Archive of Our Own

As usual, Alex misjudges how hard to shove his shoulder against the stubborn front door of his apartment and stumbles inside when it gives way. It’s been sticking since he moved in, but he keeps forgetting to call maintenance. Huffing in irritation, he kicks it closed behind him with more force than necessary and dumps his backpack on the floor. When he turns to toe off his shoes, his eyes catch on an envelope tucked half under the door. He cocks his head and stares. Someone must have slipped it underneath while he was out.

Grinning, he snatches it up, loving the mystery of its arrival and forgetting all about the door again. The thick, creamy linen is expensive. It definitely isn’t another note from a neighbor asking him to keep it down after eleven at night. He resists the impulse to tear it open, preferring to draw out the anticipation.

He pads farther into his apartment, flicking on lights as he goes and turning the envelope over in his hands. The sole thing visible on the outside is an embossed image he doesn’t recognize. It reminds him of one of those massive swords medieval knights used, except the tip of the handle rises to an oval that looks vaguely like the profile of a human face. He traces the raised edges of the symbol with a finger before carefully opening the flap and removing the card inside.

His brow furrows and his lips move as he reads the formal, almost archaic, language. He has to read it twice before the full meaning lands.

Holy shit. It’s an invitation to The Masquerade!

He barks out a disbelieving laugh and grabs his phone from his back pocket, thumbing over it without glancing away from the card.

“Alejandro!” Nora shouts when the video call connects. There’s a strange echo to her voice.

Alex shifts his attention to the phone. Nothing is visible except the rough surface of a ceiling. “Where are—”

“I just got out of the shower.” One of her brown eyes and a bit of her forehead appear on screen and vanish. “Hello!” she yells over the sound of her phone clattering on something. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You’re gonna want to focus for this,” he says.

Nora’s eye returns, this time with a lifted brow. Her voice is low and delighted. “Oooh. I smell drama.” She disappears again and goes back to shouting. “Give me a minute!”

Alex stares at her bathroom ceiling until the video bumps and swings around to show him a robe-clad Nora. Despite his recommendation that she focus, she’s propped up the phone with something on the counter so she can keep her hands free. “Okay,” she says, while rubbing lotion into her skin. “Hit me.”

He considers dragging things out. He loves drama, and so does she, but he’s far too impatient for it right now, so he gets straight to the point. “I got an invitation to The Masquerade.”

Nora freezes with the fingertips of both hands pressed to her face, still turned toward the mirror. She slants her eyes down to the phone. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m serious.”

“You are not.”

“I am.”

“You did not.”

“I did.”

He holds up the invitation.

She picks up her phone and squints. “Stop waving it around!”

Alex snorts. “It’s not like you can read it this way. It’ll be backwards.”

“Do not doubt me, sir. Hold it still!”

He does as he’s told and has to squash his annoyance when she reads it and comprehends it far faster than he did. Backwards.

“Holy shit,” she breathes. “It’s real? I thought it was only a rumor.”

“So did I, until about three minutes ago.”

They stare at each other through their phones, eyes wide.

“This is…” Nora begins.

“I know.”

“Alex.”

“I know!”

“Are you going?”

He opens his mouth to say, “Of-fucking-course I am,” but she continues speaking before he has a chance. “And can I come with you?”

He scans the invitation again. “There’s nothing about a guest. It would say if I was supposed to bring one, right?”

Nora slumps in disappointment. “Ugh. Yes. It would.”

“Sorry.”

She shakes it off with a flap of her hand. “Nothing for you to be sorry about. You, you scoundrel, you scored an invite to the hottest, most mysterious social event in New York City! This is amazing!”

Alex grins. “It is.”

“I tried to trace the origin of the rumors once, you know.”

“No way. How was I not aware of this?”

She shrugs and her eyes slide away from his. “I wasn’t able to figure it out.”

“No!” He gasps and clutches his chest. “You weren’t able to figure it out? I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Shut up.”

It’s not often something gets the best of Nora and he’s maybe enjoying it more than he should. He aims a big, shit-eating grin at her, but doesn’t say anything else. He’s not stupid. No way he wants to incur Nora’s wrath. The woman could take over the world by lunch if she put her mind to it.

She scowls at him until he loses the smile and then continues. “I followed it back to the 1800s without finding a definitive source. It was nothing but rumors and secondhand stories. All anyone knows is that it’s a secret masked party held near Halloween every year, and it’s incredibly difficult to get an invitation. Probably because no one knows who does the inviting.”

Alex holds up the card again. “This was slipped under my door while I was out, so there’s not even a postage mark as a clue.”

“I can’t believe someone somewhere in the last two hundred years hasn’t run their mouth about it,” she muses. “It’s weird.”

He shrugs and nods. “It’s pretty weird.” Then he laughs, less interested in the mystery of it now and more interested in the reality. “But also really fucking cool. The invitation says cocktail attire. Help me figure out what to wear?”

She rolls her eyes. “Obviously.”

∨ ∨

Alex fidgets with the black velvet jacket Nora talked him into wearing. Velvet is very touchable, Alex, she’d said with a sly smile. He alternates between tugging on the bottom of it and adjusting the cuffs. He’s been standing outside the building where the driver dropped him for a few minutes, hesitant to go in but not sure why. Parties are where he’s at his best. Everyone loves Party Alex. He’s not nervous, not really, but something about the place feels off. If the social gathering of the year wasn't going on inside, he might listen to the instinct telling him to walk away. But there’s no way he’s missing this.

Only a small plaque near the door of the plain brick building shows he’s in the right location. The name is printed in looping, difficult to read letters. Incenatus. He could easily have walked past it. There’s nothing else on the exterior of the building to indicate it’s a restaurant; one so exclusive it doesn’t have to advertise what, or where, it is. Alex had never even heard of it until he received the invitation, and he always knows where the newest and hottest places are. Some light googling told him the word was Latin for not having dined, or fasting, which is a weird choice.

This better not be one of those places where they serve you a leaf and a mint-infused puff of air and call it a salad.

He can’t believe this legend of a social event, the party everyone is dying to get into, is being held in Queens, in what looks like an old factory. He’d pictured something far more grand—a mansion, a ballroom, formal gardens or whatever—not a disused-looking building in a warehouse district.

He settles his shoulders and adjusts his sleeves one last time before ascending the stone steps to the entrance. He barely registers there’s no way to open the door—no handle or anything—before it’s swinging out toward him. Forced to stagger down a step, he gapes at the bear of a man filling the doorway and looming over him.

The guy lowers his thick brows and grunts, “Invitation.”

Alex yanks the card out of his breast pocket and holds it up for his approval; startling when it’s snatched out of his hand. The man looks it over far more closely than necessary before stepping to the side without a word and holding the door open for Alex to enter.

“Um.” Alex gestures at his invitation. “Can I have that back?”

“No.”

