Deep Deception (9 page)

“You’d think it wouldn’t matter much; he only gets to go out in the dark.”

“If you saw what he sees in the dark, you wouldn’t be saying that.” Adin pulled out the three ties they’d purchased, each one louder than the one before it, and folded them carefully. “He showed me what it’s like for him, the way his eyes perceive the world at night and how heightened his senses are. It’s fascinating.”

“But he hasn’t turned you?” Bran asked. Adin turned around, still holding the ties. “Hasn’t he offered you immortality?”

“Who would want that?”

“
Everyone
.
”
Bran appeared surprised that he’d ask. “When people die, they all fight it. It’s really hard sometimes, seeing them give up when they realize there’s no hope.”

“You’ve
seen
that…?” Adin turned sharply. “Yes, of course you have.”

“Sometimes people think they’re going to be just fine, so they don’t panic. Sometimes they fall asleep or they don’t know what’s happening to them.”

Adin sank onto the bed. “I’m so sorry.”

“That’s just the way life ends, Adin. People will fight to live if they think they’ll die. Even if they didn’t like living much. Even if they thought they were used to the idea of dying. Sometimes they really want to live but it’s too late.” Bran swallowed hard and sat next to Adin on the bed. “That can be—”

“I can imagine.” Adin put an arm around Bran and gave him a hard squeeze. “I don’t want immortality, but I don’t want to die, either. There’s something in between.”

“I don’t know.” Bran glanced out the window. “What?”

“Maybe life is what’s in between. My life, anyway. Getting old is part of life. Dying is part of life. I don’t want a ‘get out of jail free card’. What Donte offers feels to me like cheating. Maybe dying is the price we pay for the things we learn and the joy we feel.”

“How does Donte see it?”

Adin grimaced. “He thinks I’m childish—as if I were stubborn and foolish and as fragile as a butterfly wing. He worries that I’ll trip and fall under a bus because I’m looking at the stars.”

Bran pointed out, “Because he’s worried.”

“I understand that, Bran. I’d do anything to make him happy, except become a vampire. He wouldn’t have chosen it, either, so he can’t tell me I’m being irrational. We’re between a rock and a hard place. Any advice?” Adin waved the tie in Bran’s face. “Forget fashion advice because I know you picked this tie.”

“What would I know about love?” Bran turned furiously to his armoire to rearrange his new trousers.

Now that they’d spent time together, Adin placed Bran’s age at about fifteen. “How old are you?”

“Fourteen. Fifteen next month.”

“Has there ever been a girl?”

“No,” Bran told him without turning. “How likely would that be?”

“But someone you liked?”

Color crept up the back of Bran’s neck and he tensed, but still didn’t turn. “Not like that.”

“Liar,” Adin teased. “Keep your secrets, Bran, it’s fine with me. Unlike
some people
, I can’t sort through your memories and find out every little thing about you.”

“I said I was sorry. I don’t always do that. I just wondered…”

“Wondered what?” Adin took Bran’s shoulder and turned him. Once they were facing one another it was easy to see Bran was simply an uncertain teenaged boy. His brown eyes, usually full of mischief, were troubled and his entire face carried doubt.

“Why you loved a—” Bran bit his lip.

“Go on,” Adin commanded. “It doesn’t do either of us any good if you don’t say it.”

“A monster, all right?” Bran leaned against the aging wood of the rustic wardrobe. “Vampires are monsters. They prey on weaker beings for food. They don’t have human values. Even smart people like you are taken in and I don’t understand it.”

“Do you have a monster story?” Adin frowned. “Did vampires harm you? Hurt your parents?”

“It’s nothing like that. I don’t remember when my parents died. I know I lived with my grandfather at one point, but he didn’t want me, and he wasn’t too concerned when I left because he never called the authorities. I heard later he died in a fire.”

“But you do have a story.”

Bran’s gaze fell. “You can’t live on the streets without a story.”

“I didn’t even know vampires existed until I met Donte,” Adin admitted.

“Lucky you.” Bran smiled faintly.

How long had Bran been aware that there was something different about him? How had he discovered what he knew about the world around him?

How had he even survived?

Adin sighed. It was enough for now that both of them were safe. He’d ask for answers to all his questions when Bran had a chance to process that fact.

“I think we should explore this place, starting with the kitchen. I’m hungry, and if it’s left up to Boaz we’ll be eating an egg dish before we can conceivably find an alternative.”

