Page 23 of The Vampire's Werewolf Bodyguard

Simon

Simon toys with a glass of blood. He’s using one of the fancy crystal goblets, just to give Tobias a show. Sitting cross-legged on the porch probably ruins the effect, alas.

The stars are sharp this far out of the city, and the air is silver with moonlight. There’s a brief window of time between Simon waking and the full moon taking hold of Cody. Apparently, Cody intends to use that time to be difficult.

“I should just stay in the safe room,” Cody says, pacing the porch. “Last night worked out, but tonight could be different.”

‘Worked out’ is quite the understatement. Simon takes another sip of blood. “You said being outside would help.”

Tobias stands alert next to Simon. Tonight’s t-shirt says My Other Kid Is a Pomeranian , and he seems better rested. Simon still resents the intrusion, but Tobias’s flight out is scheduled for the morning. He’ll be tolerable until then. Most importantly, he agrees with Simon.

“I’ve never liked locking you up like a rabid dog,” Tobias says. “We’re not downtown tonight. This is a good time to test it.”

“What if someone is camping out there?” Cody gestures towards the blurred darkness of the woods. “What if I get past the fence?”

“I’m a reclusive vampire,” Simon says. “My estate is remote on purpose. If anyone is nearby, they deserve to get eaten.”

Tobias chuckles, then cuts off. “Wait, that was a joke, right?”

“Of course,” Simon says sweetly, and sips his blood. “Seriously, there shouldn’t be anyone out here.”

“Except for you two,” Cody points out.

Nobody responds. Bringing up the silver loaded into their guns seems gauche.

Cody sighs. Moonlight washes the shadows from his face. After a moment of complete stillness, he says, “Fine,” and crouches to unlace his shoes.

Tobias averts his eyes as Cody undresses.

Simon doesn’t.

The view is even better than last night. Glinting stars and lush forest bring Cody’s form into primal balance. Every muscle moves with ease. Even at a distance, beneath unbroken skin, Cody’s blood smells richer than the bottled stuff in Simon’s goblet.

This is the right decision. Locking a werewolf up on the full moon is like locking a ravenous fledgling in their coffin. Safer for the night, perhaps. But far more dangerous in the long term.

Cody piles his clothes on the porch step, then meets Simon’s eyes. He takes one step forward, like he wants to duck down for a kiss. Which Simon would welcome, both for the pleasure of kissing and the amusement of having an audience.

But discretion wins out—or the brightening moon. Cody turns from the porch, heedless of the gravel beneath his bare feet, and transforms.

The changes are quick enough to blur in mortal eyes. Simon winces at the convulsion of flesh and bone. Better than Tania turning into a swarm of bats, at least. The next moment, Cody stands on all fours, shoulders heaving with the effort, tail swaying slowly.

Bright canine eyes gleam in the porch light, like lanterns against his fur. Cody shakes himself, then throws back his head.

The howl trembles through the night. Pure and resonant enough to send chills down Simon’s already cold spine. Tobias swears under his breath.

Cody looks at them one more time. Then he trots away, nose lowered to the lawn.

“I’d prefer you hung out inside,” Tobias says. “For security reasons.”

Right. Besides this whole werewolf rehabilitation thing, someone’s still trying to kill Simon. Arguing wouldn’t be nice, especially after Simon so sharply dismissed Tobias last night.

Do the kids still call it sexiling?

Simon rises to his feet. One smooth motion that doesn’t spill a drop of blood. “Cody showed me how the cameras work. I’ll spy from inside.”

“One more thing.” Tobias grimaces, glancing out to Cody, who’s currently inspecting the garage with his tail held high. A fascinating hesitation wars across Tobias’s face. “If my employee ever behaves in a manner that concerns you, please inform me immediately.”

Ah. Poor man. Looks like someone had an awkward conversation recently.

“I appreciate your professionalism,” Simon says, raising his goblet of blood in toast. “Goodbye, if I don’t see you before you leave.”

Tobias bravely doesn’t flinch.

In the kitchen, Simon forces himself to finish drinking before washing the glass. Disrespectful to waste blood freely given, even if it isn’t fresh from the vein. He considers retreating downstairs or pretending to paint. Ordinary hobbies for what feels—beyond all reason—like an ordinary night.

He fucked a werewolf.

That werewolf wants to take him on a date sometime.

And Simon’s world hasn’t crumbled into pieces. Sun and moon and earth keep dancing around each other. If anything, the stars shine a little brighter.

A date would be nice.

Smiling to himself, because nobody can see him acting like a smitten teenager, Simon makes his way to Cody’s room. He can spy on the camera network from there.

***

Tonight goes differently. Quiet, comfortable. No better or worse than raw passion—just different. Simon is in the garden mural library when Cody finds him. Dawn lurks less than an hour beneath the horizon, and Cody’s still in wolf shape .

He rests his head in Simon’s lap again. Simon strokes his ruff for as many minutes as he dares, waiting for Cody to change back. But the moon is stronger this time. Cody won’t change shape until Simon is already asleep.

Tomorrow night will be good. Next time Simon wakes, Tobias will be gone, and Cody will be human-shaped. They can readjust to their habits or create new ones. Maybe solve an assassination attempt. Maybe dance again.

“Good morning,” Simon murmurs, with one last ruffle of Cody’s neck. “Sweet dreams.”

Cody sighs, tail thumping, then lets Simon go.

Simon flees as quickly as he can to avoid the temptation of lingering. Moments later, alone in his coffin, his fingertips are still warm.

***

A cell phone chime punctuates Simon’s lazy waking. Then another. The second is unusual. The third is alarming. Scrabbling for his phone, Simon sits up—he’s been sleeping with the coffin open since the poisoning.

Message notifications fill his lock screen, from Kimiko and other vampires Simon’s been contacting recently.

Kimiko: Hey, so there’s a problem.

Wilhelm: You asked about incidents in the area. Funny thing, that.

Becky: Good 3v3ning! OMG you will NOT b3li3v3 what I just h3ard!

As Simon squints through Becky’s horrible texting quirk—she’s over five hundred years old; she should know better—another push notification jolts him even wider awake.

Dima: Call me.

The message breaks weeks of silence. Years ago, even months ago, Simon would have jumped to obey as if enthralled by Dima’s gift. But Dima never needed such tricks to control him.

Tonight, ignoring Dima is easy. Phone in hand, Simon rushes upstairs. Still in his favorite pajamas, barefoot, unarmed. He needs to find Cody.

Easy enough. Just follow the anxious metronome of footsteps. Cody is pacing the next floor up, still below ground. At Simon’s arrival, Cody whirls and stops. His clothes are disheveled, and the dark-papered walls seem too narrow to hold his distress. Even from twenty feet away, his heartbeat pounds a painful staccato.

Simon’s phone chimes again. He ignores it. “What’s wrong?”

Cody’s voice is ragged when he answers. “This afternoon. Authorities found a body in the woods.”