Alex blinks, knocked off-kilter by the brusque finality of the man’s voice. He blinks again and then gives the guy his best, most all-American grin. The one that always gets him what he wants. “The thing is, I kind of wanted to keep it as a souvenir or whatever. Are you sure I can’t—”

“No.” The man stares into the middle distance and continues holding the door open.

Oookay then.

Alex slides past without another word. This guy is clearly impervious to his charms. He’d really wanted to keep the invitation, too. It isn’t often he doesn’t get his way. It’s a strange feeling. He’s not a fan.

Once he’s through the entrance, another enormous guard holds out his hand. “Cell phone.”

“Excuse me?”

“No phones allowed.”

Alex expected something like this, but he doesn’t like it and considers telling the man he didn’t bring one. The guy’s no bullshit thousand-yard stare convinces him otherwise, though. He hands it over and watches as the man secures it in a locker and gives him a numbered disc about the size of a quarter with “17” stamped on it. He leads Alex to a set of double doors and ushers him inside.

The clunk of the doors shutting behind him is loud enough to earn him curious looks from some of the guests, which reminds Alex to slide his mask over his face. It’s a simple one, black, and tied around his head with a satin ribbon. He’d wanted to wear a more elaborate mask, but Nora insisted something uncomplicated was the way to go. It will emphasize your ridiculous eyes, Alejandro, she’d said.

He lingers by the door, taking in the large banquet room beyond. There are two long tables, each with at least fifty place settings. They’re covered with massive white flower arrangements and ornate candelabras. Chairs and small sofas ring the perimeter of the room. The entire space is awash in the warm light of countless candles. A string quartet occupies one corner and plays something soft and classical.

The people wandering around are dressed in suits and fashionably elegant dresses. Everyone holds a mask of some sort, but few are actually wearing them, as if no one is interested in concealing their identities, or making the slightest attempt to play along with the masquerade conceit of the party.

He snorts to himself at the idea that this is any kind of party at all. The whole thing is so the wrong vibe for a Halloween blow-out. This is a quiet, dignified cocktail party. Emphasis on the quiet. He half expects to discover there will be a keynote speaker or something. After all this build-up, he’s going to be pissed if this thing is lame. His fingers itch for his phone. He wants to text Nora about how stuffy and disappointing it is so far.

A server strolls past carrying a tray of champagne that shimmers in the candlelight. He definitely needs alcohol for this, so he takes a quick step forward and snags a flute off the tray. As he lifts it toward his lips, a breeze brushes his cheek, and a man appears directly in front of him, where no one had been a moment before.

Alex jerks, dribbling champagne down his chin.

The man is tall and blond, and wearing an immaculate navy suit that fits like it was made for him. His jacket hugs his broad shoulders before tapering to emphasize his slim hips. Snug pants cling to his long legs, highlighting the slope and curve of his thighs in a way that…

Alex’s eyes flutter as an unexpected surge of lust shoots down his spine and lands hot and heavy in his belly. He imagines what those legs might look like bare: firm and dusted with golden hair; hooked over Alex’s arms as he—

He forces himself to cut off the thought. What the hell? It’s not like him to perv so hard on someone he’s just met like this.

He drags his eyes up to the man’s unmasked face. He takes in the swell of his full lips and the sharp sweep of his cheekbones, before finally meeting his gaze. The moment their eyes connect, Alex has the strange sensation of something inside him clicking into place, like the tumblers of a lock lining up. Everyone else in the room fades from his awareness. All he can do is stare into eyes the blue of a deep-sea glacier, so bright they seem to glow. Alex is trapped in their depths, but it’s pleasant being held captive there. He doesn’t mind.

The man’s face broadcasts a parade of emotions that make little sense to Alex: shock, confusion, joy, worry, and something that resembles relief. His face settles and he tilts his head to give Alex a small smile. Something about the movement breaks the spell holding them in this moment, popping it like a soap bubble.

Alex takes a step back and swallows, thrown by how odd this interaction is. “Um. Hello.”

He’s positive the man hasn’t moved. He’s looking right at him. But he’s suddenly closer, as if he automatically closed the distance Alex created. He smells crisp and clean and… cold, somehow. Does snow have a smell? If it does, it’s how this guy smells. There’s something else under that, though, something sweetly spicy Alex can’t quite separate and identify. It reminds him of his abuela’s kitchen; how it felt to sit there while she cooked and he did his homework, safe and cared for and happy.

He sways toward the man, following the scent, until suddenly they’re close enough to kiss. Alex stares at his mouth for a beat too long before stumbling backward again. He takes a shaky breath and forces himself to move another step away, creating plenty of space between their bodies.

The man’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “Hello.” He offers Alex his hand as if nothing unusual has happened. “I’m Henry.”

“Alex.” Still in a daze, Alex slides his hand into Henry’s. The rightness he felt earlier returns, but this time it slams into him and his vision whites out, stunning him into silence. Images zoom and stutter through his mind like a movie being fast-forwarded, there and gone before he can focus on them: Henry lying on his back in green grass, laughing. Henry in a long robe, striding down a dim corridor. Henry roaring and lifting a knight’s sword in both hands. Henry grinning, face partly buried in a pillow. Henry standing straight and solemn, wearing a crown. Henry straining against something, face clenched with effort, teeth bared.

The last image lingers in his head longer than the others. Henry’s teeth look strange. The incisors are—

Oh my god.

He drops Henry’s hand like it scalded him and the visions end. His knees wobble. What the fuck was that? He yanks his mask off and blinks several times, trying to clear a lingering blurriness at the edges of his sight.

“What the fuck was that?” He says it out loud this time.

Henry’s expression flickers from something stunned that matches how Alex feels, to something heated and fierce. Alex is sure Henry is going to grab him, shove him into the nearest wall, and devour him. Perhaps literally. And to his surprise, he’s extremely into the idea. His breath catches in anticipation and his eyes drop to Henry’s mouth again.

Henry curls his hands into fists and clenches his eyes shut. When he opens them again, the fire in them has lowered to a simmer. He ignores Alex’s question and says, “You should sit with me, Alexander. We have things to discuss.”

“Alex,” He corrects him, even though his brain is still struggling to process everything that’s happening.

Henry inclines his head and smiles. “Alex.” The way he says it, his voice all low and throaty, feels intimate. Like how he’d say it with Alex naked and spread out under him. Something hot clenches in his belly.

Henry’s eyes sharpen and his smile ticks up on one side, as if he knows what Alex is thinking, as if he’s thinking it, too. It makes Alex’s cock throb. Fuck. What is happening?

He breathes deeply and refocuses. “I don’t want to sit. I want to know what that was. That—whatever happened when we touched. I saw you. In my head. You were—” He stops speaking. He’ll sound unhinged if he says anything more about what he saw. Henry wasn’t dressed in modern clothes in some of those flashes. Others had the texture of a memory, like he’d been there, even though that’s impossible.

He huffs out a frustrated breath. “What the hell was that? You felt something too. I could tell.”