Bran smiled up at him, and Adin figured he was grateful to leave the serious behind. He was sure of it when Bran found a small cupboard full of board games and lined them up on the farm-style dining table in order of his preference, insisting that they had to play one. He wouldn’t take no for an answer.

By the time Adin and Bran returned to the kitchen, Boaz was already cooking, and they had no say whatsoever. He’d made use of pancetta and eggs and thin dried pasta to create the best pasta carbonara Adin’d ever had. It turned out to be a spectacular meal.

They sat at the long rustic table in front of a row of windows. Outside the sky darkened. As there was nothing beyond the windows but grass and fruit trees, soon the only light would come from the stars and the moon.

Boaz had set the table with woven placemats and checkered napkins. He’d served their meal on mismatched transferware dishes, and uncorked a bottle of red wine, putting glasses out for both Adin and Bran, but watering Bran’s wine considerably.

They ate by the light of two hurricane-style lanterns while a strong wind outside caused a draft through the wooden window frames, even though the windows themselves were closed. Even for this casual meal, Boaz refused to dine with them, telling him that he preferred to eat alone.

“Why does he disappear like that?” Bran asked. “He too good to eat with us?”

“Boaz likes to play the butler. I think it amuses him to pretend he’s in Donte’s employ.”

“He doesn’t take orders well though, does he? For an imp he’s remarkably useful.”

“He’s what?” Adin froze.

Bran paused with a forkful of pasta halfway to his mouth. “You knew he was an imp, right? You can’t miss it.”

Adin tossed his fork to his plate. “Apparently I can.”

“You don’t seem much good at identifying otherworldly beings.”

“What is that anyway, like gaydar?” Adin snapped testily. “Where would I have developed that? Before or after graduate school?”

“Don’t blame me.” Bran sulked. “Maybe it’s easier to spot one if you are one.”

“Ya think?”

Bran’s hand tightened on his napkin, a sign he was feeling nervous. “Do you want to know what an imp is or not?”

“I do.” Adin sighed and picked his fork up. Whether he liked imps or not, he really, really liked pasta carbonara, especially when Boaz used real Reggiano parmesan cheese and fresh garlic and Italian parsley. And he liked Bran. There was no point in blaming the messenger.

“In the old days, people thought imps were ugly little trolls or that they served Satan or something. They’re all over those old buildings, spitting water off the roofs and frightening off demons, but most of the imps I’ve come into contact with are regular blokes who are sort of small in stature and resent it. It makes them testy. They’re marginally magical, like I am, not one of the big cheeses, paranormally speaking. They mostly do mischief because they’re put out to be so small.”

“Really?” Adin had been called an imp more than once. What the hell did that mean? Were imps like some supernatural nerds that got sand kicked in their faces one too many times?

“They’re harmless,” Bran continued. “Although you don’t want to be around one when his heart’s been broken.”

“Why not?”

“They’re like the Irish, aren’t they? There’s usually singing involved and in the case of imps it isn’t pretty.” Bran scooped butter onto his knife for yet another piece of bread. The boy could eat. Adin wondered if he’d ever had an appetite like that, and if so how his mother had been able to keep him in food.

“I think you’re pulling my leg. I think the only imp around here is you.”

Bran’s eyes lost their sparkle.

“I’m pretty sure I’m not an imp.” Bran toyed with his fork.

“I’m sorry; I meant it as a joke.” Adin regretted teasing him when he had no idea what he was. He held his hand up in the air, palm out. “You’ll be far taller than I am when you’ve grown. Look at your hands, see?”

Bran pressed his hand to Adin’s. Each of his fingers was a half-inch longer. “Wow.”

“Donte’s called me an imp more than once.”

“But he must know Boaz is an imp. Why didn’t he tell you? What else do you suppose Donte hasn’t told you?”

Wasn’t
that
a good question? It hurt him to think that Boaz and Donte had been keeping something like that from him. Santos knew. Probably Edward and Tuan as well. It was difficult to imagine that every piece of information he got about the world he now inhabited had to be dragged out of Donte, or discovered the hard way.

Suddenly he didn’t feel much like eating.

“I’ll just take my plate into the kitchen.” He picked up his flatware and made his way to the sink. He called, “Do you want more?”

When he turned Bran stood right behind him. He held his own empty plate. “I’m sorry I said anything about Donte.”

“It’s all right.”

