Chapter 16
EDWIN
My sister really knew how to throw a party.
Baxter’s kitchen was loaded with booze, as was a massive table in the ballroom, along with ice buckets, glasses, and enough food to feed a small army, or in the case of Luc Bradshaw, a twenty-something wolf shifter.
Fuck me, that kid could pack it away. Then again, he’d done his part in relocating the carriage so he deserved a feed.
Music of various genres floated from different rooms in the house.
As nobody was a stranger, bedrooms had been swiftly allocated on arrival, then everyone got reminded not to intrude on anyone else’s space.
“Because nobody wants to ‘fuck about and find out’ with a vampire,” Baxter cautioned with a wide grin that showed off her fangs.
That prompted a ripple of laughter and a couple of raised eyebrows, but I doubted anyone would be a dick.
Charley was possibly the weakest link when it came to holding his alcohol, although I didn’t know much about Trace from a social perspective, so it remained to be seen if he was a lightweight or not.
I suspected not. Most of us were in the ballroom, although Stephen had looked at me with my arm around James, glared at me, and promptly taken himself off with a bottle of red wine, no doubt to kill a tall blond man that looked like me on one of Baxter’s many games consoles.
I’d given up trying to apologise. He hated me, and I’d (mostly) come to terms with that.
Unlike Hector, who’d taken it surprisingly well that I’d drained him by accident to the point where Dalziel had needed to make a rush decision about whether to turn him or leave him a dried-out husk — I’d been a chaotic new vampire with absolutely pitiful self-control — Stephen could hold a grudge like a champion.
He adored Dalziel though, and was a shit-hot accountant, so every cloud and all that…
James stuck close to me, a single bottle of lager in his hand that he sipped at as we watched Charley dancing with Baxter to Britney’s Toxic, both of them hamming it up something chronic. Trace dug through the snacks, checking, I presumed, to avoid any stray meat products, then joined us.
“That kid’s not got a self-conscious bone in his body, has he?”
I shook my head. “Nope. Good for him. He’s earned the right to kick loose for a bit. Can’t be easy dealing with all the revelations about his parentage. Human, vamp, and Fae is a lot.”
“Squeezing himself into a box labelled human can’t have been easy,” he agreed. He offered his plate to James. “Anything you want, help yourself, there’s plenty.”
James shook his head. “I’ll check it out myself, thanks.
” He was polite, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes as he looked at Trace.
He took himself off towards the table, then jumped as Charley spoke over his shoulder.
I watched him pull himself together, then laugh at something Charley said — too low for me to hear over the music — and ladle some liquid from a punch bowl into a large glass.
He took a sip, his eyes widened, and he immediately drank more.
The two of them were then joined by Luc.
I tried not to mind he was spending time with other people.
Other people I didn’t know very well. You’re a jealous arsehole, mate, pull yourself together.
You want James to be happy, don’t you? I did want that, so much.
It was just hard to remember he deserved a life that included more than hanging out with me.
We weren’t like Sorley and Gethin, madly in love and shagging for Britain, so why did I feel this urge to drag him away from the others and hide him like a dragon would stash a hoard of jewels?
I forced myself to look around the room.
Hector was now endeavouring to teach Pavel to tango, which could only end in chaos, especially when you couldn’t help noticing the discrepancy in their sizes.
I was also getting cultural whiplash from Baxter’s playlist. She really had gone all out to include every type of music that had probably ever existed.
Which considering the age range in the house was thoughtful, but rather excessive.
I loved to boogie. I should’ve joined in with the dancing, sunk a few glasses from her top notch cellar, and got over myself.
Instead, I filled a tumbler with whisky and brooded on my fixation with James.
I wasn’t prone to introspection, but he’d become so firmly entrenched in my daily life, I realised I was on the verge of freaking out that he was daring — because that’s how it felt — to spend a few minutes chatting to people I should be hoping would become new friends.
I’d already felt a nasty dose of green-eyed monster when I happened upon him speaking to Pavel in the front garden, and had broken them apart without a second of guilt.
Guilt which was now coiling in my gut like a cobra.
