Page 27 of Sharpen Your Claws

Mortals lived in cold structures built of silent stone or wood. They had a love for architecture, though, in a way he didn’t understand but could appreciate. Their yards and gardens were trimmed, unable to flourish, but had a sense of peace about them that called for a good nap.

First, he peeked into William’s bedroom window. The room was empty. He shuffled along the high steepled roof, then settled in the backyard. Asiatic lilies invaded the garden. They allowed the estate to smell far better than the city. He shifted through the greenery, spotting a familiar head of blonde through a window.

Part of the Vandervult family ate breakfast together. Two had to be the heads of the household, Robert and Matilda. The other must be a brother, clearly not Henry. He hated himself for never having asked their names. He wanted to know every detail about William so he could covet it like mortals coveted gold.

William spoke with his brother, donning a smile, then he laughed, a sound so pure and light Nicholas’ heart skipped, shuddered, then burned. His nails scraped the paint along the windowsill. Blood rushed in his ears. His feet carried him to a backdoor. Inside, the hall was empty. His fingers twitched and cracked, ears warmed from the sound of William’s voice, the slight cheer behind his words. A cheer he didn’t show to Nicholas.

Teeth gnashing, the fae crept to the dining area. The hinges were silent as he peeked in. A genuine family sat and ate like that, sharing stories, laughing, and caring. He hated this sinking feeling in his gut, how William didn’t notice him, how his attention never strayed. Nicholas wanted that attention. He needed it. Deserved it after all they had been through, but the Vandervults were in the way.

They had to go.

William caught him. He didn’t know how or why. But William stood, poised and gentle, in his departure. “I should head out,” he said. “I have work to attend to. I’ll be home for supper.”

“You better be,” said Matilda, with her back to the door. “Everyone will be here tonight for a proper family supper.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” William kissed her cheek. He nodded to his father at the head of the table, who didn’t look up from the paper when he waved.

He retreated from the doorway when William caught his eye, and he waited for that door to open. William’s scowl greeted him, irritating him further. Why couldn’t he smile like earlier? Why couldn’t Nicholas meld more easily into the family he so loved?

William took firm hold of his arm, but he wouldn’t leave the hall.

“Why in the Souls are you here?” William hissed.

“You weren’t at the clinic,” he answered.

“You couldn’t have waited?” William tugged, trying to get him away from the door. He wouldn’t budge. He kept thinking of William’s family in there, how they saw sides of William he never had, and maybe never would. He envied them and all they had.

“I hadn’t planned to interrupt, but they were annoying me,” he snarled.

William’s grip tightened. “Who was annoying you?”

“Your family. You are different around them, happier. You smile so easily for them, laugh, too. They do not deserve it, not as I do.”

“What are you…” William went pale. “What are you saying?”

A muscle feathered in his jaw and his voice came out strained. “You spend more time here and at that damned clinic than with me. I’m out here searching, helping you, but you won’t smile at me like that. Your family brings you such joy that I should bring you instead. If they aren’t here, then I may do so. I can do better, my wicked. I will make you happier once they’re gone.”

William caught him by the collar of his shirt; held so tight, the fae choked and stumbled. William pushed until they crossed the hall and his back hit the other side. His eyes darkened, bleak, as if he were no longer there. It was something else, but that something lasted little more than a moment. William’s bottom lip trembled. His other hand caught the back of Nicholas’ neck, holding so fiercely his bones ached beneath the pressure.

“Don’t say that. If you harm my family, I… don’t make me hurt you,” William whispered with tears in his eyes.

He didn’t mean to make William cry. He never wanted to put that kind of pain on William’s face. He cursed himself, hated ever having thought about such things. He would do anything to make this right. His breathing became staggered and felt it again; fear, panic.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I wouldn’t…” He grabbed William’s hands where he couldn’t tell who was trembling. He was desperate to be understood, to fix things. “Your family is important to you. I know that. I wouldn’t…”

But he couldn’t say he wouldn’t hurt them because, deep down, he knew he could. That he would if that voice took control, if it had its way.

The more he was with William, the more he wanted. It didn’t matter if they spent every moment of every day together. He craved more. And the others were right to be concerned, to fear him, for he couldn’t stop thinking about ridding the world of every obstacle that prevented him from being by William’s side, always.

“They will be obstacles,”Laurent had warned, and he had been correct.

“Your eyes.” William cradled his cheeks. “They’re pink.”

He released a bitter laugh and leaned against William’s touch. “I am sorry. I am not myself.”

“So you’re aware of that?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes I think something is wrong but can’t explain what it is and others I think I am someone else entirely. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

---