Raven Chapter 17 Hedonism and Household Appliances 200 #3
He cocks an eyebrow and runs a hand over his torso. "Now, the bath's ready. Unless you'd rather be distracted a little longer?"
I think he just says it to tease me but my reaction is immediate and blurted out. “Yes, please. Shirtless would be best.”
He just holds out his hand. “Come on, lille r?dyr.”
I take it immediately, a little thrill shooting through me at gaining a second musical nickname, and let him lead me down the hall of private rooms. Forrest’s door is the first on the left—of course it is.
The man would sleep in a suit of armor if it were possible, ready to be the first line of defense against any threat to his family. Like a misplaced paperclip.
Next is Anik's, then the guest room with its half-bath a few feet down on the opposite wall. Dre's door is across from Kieran's even farther down.
But he doesn't lead me to his room. He stops at the door at the very end of the hall off to the side—the shared bathroom. The one he and Em both use.
As I step over the threshold, my gaze drifts past the laundry room, around the corner, to where Em's door is tucked away like a secret and hidden from anyone entering the hallway. I send a silent little pulse of good vibes his way, knowing he's in his fortress, tinkering or hacking.
My feet still ache a little, and I can't help but vomit some more words. "So, what's your deal, anyway?"
Dre picks up a little rubber ducky and turns it over, not looking up once. "My deal?"
I shrug, zombie walking over to him. “Yeah. Like, Ro-ro is a gargoyle. Anik is a panther. Kieran is a chaos gremlin. Em is an elf of some sort. And you are… Well, I’ve never been able to find that out.
You eat and breathe like everyone else. The only weird things I’ve noticed is the mind reading and that you’re cooler, temperature-wise at least, than the rest of the guys. ”
He looks back at me, raising his eyebrow. “How can you not know? It’s a large part of why I’m so successful as a physician.”
I wave my hand dismissively. “I never snooped on you with your patients. I didn’t know how you’d feel about that and I really didn’t want to make you distrustful of me right off the bat when I became real.”
I can’t help but realize outloud. “Is there any way I can get my degree printed out? There’s no way I haven’t earned one of those in the art of manifestation. Like,” I motion to my flesh and bone body. “Look at all this success.”
He chuckles, “I’m not sure that’s how it works kjaere but I’ll get one printed out for you anyway.”
“So, really, what are you?” I ask, once again vomiting, unable to keep my curiosity at bay.
He freezes and he seems to collapse in on himself a little.
The question, which I seem to have asked with the tact of a sledgehammer, hangs between us in the steamy air.
He seems to take a deep breath in before turning to face me fully, his body closer to mine than I realized.
His expression is a carefully neutral mask, but his eyes are wary, braced for something.
“I’m a vampire.” He quietly admits.
“Cool.” Is all I can say. Because it is.
Now that I think about it more it makes perfect sense. I sit my ass on the lip of the tub because now that I know there’s about a dozen more questions hanging on the tip of my tongue.
“So, the whole no-sunlight thing is bullshit, right? Because I’ve seen you, and other vampires, out and about in broad daylight and you all seemed fine.”
He just blinks at me a few times, his neutral mask shattered and replaced by something stunned. “I… yes. It is a myth. Baby vamps are more sensitive but only for a few years if they come from weak sires.”
“Right.” I say, filing that away for later. “Holy shit, can you turn into a bat?”
The stunned expression is still firmly in place. “No.”
“Do you have a heartbeat?”
“I do not.” He says simply.
“Whoa, weird. So, what, you just… choose to breathe? That’s a choice you’re making right now?” I nibble on my lip as I look off into the distance. “I guess it’s no different than when I was a ghost trying not to fall through the floor. It just becomes second nature after a while. Is it like that?”
When I look up at him he has a faint, bewildered smile on his lips. Almost like my questions have left him pleasantly off kilter.
“It is… a habit.” He has to think about that for a second. “It helps with the presentation I am forced to put forth.”
“Makes sense. You can also read minds, right? Ooh what’s mine like?”
The question seems to have the same effect as triggering a landmine would. He hesitates, flinching a little, and I can practically see the truth warring with a lifetime of secrecy.
“It is Rare but yes, I can. Though I don’t advertise that fact.
Your mind is not an open book. It’s more like a fortress with a single, brightly lit window.