Bran hesitated before he handed his plate over. “I wish you had a human companion.”

“I’m with Donte.” Adin put the dishes into a bin next to the single sink and asked, “What else do you wish?”

“I wish you’d play chess with me,” Bran said quietly, leaving the kitchen.

Chapter Nine

“You
bastard
!” Bran spat when Adin placed his king firmly in checkmate. Their first game took Adin completely by surprise. He’d only focused a small amount of attention on playing and before he knew it Bran had him mated and was crowing with triumph. The second game had required his full concentration, and still Bran had put up a decent fight. Adin was no master by any means, but he’d never been a pushover. Yet Bran, who was practically half his age, had neatly cornered him once and pushed his limits the second game.

“Tie-breaker?” Adin asked, setting the pieces back on the board. He had no idea what time it was, probably after ten, and he was feeling relaxed, but not yet tired. He’d been working his way through a bottle of Beaujolais L’ancien, loving its rich, peppery taste and red fruit finish. The air was completely free of sound. Not even the whisper of appliances, or Boaz working in the background, marred the country quiet of the evening.

Bran moved his first piece out, the standard king’s gambit, pushing the white king’s pawn to E4. Adin began his own game by mirroring but his mind was on other things. His gaze went time and again to the window, where he could see the road and the pathway from the door to where the car was parked.

Adin tried to keep his focus on the game but his attention strayed, subtle as a dog waiting for its master to return from work. He sent a wave of longing into the air, and felt a faint frisson of response, like a whisper, almost as tangible as a kiss on the back of his neck, and smiled. Donte was close, somewhere in the darkness, on the road, maybe even on the property itself.

“What?” Bran tapped his finger impatiently. “Did I miss something?”

“Donte’s coming.”

Bran took Adin’s knight. “If you miss him so much, why did you leave him in the first place?”

“I didn’t leave him.” Adin frowned when Bran made the unanticipated move. “Well, I did, but only to get breathing room for a while. We were quite out of anything but arguments, and there were two auctions I’d planned to attend, one in Paris and one in Geneva. Where did you learn to play chess? You’re really good at it.”

“I watched people play in the park sometimes.” Bran held his glass up.

Adin poured a small amount of wine into it, following it up with a big splash of water from a pitcher. “Donte would frown on me giving you wine, but it’s not hurting your game.”

“It doesn’t seem to have much of an effect on me at all.” Bran grinned widely. “Maybe that’s because of my magicalness.”

Adin suppressed a laugh. “Yes, I’m certain your
magicalness
is the very reason that you aren’t feeling the wine’s effects.”

Bran blinked up at him. “I am getting kind of tired.”

“Why don’t we let this rest until tomorrow then? You’ve had a big day. I’ll stay up until Donte arrives.”

Bran stood and carefully pushed the game to the end of the table, where it was less likely to be disturbed. “Do you mind if I stay down here and wait with you?”

“Strange house bother you?”

“Yeah. I guess so.” Bran looked toward the stairs.

“I think Boaz’s room is on the first floor, unless he hangs by his feet in the closet until Donte needs him again.”

“Imps don’t sleep like that.”

“Well then,” Adin teased, “maybe he crouches on the corner of the roof and spits all night.”

Bran laughed out loud.

“Of course, that would probably be one of the more normal things I’ve seen him do.”

“Do you think he’s asleep?”

Adin shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Adin heard the door in the kitchen open, then close again. He didn’t have to see Donte to know he was there. A breath of
something—
inexplicable and enchanting—always entered with him.

Adin had lived with Donte—loved him—long enough to be aware of it now whereas he’d been oblivious when they’d met. Donte could call Adin to him.
Compelling
was pretty standard vampire fare, a trick, a luring of prey using a simple suggestion planted into a human’s mind. But Adin could reach Donte in much the same way, and that
wasn’t
something Donte had experienced before. He’d once told Adin that the call worked both ways, but only with him. At the time, Donte had not been entirely pleased by that fact.

When Donte entered the dining room, Adin ran to meet him. It never failed that his first instinct was to leap into Donte’s arms, and he didn’t hold back. For Bran’s sake, for propriety, he didn’t grind and Donte managed not to push him into the nearest wall, but it was a close thing.

“Get. A. Room.” Bran growled, disgusted.

“This
is
a room.” Donte rubbed his face into Adin’s hair and inhaled.

“I felt you,” Adin whispered.

