back, definitely bare-chested and presumably completely naked, because Theo was licking down that chest with purpose. From there, the dream shifted. All the colors Theo had dreamed just leaked away, and the world went gray.
Peter screamed. His ice-blue eyes had gone gray as well, and now they were wide with pain and confusion.
Theo wanted to say something, to wrap his arms around Peter and hold him tight, but he was frozen in place.
Peter, still underneath him, was sucked into the ground as if the earth herself had decided to bury him, and cruel laughter filled all the spaces that had been full of greens and reds and blues, full of Peter, full of lust.
Your fine ass belongs to me, said a baritone dream voice that sounded familiar. I made you what you are, and I get to use you however I want to.
Theo knew that voice. Bernard. This was a nightmare, and Bernard’s disembodied voice was starring as the fucking boogeyman. A part of him knew all this; knew that, logically, this was not real. And yet… Theo’s mind filled with panic.
Just come crawling back to me, and I won’t tear your pretty sugar daddy a new one.
The voice came closer. Theo felt the air stir right next to his ear, and he could smell Bernard—the stale smell of old clothing and cigarette smoke.
The way Theo had smelled when he woke up from compulsion, or from Bernard having taken too much of his blood.
The smell didn’t always wash off either, not with one shower, not with two.
Thunder and lightning shook the scene, and a loud rumble echoed from the ground. An earthquake.
Theo knew with uncanny certainty that the earth would swallow him, just like it had swallowed Peter. He’d suffocate. He’d die.
Don’t make me wait any longer, Theo, or you won’t like what I’ll do.
“I said, wake up!”
The words came with a stinging pain to Theo’s left cheek, and he jerked upright, finally able to move again. The world was still black, but at least the earthquake had stopped.
Hands holding him. There were hands holding him. They wouldn’t let him go.
“There you are.” Theo couldn’t make out whose voice it was.
Bernard. Was I buried? Did he bury me?
Arms wrapped around him, too tight. He couldn’t get away. Fear rose. He needed to get away. He screamed.
With a hissed curse, the hold on Theo vanished, and a second later, brightness flooded the room.
“Theodore.” Peter’s voice, and Peter’s face right in front of him.
The magnetic pull of vampiric compulsion took hold of Theo’s mind, and he found himself calming down immediately to the point where things fell into place around him in a way that made sense.
He knew where he was. Peter’s room. Not some open field where he’d been buried.
It was dark out, but the lights were on. It made everything too bright, but it also scared away any and all shadows in which Bernard could have been hiding.
Well, Theo couldn’t exactly see whether anything was behind the dark blue curtains, but even if Bernard was clinging to the windows from the outside, Theo found that nothing much scared him or upset him right now.
I’m super chill. I haven’t been this chill in forever.
Why isn’t life always like this, and what do I have to do to make it like this? No drugs though, don’t like pills…
“Theodore.”
Peter was there. Right. They were both in Peter’s bed, after taking what he could only describe as a sensual shower with loads of touching and kissing. Everything else was a dream. Just a dream. A fucking nightmare. “Hmm.”
“Good. Much better. I compelled you, Theodore. You were scared, and I didn’t want you to cry…to be so scared, rather.”
Peter’s always chill. Maybe he compels himself each morning in the bathroom mirror? Is self-compulsion a thing among vampires? Would explain so much.
“Can you compel yourself?” Theo asked.
“Maybe that compulsion was a little too good. I think I may have taken you one stop past the calm place.” Peter was combing through Theo’s hair with his fingers.
It felt nice. Like a massage. Like what they’d done before falling asleep.
“While I have you this calm, do you recall if Bernard ever gave you his blood?”
Theo considered that. “Maybe? I guess. He said it would only turn me into a vampire if he snapped my neck or buried me alive. Was that a lie? Did he lie to me? I don’t want to be buried alive, Peter.”
“That little—that sort of treatment makes what my own maker would’ve called a vampire wraith. Weaker vampires, basically. Doesn’t matter. No one will bury you and turn you into one of those. He gave you his blood on multiple occasions? Do you remember, Theodore?”
Peter seemed composed, but those eyes? Theo didn’t like that look at all. He bit his lip. “Don’t get angry.”
“I won’t, dearest, I promise. On multiple occasions?”
“I’m not sure. He…drained me a lot. He called it that.
Especially in the weeks before I ran. Did I ever tell you, when I came to Celeste’s I was anemic?
She was really upset, called a doctor to look me over.
I got a transfusion, right there in one of the playrooms, and she went upstairs and baked a batch of cookies.
Made me eat all of them after. That transfusion…
Weird, huh? I mean, if you drink my blood, and then the doctor fills me up again, and you drink my blood again, are you even still drinking my blood?
You know, it’s the vampire version of the Ship of Theseus. ”
Peter clicked his tongue. “It would seem I switched on your philosopher mode.”
“Hmm. I think he made me drink his blood more than once. Do you think he wanted to bury me?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t think you’re suffering from night terrors.”
“Oh. That’s good.”
“I’ll explain this now while you’re still under my compulsion.
” While Peter spoke, Theo’s eyes kept sliding down the vampire’s body.
Peter was naked. Still? Again? Didn’t matter.
“Eyes up here, Theodore.” Cruelly, Peter tilted Theo’s head back up until all Theo could see were those blue, blue eyes.
