Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Do you like your meat raw or cooked?” Alastor pulled a plate of raw steak out of the fridge. Alastor was pleased that he always kept his kitchen stocked. As a vampire, he didn’t need food to survive, but he always liked to have some around for guests. His foresight and generosity were now rewarding him.  

Adam sneered at Alastor from the kitchen table. It was adorable. There was hardly anything Adam could do that Alastor didn’t find cute or humorous. 

Alastor waited for Adam to answer.

Adam remained silent.

Alastor clicked his tongue. “Now, Adam, I understand you are feeling put out. However, you are going to eat. I would prefer to feed you something that you will enjoy, but if you’re going to be stubborn, then I will just have to guess.” 

Adam crossed his arms over his bare chest. Adam refused to wear any clothes Alastor offered him. No matter. Alastor kept his manor well heated. If Adam preferred to live in the nude, he would be safe to do so. An issue would only arise when Adam insisted he wanted to go outside. It was too cold for Adam to be outside in the nude. 

Adam continued to hold his tongue on the matter of food preference. 

Shrugging, Alastor shut the fridge and headed over to the stove with the steak. Alastor grabbed a pan off the pan rack and set it on the stove. He went about gathering seasonings and cooking the steak. Alastor added a dash of rosemary and grinned as he sprinkled garlic powder onto the meat. 

A steak with garlic butter and rosemary. 

Alastor hoped Adam would catch on to the subtle joke he was making with Adam’s food. Alas, Adam seemed so focused on defying him, Alastor mourned that his joke most likely would go unappreciated. 

Alastor hummed a little tune to himself as he seared the steak. Occasionally, Adam’s chair would squeak or shuffle as Adam adjusted his weight. Every time it didn’t, Alastor would beam over his shoulder at Adam, who would scowl at him. It was a lovely scowl that showed off Adam’s teeth.

There was no doubt in Alastor’s mind that if he had not commanded Adam to remain seated until he ate something, Adam would have sprung from the chair and made another attempt at escape.  

The steak sizzled in the pan, and the aroma of garlic and rosemary filled the kitchen. 

Adam’s stomach growled. 

Adam angrily hissed and glared down at his stomach. 

Alastor turned off the stove with a flick of his wrist. With quick and efficient movements, he retrieved a plate from his cupboard and plated Adam’s steak. Alastor topped the steak with a bit of garnish, then served it to Adam. 

Adam reared back in his chair, trying to put distance between himself and the steak. His nostrils flared as the delicious aroma reached his nose. His stomach let out another growl, and his fingers gripped the edge of the table with enough force to turn his knuckles white. “Fuck you,” Adam spat.

Alastor sighed forlornly as he pulled out the chair closest to Adam and gracefully lowered himself onto it. “Come now, you have a better vocabulary than that.” 

“I’ll say whatever the fuck I want to.” Adam sneered. 

Alastor cast aside his table manners and rested his elbows on the table. He laced his fingers together, creating a bridge for him to rest his chin on as he studied Adam. It was quite impressive how much anger Adam could maintain over the course of an evening into the morning. Most would be exhausted, but not Adam. No, his frail body quaked with his anger.  

“Prove it.” The taunt flowed easily from Alastor’s tongue. It was a gamble whether Adam would take the bait, but he was confident it was a bet he would win. 

“You’re a creep.” Adam jabbed his finger into Alastor’s chest. “A freaky creep, and if you think I’m gonna get some stupid-ass Stockholm-whatever, then you can choke on a dick.” 

“You can think of a cleverer insult than that.”

Adam held up his middle finger. “Fuck you. You’re not getting a piece of my ass.” 

Intrigue sparked inside Alastor. He placed a hand over his unbeating heart and held the other up as if swearing a vow. “If you fear that my intention is to rape you, then I promise you that is not so.” 

“I mean ever, asshole!”

Alastor shrugged. “Very well.” Sex was not a priority for Alastor. Although he had dabbled over the years, he had never hungered for it like others did, and of the handful of partners he’d had, there were few with whom he enjoyed the activity. It was humorous, though, to watch as some of his partners became more emotionally attached to him afterwards.

He wouldn’t mind the opportunity to see if Adam would become one of those partners, but alas, if Adam was uninterested in exploring such possibilities, then Alastor would starve his curiosity until Adam changed his mind. If he ever did. 

“Yeah, well, good!” Adam shouted, his cheeks rosy and plump with blood. His heart pounded in his chest in a furious rhythm. “So how about you let me go now?” 

“But you’re malnourished.” Alastor placed a hand on cheek. He feigned horror at Adam’s suggestion. “Look at you.” Faster than Adam could blink, Alastor picked up Adam’s thin arm and held it between them. “Skin and bones.” With same speed, he rushed out of his chair to stand behind Adam and carded his fingers through Adam’s hair. Even after last night’s washing, there was a coarseness to the strands. Alastor scoffed. “And your hair.” Alastor squeezed Adam’s cheeks between his forefinger and thumb—they were bony and covered in scruff. “Don’t get me started on your skin.” 

Adam twisted his head and snapped his teeth at Alastor’s thumb, but Alastor withdrew his touch before Adam could bite him.    

