Page 6 of Blood Loss (The Obscura Saga #2)

LATH A N

Maria fills the inside of the vehicle with what he can only assume are the motherly ramblings of the past few months since she’s seen Kylo. In the corner of his eye, he’s aware of David chiming in here and there. They must be so happy to see him , he thinks. They were so lively and warm at visitation.

Lathan’s never had the privilege of describing his parents with either adjective. They’ve never come to visit him; they barely check in on him; they aren’t happy to see him, no matter the circumstance. They would have heard about the attack by now, and yet he still hasn’t heard from either. They probably assume he wasn’t anywhere near a football game.

They probably assume it was a phase, and he’s no longer dating a werewolf.

He stays silent and mostly motionless during the ride, allowing Kylo to be berated by a family that cares, because he deserves to be. Not that Lathan could join in the conversion, anyway, but he wants him to have this, and will help preserve it as long as he can. That’s why he didn’t want to bother the Garcias.

Turning down a bright neighbourhood of browns and greens, spring’s new growth flourishing, Lathan straightens in the front seat as the vehicle rolls by passing family homes, and he gets to take in where Kylo grew up. The houses in the area are on the larger side, spaced out with giant yards, some with fences bordering the properties, some with shrubbery, and some without either. Lathan thinks they all look like they could be home.

A long brick driveway gives way to a white, two-storey Spanish-style home with a stone walkway and a beautiful, arched, navy blue front door.

Lathan is caught staring at the house, the last of the four bodies to exit the vehicle. Kylo grew up here , he admires to himself, slowly stepping out onto the reddish bricks. He didn’t grow up in a house. A cold, modern condo was his childhood home, mostly empty, with parents who weren’t always around. A house with a yard meant much more maintenance than his parents had time for, and the condo itself was bigger than they really needed, especially because the older Lathan got, the more time he spent living in his parents’ absence.

He never really had a home. And this oddly feels like exactly what he was missing out on.

By the time he takes his eyes off the dwelling and moves to the trunk of the SUV, his luggage has already been pulled out. “Sorry,” he says to David, who has done the unloading, “I got it.” David backs off with his hands in the air as Lathan takes the handle of his tall suitcase, and slings his backpack over one of his shoulders.

Maria is already stepping into the entryway she’s unlocked, David close behind, hauling Kylo’s luggage in place of their guest’s. Kylo steps up to Lathan and touches his elbow, tipping his head to the house with a soft smile. He slips Lathan’s schoolbag off him and hops into a jog to the front door. As Lathan follows meagrely up the steps behind him, Maria’s made her way into the kitchen, and David is setting down Kylo’s bags in the space beside the staircase.

He hears nothing. But he figures it must sound different, this home. He imagines the clanging of pots and silverware as he can see Maria getting herself organized. The creak of the living room couch as David plops down, kicking his feet up onto the fabric. The rubbery shamble of Kylo’s shoes as he steps out of them, abandoning them on the mat by the front door.

Lathan looks down at his mate’s socked feet and assumes he’s to follow in his actions, so removes his shoes and slides them out of the way with the side of his foot. His hand is clamped around his suitcase’s handle, expecting to drag it along wherever he’s ushered, but Kylo points at it and gestures for it to stay where it’s at, then he replaces the handle in Lathan’s hand with his own and leads him up the stairs.

The second floor reveals an open hall with four doors; the left wall is host to an old bedroom; the right wall a renovated bathroom and a separate hall closet; at the end of the corridor is a door that’s been cracked halfway open. That’s where Kylo aims.

Kylo’s cheeks are already rosy. He hasn’t brought a boyfriend home like this before, so he’s mentioned that he’s a bit bashful to show off his childhood-turned-adult bedroom.

The walls are plainly white but sprinkled with framed posters and random pieces of artwork both big and small. A plush rug with a geometric pattern is splayed on the ground beneath his wooden bed frame, which dons a blue duvet and mismatched pillows. There’s a plant by the window, presumably nourished by Maria, and on the opposite wall is a large bookcase, filled with a variety of literature—a personal library.

Lathan doesn’t need to ask or be told why they’re in this room. He walks around slowly, hands in his pockets, taking in the decor and the vibe. His own childhood bedroom was starkly different. He wasn’t allowed anything on the walls, didn’t have a rug—unnecessary extra cleaning. The muscles at the corner of his mouth twitch; he wonders if this is what his future looks like with Kylo, in a place of their own.

Eventually he looks at Kylo, sat sheepishly on his bed, kicking his feet. “Did you decorate, or did Maria?”

Kylo gives him a tested look, one brow raised with the other furrowed, a strained smile poking through his fake annoyance. Extending a thumb and bringing it to his chest, he mouths, “Me!”