“Mmm.” Henry nods, face serious but eyes still dancing. “That. We might need to work our way up to that.”

“And what the hell does that mean?”

“Sit with me.” He lays his hand on Alex’s arm. “We’ll talk.” He glances around the room. “We need something stronger to drink first, though.” He gestures toward the seating area. “Find us a spot. I’ll get the drinks.”

“But I—” He’s talking to empty air. Henry is already halfway across the room. Jesus, how is he so fast?

An uncomfortable sensation rises in Alex as Henry gets farther away. He doesn’t like the distance growing between them. His uneasiness gets worse with every step Henry takes. It doesn’t hurt precisely, not physically, not yet at least. But it seems like it could, and it’s making him anxious. Panicky even. He’s unable to take his eyes off Henry; unable to stop thinking about following him. He wants Henry back in touching distance. He wants to fit his hands into the dip of Henry’s waist and dig his fingers in; hold him in place and bury his face in his neck. Chase that familiar scent. Henry’s body should be touching Alex’s. They are meant to be touching. He’s too far away.

His thoughts are getting weirder and more chaotic the longer Henry is away. It’s a little scary, if he’s honest, but he doesn’t care. He can’t. His mind is too full of Henry to be freaked out by what’s happening. His hands twitch at his sides and he’s about to give in and follow Henry when a blur of movement catches in his peripheral vision.

Someone else is suddenly standing in front of him. It’s another astonishingly attractive man. He’s not as beautiful as Henry, but then no one could be. Alex makes a face at the embarrassing turn his thoughts have taken, but he’s not wrong. Henry is exceptionally gorgeous.

The new man clears his throat, aware he doesn’t have Alex’s full attention and wanting it. He has close-cropped, pink hair and his brown skin glows in the candlelight. “Well, hello there, handsome,” he says, looking Alex up and down with a predatory grin. “I bet you taste fantastic.”

The way the man is standing blocks Alex’s view of Henry, and that’s not only making Alex’s anxiety spike, it’s pissing him off. Sweat breaks out along his hairline. He shifts position and cranes his neck, trying to find Henry in the crowd again. Belatedly, the man’s words register. I bet you taste fantastic. What the fuck? Who just says that to someone? It’s super weird. Weird enough to get him to stop searching for Henry and look at the man in front of him properly. “Excuse me?”

The man leans back and drags his eyes over Alex again. He lifts a hand, likely to offer it for a handshake, but Alex will never know for sure because before he can complete the motion, Henry appears out of nowhere and pushes between them. He’s furious. Alex is certain of it, as if he’s somehow eavesdropping on Henry’s emotions.

Then Henry growls. There’s no other word for it. The low sound ripples up his throat and into the space between them, shocking and aggressive amid this quiet cocktail party.

People look around at them, and that seems to bring Henry back to himself. He stops snarling and steps out from between them, but not, Alex notices, all the way to the side. He’s still partially preventing the other man from getting closer to Alex, almost as if he’s protecting him.

Henry’s bizarre display of possessiveness should put Alex off, or even make him angry, but it doesn’t. It so doesn’t. In fact, something about it is really working for him. He’s as turned on as he’s ever been, and he’s—oh shit, he’s getting hard. He shifts his stance to make room and tries to will it away before it becomes obvious to everyone.

Henry glares at the man who almost touched Alex. He’s clenching his teeth so hard the muscle in the corner of his jaw is jumping. Alex swears Henry hisses the word mine. But his mouth never moves, so maybe Alex imagined it.

The pink-haired man grins, seeming not at all threatened by Henry’s behavior. “Ah, I see I am too late for this morsel.” He takes a step back, dipping his chin and lowering his gaze briefly. “Hello, Your Highness.”

Henry smiles, but it’s forced, and tension still radiates from him. “Hello, Percy.”

Your Highness? Was Henry royalty? No. He couldn’t be. Alex would recognize him if he were. It must be some sort of inside joke about Henry’s very proper British accent.

“I apologize,” Percy says. “I didn’t know you’d—” He glances at Alex.

Henry breaks in before he can finish. “Yes, well. Good to see you.” The clipped way he says it sounds like fuck off.

Percy laughs, but his eyes are calculating. “Not even going to introduce us?”

Henry’s back stiffens, and his eyes flash. “Not even.”

“Right.” Percy drags out the word and gives Alex a curious glance before backing away. “You two have fun.” He flutters his fingers in a wave and then he’s gone.

Henry turns and offers Alex one of the two tumblers of whiskey he’s holding. Alex takes it and knocks back the entire thing in one swallow before handing the empty glass back to him. Then he snatches the other one out of Henry’s hand and knocks that one back, too.

“I have questions.”

“Of course you do.”

∨ ∨

Alex tries to focus on what Henry is saying. He really does. But he keeps getting distracted by the oddness around them. Little things like the fact that there is no food here. Not even trays of hors d’oeuvres. And big things like how some of the guests are dazed and expressionless, like they’re drugged, even though this hardly seems like the crowd for that. Also, couples keep disappearing through a door in the back of the room. It’s super creepy. He wants to ask Henry what’s back there, but when he’s not distracted by this bizarre fucking party, he’s even more distracted by how pretty Henry is.

Every time he stops looking around the room and looks at Henry instead, he gets lost, imagining what it would be like to touch every perfect part of him. There’s a small mole near the corner of his mouth that is particularly devastating. What would it feel like under Alex’s lips? His tongue?

His eyes catch on another couple headed toward the far end of the room.

He wants to ask what’s behind door number two back there, but he should try to figure out what Henry has been saying first.

“What—what was that last bit?” He says, hoping Henry will miraculously recap everything he’s said for the last five minutes.

Henry represses a smile. “Are you listening to me at all?”

“I’m trying,” Alex says. Then he promptly gets distracted by Henry’s lips and thinking about what they would look like wrapped around Alex’s dick. And then what the weight of Henry’s dick would feel like on Alex’s tongue, and then—

“Maybe try looking at my eyes.”

Alex forces his gaze upward. “It’s hot in here. Is it hot in here? I’m hot. Are you hot?”

Yes. Henry is hot. He’s hot as hell.

For the love of god. Alex literally cannot control his thoughts. Is he saying this shit out loud? No. He’s not. He’s sure he’s not. But Henry is grinning at him like he is. Jesus. He has got to get it together.

He tugs his tie free of its knot and unbuttons his collar. Then he shakes out his shoulders, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. He can do this. He will stop thinking about the strange party that isn’t a party and the freaky people and the mysterious door. And he will definitely stop thinking about the very bad things he wants to do to Henry. He will fucking focus on what Henry is saying and participate in a goddamn conversation. It’s not like he’s one of the people stumbling around here like they’ve been—

Oh god.

What if—what if he’s been drugged? What if there was something in the whiskey and that’s why he can’t control his thoughts? Is he going to turn into one of the weird robotic people disappearing through the door in the back? Is Henry—is Henry going to… hurt… him?