“It pleases me that you long for me.”

Adin bumped their cheeks together. “I was happy you were that close.”

“Caro,” Donte sighed before dropping a tender kiss on his lips.

Adin cupped Donte’s face between his hands. “You look better. Relaxed and nearly pink-cheeked for a vampire. Did you eat someone tranquil? A Buddhist monk? Quick, what is the sound of one hand clapping?”

Donte fought off a smile. “While I love your silliness, I have come a long way to be here, so if you don’t mind…”

Both men looked at Bran, who colored but took the hint and headed for the stairway.

“Goodnight, Bran,” Adin called out. “I’m only down the hall if you find you need something.”

“Thanks, Adin,” Bran murmured. He lurched a bit. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe he was more tired than either of them had realized. Adin hoped he would sleep well.

Donte frowned at Bran’s back.

“What?” Adin asked.

“Did you have fun shopping for your unknown adolescent entity today?”

“Yes.” Adin took Donte by the hand and led him up to their room. “We bought him some clothes that will scramble your brains. I got you a gift but I’ll give it to you later.”

“A gift?” Donte brightened. “For me?”

Donte seemed so pleased Adin regretted he’d purchased the opera glasses as a symbolic complaint, and vowed to give them without implying that Donte wasn’t seeing him clearly. In fact, given the look on Donte’s face, Adin made up his mind then and there to give him gifts far more often. It had been a long time since Adin had seen Donte surprised.

“Let me get it.” When they reached their room, Adin walked to the small writing desk and pulled it from a drawer. “I thought—” He turned to find Donte, hanging his jacket in the closet, his tie loose and his collar unbuttoned.

“Is something the matter?”

“I’ve missed you so much,” Adin admitted. “I’m so sorry I left. I wish I could make you understand.”

Donte held his hand out and Adin went to him. “Perhaps I understand more than you think. I haven’t forgotten you love me despite what I am. I haven’t forgotten you’ve forgiven me the unforgivable; accepted the unacceptable to be with me.”

“You’re pretty easy on the eyes, of course.”

“Ah. Certainly. You love me for my looks. There’s little else to recommend me.” Donte allowed Adin to help him out of his clothing. He slipped on his dressing gown and a pair of silk pajama trousers and relaxed visibly. A subtle knock sounded on the door, and Donte answered, allowing Boaz to enter with a decanter of cognac and crystal glasses on a tray.

“I thought you might like a nightcap.” Boaz left the tray on the writing desk. When he turned, he looked satisfied that everything was in order.

“No chocolates for the pillows?” Adin asked.

“I find I’m fresh out of chocolates at this moment, Dr. Tredeger. As you know, Donte doesn’t eat it, but I can lay in a supply for you and the boy, if you like.”

“
Patrick Roger
, if you don’t mind. It’s my favorite.” Adin grinned cheekily at Boaz, He’d always teased the man, but now it felt strange—as if knowing Boaz’s inhuman status had changed things dramatically between them and not for the better. Boaz left quietly, closing the door behind him.

Adin turned to Donte. “Why didn’t you tell me Boaz is an imp? Why didn’t you tell me that more things exist besides vampires?”

“Are you very angry with me?” Donte crossed to the desk and poured them each a drink.

“Not angry, exactly. But confused by your reticence to share what’s really going on.”

Donte lay back on the smallish bed and invited Adin to sit next to him. Instead, Adin straddled his thighs, effectively crawling into his lap. He still held Donte’s gift, so he laid it on the bed beside them as he took the drink from Donte’s elegant fingers.

Donte’s gaze lifted to his. “I struggle every day to decide how much to tell you.”

The anger Adin experienced every time Donte made a unilateral decision began to build, but he squashed it before it could surge to the surface and ruin their truce. He took a sip of his cognac and placed it on the bedside table. “I wish you’d tell me all of it. Every last thing there is to know. Then we won’t have so many secrets between us.”

“I told myself I would do that if I had a second opportunity.” Donte looked at the drink in his hand. “I hoped I would get one.”

“Surely you knew you’d have that, Donte.” Adin cupped Donte’s chin and raised it. “Surely you knew I wasn’t going away permanently.”

Donte wrapped his hand around the back of Adin’s neck and kissed him, his lips still damp from his drink. Adin licked the strong, strange taste from them, begging for entrance. Donte set his drink aside.