The framed pictures on the wall include a signed Dahlias poster—that Lathan begins plotting his theft of—a print of a man’s torso captured with oil pastels, a colourful scribbled piece that looks as if rendered by Mateo, a handwritten poem, a polaroid of him and his family, and a frame that includes a coffee-stained plane ticket and an Obscura postcard, dating back to what must have been Kylo’s first year, if Lathan’s mental math skills are in check.

He smirks, scouring the map of Kylo’s life pinned on display. It makes him feel warm, examining each item, with a story of their own. Will we ever have a place of our own, outside of Obscura? With pictures and memories of our life together on our walls?

He doesn’t say anything further, lost in his thoughts, in a solemn mood that washes over him as he circles the homey bedroom filled with happy moments. It’s a little overwhelming, and he can’t help but compare it in all its glory to his own life.

As if feeling the change in Lathan, Kylo pushes himself off his bed, gravity guiding his first step forward as he walks up behind and slips his hands softly over Lathan’s waist, nestling his face against the back of his neck. He breathes him in deeply like a dog, his nose enveloped in long black hair.

Lathan takes a hand out of his jeans pocket and lays it against the crossed arms that wrap his torso, soothingly rubbing Kylo’s skin. “This room is very you.”

Kylo exhales, warming a spot on Lathan’s nape. Lifting up onto his toes, he pecks his cheek as he takes his hand, and then twirls Lathan toward him to lead him out of the room.

Back down the way they came, descending the stairs, Kylo bends to grab his shoes and Lathan’s backpack before continuing into the main floor. The left off the stairs is home to an office, another bathroom and closet, and the master bedroom. Ignoring that hallway, the floor opens to the wide space containing the kitchen and dining room combination, along with glass sliding doors leading to the backyard. David is asleep on the couch; Lathan convinces himself he can hear the man snoring. Maria has dove into busying herself with the preparation of their first meal back, and the smell alone makes Lathan salivate like he’s a werewolf, too, and not just in a house full of them.

A set of two silver keys on a ring are splayed on the island, and Kylo snatches them as they pass by. He raises them in the air, looking back at his mom and thanking her—if Lathan’s read his lips right—before they reach the glass doors.

Lathan only lets Kylo carry his luggage along for a few seconds before taking it himself. The Garcias are all doing so much for him, he wants to assume as much of the burden as he can. So he handles his bags himself and silently follows Kylo to the sliding doors. But he stops, looking from the snoozing David to Maria smiling to herself in the kitchen.

“Thank you, Maria,” he says, being mindful of his volume as to not wake her husband, though it’s difficult when he can’t gauge it himself. “You’re incredibly kind to let me stay. I promise not to get in your way. And I’m going to send you the money for my ticket.”

Maria looks up as he thanks her, but her brows lift as he continues. He sees her say his name, as made clear by the movement of her tongue to cluck the L , before pursing her lips and bashfully waving him off, returning to the stovetop .

A small smile touches his lips, staring at her back. Then he’s being tugged impatiently out into the beautiful backyard. Growing up, his parents’ condo was on the ninth floor; he’s never had a yard. His parents weren’t keen on yard work, and they were never home long enough to enjoy any outdoor property.

The Garcias’ home opens onto a well-kept deck, which houses a set of outdoor furniture and a large barbecue. The yard itself is vast for the size of the house, lined with a handful of overarching trees, underneath which a swing seat resides, a divot beneath it made by scraping feet. And off to the right stands the guest house.

Kylo doesn’t stop to appreciate the yard he’s known his whole life like Lathan does, pulling Lathan along the stone path to the separate suite. He unlocks the door, tosses the keys to Lathan—his own access to both buildings—and flings it open.

Lathan catches the keys with a single hand and peeks inside. The interior matches the main house; light and open, despite its size. It’s bigger—much bigger—than the tiny dorm he’s shared with Kylo over the months, meant for only one student, only part of the time. A full bathroom, its own kitchen, and a living space offers a lot more than the cramped lifestyle of an on-campus student.

“Wow,” he breathes, filling with a foreign sense of safety, of home. He’s never stayed in a place like this, having gone straight from the empty, lonely condo to the small rooms and shared amenities of Obscura’s residences.

Kylo couldn’t hide his proud grin if he tried—though, Lathan isn’t apt to accept that it’s a smug, bragging sort of pride. He enters the simple bedroom and jumps onto the mattress, on his stomach, feet kicking in the air behind him as he reels out his cell phone.

4:24pm

Welcome home babe! What do you think?

Lathan shoves his bags into the corner of the compact bedroom and pulls out his phone to read Kylo’s message. “It’s lovely,” he says to him. “I’ve never lived somewhere like this.” Is that what the proud look is for? That he could offer me this?

He sits on the edge of the bed, looking around. Then he turns to Kylo. “Is this just for me? Are you staying in here with me?”

