Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
BOZ
I'd grown up on Americana and Italian restaurants, but Russian cuisine was growing on me with its heavy sauces and comfort foods. Irena was an absolute delight. She brought me sample after sample of wonderful food to taste.
True to her word, she didn't speak to us beyond asking me what I thought of the meal. Santa watched me eat, but he seemed distracted. My mind wandered back to Irena's words.
"He is depressed."
Santa's charisma stunned me every time he spoke to me, but even the most charming people could succumb to depression, especially after two hundred years on our struggling planet.
"Is everything all right?" I asked before shoveling a forkful of angel wings into my mouth. They were bits of fried sweet bread topped with a hint of sugar.
"I don't know." I'd expected him to blow me off with a bullshit answer, but he took the time to consider it. "She's not wrong. I haven't been around much lately. What kind of friend am I?"
"A busy one?" I asked.
"Maybe." He sighed. "I'm a horrible date, too. I apologize."
"The dancing and dessert make up for it." I grinned at him and shoved more angel wings in my mouth.
Santa was a great dancer. Not only that, but the way he held me, close but touching only my shoulder and hip, had me holding my breath, begging for a brush of his chest against mine. The anticipation made me sweat, but it also put me at ease in a way I'd never felt before. Santa's casual touches no longer made me flinch.
Once I'd finished my plate, Irena brought the bill. Santa insisted on paying and took it up to the front of the restaurant, leaving me to linger by the stairwell again. I could stare at the mural of interconnected images for hours.
A tap on my arm brought me back from calculating angles, signs, and cosigns among the designs. "Is it too cold to walk?"
It had been too fucking cold to fly here, or whatever Santa wanted to call it. Walking was the far warmer option. "Not at all."
With his hand at the small of my back, he guided me from the restaurant. At street level, I recognized our location. We weren't far from the old courthouse where I'd applied for my job.
"Is this place open for lunch?" I asked.
"Irena's? Yes."
"Imperial Accounting is … all vampires? Why is it on the fifth floor?" I didn't know how to phrase my question, but Santa considered it like it made sense.
"Not all are vampires, but enough that the windows have sun shields."
"Sun shields?"
"They're like storm shutters, only on the inside."
"Sounds dark," I admitted.
"Couldn't say. Never been inside. I've been converting my apartment building with shutters, though. I should have converted yours while it was vacant, but you're human, so it can wait." Santa turned us down a street we'd traveled together several times in our short relationship.
"Blood Drive?"
"Yes," Santa grinned and wagged his eyebrows at me. "Unless you're offering."
I most certainly was not offering, but blood rushed to my face.
"I'm kidding," he said. "You're already shivering. We'll stop in, get you warmed up, and then I'll be able to keep you warm on the walk home."
It was chilly inside the shop. I sat at the table nearest the counter while Santa ordered. The scrape of my chair on the floor drew everyone's gaze to me. Vampires occupied the four tables by the front windows.
I swallowed my fear and tried to calm my breathing as I sank into the seat. I completely missed Santa's order, thanks to the pounding of my heart.
He moved the chair across from me without a sound, turning the back toward the table and straddling it. He raised his eyebrows at me and pointed to the chair. "Noisy."
"You look amazing tonight," I blurted. In the dim light of the restaurant, I hadn't noticed his suit's purple hue. Blood Drive's fluorescent lights made it shine and brought out the lavender flecks in his brown eyes.
"Santa," the barista called.
I glanced at the other vampires, but they didn't look, too engrossed in their own conversations to pay attention to us.
"They all know me," Santa said when he caught me staring. He took a long sip of his drink and his Adam's apple bobbed. I loved watching his throat flex as he swallowed. I wanted to lick him from collar bone to jaw, to taste him before I let him taste me.
Fuck. I wanted him to taste me, to drink my blood the way he efficiently guzzled the warm beverage in his hand. That couldn't be right, could it? I felt the heat in my face again, but even more blood rushed to my cock.
Santa finished his drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "We should go."
He ushered me out the door the same way he'd guided me through Irena's, one hand at my waist, the other tossing his cup into the compost bin.
"You smelled too tempting," he said after we'd walked a block at a pace so brisk my shins ached.
"How so?"
"The couple in the corner wanted to make you their third for the night."
I almost stopped walking, but then the absurdity of his statement caught up with me and I barked a laugh. "They would have tired of me, same as everyone else."
