Page 45

Freddie moaned, not opening his eyes.

“Freddie, honey, you have to walk. You can take a nap at the hotel.”

Freddie didn’t move, his head tight to Anthony’s chest. Anthony panicked for a moment. How would he get this man moving? Freddie must have seventy-five pounds on him.

After a moment of consideration, Anthony craned his neck down and touched his lips to Freddie’s. It was the softest of kisses, full of a desperate desire for him to be okay. Freddie stirred against him, and his eyes fluttered open, but still he said nothing.

“Come on, Freddie.” Anthony squared himself and pushed to give Freddie the support to stand. “I’ve got you.”

It was enough to get Freddie up on his feet, although his steps were unsteady. He leaned against Anthony as they walked, never saying a word. It took some effort. Anthony was half a foot shorter than Freddie, and he hadn’t worked out, well, ever. Freddie was pure muscle.

They plodded along the bricks and cobblestones of ancient Barcelona. The light of the moon cast a pale light on the quiet streets, but Anthony took no notice. It was slow going, but seeing Freddie in this state triggered something in Anthony. No matter what else had happened, Freddie had saved his life. Of that, he was sure. Freddie had put himself in danger for Anthony.

Since the death of his parents, the only person he’d been able to count on was Uncle Daniel. That had stayed true his whole adulthood. If he was honest, he hadn’t been willing to let anyone else get close enough. Somehow, Freddie had skirted his defenses.

Freddie had risked his life to protect Anthony. Anthony could support him in the aftermath. Anthony’s stomach flipped at the thought. Anxiety, maybe, but something else as well. A jolt of hope. Could they support each other? And more?

Anthony shoved the thought away. He had to get Freddie into bed.

Freddie was out the minute his head hit the pillow. He’d been silent the whole walk back, but as he drifted to sleep, he murmured one word.

“Anthony…”

Anthony’s chest tightened with fear. He had to trust that Oliver was right, that Freddie would be okay. But he was alone in the hotel room, sitting and watching over Freddie, just as Freddie had done for him so many nights.

In the quiet, his mind spun with worry. What if Freddie didn’t wake up? And what was Freddie? What were those attackers? He hadn’t seen much. The whole fight had been a blur. Freddie’s eyes had glowed red. The carnage he’d left behind was…severe. And claws? Had there been claws?

He spent the next few hours focusing on Freddie’s breathing. That sound meant that something was okay, that Freddie was alive and might come back to him.

He had dozed off in his chair when a loud knock echoed through the room.

Anthony startled awake, his eyes snapping open. He sprang up and looked through the peephole. He was expecting his uncle, but it could be more cult members. Mobsters. Whatever the fuck they were.

On the other side of the door stood Uncle Daniel and Oliver Hughes, both meticulously groomed despite the late hour. Oliver had always dressed in an old-world European style, never without one of his tweed suits. His uncle wore jeans, but they were designer. They fit like a glove.

Anthony opened the door and Daniel rushed him, wrapping him in a tight hug.

“Oh Tony, honey, are you okay? I’m so sorry about all this.”

Anthony leaned into the warmth of his uncle’s embrace. It was the safe home of his childhood. “I’m okay, Uncle Danny. There were a couple of scary moments, but I’m not hurt.”

“I’m so glad, sweetheart.”

“I’m worried about Freddie.”

“Let me look at him.” Oliver’s deep voice was a soothing balm. He took Freddie’s hand, then bent over him and sniffed. What the hell was he doing?

Anthony held his breath. Freddie had to be okay.

Oliver let Freddie’s hand drop down to the mattress. “He’ll be fine by morning. This is normal.”

With those words, something broke in Anthony.

“Normal?” Anthony asked, trembling with rage and fear. “Nothing about any of this is normal! Who are those people? Were, I should say, because they’re all dead, every last one of them. Are they people at all? Is Freddie? What is Freddie? Hell, what are you?!?”

“He’s a vampire, sweetie.” Daniel’s hand came to rest on Anthony’s shoulder. “So were the people who attacked.”

Anthony recoiled, suddenly light-headed. He took a deep breath. “A fucking vampire? Are you serious?”