There were at least two cars on the property he could hear. One had a terribly loud beep when it was locked and unlocked, and the other was something whose engine sounded like it was on its last leg. The door would creak, there’d be a bit of silence, and then either the beep or the rumbling engine would start.
That gave him a window of possibly six hours—ten at night to four in the morning. He just needed to wait for a day when that door creaked twice and took longer to close both times. Or at least that’s what he convinced himself of. Even though it meant freedom, he wondered how often they had all left the house with him alone in the room. That was terrifying. God, what if a fire broke out? He’d be burned to a crisp before they came back.
It’d serve you right, that kid got burned—
“No, no, not thinking about this today,” he told himself, shaking his head and burying his face in his hands as though he could make the memory disappear forever.Then when? When do you make up for it? You lost a foot, he lost so much more. He doesn’t get to hide the consequences of your actions.
He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head again. “Stopit,” he said to himself, slamming his fist into his thigh.
“You’re a noisy thinker,” Vincent’s voice drifted across the room.
Adam couldn’t hide his startled reaction as he pressed himself back against the headboard. He didn’t even hear the door open. He balled his fists at his side as Vincent strode over to him, his heart in his throat as he tried to remember what exactly his plan was. He spent hours repeating it to himself, so why the hell was his mind blank all of a sudden?
Maybe it was because of how God damn happy he was not to be alone anymore.
That’s not good. I shouldn’t want Vincent here with me.
“You’re not eating?” Vincent asked, eyeing the untouched plates on the nightstand.
The accumulated plates held food that looked perfectly prepared yet utterly unappealing. Vincent looked disturbingly comfortable in a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a plain white shirt, and the longer Adam stared at the outfit the more he wanted to laugh. Vincent had looked like every vampire movie stereotype when they first met. Dress pants, nice shirt, suit vest. But this look was something he had never imagined. A vampire in pajamas.
“Do you sleep in a coffin?” The words came out of his mouth before they hit his brain. He dug his nails into his palms. Usually, his thoughtless, straight to speech insensitivity to others helped keep people away from him, particularly when he wanted to be alone at the height of his pill popping, but now he wished he learned to control it. His face still hurt from running his mouth to Vincent before and he wasn’t sure his cheek bone could take another hit like that.
Much to his surprise, Vincent grinned as he shook his head. “No, we don’t sleep in coffins,” he said. “Now tell me, why aren’t you eating?”
The smile transformed his face completely. For just a moment, Vincent looked almost human—approachable, even kind. It was unsettling how attractive that made him.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You know I can hear your stomach when it growls, right? The walls in this house are old and thin.” Vincent cocked his head, seeming to consider a thought for a moment before shrugging and sitting on the edge of the bed. He was close enough that if Adam wanted, he could reach over and choke him out.
Well, if Vincent wasn’t a disturbingly fast blood-drinking monster, he could have.
Play nice. Stay alive.He tried to convince his heartbeat to slow down as he slowly unclenched his hands. Those blue eyes stared into his soul, and while Adam usually hated prolonged eye contact like that, for once it did not seem like an interrogation. As if Vincent was searching for something, and for some reason, Adam wanted him to find it.
Maybe he had been without contact too long.
“Why aren’t you eating? Do you think if you’re malnourished, I won’t feed on you? Because I can assure you, that is not the case, and you’ll just make this arrangement more difficult on yourself.”
“How many people have you done this to?” Adam asked. He supposed he didn’t want to hear the answer. Or better yet, he should have asked how many were still alive afterwards. But knowing that answer might destroy his ability to keep his cool.
“I’ve lost count over the years, but you’re the first in awhile,” the blond admitted. Something about his expression had softened.
Does Vincent feel bad about what he was doing? If he needs blood to survive, is this something he doesn’t like doing?Adam swallowed hard. He knew that feeling all too well.
No, what the fuck? This guy smiles when he is rearranging your face. It’s not the same.
He tried to hold onto that feeling. The outrage simmering just behind his intentionally blank face. Or at least he hoped it was blank. His mind was a minefield of different emotions, ready to be tripped by a stray neuron.
When Vincent’s eyes narrowed at him, he knew he was faltering. It was time to take the focus off himself. “Why did you leave before?” he asked, his eyes burning as he realized he had stopped blinking. They were starting to water, but he could use that to his advantage. He would look sad if his eyes watered, right?
“What?” Vincent looked…surprised. Not terribly surprised, but there were faint wrinkles in his forehead that hadn’t been there a moment before.
“You left me alone in here for days,” Adam said with a bit more bite than he intended.
Vincent pursed his lips. “You are far more direct than I am used to dealing with at this point,pet.” He let the word hang in the air like a threat, his brow pinched as inky blackness took over the whites of his eyes.
“That doesn’t scare me,” Adam said quickly.
