Authors: Alex Kidwell
“It’s perfect,” Victor assured, moving to the other side of the bed to help Randall with the sheets. “It was obviously built with love.” He hesitated before adding, “Am I wrong in guessing that this place has something to do with Anthony’s mate?”
A sad, rueful smile touched Randall’s lips. He moved over to turn off the light, reaching out to take Victor’s hand and lead him carefully to the balcony. When they stood outside, the lake was like a shimmering blanket spread out in front of them, the stars reflected in the inky black. “He built it for Vil. I think he really thought Vil would come back. It was going to be theirs, and Edwin and I would have the main cabin to ourselves. Originally, the whole top floor was the bedroom. The bottom floor was going to be the kitchen, a den with a huge fireplace lined with river rocks….” Randall sighed, shoulder rising in a shrug. “But he stopped. I think he realized that Vil was gone. We turned it into a workshop and these bedrooms. Ant always said if we got married we could live here, but I don’t think either one of us could. It’s not ours.”
It was Anthony’s. It was yet another dream he’d given up for his brothers.
“Come on.” Randall gave Victor a slight smile, moving to turn the light back on, ruining the view in favor of finishing making the bed. “You look tired. I should let you get some sleep.”
Victor approached him, reaching out to take Randall’s hands. “Where shall I meet you for dinner tomorrow?”
“My room?” Randall squeezed his fingers gently. “I’ll come straight home and change. I have to be at the library at seven tomorrow morning, and then I have a half shift at the grocery store, but I should be back home by seven at the latest. And then I’ll have one of my rare days off for Anthony’s appointments, so we don’t have to worry about being out too late.”
“All right. I’ll borrow Jed’s Jeep so I can drive us out.” Victor leaned in to brush a kiss over Randall’s cheek, the contact lingering. “Sleep well, Randall.”
“Sweet dreams, Victor.”
Dreams
were not something Randall was on the best terms with. Before Cairo, his idea of a nightmare had been being naked in class without his homework. But then….
Well. And then he’d been collared like a dog, he’d been
fed from
, and he’d honestly thought, to the very bottom of his being, that he was going to die like that. Or worse, that he’d live, that he’d be broken down and used as a pet for the vampires’ amusement. There was no one, he’d known, who could have saved him. His brothers wouldn’t even know something was wrong until it was too late.
In those days, Randall had been utterly helpless. Shifting only got him more abuse. They didn’t even
like
feeding from him, he apparently smelled terrible to them, but they’d done it. Not to slake their hunger, but to cause him pain. They thought it was funny.
Randall hadn’t spoken about Cairo to his brothers. He saw no need to. They knew he’d been taken, that he’d been rescued, and now he was back home. They knew he covered his arms now, that he wouldn’t appreciate someone commenting on his neck. And that was all. What was the point of dwelling on it? Anthony and Edwin had enough real problems without Randall’s imagined ones. He was alive. That should have been enough.
That night, though, when he closed his eyes, when his brain put him right back into those moments, it didn’t feel like enough. It felt like he was dying all over again, that fear eating him from the inside. He couldn’t move, couldn’t fight back. He was helpless.
Waking with a start, Randall lay in bed, panting, trying to get his racing heart under control. His shirt was soaked through with sweat, his sheets a twisted tangle around his legs. Slowly, he forced himself up, so exhausted it felt like every movement was lifting a mountain. He tugged off his shirt, grimacing at how clammy and overheated he felt.
It was four in the morning. He had two hours until his alarm would go off. Randall desperately needed the sleep, but he found himself utterly unwilling to risk another dream. He checked in with Anthony, who for once was sound asleep, tugging the covers back up around his brother’s shoulders. Edwin was sprawled out in his bed on his back, limbs everywhere, Knievel dozing on his chest. Everything was quiet and still.
Randall shivered in the cool night air as he slipped outside, still shirtless. He made his way down to the lake, wandering aimlessly. The huge sky overhead reminded him that he was free, that he wasn’t shoved into a dank hole to die. With his bare toes wiggling in the wet mud at the edge of the lake, Randall considered it. It used to be bigger, the lake, when Vilhehn and his family had been here. The fish had been huge and numerous; lush plants had grown at the edge. Now it was so much less.
