Chapter 4 #2
“You don’t want me to share with you?” As the words left my mouth, sounding embarrassingly petulant, I mentally kicked myself.
Who the fuck was I to assume he actually did want me?
He’d made a lot of encouraging noises, but really, I knew shit about vampires, plus his friends had all seemed shocked he’d invited me to live with him.
I was probably the latest in a long line of short-term interests.
He was immortal, after all. How boring must I seem after everything he’d probably witnessed?
I sucked in a strangled breath and corrected myself.
“Sorry, that was rude of me. Thank you for the room. I don’t have much to put away.
” If it didn’t fit, I would keep it in my suitcase.
I wasn’t planning on unpacking much anyway, not until I was more confident he really wasn’t going to kick me out.
Edwin made an exasperated noise. “James, man, I don’t expect you not to have your own space.
That would be…” He ran a hand through his floppy blond hair, messing it up.
“That would be fucked up. I think perhaps we need to have another talk about the meaning of the words ‘blood slave’. You’re not a literal slave.
That’s, well, it’s frowned upon these days, to say nothing of demeaning.
” He managed a little smile which I think was supposed to be reassuring, although it came off as spooky, and rubbed his chin.
“Just so we’re clear right now, although I know you’re nowhere near ready for anything more, I’d absolutely love you to fuck me into the middle of next week, as often as you want. If and when you want that. Okay?”
I felt my pulse stutter at the casual way he mentioned sex.
I wanted him, more than I could ever remember wanting anyone, but right now, the thought of being naked and in someone made my stomach churn and cold sweat prickle over my forehead.
Edwin had been very clear about where his preferences lay.
They seemed to align perfectly with mine, but it was too soon, way too soon, to deal with more than feeding him, the mere thought of which turned me on to the point I damn near forgot my own name.
Typical. I’d finally found a job, with a home attached and a boss who was my physical ideal, and my brain overrode my body at every turn, clock-blocking arsehole that it was. The FWNN had so much to answer for.
Oh yes, Edwin expected an answer. “Okay,” I repeated.
Edwin sighed, long and loud, then tilted my chin up so I had no choice but to meet his very blue gaze.
“You’re not and never will be a sex slave either, love.
Much as I admit the thought of tying some hot young stud to my bedposts excites me, I’m a very firm believer in consent.
I’m also adult enough to draw clear boundaries between my horny fantasies and reality.
So, while I can’t imagine I’m ever going to say no, it will always be your choice.
” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Even if that’s never.
All right?” He waited until I nodded, acutely aware of his finger under my chin, my pulse ricocheting wildly to be even tangentially referred to as a stud, before he grinned and asked me if I wanted to see his bedroom.
Unlike the spare room, this was bigger, decorated in shades of green and cream.
Still compact, it had a few personal items on top of a chest of drawers, and old photos hung on the walls.
It smelled of cedarwood, a comforting aroma that reminded me of one of my nicer foster placements.
It was smart, but still felt warm and cosy.
I said as much. It was the right thing to say. Edwin lit up.
“It’s my favourite room I’ve ever had. I’ve never been bothered about following design fads, as you can probably tell.
” A smirk. “But seeing as I have no choice but to spend a lot of time indoors, especially in the summer months, I’m rather chuffed with it.
Well, with the whole place to be honest, but saying that out loud makes me sound like a pretentious knob. ”
“It’s okay to be happy with your house,” I countered. Fuck knows, it was more than I’d ever allowed myself to dream of; to live in one room that didn’t have mould in the corners was a step up for me. I shrugged. “You done good, man.”
He acknowledged me with an echoing shrug. “I’ve had a bit of time to get my ducks in a row. I haven’t always been so together.”
“Can I ask how old you are?” I held my breath. Was this too personal? Maybe I should have asked this before deciding to move away with him. He was, after all, a total stranger.
“Twenty-seven.”
“How long have you been twenty-seven?” Oh my God, could I be any more of a cliché? I felt my face heat as he raised amused eyebrows at me.
“A century. I was, to coin a phrase, a hot mess after the war.” He shooed me out of his room.
“Let’s make you a mug of tea.” It sounded like he needed to concentrate on a mundane task rather than having any sudden compulsion to hydrate me, but I followed him back to the kitchen, frantically doing the maths.
“The First World War?” I evidently didn’t manage to keep the incredulity from my tone.
“I’m sure you can count, James. Yes, of course that one.” And just like that, he went from friendly to moody again.
Turned out Edwin could make a decent cup of tea, although the face he pulled when he added milk was comic. He insisted we go through to the living room, where he handed me a pad of paper and some pencils. I mean, I had a perfectly serviceable phone, but if it made him happy, I’d do it his way.
“Make a list of all the stuff you need. There’s bound to be things that won’t occur to me. Like, uh…” He tailed off, evidently wracking his brains.
“Loo roll?” I hedged. The bathroom cupboard had nothing except a solitary toothbrush and tube of toothpaste, and a small bar of soap on the side of the basin.
Nothing else. Nada. I didn’t consider myself high maintenance, but even I used deodorant and shaving gel.
I made a mental note to do some digging about exactly how vampire bodies worked.
If they didn’t eat and drink, what did that mean for the way they processed blood?
They were technically dead. In which case, how did they…
Edwin chuckled, interrupting my mental dive into vampire bodily functions. “Er, yeah, see? I’ve had the same roll in the bathroom for forever, for show. You’d better add that to the list. This is going to be an experience.”
“Are you regretting it?” I had to know. Better to get out now before I started feeling like this could become a home.
