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They left the opera house and strolled in silence for almost twenty minutes, the late afternoon sun casting shadows on the ancient Spanish facades. Freddie had to explain himself, but he didn’t know how. His head told him that anything romantic between them would be a mistake, but his body and his soul pulled toward Anthony with an overwhelming force.

Anthony was tired of waiting.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Anthony’s question burst through Freddie’s bubble of internal rumination. “What?”

“I must have messed up somewhere. I’m not always the easiest. I can be demanding. I don’t like rules. But I thought…”

Anthony’s voice broke, and a sharp shock of guilt spiked in Freddie’s chest. This was his fault.

“No. You didn’t.”

They continued to walk, the air growing cool as the sun got low enough to hide behind the buildings of Barcelona. Anthony radiated anxiety as he waited for an explanation.

Why wasn’t Freddie more of a talker? He’d always been better at doing than saying. He took a deep breath and dove in.

“Master Hughes saved me. I was in rough shape when he found me. He gave me a home and a job.”

Anthony glanced over at him. “Rough shape?”

Freddie nodded. “I’d been purposeless for a long time. He made me feel useful.”

“Oh.”

“I can’t fail at this job. Master Hughes asked me to protect his nephew—”

“I’m not his nephew,” Anthony said, chuckling. “He and Uncle Danny were only just married.”

“Step-nephew, then? Family. He needed me to keep his family safe. I could never live with myself if I messed that up.”

Anthony slowed to a stop, turning to Freddie.

“We may have just met a few days ago, but you are excellent at your job. Extreme competence recognizes extreme competence.”

Freddie smirked at Anthony’s positive assessment of his own abilities.

“I don’t think you’re able to get distracted enough to screw up,” Anthony continued. “I saw how you took care of those guys in San Francisco.”

“They were just punks.”

“Still.” Anthony tilted his head. “There’s something else. What are you afraid of?”

Freddie stared at Anthony. The vulnerability made him uncomfortable, but Anthony needed more.

“I’ve been alone for a long time. I’ve never been good at this. And I’ve done things. Before I met Master Hughes. Violent things. People got hurt. People died. I don’t…I wouldn’t want you to see me differently. To see me as a monster.”

Anthony frowned, shaking his head. “I could never.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done. If you did…” Lifetimes of blood flashed before Freddie’s mind’s eye. Centuries of death.

“Do you regret them?”

“What?”

“The things you’ve done. Do you regret them? Would you do them again?”

Freddie breathed in, reflecting on his long life. Who he fed on those first few years. The people he killed out of spite or uncontrolled rage. The empty life he had constructed in the ruins of his human one.