Page 16 of The Vampire's Werewolf Bodyguard

Cody

Thoughts as fluid and fleeting as the running water, Cody scrubs his arm. Blood clings to the white porcelain of the guest room sink, before sliding down the drain.

He should have kissed Simon. He should have danced with him at the Broken Cross. Even though every rational analysis says he was right to pull away. Cody’s protective instincts twist and snarl, unsatisfied. Like he’s meant to guard Simon’s emotions, not just his physical well-being.

Atwood Security forbids fraternizing with principals. A distracted guard is a liability. On any other job, Cody would call Tobias and request to be replaced.

But there’s no replacement for this assignment, because Simon is a vampire. Which is the other reason kissing him is a bad idea. Simon’s eyes were red with thirst for Cody’s blood .

Feeding off of people is bad. Cody learned that from the cradle—all werewolves do, otherwise they get locked up or put down. Vampires are trapped by their nature, feeding on human blood to survive, but that doesn’t make it a good thing.

Even if those humans at the Broken Cross looked plenty enthusiastic. Even if Cody was tempted to indulge Simon’s bloodlust, just moments ago.

Shutting off the faucet, Cody stares at his gleaming bare arm. The bullet wound is healing fast, and all the blood is gone. Cody didn’t need to resist or indulge in Simon’s bloodlust at all.

Because Simon was in control the entire time. Beneath that lonely fragility, Simon is strong. Far stronger than Cody, who can barely leash his wolf.

The other type of lust is the problem. Did Simon actually want to kiss him, or was that just the scent of blood clouding his desires?

After drying his hands, Cody reviews the full-property security system one more time. Then he takes a deep breath and grabs his phone. Time to… not lie to his boss and best friend. Just conceal some unprofessional truths.

It’s four in the morning now. Tobias picks up on the second ring.

“What’s the damage?” he asks, voice muffled. Then even more muffled, “Everything’s fine, honey, just work stuff.” His voice rises to a higher pitch. “Good girl, stay with your mom, Princess.” Footsteps, and a door closes.

Cody feels bad. His friend was actually sleeping at home at a normal hour, for once. “We’re secure right now,” Cody starts, because leading with the gunshot isn’t smart. Then he relays the rest of the night’s events.

Minus almost kissing his charge on a bathroom counter .

“You didn’t shift, right?” Tobias asks.

“I didn’t,” Cody answers, then winces. “It was close.”

“Close is fine. Proud of you, bud.” A mug clinks on Tobias’s end. “You said Simon’s fine. Is anyone else hurt?”

“The attacker is fine, unfortunately. I got grazed by a bullet, but it wasn’t silver. It’s already healed.”

“I’m never getting used to that,” Tobias says.

Cody leans back in his chair, flicking through camera feeds. Everything’s quiet and dark in the surrounding tree line. “Are you making coffee? Aditi won’t like you staying up this early.”

“Never getting used to that either. How the fuck do you hear that?” Tobias chuckles. “Stop using my wife as a distraction, and tell me what’s bothering you.”

Tobias may not understand werewolves, but he understands people.

Cody’s unreasonable attraction isn’t the only problem. “This attack was a half-assed operation. A single woman with a gun? Plain lead bullets to kill a vampire? Even if they didn’t know Simon had protection, that’s understaffed for an ambush.”

A bag of coffee grounds crinkles. “You said he’s still affected by that blood poison. Would a regular gun hurt him in that case?”

“It could slow him down.” Cody frowns. “But the first guy is dead. Whoever’s responsible would have to know the poisoning part was successful.”

“Who would know that?” Tobias asks.

“You, me, the sire, the club owner, any of the club owner’s people…” Cody recalls the vampire Andrea’s blatant hostility. What if that was more than regular interspecies prejudice? “And anyone th ey told.”

“So, anyone.” Tobias sighs. “We’re not detectives, but send me the parking garage info and I’ll try to look into this woman. No promises.”

