Page 36 of Roman

Roman tightened his arms around his mate, finally allowing his eyes to close and his brain to quiet.

Roman would not let Luc take this from him.

nine

Danny

Lifewassofuckingweird sometimes.

That was the main thought going through Danny’s head as he sat at his kitchen counter, drinking his coffee, the smell of pancakes making his stomach growl. Pancakes that were currently being made by his ancient vampire lover. While his ancient vampire lover’s even more ancient—because it turned out that despite looking barely old enough to drink, Soren was older than Roman—vampire friend sat on the counter next to the stove, giving imperious orders.

“Don’t let them sit too long. You know I like mine a little bit raw,” he was demanding.

“And you know I think that is absolutely vile.”

“Don’t yuck my yum, Rome.”

“I do not even know what that means,” Roman muttered.

“Big surprise. Good thing you met Danny here when you did. You were way too close to losing complete touch with the human race.” Soren threw a wink at Danny, a flirty grin on his face.

Danny found that he liked the odd, petite vampire. He may have come off as a little…unhinged…at the bar, but he seemed to genuinely care for Roman and was staying in town to help keep Danny safe. And his caring for Roman didn’t seem to be in any way romantic, a fact that Danny was beyond grateful for. He didn’t want to even think about competing for Roman’s affections with a fierce, demonic supermodel.

He didn’t want to think about competing for Roman’s affections at all.

He still wasn’t sure what Roman saw in him, besides Danny appealing to his possessive demon. Danny was just…Danny. And Roman was…so many things. He had lived so many lives. Danny had barely been living his own.

Until now.

He had woken up wrapped in Roman’s arms as promised, and the morning had only gotten better from there. Danny fought a blush as he remembered Roman working them both to orgasm with his large, capable hands only hours before.

And now Roman was cooking for him again.

“Tell me why you know how to cook again?” Danny asked. “I don’t think being French is enough of a reason, when you’ve had two hundred years of not needing to eat human food under your belt.”

Roman glanced back at him over his shoulder with a little smirk that didn’t do anything to help Danny’s blush. “Maybe I was preparing for the day I had a sweet human mate to feed, little king.”

Soren made a fake retching sound, grimacing dramatically. “Blegh, Roman. There’s sweet, and then there’s saccharine. Spare us, please.”

Soren met Danny’s eyes then. “The thing about more or less eternal life, cutie pie, is that it can be incredibly boring. Especially when you don’t need to sleep much. It’s amazing the things you end up teaching yourself. Roman over here“—he gestured with his thumb—”speaks eight languages, cooks an untold variety of cuisines, and—absolute drudge that he is—is a master at chess.” He rolled his pale-blue eyes. “Such a cliché.”

Danny was at a bit of a loss. “Eightlanguages?” He himself could maybe sort of sometimes speak a little Spanish.Badly.

Roman stayed facing the stove, focused on the pancakes, but gave a little shrug. “Soren speaks six.”

Soren scoffed. “Don’t sell me short. I also play five instruments perfectly, I draw beautiful portraits, and I could crochet Danny a three-piece suit if he wanted me to.”

“You…crochet?” Danny fought back a grin but couldn’t quite keep the smile out of his voice.

Soren arched a golden eyebrow at him. “What—needlepoint isn’t ‘creature of the night’ enough for you?”

“It’s not that. You’re just so…” Danny trailed off.

“Sowhat?” There was a glint in Soren’s eyes now that reminded Danny he was speaking to a deadly predator, even if it came in a beautiful, delicate package.

“Chic,” Danny finished lamely. Soren was, after all, at this very moment, wearing a fur coat over what appeared to be a silk pajama set.

The deadly glint in Soren’s eyes faded, and he smiled wide. That smile could be a bit unsettling—a big, manic grin paired with ancient eyes that seemed to know more than they should. “Well, aren’t you the sweetest? It’s true I’m not exactly rocking my homemade creations out to the club, but I like a good knitwear as much as any other boy when I’m cozying up at home. Plus it’s…meditative. Keeps the beast at bay, as it were.”

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