But the water was chilly and clean, the half-moon reflected in the soft waves. Randall stripped off his pajama pants, waded into the shallows, and then ducked his head under the water. The sweat of his nightmare was washed away, the calm stillness of the lake soothing him. He swam out to the center with strong strokes and floated there, staring up at the sky, letting his mind still.
When he’d been younger, he’d believed that the lake was alive, that it protected them. Even though he knew such a notion was childish, Randall felt a little more comforted, just floating in the middle of the water, letting himself drift.
When he finally swam back to shore, he felt more relaxed than he had in days. It was temporary, he knew, it was nothing but a brief respite, but it was something. Nothing about his life had changed out there in the water, but at least now he felt a little less like he was being swallowed whole by it.
No one was awake when Randall left for work. The hours passed far too slowly, work sliding him into a kind of numb half awareness. He shelved books he didn’t have time to read, far too many paperbacks with half-naked people on the covers, he ate half a peanut butter sandwich alone in the break room, and when he was finally released, he went straight to the grocery store to tie on his apron and attach his name badge. The navy-blue polo the store required him to wear was unobtrusive enough he could get away with it both places. Of course, the library thought him to have an extremely limited wardrobe, but Randall would hardly be winning any fashion awards regardless, so his wounded ego was easily mended.
Bagging groceries was possibly the most numbing job Randall could imagine. It was just engaging enough that he couldn’t mentally drift off, while simultaneously being so repetitive that he couldn’t seem to grasp hold of anything to challenge him. By the time he dragged himself out to the car, Randall wished he could just curl up in the backseat and sleep.
But Victor was coming to take him out. And that alone was worth forcing himself to stay awake.
He ran in the door, later than he’d wanted because of traffic, and went straight to the shower. No matter how little time he had, Randall was desperate to wash off the sweat of the day. When he emerged a few minutes later, toweling off his damp hair, robe wrapped tight around him, he found Edwin and Anthony waiting for him with big grins. “So,” Edwin said, practically wiggling in excitement, “you have a
date
.”
“Have you two just been waiting for me to walk in so you can point that out?” Randall headed past them to his room, digging through his closet frantically for something to wear. “If you’re going to mock me, at least be helpful.”
“Being helpful is for people with fashion sense,” Anthony said sagely. “We don’t have any.”
Randall glanced over at Edwin in his ragged T-shirt and Anthony in his flannel. “You’re right,” he agreed. “Get out, you’re both horrible.”
He shut the door to the sound of their gleeful laughter. “Wear something that’s not a sweater vest!” Anthony called through the door.
“Shut up,” Randall responded. He looked down at the vest he’d pulled out of the closet, sighing and dropping it onto the bed. He chose a simple shirt instead, slacks, a tie. Dressing quickly, he glanced at himself in the mirror.
Oh, God, he was a mess.
He yanked open the door to find both Edwin and Anthony waiting for him, and gave them a panicked look. “This is bad, right?” His fingers ran over the tie, looking down at himself. “When did I get so fat? And I should just wear a bag over my head, right? God, why did I agree to do this? I’m not a date person. I look terrible.”
Anthony gave him a pat on the shoulder. “You look great, Randall,” he said. “I mean it. Victor’s not even going to care what you’re wearing.”
“Because I look horrible,” Randall agreed miserably. He turned on his heel and went back to the closet, digging through it, tossing clothes everywhere. “Maybe a different tie?” Or a different face.
Anthony was chuckling behind him, dragging Randall away from the closet. “No, because he’s so smitten he only cares if you turn up,” he corrected. “You think you’re nervous about clothes? The guy turned up in a three-piece suit earlier today.”
“He’s wearing a
suit
?” Oh, God. Randall immediately started undoing his tie. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Here.” Edwin was standing there with a tan sport coat, a deep-green tie, and a dark-blue shirt. “Put this on.”
“What—”
“Jed and I watched daytime television today.” Edwin nodded sagely. “Trust me.” He paused and wrinkled his nose. “Also, television is
boring
.”
Randall took the clothes. “Why did you watch, then?”