Holy shit. Where did that even come from? Why would Henry hurt him?

“Alex?” Henry reaches for him but then seems to change his mind and drops his hand. “Are you okay?”

“I think—” Alex licks his lips. “I think I’m kinda freaking out a little. I don’t understand what’s going on here, but it feels wrong.”

“You really haven’t been listening to me, have you?”

“I kind of can’t? Like, I want to, but there’s just—” He shoves his hand through his hair. “This party is really fucking weird and people keep disappearing and you—” He waves his hand at Henry. “You are very distracting. I can’t stop thinking about you and, like, wanting to touch you. Everywhere.” The last word falls out of his mouth without permission and his cheeks burn.

“Mmm. I’d like that.” Henry’s eyes roam over Alex’s chest and shoulders. “It’s the same for me, you know. The thinking about you. The wanting to touch you.” His voice drops. “Everywhere.”

Alex’s belly flips and he burns hotter.

Henry sobers. “But we need to talk. There’s a lot I need to tell you, and most of it is going to be hard to believe.”

Alex’s eyes drift to the door at the back of the room again. “You might be surprised what I would believe at this point.”

For instance, he thinks, I’m pretty sure vampires exist and I’m sitting in a room full of them.

And while the logical part of his brain is telling him to run as fast and as far as his feet will carry him, the other part of his brain, which seems to be centrally located in his dick, is insisting he stay here until he figures out a way to get Henry’s naked skin pressed against his own.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Henry asks.

The question is so unexpected that Alex sort of goes offline for a few seconds. Of all the things he thought Henry might say, this was nowhere on the list. “Um. Sure. I guess. People fall in love all the time, right?”

“No. That’s not—” Henry shakes his head. “I mean actual soulmates.”

Alex shrugs, still not understanding.

“I mean when a single soul is torn in two, and both pieces are flung into the world to wander alone, searching for their other half.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “You may have watched one too many romcoms, Henry.”

He chuckles. “Perhaps. I do enjoy them. But this isn’t a flight of fancy on my part. When we touched before and things got strange, you asked me what happened.”

He has Alex’s full attention now. “Yes.”

“It was our half-souls, each recognizing their mate.”

Alex stares at him for a beat and then laughs. “Bullshit.”

“I assure you, I am completely serious.”

Alex thinks about the flashes of Henry he saw when they touched, and his laughter dies.

“You saw visions of me, right?” Henry says.

Alex nods.

“I saw you too.”

“Bullshit.” He says it quieter this time and with less confidence.

“I saw you as a young boy.” Henry smiles. “You were very cute. You were sitting at a kitchen table, doing homework. An older woman was there, too. She was cooking. I suspect you thought about that memory specifically, and that’s why I saw it.”

Alex’s scalp prickles. “What are you saying?”

“There’s a sort of psychic bond between us now that we’ve found each other. It happened when our soul halves recognized one another. Mostly we’ll see each other’s pasts, but sometimes bits of the future or even our thoughts will break through as well. We can’t read each other’s minds, exactly, but we’ll get flashes of doing that.” Henry does that thing again where he reaches for Alex and then seems to think better of it. “I know it’s a lot. But there’s more.”

Alex huffs. “Like the fact that vampires exist and you are one?”

Henry’s eyebrows climb in surprise.

“In one of the visions I saw your—” He gestures at Henry’s mouth and then bares his own teeth and points at them.

“Oh.” Henry swallows. “And that’s—you’re… okay… with that?”

“I mean…” Alex says. “If we’re soulmates, do I have a choice?”

“You will always have a choice, Alex.”

It’s too much to consider right now, so Alex changes the subject. “So what’s the deal with this party, then?”

“Ahh,” Henry says. “Well, there are parties like this nearly every night of the year in different places around the world. It just happens that New York’s falls on Halloween.” Henry twists the small gold ring on his little finger. “They’re, erm, dinner… parties. I’m afraid.”

When his meaning lands, Alex sputters and then gives Henry a hard look. “So you’re here for dinner. And I’m here to be someone’s dinner.”

“You’re not now.” Henry’s eyes flash with fierce possessiveness and his voice deepens. “You’re mine.”

Alex wants to tell him he’s insane, that they just met. But the thing is, Alex is Henry’s. He can feel it deep inside, at a molecular level, like the fact of it is in his DNA or something. Everything he is, everything he will be, it’s all Henry’s. Alex’s whole life has led to this moment, and everything that comes after will have this—them—together—at the center. It’s confusing and terrifying, but also exhilarating and so fucking right.

Henry watches the play of emotions over Alex’s face with hope shining on his own. “You feel it too?”

Alex nods helplessly.

“You’re mine.”

“Yes.”

Alex expects Henry to kiss him. He wants Henry to kiss him.

But what happens is Henry says, “You have to leave.”

“What?” A bright bolt of panic shoots down Alex’s spine. “Leave? Why? What are you saying?”

Henry glances around and whispers. “I’ll come to you later and explain.”

“What are you even talking about? How will you find me? You don’t have my number or my address. You don’t even know my last name.” Alex’s breathing speeds up and drops out of rhythm.

Henry slides cool fingers around Alex’s neck and rubs his thumb over Alex’s cheekbone. “Shh. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

Alex stills, immediately soothed by Henry’s touch. He exhales and leans into the press of his hand.

“I don’t need your address. I’ll find you. I promise.”

“But why?”

“Alex.” Henry strokes his cheek again. “There are only two ways out of this building. You can leave as a human, compelled to forget; or as a newly turned vampire.”

Alex sucks in a breath, and Henry tightens his grip on his neck.

“We don’t have to talk about you being turned right now. We don’t even have to think about it. There’s plenty of time for that later. I don’t want you to make any choices without being able to consider them first. So you will leave. And forget. It’s painless. The guards will compel you and you’ll wake up tomorrow feeling hungover. You’ll have vague snatches of memory about a party at which you had a wonderful time.” He pauses and juts out his chin as if struggling to get the next bit out. “You won’t remember me at all. It will be like we never met.”

“But—” Alex shakes his head. “No.” His stomach twists painfully. “No! I don’t want that. I don’t want to forget. Can I refuse?”

“I’m afraid not. The rule is ironclad, and the penalty for noncompliance is quite severe.”

Alex has to blink back sudden hot tears. It’s absurd for him to be this attached to Henry already. It makes no sense. But it’s real. And the thought of forgetting Henry makes his heart clench painfully. Alex makes a sound that’s close enough to a whine to be embarrassing. “But—”

“Shh. Don’t worry. I will find you and I’ll explain. I’ll do whatever it takes, and we will—”

“Be together?”

Henry smiles. “Yes. But right now, you need to leave. If you stay, they’ll—I won’t be able to—” He breaks off and looks around again. “Just. Trust me. Please. Don’t speak to anyone on the way out. Go straight home, Alex.”