Santa leaned in and nuzzled my throat with the cold tip of his nose. "I can assure you, your scent is intoxicating."
"It's a wonder I haven't been mauled by vampires before, then," I quipped.
"I'm glad I met you first." He pulled me closer to his side, and I could feel a bit more warmth coming from his body. "I don't want to maul you, but I will show you a good time."
A vampire descended upon us from above in a black cloak that fluttered in the wind, and I let out a squeak. His dark hair was pulled back into a thick braid that hung over his shoulder and halfway down his chest. His skin was a strange blend of pale and dark, but his accent was all Boston. "Don't you want to share?" he asked.
"We asked so nicely back at the diner."
I assumed the voice coming from behind me belonged to the other vampire who had been seated at the corner table at Blood Drive. He'd sat with his back to me. When I tried to get a glimpse at his face in the window's reflection, I noticed he was staring at me, so I'd looked away.
I wished I hadn't been such a coward. I wanted to identify these two from a police line-up if needed.
When I looked behind me, I saw nothing. One tug on my shoulders, and he'd ripped me from Santa's side. My suit suddenly felt tight beneath my armpits, and my feet lifted from the sidewalk.
Fuck! This vampire could fly!
"Not so fast." Santa grabbed the other vampire with one arm around his chest, his muscles straining his nice suit. In his other hand, he held a silver dagger to the vampire's throat.
"Let him go." The vampire holding me tightened his grip in my armpits.
"You first," Santa said.
My captor laughed and climbed another few feet above the cobblestone street. "With pleasure."
A split second before he let go, I knew what he was planning. I pinwheeled my arms, but it was no use. I fell back to the uneven street with a sickening crack.
"Boz!"
I couldn't see through the tears in my eyes. I tried blinking them away, but that only made it worse. Santa was covered in black blood, as was all but the silver guard of the dagger in his hand.
"What did you do?" I asked.
He scooped me into his arms and the world seemed to move around us the way it had when we traversed the rooftops before. I heard the creak of the apartment building's main door, and then the click of an unfamiliar lock.
Bright light made me squint again, and then I was sprawled out on an unfamiliar couch. I heard water running somewhere in the apartment. When Santa returned to my side, he wore a t-shirt and his face was clean once more.
"This is not how I expected tonight to go," he muttered.
"You and me both." I could barely move my jaw from all the clenching. I'd never felt pain like this before, never broken a bone in my body. Now I had at least two, maybe three broken bones in my right leg.
"I'm going to remove your pants, and then I need to set the bones so they heal properly. Is that all right?"
I swallowed hard. "Whatever gets you into my pants. "
He chuckled. "Now is not the time for jokes, but I'm glad you haven't lost your sense of humor."
Before my brain could register a fresh wave of pain, he yanked my pants off and trailed his hands up and down my leg. Each touch felt like a horde of stinging ants along my flesh. He squeezed both sides of my shin, and the unearthly scraping sensation coming from inside my leg made me gag.
Santa disappeared and reappeared with a giant plastic bowl. My parents owned one just like it. We'd used it for popcorn.
Thoughts of popcorn inspired more bile to race up my esophagus. I wretched into the bowl while Santa made another vicious adjustment to my lower leg.
"Finished with this?" Santa asked, steadying the bowl so I didn't tip it over myself.
I nodded, and he vanished, reappearing a second later, the toilet flushing somewhere in the apartment behind him, with a freshly rinsed bowl in his hands. "You might need it again. I haven't checked your feet yet."
He watched my face, as though waiting for permission. I nodded again, and he moved lower, making tiny adjustments here and there along the bones in my feet. They felt more like bee stings, and I was glad to set the bowl aside without using it again.
"Do you trust me for this next part?" he asked.
I laughed. "It's a bit late for that, don't you think? "
He glared at me. "Meaning?"
"If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't have moved in here, wouldn't have gone on a date with you, wouldn't be here. So yes, Santa, I trust whatever you're about to do."
His face smoothed out, and he brought his thumb to his mouth. For the first time, I saw his fangs glistening in the weak overhead entryway light.
"I'm going to give you my blood. It will heal your injuries."
I nodded again, too afraid I would ruin the moment with words.
He cut his thumb open with his incisor and brought it to my lips. His skin was rough against my chapped skin, his blood hot in my mouth. I ran my tongue along the pad, tasting him. I swallowed once, twice before his thumb healed. Still craving the taste, I licked the last remnants of blood from his unblemished skin and released him.