Adin pressed Donte back into the headboard and swept aside the elegant fabric of his robe. “As often as I tease, I will usher in the era of full disclosure by saying that I love these dressing gowns of yours.” He kissed Donte’s skin as he unveiled it, starting at the base of his neck, nuzzling at the hollow of his throat. He ran the pads of his thumbs over Donte’s chest, grazing his nipples and eliciting a gasp from Donte, who stroked Adin’s hair with one hand, and held on to his upper arm with the other.

“I’ll have some made for you, shall I?” Donte asked. “I’d like to wrap you in fine things. It would be equally enjoyable tearing them off you.”

“I’d like that too,” Adin murmured, traveling lower, biting and nipping at Donte’s skin, leaving a tiny pinch each place his fingers had traveled. Donte squirmed under him, uncharacteristically playful as he held Adin back and tugged at his hair. Adin caught his hand and kissed his thumb, watching Donte’s eyes lose focus as he enveloped it with his mouth and sucked on it, fellating it as thoroughly as he planned to do with Donte’s cock.

Donte’s head dropped back and his eyes closed. “Caro.”

Adin splayed his hands across Donte’s chest and slipped lower on the bed until he was a breath away from Donte’s hard shaft. He peeled back the silken fabric that bound it and buried his face in the nest of hair there, inhaling Donte’s rich and earthy scent as he wrapped his lips around his cock, using his tongue to slick and worry the loose foreskin, teasing the dark, velvety head into revealing itself. Donte arched beneath him, and Adin gripped his hips so tightly that on any other man there would be bruising.

“By all the gods.
Adin
.” Donte clutched Adin’s hair with one hand as he peeled one of Adin’s hands away from his hip with the other. He brought it to his mouth and sucked in two of Adin’s fingers, swirling his tongue around them and getting them slick.

When Donte let go of his fingers, Adin sought out the sensitive skin hidden behind Donte’s heavy sac and stroked his way toward the dark pucker of Donte’s hole, teasing it with his damp fingers. Donte closed his eyes and lifted his hips, begging to be inside Adin’s mouth even as he gave himself over to Adin’s thorough manual exploration. Adin penetrated, sucked, making Donte writhe beneath him. Making him rock mindlessly between Adin’s mouth and his fingers.

“Adin.” Donte cupped Adin’s head between his hands. “
Bello
.”

Adin bobbed, allowing Donte so deep his nose nestled into Donte’s soft thatch of pubic hair, then drew off hard. When he lowered his head again he breathed in the earthy, arousing scent that was Donte’s alone and his own body tightened. Adin swallowed around him, massaging his lover’s cock while he fingered him. As his free hand dug into Donte’s muscled thigh, Donte’s fingers clenched in Adin’s hair.

“Caro.”
Donte groaned.

Come hit the back of Adin’s throat. He took all Donte had to give him. He continued to caress him gently, licking and sucking, until Donte softened. Then he pulled his hand from Donte’s flesh and drew away, still aware of a gentle hand stroking his hair. He rested his head on Donte’s thigh, content to be petted while they recovered.

When he glanced up, he found Donte gazing down at him. Something that looked very much like love settled over his features.

Adin regretted getting up and heading to the bath, but he wanted to wash his hands. He returned to Donte with a damp towel to clean him, then settled back into the spot where he’d been, warm and content, lying between Donte’s legs.

“There will be times when we are likely to disagree,” Adin murmured.

“No doubt,” Donte said drily. “Since you are often irrational.”

“And you are unreasonable,” said Adin.

Donte sputtered, “Me?”

Adin gave Donte’s hand a squeeze and kissed the inside of his thigh.

Donte grunted, but warmly, as if the kiss pleased him. “Times when you are entirely too human.”

“Mmhmm.” Adin moved up and kissed the crease where Donte’s torso met his leg and then the hollow of his pelvis. Donte’s muscles jumped when Adin’s lips brushed the sensitive skin around his navel. He crawled up until he sat astride him, resting on Donte’s strong thighs. Donte moaned when Adin bit his nipple.

“I imagine you’re going somewhere with this.”

Adin reached for Donte’s gift and sat up, still astride Donte’s legs but relaxed and happy, even though his own cock was a hard knot, straining under his jeans. “Here.”

Donte reached out and took the leather case, examining it, running his fingers over the stitching and fastenings before opening it.

“Well made,” he remarked as he opened it to reveal the black cloth interior and the tiny silver opera glasses within. “Opera glasses?”