Page 53 of Missing Piece (Neon Scars #2)

It wasn’t until Vincent convinced him he’d blow out his ankle again that he begrudgingly agreed he’d try it.

He still wore the ankle brace, and he could get around with little pain, just the occasional twinge if he had gone up and down the stairs a lot on a particular day.

Maybe it was his high pain tolerance, or maybe it was because he had four vampires constantly reminding him to elevate it, ice it, and take medication to reduce swelling. Probably a combination of it all.

Regardless, that first shower with the chair was divine.

He just sat under the water sometimes, letting the warmth boil him like a lobster before he ever bothered trying to clean himself.

It was just…nice. Hygiene had just been a quick formality after his first major injury when he was fourteen, in and out fast enough to not feel gross.

It had been years since he just enjoyed something as simple as a shower.

And it was glorious now. He felt like a new person every time he convinced himself to get out before the water became cold.

Since the vampires didn’t do too much around the house during the day, there was no guilt in taking up all the hot water.

They were definitely spoiling him. Most of it was probably at Vincent’s direction, but Luka and Petrov had begun moving furniture and installing things around the house that made it easier to get around, like grab bars in every room and reinforcing the stair rail to make sure it didn’t wiggle as much.

Even the trash can in the kitchen had been replaced with one that was motion activated so he wouldn’t have to step on the bottom lever to open the lid, just in case he was on the main floor without his foot attached.

He tried to tell them to stop, but it was no use. The brothers usually waved him off, and Vincent insisted that he just be comfortable. After a week, he stopped trying to convince them he didn’t need any of their modifications.

And he had to admit, the grab bars were useful as he got out of his shower for the day, able to lift himself over the lip of the tub and balance carefully on one foot without being terrified of falling.

He usually kept his prosthesis nearby so he could get it back on quickly, but he left it back in the bedroom when he got up for the day, or night, whichever it was.

It was hard to tell without windows, and he didn’t really care either way.

As long as he was still waking up in Vincent’s bed, he was content .

Adam left the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist and the crutch tucked under his arm, his hair still dripping down his back and face as he made his way to the bedroom, ready to spend another day lazing about with Vincent.

It was strange, he never enjoyed sober lazy days before, but now, he was actually glad that he had a clear head to just…

be. Well, as clear as his head could be with an extremely attractive vampire near him at most of his waking hours.

He stopped in his tracks as soon as he stepped through the door.

Vincent was lazily making the bed while on the phone with someone, only wearing a pair of those same pajama pants that rode low on his hips.

Adam felt almost embarrassed to be caught admiring him so openly, but it seemed like they were well past the point of hiding the fact they were attracted to each other.

Without missing a beat, Vincent made his way over to Adam, making no attempt to hide that he was looking at Adam’s hand gripping the towel as though he could telepathically convince him to drop it.

He allowed Vincent to support his weight, blushing as the vampire gripped his hip and nearly carried him over to the bed to set him down.

He could hear a someone speaking through the earpiece of the phone, but it was quiet enough that Adam couldn’t hear what the voice on the other end was saying.

“It hasn’t been two months, more like five weeks. And he’s not a pet,” Vincent said into the phone as he settled beside Adam. He leaned back and ran a finger over one of the healing gashes in Adam’s back. ?P-A-I-N?? he signed to Adam.

He shook his head. ?Tickles.?

“When are you going to lift the ban for the brothers? You know they like to unwind there when they are not working. And from what I hear, you and your own little pet project aren’t exactly at arm’s length anymore,” Vincent said, listening for a moment before interjecting, “Everyone’s alive, I’ll even stay away the full ban if you want, but make an exception for them. ”

?Who are you talking to?? Adam asked before leaning over to the nightstand and grabbing the silicone sleeve for his stump. He was starting to become more comfortable putting the whole thing on around Vincent, but it was still hard to push away the instinct to be ashamed of it.

?Wait.? Vincent pulled the phone away from his ear and flashed the screen at Adam that read “Marcus” before hitting the speaker button. “You could just be honest,” Marcus mumbled through the speaker, as though he were speaking to someone else.

