Page 10 of Grave Throbbing
A dribble of blood escaped Harley's mouth. Key leaned forward like the predator he was, and Harley stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Harley met his gaze as he slowly licked his lip.
"Do you live nearby?" Key asked, knowing full well Harley lived in the neighborhood. They were two blocks from the courthouse, a historical building owned by the vampire council since colonial days. Harley lived a block beyond that in another historical building reserved for council employees. They'd lived within blocks of each other for three years, and yet, Key had struggled to bridge the century-long gap he'd created by running.
"If I take you home with me," Harley asked, "do you promise to stay?"
Key's smile widened past his fangs. "Yes."
Chapter 4
Harley
Harley looked down at the round pressed wood bistro table between them to regain his sanity. Key still smelled like sex, along with two unusual blood aromas. Was that otter? It was overwhelming at a time when Harley needed to think clearly. He needed to focus, so he wouldn't do something stupid. Taking Key home was a bad idea with Empress Marcella arriving in a little over forty-eight hours.
"I can't," he said. "I'm not," he held his hands up, gesturing to his costume, his tattoos, all of it, "this guy. And I don't think you're the type of guy who wants to be stuck with someone like me."
"I'm not always this rash, I swear." Key grinned, pushing the eyepatch up on his cheek.
The wig was wrong. Harley wanted to remove it and the scrap of black fabric that hid Key's other hazel eye.
"I'm not this guy either." Key gestured at his outfit. He tugged a lock of the wig's hair, so it pulled the eyepatch into place. "Thank fuck for that. He's an asshole."
Key's accent twisted to a hint of Irish when he swore, and Harley's cock perked up again. This had been easier when it had been a disinterested party.
"Did the empress's file tell you about my past relationships?" Harley wondered aloud. His sire had been furious when he hadn't been interested in her, and again when he'd refused to kill humans. She'd sent him to Italy to be rid of him. By the time he reached Rome, she was dead, and he was the empress's special guest.
Key frowned. "There were none listed."
"You didn't wonder why?"
"I'd hoped it was because you were pining away for me, the way I've been for you."
Gods, that smile, even with the wig that clashed with Harley's memory and screamed, "wrong" with every strand and the asymmetrical eyepatch. He wanted to rip the facade from Key's head and display the real Ciarán underneath. He tamped down the urge to deface Key's Halloween costume and considered Key's words instead.
Harley hadn't been pining, exactly. He hadn't been much of anything. Since the invention of email, he'd worked from home and rarely left his apartment building. He kept to himself. His neighbor across the alley liked to keep her windows open all hours of the night and kept a whiteboard by her window to write him messages. The first time she'd written, he'd pointed to the alley, and they'd leaned against their buildings and talked untilIthandecouldn't keep her eyes open anymore. She'd retreated upstairs, accusing him of being a night owl. A week later, she'd asked him if he was a vampire like her first cousin, and he'd admitted the truth. They'd been friends ever since, and she had restored his faith in others. She was the only person Harley considered a friend, especially now that the council was under the empress's scrutiny.
"I needed to taste you again," Key said, drawing him out of his thoughts. "To remind myself why I've been waiting so long for you. I'll have the council send you my file, too, if it will help. I'm not always like this."
Harley could relate. He was never like this.
Key released his cardboard cup to bury his face in his hands, putting his vampire grace on full display as he avoided knocking any part of his costume out of place.
"Tonight, I was desperate. I couldn't let you leave, but I also didn't want you to see me if it didn't work. I couldn't bear it."
"If what didn't work?" Harley asked.
"My bite." Key dropped his hand from his uncovered eye and rested his other elbow on the table, holding his head up. "You've been with the vampire council long enough to know the usual sentence for creating a vampire against the council's will."
Harley nodded. He'd been called in as an executioner on two cases where vampires had "accidentally" turned their lovers. How anyone could pretend it was an accident was beyond Harley. The vampire had to practically drain the human and then feed them back their own blood. Only a newly made vampire with no control would make such a mistake, and these had both been vampires his own age. Their only accident had been in failing to obtain the council's permission beforehand.
"Didn't you ever wonder why the empress kept me and killed my sire instead?"
No, Harley hadn't wondered. Yes, the act went against precedent, but Empress Marcella did whatever she wanted. Ciarán's sire had been a drain on council resources, and he'd figured Empress Marcella had grown tired of it.
"Vampire bites don't affect other vampires the way they do humans," Key said,"except … mine are backwards. I needed your help to enthrall humans because my bite didn't cause them euphoria. But when I bit Marcella—"
"You bit Empress Marcella?" Harley emphasized the title because not saying it had resulted in at least one vampire's death in the last decade.
"Empress Marcella," Key paused and flashed a grin at the name, "was going to kill me!" He looked every bit as righteous and indignant as his costume character as he leaned forward, both hands pressed against the table. "Thankfully, she thought my bite might be useful someday, if we ever needed to subdue vampires."
