Page 61 of Missing Piece
“What are you doing?” Adam murmured, his voice thick with approaching sleep.
“Just making sure your stitches are still in place,” Vincent replied, pressing a kiss into his shoulder.
Adam hummed in response, too exhausted to form words. The adrenaline had drained from his system, leaving him boneless against the mattress. Vincent’s hand moved from his back to his hair, stroking through the tangled strands.
“Rest now,” he whispered against Adam’s skin. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
The assurance settled over Adam like a blanket, warm and secure. He’d spent so many nights alone, so many mornings waking up to empty beds and half-remembered faces. The thought of Vincent staying, of opening his eyes to find those ice-blue ones looking back at him, filled a void he hadn’t realized was there.
As Vincent continued stroking his hair, Adam felt himself drifting toward sleep. His mind, usually racing with intrusive thoughts and regrets, grew quiet under Vincent’s touch. The vampire who had once terrified him now brought a strange comfort, a sense of safety he hadn’t felt in years.
It was contradictory, the feeling of being both protected and possessed. Vincent could snap his neck with a flick of his wrist, yet those same hands now cradled him with impossible tenderness. The vampire demanded control yet gave Adam a freedom he’d never experienced—freedom from pretense, from having to be strong, from having to make the right choices.
The realization hit him with surprising clarity as sleepbegan to claim him: he was falling in love with Vincent. Not with the idea of him, not with the danger he represented, but with the complexity of him, the monster and the man, the cruelty and the kindness.
It should have terrified him. It should have sent him running for the door, prosthetic or no prosthetic. Instead, as consciousness slipped away, Adam felt only a profound sense of rightness, as though all the broken pieces of himself had finally found where they belonged.
Chapter Twenty-Two - Vincent
“Petrov, I am not breaking out the blender to make you a goddamn slushie, go sit down,” Ophelia hissed at the big man from behind her bar. Vincent made no effort to hide his amusement at the scene unfolding and crossed his arms over his chest. Those two always bickered over something, and at this point, it was probably because it was how they entertained each other. Petrov loved being around humans, and Ophelia liked to challenge people who could easily pick her up and place her in a trashcan.
“You are bartender, yes? Then tend bar. I will pay you,” Petrov said, pushing a twenty-dollar bill across the bar top towards her.
“Go sit with your brothers.” She narrowed her eyes at him and pointed to the roped-off table where Matteo and Luka sat on either side of Adam. To anyone else in the room, it would have looked like they were keeping Adam uncomfortably close to prevent him from running, but Vincent knew they were just being protective of him. He was, after all, a vulnerable human in a room filled with vampires getting ready to be told there was a shortage of blood in town.
“Just make the drink,” Vincent urged. He grinned as she flipped him off without breaking eye contact with Petrov.
Vincent scanned the mostly empty nightclub, flood lights overhead showing how unpleasant the environment looked without the lasers and black lights, taking in all the renovations since he was last here. The walls had been painted black and a few more tables had been added for the demanding humans that wanted bottle service. But what really caught his eye were the new neon lights that lined the walls and illuminated the entire dance floor. Even in the stark light, they gave off an almost hypnotizing glow.
The others had gathered near the back of the club, jammed into the VIP booths or just sitting on the floor as they chatted amongst themselves, keeping their distance from the glass walls that lined the front of the club despite the blackout UV film that had been installed years prior. They didn’t trust that it actually worked.
He heard a few of them muttering about him when they first came in, noticing that an unfamiliar human was present and the Javanovskas were seemingly guarding him, but he didn’t worry about it. They all knew him as he used to be: merciless, volatile, angry, and most importantly, not to be fucked with. And he let them keep believing that because it was honestly better than admitting he had changed. He had beaten the tar out of all of them at one point or another for something trivial in the year after they rid the town of hunters, when he was still on a hair trigger and Marcus indulged his insatiable desire to hurt more humans.
That was how they found Ophelia. Some guy spending more money than he had on the video poker slots and lap dances at Wild Side made it no secret he was trying to offload his ‘creepy kid’ on the first guy willing to pay for her. So Vincent did what he always did when he found someonehurting children in the year following Lashawn and Reggie’s deaths…he called Marcus up to indulge in the same kind of savagery they got up to in the ‘80s in Chicago. Except Ophelia, with her blank brown eyes and her dirty Hello Kitty pajamas, surprised them both when she dealt the final blow to her mother.
After that, it turned into a comedy of errors trying to decide what to do with the silent, eerie child that never blinked or seemed startled by their eyes or fangs. Marcus changed overnight, turning himself into what Vincent could only describe as a “Ford Tough Mama Bear.” He wouldn’t go out with Vincent to hunt perverts and child abusers anymore. And eventually, Vincent lost his thirst for tearing those kinds of people apart one square inch of flesh at a time. Breaking humans wouldn’t bring them back.
But the others didn’t need to know that. To them, he was still Vincent fucking Bellenger, asshole extraordinaire.
Tariq and Marcus made their way down the curved stairs near the tall DJ booth, coming from Marcus’s office. The quiet murmur amongst the others in attendance fell silent, all heads turning in their direction. It was a rare occasion Marcus gathered them all in his nightclub, mostly because the logistics were a nightmare. They had to meet before the club opened, which meant during the day, and the attire required to move during the day was more than conspicuous.
“Thank you guys for coming!” Tariq exclaimed, bounding down the rest of the steps two at a time. He jogged over to the two sitting on the floor in front of his DJ booth, crouching down and throwing his arms around the two of them so suddenly the three of them tipped backwards. “Mattie,Jae-Jae, it’s been forever!”
“Get off,” Jae scowled and pounded his fist on Tariq’s back, which just seemed to make him laugh. The motion revealed the cartoon pins on his hospital lanyard, a stark contrast to his perpetually flat demeanor.
“Don’t call me Mattie,” Matoskah groaned, his pale braids catching the overhead lights as he tried to extract himself from Tariq’s embrace. His pale features were set in their perpetual expression of judgment, the county sheriff’s badge clipped to his belt glinting as he moved.
“Be nice, he is baby,” Petrov called over to them, still locked in a battle of wills with Ophelia at the bar.
Vincent watched the scene unfold with a hint of amusement. It was always entertaining to watch their bizarre family interact with each other, especially when they were gathered in one place like this. He had been absent from their little group for quite some time, so it was good to see that things hadn’t changed much in his absence.
“Alright, listen up,” Marcus said, his voice soft yet commanding as he came forward from the stairs. He wasn’t even the tallest among them, but there was something imposing about him, even to Vincent. He was the oldest, the most experienced and well-traveled. There was an aura of power and authority that surrounded him, that made even the other vampires pay attention when he spoke.
Vincent half-listened to Marcus’s familiar speech about responsible feeding and resource management. This was territory he’d navigated for decades, the careful balance of hunger and discretion, the network of contacts and suppliers. He was here because Marcus expected him to be, because his presence still carried weight with the younger vampires. But his attention kept drifting to Adam, to the way Adam’s heartrate had suddenly spiked.
“As you all have probably heard from someone who will not be named,” Marcus continued, turning his chin towards Ophelia, “The hunters in the north are getting more aggressive and have destroyed our regularly scheduled shipment of blood. The next one isn’t for another month since the humans were sick for two years straight. It’s getting harder to find new sources, and until we know which group did the deed, we need to be careful with remaining rations and any feeding done in city limits.”
The group murmured in agreement, a few vampires shooting worried looks towards Matteo, who blanched at the attention.