Alex nods, even though the idea of walking away from Henry is almost more than he can bear. “You’ll come tonight?”

“Nothing will stop me,” Henry promises. He drops his hand from Alex’s neck and nods toward the exit. “I’ll see you soon.”

Alex backs away a few steps without breaking eye contact. He hates this. It’s wrong.

Henry’s face is shadowed with the same unhappiness Alex feels, but he nods encouragingly. Alex backs up another step. To his horror, his throat clenches and his vision blurs. It’s the thought of Henry seeing him this emotional over a brief parting that finally makes him turn his back and walk away.

He has one hand on the door, ready to push through and escape this fucked up party, when he gives in and looks back for one last glimpse of Henry. He finds him walking toward the mystery door at the back of the room. Once he’s out of sight, the frantic need to follow him, to get him back in touching distance, overwhelms Alex. It’s like there’s a rope attached to his chest, pulling him toward Henry, and that rope has stretched to its absolute limit. Attempting to resist the force of it nearly drops him to the floor. He can’t breathe. He’s drowning, desperate for oxygen, like his heart might burst. He clutches at the door handle, trying to will himself to pull it open, but the compulsion to follow Henry is strong.

He stares wide-eyed at nothing as another realization barrels into him. Henry is going to feed on someone tonight. Someone who isn’t Alex. The idea of it claws at him. He can’t stand the thought of someone else in Henry’s arms, with Henry’s mouth fastened to their skin. It should be him.

He sucks in a breath and forces himself to stop imagining it. No. Henry told him to leave. He’s going to leave.

His body has other ideas, though, and soon he’s striding across the room, through the doorway at the back, and into a dim tunnel made of brick.

The voice in his head telling him this is a terrible idea, the worst one he’s ever had, grows fainter. Soon it’s easily ignored in favor of the unstoppable need to see Henry and touch him again. To be touched by him. His mind fills with visions of their bodies coming together—their mouths fused, their hands roaming, their legs intertwined, their cocks sliding. Jesus. He adjusts himself and walks faster. He manages not to run, but it’s a battle.

The tunnel is lit with torches spaced far enough apart that lakes of thick darkness settle between them. It’s like something out of a movie, or like he’s stepped back in time. Passing through the unlit places is terrifying. The hair on back of his neck prickles and his shoulder muscles bunch and flinch. He can’t shake the feeling that something dangerous is behind him. The tunnel slants downward, taking him underground. He walks faster and faster, trying to reach the end, trying to escape whatever is behind him, trying to find Henry.

He loses the battle and breaks into a run.

Finally, he bursts around a bend and stutters to a stop, completely unprepared for what he finds.

It’s… a nightclub. It’s a fucking nightclub.

He barks out a laugh. Of all the deranged things his mind was cooking up on the way down here, it wasn’t this.

It’s so dark he can barely make out anything except the dance floor in the middle of the room. Red light pulses in time to the Two Feet song throbbing its way out of the speakers. The bass line is pure sex. It vibrates through the air and over Alex’s body.

Couples grind against one another. Some of them are making out. Some of them are barely dressed, with only a scrap or two of clothing still clinging to them. One of them has their head thrown back, mouth dropped open in ecstasy; their partner’s face buried in their neck. But there aren’t enough people on the dance floor to account for everyone Alex saw coming down here. Where did they all go?

As his eyes adjust to the gloom, he discovers the room is ringed with a series of private alcoves framed with curtains that can be drawn for privacy. He squints at them for a moment before the purpose of them lands.

Oh.

But… where’s Henry? The insistent pull on his chest has eased some, which means Henry must be here somewhere. He looks over the dance floor more carefully, but he doesn’t find him. His eyes drift to the alcoves. What if he’s—

Suddenly everything around him blurs and he’s slammed against the brick wall behind him so hard it knocks the wind out of him. He fights the momentary panic from not being able to breathe, then gasps and heaves as his lungs re-inflate. He struggles against the body trapping him against the wall, but it doesn’t move at all. He pushes harder and still nothing, not even an inch of space, so he gives it all the strength has. The person doesn’t so much as twitch. “What the—”

The scent of a cozy kitchen on a blustery winter day reaches him on his next inhale. It fills Alex’s senses, warming him and making him shiver simultaneously. He sags in relief. Henry. He’s put himself between Alex and whatever is in front of him. It must be something dangerous, because Henry is making a deep, guttural noise, like an animal warning off an intruder. The vibration of it buzzes into his body where Henry presses his back against Alex’s chest, keeping Alex squeezed between himself and the wall. Protecting him.

He peers out from behind Henry and finds a petite redhead standing in front of them. He hadn’t seen her arrival any more than he’d seen Henry’s. Her lips are pulled back, exposing teeth that look too big for her mouth and too… pointy. He blinks in surprise, but when he looks again, she appears perfectly normal. Adorable, even. She gives Alex a flirty smile that wrinkles her cute, freckled nose. “Well, aren’t you a snack?” she says.

Henry growls again and Alex shudders, unbelievably turned on by it. If he doesn’t stop that, Alex is going to have a situation here.

“Apologies,” the redhead says to Henry as she lowers her gaze and dips her chin. “I didn’t know he was spoken for.” When she looks up again, she winks at Alex. “Have fun, handsome.” And then, with a swirl of hair and perfume, she’s gone.

Henry spins to face Alex. He’s still very close, but there’s enough space between them for cool air to seep in and soothe Alex’s overheated skin.

“What are you doing here, Alex?” Henry’s eyes are wild and he speaks through gritted teeth.

“I—”

“You were meant to go home.”

“I—”

“It’s not safe for you here!” Henry’s not quite shouting at Alex, but he’s close.

Alex narrows his eyes. The protective thing is hot. The acting like Alex is helpless is not. “I’m not a child.”

“No, but you’re acting like a brat.”

“Excuse me?”

“I told you to go home for a reason.”

“Yeah, well…” Alex is embarrassed to admit he couldn’t make himself do it, and feeling embarrassed makes him angry.

“Alex—”

He shoves Henry, or at least he tries to. He can’t, and that makes him angrier. “You can’t just order me around!”

Henry raises his eyebrows and presses his lips together. The look he gives Alex is direct and dangerous enough to make Alex consider his next words. Henry is clearly a man who is not accustomed to being ignored or shouted at. People—other vampires—seem to defer to him. He has the air of someone who assumes he will be obeyed.

Alex is ninety-nine percent sure Henry wouldn’t hurt him. But ninety-nine is not one hundred. And that one percent feels iffy at the moment. “I mean, you are… what you are…” For some reason, it seems unwise to say the word out loud. “Which means you can force me to do anything you want.”

He ignores how the idea of Henry doing exactly that makes his belly swoop and his breathing stutter. He bites his lip and, despite that one percent of fear, and despite the anger that is probably only more fear, he has to fight the urge to grab Henry’s face with both hands and slam their mouths together. He wants it so much his hands are shaking.

