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Roman

R oman was obsessing.

He’d forced himself to stay away from Danny for one night. To give the boy time to think, time to process everything he’d found out. Time to process Roman , really. It was torture, but he knew it was the right thing to do for Danny.

Roman’s demon had raged at the distance, insisting they be close to their mate. One taste of Danny, and its obsession had only grown.

They had compromised by stalking the boy.

He’d watched Danny’s house the night before, seen another nurse from the hospital come over with what looked like bags of junk food.

A female nurse, luckily—Roman wasn’t sure his demon would have stood by on the sidelines while another male was alone with their mate.

Especially considering the other nurse hadn’t left until morning.

But he had reminded the demon—and himself—that it was a good thing Danny had friends, had support. They were not going to be jealous brutes who resented their mate having close ties beyond themselves.

And Danny was their mate.

He was sure of it now, after the morning before. Touching the boy, hearing his moans, tasting his release—Roman had never experienced anything like it in his two centuries of living. His cock hardened at just remembering the look on Danny’s face when the boy came, cheeks flushed with pleasure.

And then there was the moment right before Danny had fallen back asleep, when he had seen the demon in Roman’s eyes and not only tolerated it but reached for it . Greeted it with warm, sated eyes and a sweet smile.

In that moment, Roman had felt something in his demon release—a tension that had been present since the moment he had turned, suddenly gone.

He had been planning to show himself again tonight (one night away seemed to be his limit at the moment).

But then he’d been surprised to see Danny leave the house, looking beyond delicious in tight black jeans and a baby-blue hoodie under a long dark coat.

Roman had been tempted to intercept him at the doorway, push him up against the wall, and have his wicked way with the boy.

But that would probably not be in the spirit of “giving space,” so instead, he had followed discreetly as Danny made his way to a bar in town.

Roman hadn’t thought his mate the type to go out much—he had that look of exhaustion about himself that stemmed from overwork, not overpartying—but then again, he didn’t actually know much about the boy he and his demon were obsessing over.

That thought raised his demon’s hackles immediately. Know enough. Know he’s sweet, soft, ours, ours, ours.

He brushed his demon off. Yes, I get it, you’re hooked. Now hush.

It grumbled some more at him but ultimately backed down. It seemed to trust now that Roman wasn’t going to run off and leave Danny behind. Trust that he was just as addicted to the boy as it was.

Roman grew impatient lurking in the parking lot of the bar.

What was he even doing? Not for the first time, he chided himself for not giving Danny his phone number.

Such a simple, obvious step he’d forgotten.

But the thing was, he hadn’t really ever, in all his decades, tried to date anyone—to keep anyone.

He had never needed to leave his contact information with a lover, because he’d never intended to return to one.

He spotted a coffee shop across the street from the bar, one that apparently stayed open late. Perfect.

He ordered himself a coffee from the bored-looking barista at the counter and grabbed a table by the window, one where he could easily spot Danny if he left the bar.

Roman had been sitting there over an hour, staring out the window as if the force of his gaze would cause his boy to appear, when someone slipped into the seat across from him.

He was about to tell them, without so much as looking over, to find a table elsewhere, when he smelled a familiar scent—cold ocean air and frozen pine.

Soren.

Roman immediately broke his gaze from the window and ran his eyes over his longtime friend, suddenly here in Colorado.

Svelte and graceful as a cat, with a head of golden hair he always kept artfully tousled, he looked incongruous at this casual coffee shop, wearing a fucking brown fur coat over his cream sweater, because of course he was.

He was also looking ridiculously pleased with himself.

“Hello, Roman, dearest,” he said, pale eyes glinting. “Surprised to see me?”

“I suppose I shouldn’t be.” Soren loved to show up without warning. And it wasn’t any use asking how he had found Roman—the older vampire had always had a knack for tracking people. It was the reason Roman had asked Soren to keep an eye on Luc’s whereabouts to begin with.

His blond friend gave him a positively evil grin. “How’s the something that’s been keeping you in this boring-ass town, Rome?”

Roman sighed. “Is there any use lying to you about it?”