“I have a hunch that you may not be this calm once I let the compulsion slip. Bernard is one of those vampires who are good at mental manipulation. Giving a human one’s blood can facilitate that to such a degree that you can influence them without being close enough to compel them.
It’s not a very common skill, and the blood wears off over time.
When the human is agitated or scared, it makes getting into their head easier. ”
The fact that Peter was naked but Theo wasn’t allowed to look made him go back to his dream, the nice parts in the beginning. “I think I was having a wet dream, and you were starring in it. You wore hot Viking armor, but not for long.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Stop with the Viking thing already. That’s culturally inaccurate.
Bernard may have tracked you through that blood exchange in the first place.
It usually only works in close proximity, but maybe he found out you went to New Elvenswood some other way and then tracked you once he got here. I’ll slip the compulsion off now.”
“This is really nice though. I like this.” Theo had the distinct feeling that this was better than not being compelled.
“No doubt. I’m sorry, but I am right here.” And once more, Peter looked at him and—
Everything came rushing back. Not just fear, terror. Theo’s heart picked up the pace so rapidly it felt as if he were about to faint. Panic settled into his bones and a noise filled the room. Theo was doing that. It sounded like whimpering. Then Peter was there, scooping him up against his chest.
“Shh.”
Peter was rocking him like a baby. Or maybe Theo was shaking. He couldn’t tell.
“C-compel me again,” Theo sniffed against Peter’s chest.
“No. Compulsion isn’t a cure-all for the mind. Your mind and body need to go through the stress response, and delaying that only makes it worse.”
Theo’s hand balled into a fist. “He w-was in m-my head. You c-c-compelled me before. D-do it again w-when I actually w-want you to.”
“No, Theodore.”
“You’re such a h-hypocritical asshole.” Theo’s voice was still shaking, his vision blurry with tears.
He got out of bed, and Peter just looked at him with the quiet regard of a frozen lake in the middle of winter.
“He fed me h-his f-f-fucking blood, and he got into m-my head! This isn’t just some f-fucking prank call. ”
Theo looked around for his clothes. He wanted to leave, storm out of the bedroom, out of Peter’s plush house. My stuff’s still in the basement. Fuck.
Theo’s gaze fell on Peter’s stupid silk bathrobe draped over the foot bench, so he pulled that on.
“Theodore.”
Theo spun, tying the robe just a bit too tightly. “I just asked you to make it fucking stop, Peter. Or d-do you get a fucking kick out of compelling me only when it f-fucking suits you?”
All Peter did was raise a perfect eyebrow. “Theodore.”
“Screw you. No one’s giving you fucking nightmares.”
Theo stormed out. The hallway was dark. It was the middle of the night, which suited Theo just fine.
He had no desire to be seen walking around in nothing but a silk bathrobe.
The stairs were shitty to navigate though.
Should’ve paid attention to where the light switches are, but fuck my life. I can do this in the dark too.
Theo made it all the way to the ground floor, grabbed his school bag, had his hand on the handle of the front door, and found that his hand just wouldn’t turn the damn knob.
“Fuck,” Theo said. Peter’s compulsion—the one Theo hadn’t asked for.
The anger that had exploded just a few minutes ago was all burned away now, and instead of going into another outburst, Theo dropped to his knees and cried. It was pathetic, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
“Shh. It’ll be fine, Theodore,” said Peter, the fucking stoic asshole, who was still just fucking there, arms ready and able to hold Theo.
Theo wasn’t so sure he would have done the same if their positions had been reversed. He wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t just hand the pathetic, crybaby twink over to the stalkery vampire who so very clearly wanted him and was willing to do heavens knew what to get him.
“’S your fault,” Theo managed.
It was too dark to see much in the foyer, but Peter had tilted Theo’s head up to get a look at him. Theo couldn’t read much on Peter’s face in the dark. “That you couldn’t leave? Yes, very much. You’re not safe outside on your own.”
“He’ll leave you alone if I go back to him,” Theo said, because he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he didn’t. “That’s what he said in the dream. He just wants me.”
Peter bent forward, and Theo jerked back, not even sure where that reaction was coming from. Peter stopped, but then he moved farther into Theo’s space until he could kiss him. It was just a chaste peck on the lips, but Peter’s cool skin felt nice.
“He’s a liar, Theodore. All he wants from you is your submission. He wants the thrill of winning. He wants to know he has power over you. He doesn’t want you, and he’ll have you over my cold, dead body.”
“Y-you promised. To run.”
Peter’s sigh was loud, and its echoes filled the house. “I’ll keep that promise. I’ll simply have no cause for running. You were saying you dreamed of me in the nude?”
“You should be kicking me out. I didn’t mean to say all that. I…I’m sorry.” Theo let his head drop forward. “For…for calling you all that.”
“Yes, you called me a Viking, and I’m not a Viking. But I forgive you, precious one.”
Theo snorted. “Not that. I called you an asshole.” Theo looked up at Peter, although he could only see the barest outline of his pale face.
“Most things said in anger are just twisted truths, ill-born shadows of our hearts’ true rhythm. There is nothing to forgive.”
“The fuck does that mean?”
Peter kissed Theo’s forehead, and this time, Theo didn’t jerk back. “You’re the university student. Read on until you figure it out, and do a little living too. It’ll help the words fall into place and settle neatly.”
Theo snorted and let himself sag forward into Peter’s embrace. “Thought you were a lawyer, not a poet.”
“Theo, dearest, I multitask.”