Cody pauses cycling through the feeds, landing on the well-lit view of the front gate. There’s something hesitant in Tobias’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Tobias says—a clear sign of something wrong. “Is the vampire driving you crazy yet?”

“You could say that,” Cody hedges. It’s true, though not the way Tobias thinks. “He’s not as bad as I expected.”

“That’s good, because the client asked to extend the job another month.”

Surprise sparks Cody even more awake. This shouldn’t be a surprise, given that the attacks still aren’t explained. But Simon hasn’t said anything.

Does Simon even know about it? Probably not, given what a frigid asshole Dima seems like. If Simon was Cody’s, he wouldn’t leave him alone with someone who…

Cody realizes why Tobias was hesitating. “That includes the full moon.”

A sip of coffee punctuates Tobias’s concern. “I haven’t approved the extension yet. We finished clearing up your last job. If this doesn’t work for you…”

Cody rises from his desk chair. He needs to pace the room to think. Apparently, he’s out of the doghouse, and Tobias is offering a way out. Cody can leave if he can’t handle this job anymore. His control over his wolf. His attraction to Simon.

“Approve it,” Cody says, barely keeping the snarl from his voice. “I want to see this job through. I can figure out the full moon situation. ”

There isn’t a choice. Cody can’t leave while Simon is still in danger.

“Good man,” Tobias says, suddenly cheerful. “Not to pressure you, but this Dima is loaded. You’re going to like your bonus. As for the full moon, I had a plan for that.”

Of course. Tobias has contingency plans for everything. He’s a strategic, sensible person.

Unlike Cody, who’s a fucking idiot. When he hangs up the phone, nothing’s changed. He still can’t erase Simon’s sharp disappointment from his mind.

Fuck professionalism. Ignoring his attraction won’t make it any less distracting. He should have kissed Simon. He should have danced with him. Maybe Simon won’t want any of that, after sleeping off the bloodlust and adrenaline. But Cody needs to find out.

Luckily, he can make contingency plans, too.

***

The next evening, Simon doesn’t appear with the sunset. Cody isn’t worried—really, he isn’t. Simon usually sleeps in. Cody just has to throw all his thwarted, not-worried energy into other things.

A jog around the perimeter takes some of the edge off. No sign or scent of intrusion, but Cody takes another two laps to be sure. The surrounding woods are lush, calling Cody to chase the traces of rabbit and squirrel. He wants to shift, but it’s more a wistful thought that it would be nice to stretch out. Not a loss of control.

Pesky bugs buzz as the night deepens, and Cody returns to the house. He pauses at the door, listening, but can’t hear Simon yet. Scent doesn’t help. The entire house smells of Simon, at least on the lower floors.

Cody could forget tonight’s plan. If Simon sleeps in for too long, he probably will. Too many hours to think how stupid this is. But for now, Cody heads to the library on the first floor above ground.

This room’s murals are soft, sunlit gardens. The rendering is delicate, wistful, enough to make Cody wonder whether Simon misses the sun. Like the other murals in the house, unfinished patches of white interrupt the scene.

Cody kind of likes the empty patches. They leave space for possibility.

The library also contains an old record player, not cheap, not expensive, but in mint condition. Judging by the cabinet behind it, Simon’s taste in music is eclectic. Rock, classical, musical theater cast recordings, as recent as the current decade and as old as… Cody isn’t sure when records were invented, actually.

He picks a rock band he recognizes and sets the record on the player. After a pause to look up ‘how to operate record player’ on his phone, he sets down the needle—

—and flinches at the unexpected swell of violins and cellos.

“Okay,” Cody says, as the classical instruments play on. Leaning in, he discovers the record doesn’t match the case.

A cursory glance indicates everything is mis-sorted. Cody considers organizing them for about two seconds before the enormity of the task overwhelms him. He’ll have to occupy himself some other way instead .