He’s never felt this out of control before. He can’t help wondering if he is in control of himself. “You—you’re probably doing it now with all this soulmates stuff.”

The irritation drains out of Henry’s face and he takes a step back, giving Alex the distance he wanted. Except he doesn’t want it anymore.

Henry’s eyes are wide and nearly black; the blue a thin ring. The last of Alex’s anger falls away. He loses himself in Henry’s hypnotic gaze, fascinated with the heat and hunger swirling there.

Henry presses a cool fingertip to the hinge of Alex’s jaw and trails it down the side of his throat. He lingers over the spot where Alex’s pulse thrums wildly, pressing against it and making a low sound of approval. It passes through the point of connection between them and into Alex, racing along his nerve endings and setting them on fire. He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the wall.

Some long buried, primal part of him is shouting for him to run, to fucking flee, but he ignores it. He ignores it because the strange electricity spilling down his spine is more excitement than fear. He wants more of Henry’s touch, more of this feeling of being helpless to resist, more of Henry.

Henry’s finger moves away from Alex’s thudding pulse and slides downward, tracing the ridge of his collarbone for a long moment before dropping to tug at the opening of his shirt. The button slips free and Henry’s finger falls to the next one. He steps into Alex again, his thigh sliding between Alex’s legs as he leans forward, breath floating over Alex’s exposed skin like a caress.

“I have news for you, sweetheart,” he says, his lush voice curling around the vowels and biting off the consonants. “I haven’t compelled you to do a single thing. You came here because you wanted to. Then you followed me down here after I told you to go home.” He smiles against Alex’s cheek. “Stubborn thing.” His hand tightens on Alex’s hip. “What you feel for me is real. And now you’re practically panting for me and I haven’t even done anything to you yet.”

Alex’s eyes fly open and his cheeks flame. He wants to deny it, but he can’t form the words. And they’d be a lie even if he could. His brain has latched onto the word yet and is chanting it, lost in all the implications. Yet. He hasn’t done anything to me…yet.

Henry’s chuckle is dark. He threads his fingers through Alex’s hair and tugs on it, forcing Alex’s chin up, baring his neck. He drags his nose slowly over Alex’s skin, all the way to the ticklish spot behind his ear. “Do you want me to give you a reason to pant like that, Alexander?”

The moan Alex has been struggling to hold inside ever since Henry first touched him breaks free. It must be loud, because Henry clamps a hand over his mouth. “Shhh, sweetheart,” he murmurs directly into Alex’s ear. “Be good for me.”

The throb of heat between Alex’s legs is intense. His dick is so hard it aches. There’s no hiding what Henry is doing to him, and he doesn’t care. He’s losing what small control he still had.

Henry pulls back from Alex’s neck and looks at him, lips quirked in a small, smug smile. “That seems like a yes, but I’ll need the words, if you don’t mind.” His gaze drops to Alex’s mouth, and thank god he repeats his question because Alex has no idea what it was. “Do you want to go into one of these private alcoves with me, Alex? Do you want me to take you apart?”

“Yes. God, yes. Please.” The words burst out of him. They’re followed by a small flare of anxiety when that one percent rears its head again. He clears his throat. “Are you going to bite me?”

Henry smiles. “Only if you ask me to.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’m going to do that.” But the thing is, he might. He’s already imagining it.

Henry’s smile turns wolfish, and his expression says we’ll see about that. He steps back and Alex nearly moans again, this time in protest. The few inches of distance are too far. He wants Henry’s body back against his where it belongs.

Henry holds a hand out toward the empty area beside them and smiles that dark smile again.

“You’re not going to—”

“Alex.” Henry’s eyes sparkle with amused wickedness and a hint of impatience. “I promise you will consent to everything that happens between us enthusiastically and of your own free will.”

This is it. The point of no return. Is he going to do this? He glances into the dim space next to them. It’s lit with a few small candles. A long chaise, raised on one side, is the only piece of furniture. It’s all they need.

He exhales and a sudden calm falls over him. Because he’s already made his choice. He made it when he followed Henry down here.

It’s possible he made it the moment Henry’s hand slid into his for the first time.

His nerves evaporate.

He smiles at Henry as he strides past him and into the alcove. “Maybe I don’t want my own free will.”

Henry huffs a surprised laugh. “Cheeky.” Then he follows Alex inside, pulling the heavy velvet curtain closed behind them.

∨ ∨

A shiver rolls through Alex as he watches Henry saunter toward him. He moves like a cat stalking prey. Slow. Sinuous. Focused on Alex with an unnerving intensity. It should probably make him uneasy, but fear is no longer anywhere on the list of things he’s feeling, even as he instinctively backs away. He’s excited. Aroused. Trembling with anticipation. Every one of his senses is on high alert, fixed on Henry, waiting for him to pounce.

Henry herds him backward until Alex bumps into the chaise and then Henry pushes him back on it. He lands sprawled on his elbows, slutty legs falling open automatically as he stares up at the gorgeous, dangerous man looming over him.

Henry sinks gracefully to his knees and the sight of it sends a wave of lust crashing over Alex. His cock twitches.

Henry doesn’t miss the movement. The corner of his mouth tilts upward in response, but he ignores the bulge in Alex’s pants in favor of grabbing Alex by the hips and yanking him closer. Then he falls on him, pushing him into the sofa, and slams their mouths together.

His kiss is aggressive, dominating, demanding. He holds Alex exactly where he wants him and kisses Alex like he owns him. He thrusts into Alex’s mouth and strokes their tongues together over and over, until Alex’s hips are rolling in the same rhythm, desperate for friction. Alex doesn’t even try to resist or take some of the control for himself. He lets Henry have whatever he wants.

His mind fills with random visions of Henry again. One of them must be a glimpse of the future, because in it they’re lying in a mess of pillows and blankets, and Henry is kissing him just as passionately as he is right now. Alex can feel that future kiss and this one simultaneously, like being kissed inside and out somehow. And, fuck, it’s good. He whimpers.

When Henry finally releases Alex’s mouth, it’s only because Alex is fighting for breath. He turns his attention to Alex’s neck, placing open-mouthed kisses down it as he quickly unfastens the rest of the buttons on Alex’s shirt and pushes it and his jacket off his shoulders. He trails kisses over Alex’s chest until he reaches his nipple, scraping his teeth over it until it hardens and then sucking it into his mouth, tongue flicking over it. When he has Alex squirming, he releases it and gives it a last lick before moving to the other side. This time he bites and then soothes with his tongue, until Alex is writhing against Henry’s hard-as-granite body, desperate for more… or less… something…

Henry snags Alex’s oversensitive nipple between his teeth and tugs. Alex jerks and gasps. “Wait.”

Henry stops immediately, brow furrowed. “What is it? Are you okay?”

Alex bites his lip. “Can I, um—Can I see?” He gestures toward Henry’s mouth. He still hasn’t allowed himself to say the word—the ridiculous word—but he suddenly wants proof that Henry is… what he is.

