“You always call me when I’m in the museum working. Don’t be a brat. How’s Sussex? I hear it’s pretty shitty this time of year?”

“English weather.” Nino shrugs, relaxing back against the faded red-gold tapestry hanging from the wall. “Things are okay. The ceremony was as awkward as I thought it would be.”

“No kidding. Yuck. Well, actually… I guess it could be hot, depending on the couple?”

“It wasn’t. And one of the grooms-to-be attacked Haruka in the middle of the night.”

Nino pauses for reaction and Cellina delivers. Her typically sultry voice is practically a shriek.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“It’s been crazy here, Lina. You know I get the occasional weirdo in my bar, but the stuff Haruka goes through is next level.”

“No wonder he hides in his house all the time,” Cellina says. “Poor guy.”

Nino rubs the back of his neck, a small grin forming on his lips. “I… offered myself to him. Last night.”

He pauses again, but instead of the anticipated reaction, the silence goes on a little too long. “Lina?”

“Nino, are you being serious?”

She can’t see him, but he nods anyway. The seriousness in her voice serves as a mirror for the reality and weight of his bold decision. “Yeah,” he says. “I am. His bloodline is so damn old… He can’t really function on first-gen blood like most purebreds can.”

“That’s amazing,” she says, her voice sincere. “Goodness… I’m just so surprised. I mean, you were practically gushing over him a couple days ago—”

“I was not gushing.”

“Okay,” she says, amusement behind her voice. “But you’re obviously comfortable with him and think highly of him. Did he accept? Are you his source now?”

Nino lays his head back against the wall. “We haven’t talked through the details yet. He was in a bad situation when I fed him, so I let him get some rest afterward. Hopefully we can talk about it today… I don’t want things to be awkward.”

“Do you want to be his source?” Cellina asks.

Nino only pauses a beat, registering the question. “I do. He definitely needs a higher-level source than what he’s been getting. I told you his skin is a weird color?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“I realized it’s probably because he’s underfed all the time. I know what severely underfed looks like because of Father, but I’ve never seen anyone walk around in a mild state like that. Haruka has helped me learn a lot the past few days. If I can, I want to help him too.”

“You’re so sweet, Nino. You’ve never been this trusting with another ranked vampire. You really like him, huh?”

“Well…” Nino massages his scalp, the heat of embarrassment flashing in his cheeks. “I’ve always trusted you—and he’s my friend. Of course I like him.”

“Right,” Cellina says. “So he fed from you, but how did it feel? Were you able to relax? Did he pour nice feelings into you?”

“It didn’t feel like anything because he fed from my hand.”

“Your hand?” Cellina says, the frown in her voice obvious. “Did you initiate that? Nino, you know that’s not normally how—”

“I know, and I didn’t. He initiated it.” Nino exhales a heavy sigh. It’s the same way he feeds from Cellina. By hand. His relationship with her is more like a big sister, so feeding from her neck has always been off the table—a mutual decision.

But with Haruka… Nino vaguely worries he’s destined to be some kind of perpetual hand feeder. Like a forty-year-old virgin or a grown man still riding a bike with training wheels.

Nino continues to massage his scalp, clearing the pitiful image. “It was a weird moment. And Haru always tries to be polite.”

“Interesting. Oh, by the way, I’m going home for two weeks in February because I have interviews. So unless you have another source by then, you better buy your plane tickets.”

“Text me the dates?” He loves this vampire. She is truly family. He suddenly wishes they were holed up together in his bedroom and eating junk food, marathoning some human sci-fi TV series like they’d done fairly often during the 1990s.

There’s a light knock on the bedroom door and Nino lifts his head from the phone. “Come in.”

The door slowly opens. Haruka peeks his head around the corner. When he spots Nino, he smiles sweetly.

Nino’s breath catches in his throat. Haruka looks… radiant. His skin is like smooth, satin almond milk contrasted against the very dark luster of his hair. Even his eyes are vibrant now—rich and shining like a vintage red wine. And his scent…

Cellina calls out Nino’s name on the phone and he realizes his mouth is hanging open. “Lina, can I call you later? Haru just walked in.”

“Sure. Give me an update later. Go have fun with your new friend that you like.”

Fifteen

On the outside, Haruka smiles as Nino finishes his phone call. Inside, he is trying very hard to ignore the immense amount of disgrace currently weighted on his shoulders.

Gael physically overpowering him and wounding him had been horrible enough, but having Nino there to witness the aftermath only adds another layer of humiliation. He can’t imagine how weak and pathetic he looked, so much so that Nino had taken pity on him and offered to feed him.

What’s more shameful is how much Haruka enjoyed Nino’s blood. He tasted heavenly, as if his blood were an intricate concoction of cinnamon, heat and smoke. Haruka has never tasted anything so singularly satisfying to his nature. Not even Yuna’s blood had stirred him this strongly.

Smoothly pouring into his mouth, down his throat and weaving throughout the canals of his body, the sensation was euphoric. Heavenly. In truth, Haruka wants another taste—to indulge in Nino more deeply and with intention.

But it’s improper to directly request that another vampire becomes your source. Cultural etiquette aside, Haruka still wouldn’t dare. Nino has experienced trauma with feeding, and he would never want his friend to feel obligated or pressured to do something that might cause him distress.

Nino hangs up the phone and beams in his warm, open way. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Haruka says. “A friend of yours?”

Nino wears a look of confusion, then glances to his right at a medieval suit of armor. “This thing?”

“No.” Haruka holds back a laugh. “On the phone, Nino.”

“Oh.” Nino laughs. “Yeah. It was my best friend, Cellina. How are you feeling? Better?”

Haruka hesitates, deciding to be honest with him. “Yes. Much better than I have in a long time, truthfully.”

“You look so healthy now.” Nino blinks, walking forward to meet him in the center of the room. He stops when there are only a couple feet between them. “You’ve been underfed all this time, haven’t you?”

“Well…” Haruka says, his knotted aura pulsing from the nearness of Nino’s body, the intense focus of his gaze. “I was not very uncomfortable. I simply became accustomed to that state of being.”

“You shouldn’t have to settle for that, Haru…” Nino’s haunting eyes are searching. Distraught. Looking into his eyes… Haruka likens it to staring into the depths of the ocean, if the waves and currents were the color of honeycomb. Golden and confounding.