His eyebrows shot up. “What? No, course I’m not.
” He gave me a sly grin. “I’ve got a feeling we’re going to be a great team.
Might take some time to get used to each other, but what’s not to like?
You’re easy on the eye, your blood tastes great, and you don’t make much noise.
And, of course, there are the fringe benefits we’ll both enjoy — if at some point you still want to. ”
My breath caught again at his last words.
I did want that, all of it, but the thought of deciding to fuck, as casually as eating a piece of toast or taking a shower, was something I was still wrapping my head around.
I’d probably given Edwin the wrong impression of me the first, and so far only time he’d fed from me, when, oh God, the memory of it makes me hot all over, I’d dry-humped his thigh while clinging to him like a needy barnacle.
I should tell him. I needed to tell him, before I made a tit of myself.
But how to start? Did I drop it into conversation all casual, like mentioning I preferred barbecue sauce to tomato ketchup, or should it be its own subject?
My heart tripped over itself as I figured it should be the latter.
Fuck, I didn’t have the capacity to deal with this right now.
Not ever, if I was honest. What the FWNN had done to me didn’t count.
Because I hadn’t chosen it, and he’d forc—
Not going there! My brain threw up another massive stop sign.
I glugged desperately at the remains of my tea and, fuck my life, some of it went down the wrong way.
Choking, and trying not to expire before I could suck some oxygen into my burning airways, I hunched over and tried not to hack up a lung, vaguely aware that Edwin was speaking urgently to me.
His words were garbled, but they sounded concerned. He’d have to wait for an answer.
I must have shut my eyes, because when I could finally drag in a breath without being convinced I’d puke on his fancy rug, and opened them, he was on his knees by my feet, his expression freaked out, one hand in mid-air as though he wanted to touch me but wasn’t sure if he should. I grinned at him weakly.
“Went down the wrong way,” I rasped.
“The tea?” I nodded. “Can I do anything? Do you need a doctor?” I shook my head. “You worried me, James.”
I reached out my hand. He caught it and squeezed.
The contact was reassuring, kind. He hadn’t got a fucking clue about humans, but it was at that precise moment I realised he genuinely did care.
He didn’t want to break me, or for me to come to any harm — it wasn’t the first time I’d tried to caffeinate my ungrateful lungs so I knew I’d be fine in a minute — but he’d evidently forgotten that clumsy human action and had wanted to help.
He let go and got to his feet, so gracefully it was another reminder he was otherworldly, and disappeared for a moment, returning with a mug of water. “Would this help?”
“It might,” I croaked. I sat up and he swapped the mugs over. I took a hesitant sip, willing my body to behave.
“Sorry about that.” I chanced another sip, then put the mug down. “It’ll wear off in a minute.”
“You should rest your voice.” He glanced at a clock on the smaller of the two bookcases. “You need to sleep at night, don’t you? Do you want to leave the unpacking until tomorrow and get to bed soon? That’s worn you out. Humans are fragile. I don’t want you to get sick.”
“I choked, that’s all. I’m fine,” I protested. “Besides, the pizza should be here any minute.” As I spoke, his phone chimed. My stomach growled.
“Delivery bloke can’t find the front door,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “I’ll only be a second.”
It was another sign of his kindness that he’d worked out I didn’t like being left alone now, although I wouldn’t call going to your own front door any sort of abandonment.
All the vampires at Sorley’s place had looked out for me, plus the other bloke, Marlowe, who was apparently a mage, something else I’d thought only existed in video games and fantasy books.
I inhaled the garlic bread like a pig. The pizza was amazing, piping hot and just the right level of greasy.
I stuffed my face, managing three quarters before I called it quits.
Edwin put the rest in the fridge after I assured him it would taste even better cold with a cuppa for breakfast. Then he tried again to persuade me to head to bed, reminding me, like I’d forget, that I was human and not used to staying up all night.
I argued right back that I was no longer living the life of a regular human.
“I don’t want to be awake all day if you’re not. I’ve been nocturnal for ages now. It feels strange to sleep when it’s dark. And it won’t work very well if you have a blood slave who’s always asleep when you want to feed.”
We batted it back and forth for a bit before we compromised.
I went for a shower, pleasantly surprised to discover his home was plumbed into the mains and there was loads of hot water.
I redressed in clean sweats and a hoodie, then joined Edwin back in the living room where he handed me the TV remote and told me to choose a film. He eyed my clothing with suspicion.
“They don’t look like pyjamas.”
I shrugged. “Don’t have any.”
“Why ever not?”
It wasn’t the time to explain how a lifetime of sharing with other kids, none of whom I was related to, many of whom were bigger and stronger than me, had ensured I had pared down my possessions to the bare minimum.
Small bags were easier to guard, plus hoodies had, well, hoods.
I shrugged again. “Never saw the point.”
“Hmm.” He leaned over and snagged one of the pencils to add “pyjamas” to my shopping list. His handwriting was weird; kind of loopy but precise, like something you’d see in a museum or some shit. I must have stared at it too long.
He caught my eye. “When I went to school we got thrashed if we weren’t neat. Our writing had to look exactly the way it did on the blackboard. Some habits never leave, I guess.”
“It’s fancy,” I said. “Did you write with one of those pens you put the ink in?”
He rolled his eyes. “You mean fountain pens? They’d been invented by then, I’m not that old, but I was poor.
My school was also poor. We had nib pens and ink in wells set into the desks.
We had to dip. Carefully, because we also got thrashed for blotting our work.
” He shook his head as if clearing the memories. “Did you choose a film?”