I can’t just see in but sometimes… things are shouted from the windowsill.
” There’s a faint blush on his cheeks by the end of it and I realize what he’s tiptoeing around saying.
I grin, utterly unashamed. “Good. If you can hear all my dirty thoughts about you then it saves me from having to say them out loud.” Then I sober, my thoughts turning to heavier topics.
“So why do you keep so much of you a secret? I get vamps aren’t super popular in the general supernatural community which is why they tend to stick to secretive communities but why?
Is it because you drink blood? Seems a little hypocritical.
Anik eats his steak so raw it practically moos, and nobody bats an eye. ”
He looks away, busying himself with a bottle of bath oil.
When he responds his voice is thick with emotion. “The world is full of arbitrary lines, kjaere.”
“Well, it’s stupid.” I reach out and poke his arm. “So, you’re a vampire doctor. That’s badass. You’re like the ultimate phlebotomist.”
He lets out a choked laugh, raw but tinged with a relief I don't quite understand.
How have other people reacted to him?
If it's anything less than acceptance, I'm going to need a list of names. He is what he is.
To judge him for that instead of who he actually is? That's a crime. And I'm the judge, jury, and very creative executioner.
Tongue? Eyeball? Kidney? I'll figure it out when I get there.
I can't quite read what crosses his face at my statement. Wonder, maybe. "You just... accepted it. Like it was nothing."
“I accept you , not it . You are not nothing. Now, about this bath. Are you getting in?” I waggle my eyebrows at him suggestively and, because I’m completely un-socialized, shoot him with finger guns. “Or am I having this fancy soak all by my lonesome?”
The look he gives me is ravenous and I’m positive for a moment he’ll say yes.
When he closes his eyes though I know he’s about to say no.
I deflate a little at the rejection. Is there something wrong with me?
They all keep giving me these looks but none of them go that extra little step.
It’s infuriating and I’m starting to develop some sort of complex about it.
He takes a breath, visibly collecting himself. When his eyes open again, they're different. The eyes that were tired, then looked like they belonged to a kicked puppy, before going all happy and hungry are now locked on my cheek.
Doctor mode has been switched on. And I'm only now realizing that maybe-bruise is a definite bruise.
"Kjaere," he says, his voice tight. "Your cheek."
He takes a sharp step back toward me, his hand twitching up like he wants to touch it before he shoves it in his pocket instead.
He looks torn, and I finally get it. This isn’t about not wanting to help.
He’s wrestling with something bigger. “I can fix that,” he says, the words sounding like they’re being dragged out of him.
Then his jaw tightens. "Who did this to you? Our security has never been breached. Did you leave without us knowing? You know that isn't safe."
He's talking to himself now, muttering, spiraling. But my brain is stuck on the shift I just watched happen.
The vulnerability's still there, but now there's something else underneath it—something harder. A flicker of the rage I've seen him try so hard to hide. He's not just offering to heal me anymore. He's asking who needs to pay.
Great. Now I'm all hot and bothered, and he's already refused to stay.
Rude.
Then my brain finally gets past the lust and focuses back on the vulnerability
He's not just talking about fixing a bruise. He's offering me a key to a locked room inside him, and it's costing him so he’s focusing on the rage instead.
It’s understandable, but what I really want is for him to donate that piece of himself without thinking about the cost. Something that will only come with time and patience. So for now, I'll let him keep his secrets.
I give him a small, real smile. “It’s okay. It’s just a wood grain patterned badge of honor. I’ll live.”
He looks like he wants to argue, his jaw working, but he just gives a single, sharp nod and just like that the moment is gone.
He makes an excuse about needing to get to work.
Which, I’m sure is true but it doesn’t hurt any less.
Before he walks out the door, shutting it firmly behind him.
For a split second I think about stripping, chasing him down, and clinging to him until he agrees to bathe with me and give me the physical intimacy I crave so much.
I look over the setup and my breath catches. The free-standing tub is a pool of steaming, fragrant water, its surface dotted with flower petals and scattered with tiny, magically-glowing orbs that drift like captive fireflies.
Then I really look at the room.
I've been in here before—after the nightmare, when I was too out of it to notice anything but the shower button.
But this corner? The tub is tucked away behind a curved curtain rod I'd always assumed was a window.
Gauzy curtains are gathered off to the sides with silk sashes, ready to be drawn closed.