With his face in shadow, Santa's eyes were dark pools in his too-white face. He slipped his thumb between his sharp incisors and licked it clean while affixing me with his predatory gaze.
"You taste like borscht and angel wings," he said.
"Don't you mean bile and blood?"
My words seemed to snap him out of his reverie. He rushed to the bathroom and returned with a cup of something that smelled strongly of mint and alcohol. "Rinse. "
I sloshed the stuff into my mouth and swished it around until the taste of bile was a memory accompanied by a harsh sting in the back of my throat.
"Spit." He was back with the giant plastic bowl.
I spit so I could laugh at how silly he sounded. "You're ridiculous."
"You were hurt, and I made it worse before I made it better." He vanished and reappeared without the bowl this time, with the toilet once again running in the background.
"Stand for me."
I shifted, so I was no longer propped up on the arm of the couch, instead sitting solidly on the cushion with my feet on the floor. I felt no pain, even when I pressed down on my heels and pushed myself up with my arms. My right leg was as good as new. Even my left ankle, which I'd injured in a rollerblading accident in eighth grade and twinged like a motherfucker when I hit the ground tonight, felt better than it had in years.
"All that from a little vampire blood?" I asked. "Why aren't vampires working in every hospital from here to LA?"
"That blood comes with a price." Santa took a step away from me.
For a moment, I felt like I was falling, like he wasn't close enough to me, but once he was a few feet away, I could breathe again.
"You can feel it," he said. "The tether. You're bound to me until my blood is out of your system. It's like a mini sire bond."
He didn't look like he wanted to elaborate, so I let it go. On my time, I'd research sire bonds on vampire lore websites.
"I don't feel it anymore," I said.
"I didn't give you very much." His stare bored into me. "I would never want to take away your autonomy, Boz. If there was another way to heal your bones before you started work next week, I would have done it."
"I'm my own man again." I stalked toward him, catching him by his shirt lapels and dragging him in for a crushing kiss. At the last moment, I pulled back. I wanted a real kiss, not the painful crush of body parts I'd experienced with my hapless Grindr dates.
I brushed my lips against his, and he drew me in, one arm behind my back, his other hand cradling the back of my head to keep me from hitting the couch when he dropped me backward onto it with effortless grace. He was so much stronger than I was, but I loved being manhandled.
More than that, I loved kissing and being kissed. I closed my eyes and lost myself to each lick, nip, and glide of his tongue against mine.
My body acted of its own accord, grinding my hard cock against Santa's hip.
Santa froze above me, and then he gently extracted himself from my death grip on his shoulders. I opened my eyes, and he gave me a chaste kiss on the lips. Faster than I could see, he moved to sit on the far end of the couch with my feet in his lap.
"I got carried away," he whispered. "I shouldn't have kissed you after your ordeal."
"I told you, it wasn't the bond, or whatever. Since the first time I saw you, I've wanted to kiss you."
One aspect of his superhuman speed gave him the uncanny ability to twist his head faster than was humanly possible. One moment, he was staring at the floor. The next, his head whipped in my direction, and if looks could kill, he would murder me with his glare.
"You wanted to kiss me?"
I nodded.
"I don't …" he laughed. "Even before that silly movie about the prostitute and the billionaire, I didn't kiss on the mouth. It's not something I do with clients."
That admission filled me with happiness, even as he helped me off his couch and walked me back to my apartment. Santa didn't kiss his clients on the mouth, but he'd kissed me.
"I had a good time tonight," I said once I unlocked and opened my door. I knew from his body language he wouldn't come inside, but this still felt like a win. "May I kiss you goodnight?"
He chuckled. "You don't have to ask."
Our second kiss was even better than the first, all tongues, teeth, and carnal desire. My balls drew up tight without a single touch to my cock, and I broke the kiss. I did not want to come in my pants from kissing my landlord in the hallway outside my apartment.
"I'll call you tomorrow to make sure you're feeling all right," he said. "Do you have any plans?"
"I need to get a new suit for work. This one's got a hole in it." One of my leg bones had snapped clean through both my leg and the fabric, unbeknownst to me at the time.
"You have my tailor's information." He patted my coat pocket, and the folded hanger cover rustled. "Until then, you'll get some sleep?"
I nodded. "Good night."
"Good night, sweetness. I hope you don't hate me tomorrow."
I couldn't possibly hate him. Even with the attackers and the broken leg, this had been one of the best nights of my life.