Henry’s confusion only lasts a fraction of a second; then he nods and carefully bares his teeth.

Alex watches in fascination as his incisors lengthen and sharpen.

Henry’s eyes are worried. “Is this… okay?”

“Fuck, yes. Why is that hot? Can I touch them?” He lifts his hand.

Henry jerks his head back as something feral flashes in his eyes. He snaps his mouth shut before Alex’s fingers reach their destination. “You won’t be able to touch them without breaking your skin.” Henry shivers. “And right now, I’m not certain I can control myself if I smell your blood.”

“Oh,” Alex breathes.

The image of Henry biting and licking… drinking… from Alex explodes in his mind, sending lines of fire racing through his body. His cock pulses a dribble of pre-come.

Henry’s gaze drops to Alex’s crotch and sharpens, as if he knows what just happened. Can he smell it? Fuck. The idea makes Alex’s cock leak more.

Henry darts forward, shoving his face into Alex’s neck, and Alex makes a sound that definitely isn’t a squeak. But Henry only licks and sucks at his pulse point. He nuzzles against Alex and breathes him in before nipping at the skin with teeth gone blunt again. He sucks a biting kiss there, hard enough that Alex knows it will leave a mark. The thought of it excites him more. “Please,” Alex whispers, chest heaving. Henry’s right. Alex is panting for it, begging for it, and he doesn’t care.

“Please what?” Henry says into his neck.

Alex can’t think. “I don’t know,” he gasps. “Just… please.”

“Can I suck you?”

Alex digs his fingers into Henry’s shoulders and arches against him. “Yes. Please. Yes.”

Henry does that thing again, where he moves faster than a human should be able to. There’s a blur and the next thing Alex knows, his pants are undone and pushed halfway down his thighs, and Henry is rubbing his cheek against the bulge in Alex’s boxers.

He finds the damp spot and pushes his nose into it, inhaling deeply before mouthing at it, sucking and licking the fabric. He curls his fingers under the elastic band and flicks his eyes up to Alex’s, silently asking for permission.

Alex nods and runs a hand across his own chest, brushing his tender nipples and enjoying the frisson of heat it sends quivering through his body.

Henry tugs Alex’s boxers over his erection and pushes them down and out of his way. He lifts his gaze and stares into Alex’s eyes as he licks up the underside of his cock, pausing at the top to dip his tongue into the slit. He uses his thumb to stroke the sensitive spot under the head and hums happily when he’s rewarded with more drops of fluid to lap up.

Alex moans and trembles as he struggles to keep still.

Henry pulls back and watches Alex’s cock intently as it continues leaking. He circles his thumb over the head, rubbing the new drops into the sensitive skin and smiling with satisfaction when Alex whines and his cock twitches in Henry’s hand.

He sucks him with intent after that, using his lips and tongue and the lightest brush of teeth, working Alex into a sweaty, needy mess. Just when Alex thinks he can’t take any more without exploding, Henry wraps one hand around his shaft and pulls back to suckle gently on the swollen head.

“Fuck.” The sight of Henry with his mouth full of Alex’s cock is too much. He’s flying too high. The muscles of his thighs and ass contract as his orgasm sparks at the base of his spine, hurtling him toward the point of no return. He grabs Henry by the hair and pulls him off. “Stop. You have to stop. I can’t—”

Henry looks up, blinking out of a daze. His pupils are blown; his mouth hanging open, red and slick. He licks his lips and Alex nearly comes from the sight. He reaches down, knocking Henry’s hand out of the way, and squeezes the base of his dick, hard.

Henry’s eyes immediately focus and then flash with authority. “Don’t come, Alex.”

“Fuck. I’m trying not to. Are you serious?”

He puts his hand around Alex’s throat. He doesn’t squeeze. It’s not anywhere near enough to be uncomfortable or endanger his air supply, but it’s enough to make Alex freeze, eyes widening as he forgets to breathe.

“I am extremely serious. Do not come, Alexander. Not without my permission. I’ll be very disappointed if you do.”

Alex’s whole body goes rigid, and he grunts through clenched teeth. “Not. Helping.”

“Ahh,” Henry murmurs. “You like that, don’t you, sweetheart?” He exerts the faintest amount of additional pressure on Alex’s throat.

Alex can’t even nod. All he can do is whine as his eyes roll back and flutter closed with the overwhelming pleasure of it.

Henry releases him. “Don’t move.”

He stands and undresses quickly and then pauses, letting Alex look at him.

“You’re beautiful,” he croaks, eyes roaming over him before coming to rest on his hard cock. The head is flushed and already pushed out of his foreskin, glistening in the candlelight. Alex’s mouth waters. “Beautiful.”

Henry crawls onto the chaise and over Alex’s body. He hovers there on hands and knees and kisses him deep and long, stealing his breath again. Then he drops his hips and rubs his hot, satiny smooth cock over Alex’s. They fall into a rhythm quickly, arching and thrusting against one another. Just when Alex’s orgasm begins gathering again, Henry returns to his position on hands and knees. Alex groans and thrusts upward, chasing him. Henry balances on one hand and shoves Alex down with the other. “Be good.”

“Fuuuck,” Alex moans.

Henry drags his tongue up the side of Alex’s neck and whispers hotly in his ear. “I’m going to fuck myself on you, Alex. And you are not going to come until I say you can.”

He raises his head and holds Alex’s gaze, leaving room for Alex to object to this plan, which Alex has no intention of doing. He wants this more than he’s ever wanted anything. “Yes.”

Henry spits into his hand and reaches between them. He strokes Alex’s cock quickly and then lines it up with his hole.

“Wait,” Alex says, shocked, “Don’t we need to—”

Henry smiles. “Special perks of being a vampire. I heal too quickly to feel pain. And I can’t catch or share diseases.” His smile widens. “Plus, you leak a lot, love. We’ll be fine.”

“Oh god,” Alex whispers. “Okay.”

Henry lets out a long, low groan as he sinks down on Alex’s cock. Alex grasps at him with greedy fingers, scratching up his thighs and squeezing his hips, but he holds himself still and lets Henry control the speed of his descent.

After he bottoms out, Henry tips forward to press his mouth against Alex’s. They don’t kiss so much as share breath, inhaling together and then exhaling shakily as Henry starts rocking his hips. Time stretches, slow and sweet. Their bodies fit together as well as their two half-souls. It’s perfect, and Alex could live here, in this moment, forever.

But soon Henry is finding his rhythm, moving faster, pushing up and then rising on his knees until Alex’s cock nearly slides out, and then slamming down, impaling himself on it again and again. They trade small sounds and whimpers back and forth like a conversation until their breathing turns harsh and fast.

Oh god. Oh god. Alex can’t remember any other words. He’s surprised he remembers those. The pleasure Henry’s tight heat is wringing from him is so intense his body breaks out in goosebumps that tingle from his scalp to his curling toes. The small space fills with the slick, slapping sounds of their bodies coming together, their grunts and moans. Alex digs his fingers into the flexing muscles of Henry’s thighs. It’s all too much and not enough at the same time. “Please,” he begs. “Please.”