“Honest about what?” Vincent asked, a small, mischievous smile forming on his face as he stood up from the bed.

“No, not you. You’re already too honest. I was talking to Caleb—”

“Oh, he’s in there with you?” Vincent asked.

Adam swallowed hard, not wanting to think about how Caleb looked the last time he saw him.

“Of course he’s here. Why wouldn’t he be?” Marcus sounded a little irritated, but not really. More like he was used to Vincent’s chronic ribbing.

“So you have your new pet attached to your hip right now?” Vincent taunted as he made his way to his nightstand on the other side of the bed.

“No. No, I already told you, it’s not like that. You know what? I’m going to hang up. Remember, you have four days left, and you better act like a choirboy when four days is up or we’ll have a repeat of ‘96, got it?”

Vincent began laughing as the call ended, clearly pleased with the response he had gotten from the older vampire. He pulled a tub of cream from the bottom drawer and crawled back over the bed, settling beside Adam again.

“What happened in ‘96?” Adam raised an eyebrow.

“Marcus and I had a bit of a feud going in the ‘90s. He was becoming, as your generation says, ‘woke’, about the kind of people we fed on and started trying to convince the assholes in power we needed to kill less. I disagreed with him, but I’ve known the guy since the ‘70s and all the kinds of fucked up things he used to get up to, so I just ignored him. I thought it was a phase,” Vincent explained, rotating the small white tub in his hands.

“He was serious though, and it got to where he would interrupt others feeding, fight them, just generally act like a menace. I was sick of hearing the complaints, and it was annoying, so I tried to put him out of commission for a little while.”

“What do you mean by ‘put him out of commission’?” Adam asked, both apprehensive and excited to hear what Vincent might say.

It was fucked up, there was no denying that fact.

Vincent was glossing very casually over the whole killing people part of the story, but it didn’t seem like it was because he was ashamed of it.

It was because it was routine, a matter of fact that couldn’t be separated from what he was.

It doesn’t even register like it used to when he mentions killing people. What does that say about me?

“I gouged his eyes out and had Petrov put a nail in his spine, which in hindsight, may have been a bit much,” he said, scratching his chin with a wistful look in his eyes.

“Even with our ability to heal, getting a vampire’s body to push out a foreign object takes a long time.

But things were quiet for a good two weeks in our area of the city without him.

He got me back though. He got me back good. ”

Adam ignored the roiling in his gut at the description as Vincent huffed out a laugh at the memory. “What did he do?”

“The old bastard got the drop on me when I was alone. He broke both my arms, dislocated my shoulders, and ripped out my fangs with a pair of pliers. It took 3 months for them to grow back.”

Adam stared at Vincent, wide-eyed. “How the hell are you guys still friends?”

Vincent laughed. “We get over silly little fights like that quickly. Our kind isn’t exactly known for our incredible emotional stability, so spending a couple years at each other’s throats and making up later isn’t uncommon at all. He’s had my back more times than not, and I’ve had his.”

Adam nodded, just taking in the information. It was a hard concept to wrap his mind around—to forgive that easily. Don’t let this pull you down. You’ve had enough sadness and despair.

“This is for you,” Vincent said, placing the tub in Adam’s lap.

Adam furrowed his brow at the container, not recognizing the brand. “Adapt-a-Skin? Are you telling me I have dry skin?”

Vincent shook his head. “No, it’s for your leg.

I noticed you have a callous on the bony part of your residual limb.

The internet says that is supposed to help prevent it from cracking and bleeding, at least until we can get you to the prosthetist in town to see if it needs to be refitted,” he said casually, rolling onto his side to play with the frayed edge of the towel around Adam’s waist.

It was almost too much to take in. He had never encountered such attentiveness and kindness before, not even from his parents, and in spite of everything, it made him feel safe.

His throat tightened as he continued to stare at the container, feeling silly for having such a strong reaction to something so small.

Something probably no one else in his situation would bat an eye at.

But this was everything he didn’t know he wanted.