Pavel was a shadow, for God’s sake, the very best person for James to get to know.
Unwilling to stay in the vicinity and risk scowling at the oblivious James for crimes he hadn’t committed but my brain was trying to tell me he might, because perhaps he’ll decide a life with Trace in daylight hours will suit him better than being chained to an immortal bloodsucking nightmare, I swiped the bottle of Scotch and hot-footed it out of the ballroom while everyone was fixated on the dancers.
Hector was light on his feet for a bloke built like a brick and Pavel was more relaxed than I’d ever seen him. It was no wonder all eyes were on them.
I headed downstairs, then outside to the tiny back garden where the muffled music drifted over my head in a genteel murmur befitting the postcode.
Baxter’s triple glazing was holding up well.
I lit a cigarette and gnashed my teeth between inhales, alternating them with glugs from the bottle like the class act I wasn’t, as I paced up and down the path, reasoning that I liked Trace too.
For heaven’s sake, the three of us had been in bed and enjoyed a sensationally hot romp only two nights ago!
Was I really insecure enough to care if James flirted with Trace or vice versa?
He was my shadow, my blood donor, albeit a cute guy who was easy to be around and who didn’t object to helping with the house.
That was the sum total of our relationship. Wasn’t it?
But, I mused, I’d done sod all work since he’d come to live with me.
Yes, I had a fairly steady income from the number of prints I sold, plus my retainer from the Council, but I also needed to draw regularly, for the practice and because I loved it.
Art was what drove me to go on, to improve, to try new techniques, new styles, new ways of forging even the toughest documents to a standard that got past even the most rigorous checks.
Art was what grounded me. And that was before any need the Council might have of my talents, either forging or tracking.
So why had I been so reluctant to knuckle down?
James was easygoing and didn’t appear to object to coming to Baxter’s, or to my spending time quietly at my desk at home.
He liked being close to me, but he wasn’t suffocating or sulky if I wanted some space.
Except, I didn’t want space from him. Quite the opposite.
And that, I felt, was a puzzle. Why did this skinny little human with his sad childhood and his recent trauma have such a hold over me?
Yes, his blood was the sweetest I’d ever tasted, but was I young enough in vampire terms to still be led by my nose?
Or should that perhaps be old enough? Was I developing a mature palate like one is supposed to with wine?
Did that, could that happen with our kind?
I briefly wondered if I should call Sorley — he was older than me and would know this stuff.
But I wouldn’t dare risk Gethin’s wrath for interrupting the pair when they were probably setting a new world record for the greatest number of orgasms in a month or something ridiculous like that.
Sighing, I lit a new ciggie from the embers of the last and continued my pacing.
Perhaps I needed to go for a long run. Or join a gym.
Nah, no need to go that far. I’d get bored within days, and in the height of summer it ranked up there with some of my daftest ideas yet; I’d barely be through the doors after sundown before they were kicking me back out at closing time.
There was an itch under my skin that I couldn’t scratch though, no matter how it rankled, but it would help if only I could find the source of the irritation.
C’mon, man, think. Urgh, now I’d run out of whisky, for all the good it had been doing me.
The gentle snick of the back door made me halt in my attempt to wear through the paving blocks. Dalziel’s dark gaze raked me from head to toe, his intent serious, then he stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans and waited for me to approach.
“What?” I rasped, lighting yet another infernal smoke.
“Not like you to miss a party,” he said, the hint of a question in his tone.
I shrugged. “Not in the mood.”
“Because? Are you concerned about the witch moving onto your land?”
Straight to the point, as ever. “Don’t think so. He’s easy enough company.” Hoping he might want to fuck me through the headboard, to be honest.
“Fair enough. I am aware it can be challenging to accept a change in routine, especially when it will most likely infringe upon your space. Both physical and mental.” He glanced up at the sky, shrouded in light cloud, then back at me. “And what of James Wilson? How is he shaping up?”
I couldn’t hold back my smile. “He’s pretty amazing. Loves being bitten, very good company.”
“What does he do, when he’s not with you?”