Sweat rolls down Henry’s flushed, heaving chest. His head is thrown back and his eyes are barely open, but his voice when he speaks is demanding and darkly amused. “Please what, Alex?”

The words come out of nowhere. Born as a thought in the same moment he says them. “Bite me.”

Henry slams himself down one last time and falls forward onto his hands, stilling as he searches Alex’s face. “What?”

Alex groans in frustration and punches his hips up. “Don’t stop.”

Henry grabs his chin, forcing Alex to be still and look at him. “What did you say?”

“Please.” The idea of Henry doing it has Alex so close to the edge he has to clench every muscle in his body to keep from coming. “Bite me.”

Henry’s mouth is hanging open in disbelief, so Alex sees the moment when his incisors drop and sharpen. His own face must do a thing, because Henry closes his mouth and then opens it only as much as he has to in order to say, “Are you certain?”

“I won’t turn into a vampire, right?” Alex pants and squirms. He wants this, and he wants Henry to fucking start moving again.

“That’s werewolves, Alex. You have to drink my blood to turn into a vampire.”

“Wait. Holy shit. Are werewolves real, too?”

Henry opens his mouth to respond, but doesn’t get the chance because Alex cannot deal with that right now. “Fuck. Never mind. Tell me later.” Alex drives his hips upward again, making both of them gasp. “I’m certain. Fuck me, Henry. Bite me. Please.”

It’s all the invitation Henry needs. He makes a keening noise and hurls himself forward, burying his face in Alex’s neck.

For a fraction of a moment, as Henry’s teeth sink into him, there’s a sharp pain. But the sting of the bite quickly gives way to an all-consuming fire that races along Alex’s nerve endings and directly to his cock. He shudders and moans and grabs the back of Henry’s head, holding him in place. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

He can feel Henry swallowing, hear his gulps and the high, desperate sound he’s making as he drinks. He squeezes Alex with his legs and clenches around Alex’s cock as starts rocking his hips again, faster and faster until finally he shoves himself upright and snarls as his orgasm detonates. His come splashes over Alex’s abs and chest as he shouts through lips stained with Alex’s blood. “Come for me, Alex! Now!”

Alex cries out and erupts. He convulses as his back arches up off the chaise until only his shoulders and feet are still in contact with it. It forces Henry to fall forward and Alex collapses back again under his weight. He throws his arms around Henry, pulling him into his chest as his hips continue thrusting. His orgasm spirals on and on, impossibly long, until finally he sags back into the cushions, completely exhausted and trembling with aftershocks.

By the time his muscles stop quivering, he’s having trouble keeping his eyes open. He’s warm and sleepy and Henry’s weight on top of him is perfect. He could lie like this forever. He thinks about telling Henry that, but dozes off before he can.

∨ ∨

Alex rolls onto his side and groans. His head is killing him. He smacks his lips together and stretches a hand out toward the nightstand, hoping he remembered to put a glass of water there last night. When his fingers encounter nothing, he opens his eyes and squints at the empty surface. Ugh.

He pushes himself up and sits on the edge of the bed for a minute, checking in with his body. He’s not nauseated or dizzy, which is a good sign, but the thump in his head means he definitely drank too much last night.

Last night…

Last night was The Masquerade!

It had been amazing. He couldn’t wait to tell Nora how everyone was…

And how much he liked…

And the…

Huh. That’s weird.

He had the time of his life, he’s sure of it, but he’s having trouble recalling anything specific. Everything is fuzzy. It must be the hangover. His brain is all shriveled from dehydration. Once he’s had a couple sports drinks and rested some more, it will all get clearer.

He shuffles to the kitchen to grab the first bottle and brings it with him to the shower, guzzling the cold, sugary drink while the hot water drums into his skin and turns the room steamy. By the time he dries off and changes into a t-shirt and a pair of sweats, he’s feeling more like himself.

He’s on his way back to the fridge for the second bottle when there’s a knock at the door. He smiles. Nora didn’t even call first. He yanks the door open, already laughing, “You’re so impatient! You couldn’t wait—oh.” His words crash to a halt because it’s not Nora standing there. It’s a tall man with perfectly styled blond hair that swoops back from his forehead and bright blue eyes that glow. He’s wearing a soft-looking gray sweater, and he’s… he’s so beautiful Alex has to clear his throat and try twice before his words work. “Um. Hello. Can I help you?”

The blond’s eyes shimmer with wetness, but his smile is enormous, creasing his cheeks and forcing a tear to spill over. “I certainly hope so.” He lifts a hand and before Alex can flinch away, the stranger strokes his fingers down Alex’s cheek.

“What—” Alex’s body goes rigid, and he loses all awareness of the world around him as visions hammer into his psyche, one after the other. Henry protecting him, kissing him, claiming him. Henry saying the word soulmates. The basement nightclub. Henry baring his teeth. Henry riding him and screaming his name.

Henry.

Then there’s a vision different from the rest. It’s calm and clear and bathed in warm light. Alex is standing in front of a mirror. He’s wearing a suit and fussing with a golden circlet resting on his head, trying to get it to sit right in his curls. Henry walks up behind him and slides his arms around Alex’s waist before pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. He’s wearing a crown, too, and the beautiful smile he gives Alex is overflowing with happiness.

The vision fades slowly, and the room around him comes back into focus. Alex blinks and reaches up to put his hand over Henry’s, where it still rests on Alex’s cheek. Relief courses through him, and tension he didn’t even know he had melts from his body. “It’s you.”

Henry kisses him. “It’s me.”

“Thank god.”

Henry rains kisses over Alex’s face. Over his cheeks, across his jaw, down to his lips. He rubs his nose against Alex’s. “I missed you.”

Alex chuckles. “It’s only been a few hours.”

“Too long,” he insists.

Alex kisses him, cradling his face as if he’s something precious. “We’re together now, right?” he mumbles into Henry’s mouth.

“Yes.” Henry sucks Alex’s lower lip into his mouth and nibbles on it.

When he releases it, Alex says, “For how long?”

“That depends on you, love. It could be forever. If you wanted.”

“Forever, huh? I like the sound of that.”

Henry smiles and kisses him again, soft and unhurried, because they have all the time in the world now.

After a few minutes of losing himself in the bliss of Henry’s mouth, Alex pulls away and says, “Henry?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“In my vision, we were both wearing crowns. What does that mean?”

Henry kisses the tip of Alex’s nose. “Did I forget to mention that I’m a prince?”

Alex snorts. “Prince of vampires?”

“Well. Yes. More or less.”

Alex blinks at him for a moment, waiting for the joke. When one doesn’t arrive, he takes a step back and crosses his arms. “I have questions.”

Henry laughs and pulls him into another embrace. “Of course you do.”