Edwin shrugged. “Jed and Redford wanted to relax. We went for a run and then swimming and then tried to fish, only there wasn’t anything biting and they had no idea what they were doing. Jed just kind of poked the water with a stick. I think they got tired.” Giving Randall a grin, he shoved his shoulder. “Now go get dressed. Victor’s been pacing outside for the past ten minutes.” They left, and Anthony shut the door behind them.
Randall studied himself in the mirror after he got dressed again. He ran a hand through his hair, adjusted his glasses, and wondered if it was possible to be any more nervous than he was right then.
It turned out that yes, it was. Because when he heard Victor coming up to the door, all the butterflies that had been beating around his stomach turned into a cyclone that twisted him up completely. Letting out a shaky breath, Randall forced himself to wait for the knock, going over to let Victor in.
Victor was indeed wearing a three-piece suit, the perfectly tailored kind that only came with significant money. There was even the chain of a pocket watch hanging out of the pocket of the gray pinstripe waistcoat, a burnished silver to match the rest of the suit. Despite all of that, Victor looked just as nervous as he did.
He also looked incredible. In the middle of all his worry, Randall felt a smile start, a giddy little lift to his gut that made it impossible to not grin.
“Are you ready?” Victor asked. The once-over he gave Randall was obvious, his gaze darting up and down the length of Randall’s body. “You look fantastic, by the way.”
Randall ducked his head as he exhaled a laugh. “I think that word’s being used up by you, actually. You, uh. Yes. You look very good.”
“Oh my God, you two.” Jed and Redford had apparently shown up to watch the show. Jed smirked widely at both of them, sprawled out on the couch with Redford’s legs on his lap—Randall’s door was only just visible from the living room, and they’d obviously deliberately placed themselves on the one couch with viewing access. “Just kiss or nerd bump or whatever it is you people do and get going.”
Victor decisively took Randall’s hand. “Do be quiet, Jed,” he said carelessly and turned back to Randall. “Shall we take our leave of this rabble and go somewhere with good company?”
“I think that sounds perfect.” Randall squeezed Victor’s fingers lightly, and they walked down the hall and toward the front door. Edwin was grinning at the both of them, and he darted up to give Victor a big hug.
“If you hurt him, I have teeth, and I will rip your throat out,” Edwin informed Victor cheerfully.
“Edwin!” Randall gave him an exasperated look, gaze going to Anthony. “Could you please, Ant?”
“What?” Anthony just looked deeply amused. “Oh, right. Edwin, don’t threaten people. It’s rude.” He reached out to shake Victor’s hand. “If you break his heart, we really will wrestle.”
“Okay,” Randall sighed. “That’s enough testosterone for the day.”
“Hey.” Jed whistled, stopping Randall in his tracks. “Fur boy. You hurt the princess and I’ll find my explosives. Got it?” He gave them both a charming smirk. “Have fun!”
“Dear God, can we leave now?” Victor groaned. “We’re leaving. Come on, Randall.” Still looking faintly perturbed at Edwin and Anthony’s threats—and perhaps more especially at Jed’s gesture of protectiveness—Victor tugged Randall out the door.
The moment they were outside, Randall started laughing. He couldn’t help it. “You might not believe this,” he told Victor, shaking his head, “but that actually went better than I’d expected it to.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Victor huffed. In less of a hurry now that they’d escaped outside, they walked toward Jed’s Jeep.
“The first boy who came to take me out, I was eighteen.” They both climbed inside the Jeep, snapping on seat belts, getting themselves settled. “Edwin bit him. Twice. Needless to say, we never made it on the date.”
As Victor started up the engine, he smiled. “I’ll consider myself lucky that I remain unbitten, then.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Randall murmured, looking out the window rather than at Victor. “I wouldn’t think a little biting this evening would be so bad.”
“Neither would I,” Victor agreed slyly. “Now, before I start driving in any particular direction, do you have a preference for type of restaurant? Are you allergic to anything?”
Randall shook his head. “We don’t often eat out, so I’m afraid my input will be limited. I’d prefer it if some sort of meat was available, but it’s not a necessity. I really don’t expect anything, Victor.” Randall relaxed back into the seat. “Fast food would be fine with me.”
“Well, we’re certainly not going to go through a drive-through.” Victor seemed appalled at the very idea. “We’ll have Italian, then. There’s a place in town I’m quite fond of, and I think you’d like it.”