Haruka’s chest quietly heaves up and down underneath his dress shirt, his black tie askew. “I’m not sure—I will figure it out later. It will work out.”
How? Nino sits back against the chair, his breathing shallow and his heart rate climbing as he grips the soft, faded upholstery underneath his palms. A thought slowly forms, pressing to the forefront of his mind.
Could I be his source?
Nino has never offered himself to anyone before. Not once (not even to his best friend—and she wouldn’t accept anyway). He’s never wanted to. The simple thought of it has always sent his mind into a murky place filled with painful memories. Images of his uncle’s large hands clasping Nino’s small shoulders, his thick fangs biting down hard into the base of his neck and hungrily pulling from him as if to wholly consume his life-force.
Nino shakes his head to rouse himself. He looks at Haruka again. The purebred drags his body up to sit on the edge of the bed, then adjusts his jacket and tie. He squares his shoulders. His grayish skin tone makes him look tired. His dark hair is rumpled from the impromptu scalp massage.
Haruka smiles. It’s a charming little expression that reaches his deep brown irises. “I sincerely apologize, Nino.” He lifts his arms to pat his hair, combing the mess of it through with his fingers. “It is… truly unseemly for me to behave this way in front of someone—”
“You don’t always need to be perfectly composed and polite,” Nino assures him. “I hope… that after all this is over, you would consider me as a friend? With friends, you can let your guard down.”
Unexpectedly, Nino’s heart is in his throat. Haruka is blinking at him and Nino doubles back in his mind. Does he sound like an idiot? Like a child? Why does he keep saying these emotive, revealing things?
But when Haruka offers a little grin again, Nino breathes a silent sigh of relief.
“I would genuinely like that,” Haruka says.
“Good.” Nino nervously rubs his hands against his thighs. “So… what can I do to help you? Let’s brainstorm.”
Haruka shakes his head, still grinning. “You do not need to do anything. Just being here and having the camaraderie of speaking freely with you is more help than I could have ever imagined.”
But you need more than that. He can’t say it. When he’d first met Haruka, he knew that something was off. After spending time with him and learning the subtle nature of his blood and his enclosed aura, Nino can see it plainly.
Haruka is malnourished. Secretly weak. He isn’t in any immediate danger and he isn’t starving. But he is constantly in a state of being underfed. His ancient bloodline requires higher-quality sustenance that matches his own. Purebred blood.
Blood exactly like Nino’s.
Eleven
“I overheard Elsie tell you they didn’t bring the bags,” Asao says, his voice a furious whisper. “What the hell? They’ve been giving me the runaround about this since we got here.”
“Wait,” Nino says quietly, confused. He’s sitting beside Haruka at a large rectangular dinner table within the busy banquet hall. Asao is crouched down on his haunches and behind their chairs. “How did you hear that?” Nino continues. “You weren’t even close by.”
Haruka is sipping water. He stops, leaning in toward Nino and keeping his voice low. “Asao has exceptional hearing. It is a skill that is unique within his family bloodline, so he can hear anything within a walled space if he focuses—no matter how large.”
Both Haruka and Asao watch Nino as his entire face scrunches. He draws back.
“What?”
“Shh,” Haruka admonishes him. The last thing they need is to draw even more attention to themselves.
“Why the hell wouldn’t they bring the bags?” Asao directs his exasperated whisper toward Haruka. “What are they playing at? This isn’t some kind of damn game—”
“Hold on,” Nino says. “Are you telling me that for the three days I stayed with you both in Sidmouth, you were always listening to us?”
Asao shrugs. “Not always. I have my own life, you know. But yes, I needed to make sure you weren’t some kind of crazy pervert vampire, so I listened fairly often.”
“Crazy perv—”
“Shh.” Panicked, Haruka presses his fingertips against Nino’s soft lips. But the second Nino’s wide amber eyes meet his own, Haruka removes his hand. “I—I sincerely apologize.”
“It’s okay…” Nino grins timidly. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice like that. Sorry.”
Silence. It’s as if they’re temporarily frozen in the awkward moment. Haruka’s heart is beating like a drum in his chest. He shifts his gaze down toward Asao, still crouched on the floor in between their chairs. The manservant’s eyes are flickering between them.
He smirks. “Cute.”
“Asao, can we please figure this out later?” Haruka asks, the heat of embarrassment rushing up his neck. “Now is not the time.”
“The schedule is packed full,” Asao says. “We won’t have time tonight.”
“Morning is fine. I will survive.”
Asao pauses again, this time staring directly at Nino. Thankfully, Nino has shifted his attention away and is taking a bite of something from his plate. Asao looks at Haruka, his face flat and his voice low. “Ask him—”
“No. Goodnight, Asao.” Haruka turns forward in his chair.
“Your grace?”
He blinks, looking up. Elsie’s older brother, Oliver, is sitting across the table from him. His intended mate, Gael, is at his side. Oliver favors his younger sister. He has the same slight build, but is taller. His thick, short chestnut-brown hair has an elegant curl to it as it lies swept back for the formal event.
Gael is tall and strong. Burly—like someone whose profession is exclusively lifting very large objects. He has wavy black hair and a square, handsomely stubbled jaw. When Haruka introduced himself earlier, Gael towered over his five-foot-ten frame. When they shook hands, he’d lingered. It was subtle, but just an uncomfortable second too long.
“I am absolutely looking forward to your reading of the certification after dinner,” Oliver says, his proper English accent bright with excitement. He truly seems pleased about Gael and the prospect of being bonded with him. “It’s such an honor to have both our family legacies recognized as we bring our bloodlines together—fingers crossed, anyway! Isn’t that right, darling?”
He leans into Gael, prompting him to speak. His heavily accented English booms from his large body. “Yes, we are grateful for you, Senhor Haruka Hirano. Senhor Bianchi.”