Soren’s grin only grew. “Nope,” he replied, popping the p dramatically. “I’m afraid I’ve already been following you while you’ve been following him . A real cutie-pie you found there. You should really watch your back though. I was getting really sloppy there, and you didn’t even notice me.”

Roman grew defensive at the truth in those words. He hadn’t had his guard up like he should have, too focused on his fascination with his newfound mate. “It wasn’t me you were supposed to be keeping an eye on,” he groused.

Soren’s grin dropped in an instant, his expression turning serious. “I know. But I lost Luc’s trail a few days north of here. I’m thinking he either noticed me following him or he found you and realized he needed to lay low. He could be on his way. Or here already.”

Fuck.

Roman’s demon took notice, all coiled tension now. It was just as wary of Luc as Roman was, and with their mate in the vicinity…

His demon leaped to the forefront before Roman could stop it. He let out a low growl, one soft enough that hopefully the surrounding tables couldn’t hear it. Soren took notice of his black eyes and leaned back slightly, his own eyes wide. “Holy shit, Rome. You must really like this human.”

Roman didn’t reply, too focused on pushing his demon back before he flipped the table, busted into the bar, and threw Danny over his shoulder like some sort of ogre.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Soren mused. “Figured you were eternal-loner material since the Luc thing.”

“Danny’s different.” Roman hated how pathetic that sounded.

“And clearly your demon thinks so too.” Soren leaned in, narrowing his eyes. “Why, Roman, have you stumbled upon your mate?”

Roman shrugged, wary in verbalizing to another vampire what he’d only just confirmed himself.

“I didn’t think you believed in them.” Soren was tapping his finger against his lips, trying to hide a bratty smile.

Roman shrugged again, still defensive. “I might have changed my mind.”

For the briefest blink of an eye, Roman thought he saw a look of sadness pass through Soren’s eyes, but before he could fully register it, it was gone, and the bratty grin was back in place.

“Well, congrats, then.” Soren pressed a hand to his chest, giving a dramatic sigh. “My little baby’s all grown up.”

His friend loved nothing more than to point out Roman’s relative youth.

Despite Soren’s own youthful appearance (he couldn’t have been older than his early twenties when he’d been turned), he’d become a vampire in his homeland of Denmark sometime in the seventeenth century, making him almost a full century older than Roman.

Roman wasn’t entirely sure how Soren had avoided going feral all this time.

He thought it might have something to do with his friend’s love of excess—be it fashion, clubs, parties—that kept him so immersed in the human world.

He didn’t skirt around on the edges of humanity like Roman did—he embraced all it had to offer.

And, of the other few vampires Roman had known, Soren seemed to fight with his demon the least. Roman sometimes wondered if that acceptance of his nature was its own defense against losing his control.

Soren leaned forward again, interrupting his reflections. “We should really go get your human, Rome. Luc’s good at not being found when he doesn’t want to be. Just because I haven’t seen him here doesn’t mean he’s not nearby.”

Roman had a moment of hesitation. He knew there was strength in numbers, but both he and his demon balked for an instant at the thought of letting another vampire near Danny, even a friend.

Soren’s eyes softened the slightest bit. He placed his slender hand on Roman’s arm. “Hey. I promise I’m not going to touch what’s yours. You can trust me, Rome. Just let me help while I’m here.”

And there it was. Despite his tendency toward debauchery, Soren was incredibly loyal to those he decided deserved it. It was a loyalty he’d proven more than once over the decades since Roman had met him.

“Besides,” Soren went on, pushing his chair back from the table, “with Luc’s whereabouts unknown, you really shouldn’t be letting the boy out of your sight.”

Roman knew he was right. And as they rose to leave, he was disturbed by just how much he liked the idea of always having eyes on Danny, of never letting the boy leave his side.

His demon purred its agreement at that image.

We’re fucked , Roman thought.

The bar they entered was just a step above a dive, with a long L-shaped bar, some scattered high tables, and a small dance floor where a surprisingly lively group was dancing together to some pop princess or another.

Roman thought he spotted some of the staff he had seen when he was lurking around Danny at the hospital. Was this a work gathering, then?