Page 16 of Missing Piece
“You kissed him? And you are upset?”
Vincent’s cheek twitched again. “Yes, Petrov, I am very fucking upset,” he snapped, slamming his fist down on his knee. “He was just lying there, and he looked so fucking perfect and I just…kissed him.”
Petrov pursed his lips, looking up towards the ceiling like he always did when he was searching for the right words. “Well…did he like it? Did he kiss back?”
“God, what kind of question is that? I mean—yeah, he kissed me back, but—fuck, I don’t know if he liked it. He could just be playing along so I let him go.” Vincent got to his feet, moving over to the fireplace where he had left Adam’s clothes to dry. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.”
“Did you use the horny fingers?”
When Vincent turned around, Petrov was wiggling his fingers in the air at him. He scowled. “I hate when you call it that, and no, I didn’t use my ability on him. At least noton purpose? I may have let it slip when I fed on him, but not enough for it to linger almost two days later,” Vincent said as he paced in front of the fireplace. “And it may have slipped a little when I kissed him, but not enough to force a reaction like that. He would be in there furiously masturbating if I had.”
Petrov flashed a crooked grin. “And how do you know he is not doing that right now?”
“We’d hear it.” They both paused, letting the silence cut through their conversation as they listened for anything from the room. “Yeah, no, he’s not doing that, so it didn’t slip that much.”
Petrov nodded slowly, stroking his chin. “So we ignore the fact you let it slip, correct?”
Vincent tensed, the predator in him scratching at his chest, trying to come out and show Petrov how unhappy he was with that questioning. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose. “It’s been a while,” he said, narrowing his eyes at Petrov.
“And he is meant to be trial, yes? You’ve never taken this path with trial before, not even with—”
“I’m aware,” Vincent snapped, not wanting him to finish that thought. He knew he was going against the way he usually did things—the way he was taught. He didn’t need Petrov to remind him of why he stopped trialing humans in the first place and resorted to the blood bags with the occasional warm meal over the last few years.
He didn’t like to think about it.
“I am just saying, if your gut says do different, then do different this time,” Petrov shrugged.
‘Do different’.Vincent wanted to laugh. How could he dothings differently? He had done things the exact same way for decades. It had always worked for him. He had never not wanted to break a human before. But the thought of breaking Adam bothered him, even if he did look pretty when he had tears in his eyes.
It was a feeling entirely foreign to him. He wanted to hurt him because that was what he was supposed to do, right? But on the other hand, Vincent wanted to make him feel better. The darkness coiled inside him wanted Adam to feel better. That didn’t make sense.
None of this makes sense.
His device buzzed again in his back pocket. He rolled his eyes and pulled it out, playing his favorite game of ‘which dancers need to change their schedule last minute’. They weren’t even open tonight. All he expected was a delivery from Chicago, and Luka was already at the club to handle that.
He let out a small huff as he pulled up his messages. It was his niece.
Brat:Uncle Vinny, call me ASAP.
Brat:Vin, seriously. It’s important.
Brat:Dude, seriously? Pick up your phone.
Brat:OMG asshole
Brat:Do I need to call Dad?
Brat:VINCENT. RESPOND. 911. EMERGENCY. EXTRA BAD THING. HELLO?!?!
“What?” Petrov asked, noticing Vincent’s expression had suddenly changed.
He was already raising the device to his ear as he dialed her number. It only managed to ring once before she answered. “Jesus Christ, Uncle Vinny, what the fuck? You have to be theworst emergency contact in my contacts. Like seriously, I could be dead and disemboweled with how long it took you to answer,” she deadpanned.
“Well, are you dead and disemboweled?” Vincent asked, unable to prevent a smile from spreading across his face. She would be a good distraction. Ophelia always made him smile, even when she was in a bad enough mood to begin plotting some sort of nightmarish revenge idea that tended to involve ordering live animals online to be delivered to his house.
The bats living in his attic were a testament to that.
“No, but when the rest of the family finds out, I might be,” Ophelia snapped at him. “Has no one texted you about Cliff?”