Kylo opens his mouth to respond, then brings his phone up to type.

4:26pm

It was just for you, but I’ll stay if you want me to

Lathan’s suddenly conflicted. He used to live alone, only interacting with people when necessary in his classes or around campus. That’s how he chose to live, how he preferred to go through his days. It was easier. But he’s become so used to Kylo’s presence, he doesn’t know if ever wants to go back to being that isolated loner vampire trope. He doesn’t know if he’ll even sleep without Kylo by his side.

He sighs and flops down on his back, his feet flat on the ground, and stares up at the ceiling. Thoughts move his eyes about, but he doesn’t speak them out loud, holding his phone against his stomach in case Kylo texts him. But instead, he snuggles up close, resting his arm across Lathan’s chest.

Lathan continues to stare up at the ceiling, but accepts Kylo’s cuddle easily. He shifts his head to be closer to him; he can smell his blood, feel the beat of his heart like a lullaby that calms him—a rhythm he’d recognize anywhere. But despite this moment, the comfort, the appreciation he feels toward the Garcias, his face is still hard. His world is still silent, humming nothingness at him in a disorienting way that’s becoming increasingly frustrating.

“I hate this,” he mumbles absently, staring up high.

Kylo gently pushes himself up to meet his eyes. “What?” he mouths.

Lathan reaches a hand to his shoulder, encouraging him to lie back down. “Not this ,” he says, letting his lids relax as he looks at Kylo. “This is amazing. I don’t deserve this .” He takes a deep breath, filling his chest. “My hearing. It’s frustrating. I’m in a different state, and I can’t even have a conversation with the people who are hosting me so generously. I couldn’t even hear what you were all talking about in the car.”

Kylo’s mouth tightens into a line, brows tipping down further. His thoughts aren’t clear, and are more difficult to read at this moment than trying to analyze his silent, moving lips. They look at each other for a long time, and it hurts Lathan that Kylo doesn’t have anything to say like he usually does, instead just placing his chin back on his chest to gaze up at him.

Lathan exhales through his nose. “I miss your voice.”

With his hand still on Lathan’s chest, Kylo drags his finger over the black fabric of his shirt, swirling in shapes like letters. Lathan closes his eyes to envision it:

‘Soon.’

It takes him a few moments to register the word, and then he turns his body into Kylo’s to hold him close in the meantime.

◆◆◆

It’s not long before the hours slip away from them. In the evening, Maria serves a full buffet for their first meal home. Multiple entrees of meats and scallops and sides of potatoes and steamed, seasoned vegetables—without a single stalk of celery in sight—to choose from, all homemade. And so much more satisfying to fill a stomach with than anything served on campus.

After the sun sets, the dishes are all cleaned up, leftovers Lathan hopes to pick at again for breakfast are put away, everyone divides their separate ways for bed. Including Kylo; the men share a kiss once Maria and David have disappeared down the hall, and then Kylo toes up the stairs to his own room. Lathan lingers in the living room, breathing in the flavours of their dinner that have soaked into the walls. The lights are out, save for a plug-in night light in the kitchen and the backyard porch light, illuminating his way to the guest house.

In the foreign bed, he scoots to the far side, away from the door. It’s the side that would be his back at Obscura, of the two twin beds he and Kylo shoved together months ago. Staring at the empty spot where his body should be beside him makes Lathan draw the blankets up further to quench a coldness he’s shaken by.

A few hours pass like this, of the wolves sleeping and the vampire still wide awake, until there’s a subtle vibration through the wall the bed frame’s wedged against. Lathan looks to the bedroom door, closed tight like he’s used to doing at school, and after just several long breaths the handle spins.

Lathan peers up at Kylo, holding his dark amber stare, which shines against the moonlight that peeks through the fold of curtains beside the bed.

“Can’t sleep either?” he asks, and then tugs the blankets away from the empty half of the mattress, silently inviting Kylo to join him.

Kylo shakes his head, ears pulled back like a nervous pup. He crawls onto the bed and shimmies under the covers and right up against Lathan’s body; he can feel Kylo’s chest curve in as he sighs out a breath.

Lathan tucks the comforter into the bend of his boyfriend’s body and inhales deeply, swallowing the scent of his woodsy blood, instantly comforted. He nudges his nose into Kylo’s soft brunette curls, planting a warm, delicate kiss on the tip of his pointed werewolf ear, and it flutters—he loves watching the expressions they make, their twitches and the way they pull back so innocently.

Exhaustion or jet lag or bliss steamrolls him in a hurry, dragging his eyelids down and away from the ticklish response of Kylo’s ear as he says, “I thought I heard you come in.”

He feels Kylo jerk, presumably craning his head back to look at Lathan and question the fidelity of the comment. But Lathan’s eyes won’t be opening again for several hours.