In the middle of Cody’s third set of push-ups, fabric rustles. It’s barely audible beneath the lively flute section, even to Cody’s sharp ears. He dips for another rep, nose nearly touching the carpet, then sits up.

The push-ups didn’t raise his heart rate, but this does. Simon leans in the doorway, arms crossed in calculated repose. He’s as sensual in a sweater and jeans as he was in the red leather pants. Barefoot, his toes just as ashen white as his face. He looks different tonight, no longer quite so stiff and guarded, but not desperately hungry like he was last night. The scent of old bottled blood is faintly detectable.

Simon looks, if Cody isn’t completely misreading him, curious.

“That’s a weird waltz,” Simon comments.

“You have to organize your records.” Cody hops up and moves the needle, cutting off the harps or harpsichords or whatever that is. “This is insane.”

“I use CDs now. Haven’t moved on to streaming, though.” Simon lifts his chin, clearly inspecting Cody. “I didn’t think werewolves needed to work out. I thought you were just born looking like linebackers and lumberjacks.”

Cody refrains from flexing under his t-shirt. “There’s a genetic predisposition, but it’s just easier for us to bulk up. I’m guessing you’re not a gym rat.”

“No point,” Simon says. “The shadow-gift keeps me the same as ever, unless I were to magic my hair different or something.”

“Have you ever tried?” Cody asks, wondering what Simon would look like with shorter hair, or highlights, or rainbow streaks.

Simon grimaces. “Certainly not. Most witches are terrible hairdressers. What’s with the music?”

Cody blinks, taken aback by the sharp question. Right. This is the point. Maybe he’s misreading Simon’s attention. Even if he isn’t, this is a bad idea. But Cody’s always had problems controlling his instincts.

“I’ve been thinking about this since I said no at the club.” Cody sets the needle back on the record. As the harps and violins sing out again, he extends his hand. “Will you dance with me?”

Simon’s lips part softly. The surprise looks good on him. “Excuse me?”

Cody waggles his hand. “You heard me.”

“I don’t actually want to dance with you,” Simon says, even as he steps forward. “I just wanted to annoy Andrea.”

“That’s a shame. I turned on your vintage record player and everything.”

Simon covers his heart in mock indignation. “I bought that in ’92! The 1990s aren’t vintage!” But he places his hand in Cody’s. With the ice-cold touch, his annoyance seems to melt. Simon looks up, searching. “Why are you doing this?”

That’s easy. “Because I want to.”

“You remember I’m a vampire, right?” Simon asks. “I wanted to drink your blood last night.”

“But you didn’t,” Cody says, closing his hand around Simon’s. Because touching is allowed, now. “Even though I smell delicious.”

Simon is a vampire, sure. He’s also a fickle artist. A disorganized music collector. Equally fond of leather and cashmere. Thoughtful when scamming his way into human apartments. Good with a gun, even when poisoned.

He’s a creature without a pack. Just like Cody.

“What’ll it be?” Cody asks, pulling Simon closer. “Waltz? Polka? Can-can? ”

“You’re exhausting,” Simon accuses.

And falling into each other is easy. Simon’s head rests on Cody’s chest, and their hands intertwine. Cody has danced with plenty of people before, but nobody who smells of cold blood. Nobody who’s sixteen times his age. Yet somehow, swaying to the violins with Simon feels perfectly right.

Last night would have been different. A laughing, rebellious performance, while Cody spent every second alert for danger.

This moment is for them alone.

Three songs later, Simon says, “I think I don’t mind having a babysitter after all.”

If Simon hadn’t said anything, Cody might have been content with the dance. But Simon’s voice is irresistible.

Cody leans away, enough to meet Simon’s gaze. “I want to do something very unprofessional right now.”

“You terrible brute,” Simon murmurs. His eyes are blue-green, but just as hungry as the night before.

Cody touches Simon’s cheek and bends down to kiss him. The world rocks, and resettles, and suddenly makes sense.