Alastor returned to his chair. He was tempted to rest his palm on Adam’s leg in a comforting gesture, but he’d already teased the darling mercilessly. “You need care, and I am an excellent caretaker.” 

“You’re full of shit.”

“Believe me or not, but your breakfast is getting cold, and you need a good meal.” Alastor pushed the plate closer to Adam with his finger. 

Adam snarled, then opened his mouth, but a growl from his stomach cut him off before he could argue further. Adam glanced down at the steak—the luscious, juicy steak, covered in delicious garlic butter and rosemary, and seared so beautifully around the edges it would make for a fantastic photo. It would be a travesty if no one ate it, and the way Adam’s eyes dilated as he took in the sight of the steak, Alastor knew Adam had similar thoughts. 

A bit of drool crept out of the corner of Adam’s mouth. He hunched his head between his shoulders and clenched his jaw, trying to resist his body’s needs with temptation mere inches away. 

Adam wrestled with himself. The poor dear was so full of pride, which was such a wondrous thing considering the state Alastor had found him in. There was still some fight left in Adam, which Alastor would happily cultivate. A werewolf should be strong, and Adam needed to be strong if Alastor intended to keep him by his side. 

Adam picked up his fork and knife off the table, but he didn’t dig into his meal. Instead, he glanced suspiciously at Alastor. 

“I didn’t poison it,” Alastor said teasingly. How hilarious it would be if Adam was hesitating because he thought his steak was poisoned. Adam had watched Alastor prepare it in front of him; he should know better. 

“Like I trust you, bitch.” Adam huffed. Despite his harsh words, he cut into the steak, slicing off a thin chunk, then spearing it on his fork. He sniffed the meat as juices dripped down the fork. Adam popped the meat into his mouth and tensed as if expecting to drop dead the second his tongue touched the steak. 

A silent beat passed, then Adam moaned, his whole body slumping forward as he chewed on the bite, then swallowed. “Wow. You didn’t fuck it up.” 

What a passive-aggressive way for Adam to say he liked Alastor’s cooking. Alastor hoped that in the future Adam would be more direct with his compliments. For now, Alastor would overlook Adam’s slight against him. 

Adam’s actions were far more telling than his words. Now that Adam had had a taste of Alastor’s cooking, Adam couldn’t contain himself. Adam cut into the steak with vigor, wasting no time stuffing his mouth with one morsel after the other. 

Alastor preened with pride. 

It was a lovely moment, and Alastor wished to bask in it. 

Which was why he had to fight off a scowl of his own when he heard the front door of his manor slam open, then shut. 

“Heya, Smiles! Your Meals on Wheels is here! Try not to bite so hard this time. You left a bruise that made Whiskers all protective and possessive!” The sound of heavy boot falls clomped through Alastor’s foyer. The footsteps were familiar to Alastor, and if he had not already recognized Angel by his voice, Alastor would have identified Angel as his intruder based on the sound of his movements.

Angel’s movements, and the accompanying sound of Husker’s, AKA “Whiskers’”, shuffling closely behind.

While Angel’s movements were loud and sloppy, which made him easy to detect, Husker’s movements were quiet. 

“Now, why did you have to tell him that?” Annoyance bled into Husker’s deep voice. “You know he’s an asshole.” 

Angel chuckled. “I don’t know. Maybe he’ll give me a bigger bruise that you can spend the next week taking care of,” Angel shifted into his baby voice. Alastor didn’t have to see Angel and Husker to know that Angel was leaning into Husker’s space, trying to goad Husker into touching him. 

Those two lovebirds were sickeningly sweet. 

Adam shot out of his chair, knocking it to the floor. He cupped his hand around his mouth as ran toward the kitchen exit. “Help! This sick freak is trying to have butt sex with me!” 

Alastor rolled his eyes. “Adam, stay.”

Adam froze just a few paces outside of the kitchen. “Bitch!” Adam snapped at Alastor.

Alastor sighed in exasperation. Angel and Husker’s rushing footsteps were approaching the kitchen, and growing louder as Angel came into view. Angel was a tall and nimble figure, with subtle muscles from the years he’d spent dancing at strip clubs. While Alastor had few opportunities to see Angel fight over the years, he knew that the man was more than capable of fending for himself against a few handsy drunks and knew his way around a gun. 

And the smaller and more muscular Husker, who was never too far away from Angel, would always take care of anything Angel couldn’t handle swiftly.  

Angel’s heterochromia gaze widened comically as he stopped just out of reach of Adam. He scanned Adam from head to toe, strands of blond falling loose from his styled hair. A powder-pink jacket clung to his torso, zipped halfway up to allow his strapless top to peek out. Angel’s attention shifted past Adam’s shoulder to Alastor. “What the fuck, Smiles?”

Husker came up behind Angel, twining his arm protectively around Angel’s waist. “Do we even want to know what kind of shit you’re up to?” Husker flashed a bit of fang at Alastor.

Alastor resisted the urge to flash his fangs back at Husker. They were longtime comrades, but more important than that, they were two vampires with both of their fixations in the same room—Angel and Adam. 

Vampires weren’t fond of others messing with their fixations, and while Husker usually trusted Alastor with Angel, Adam was a new element. 

Husker was no saint. He was cynical, and he wasn’t afraid to snap at those he perceived as rude or annoying. However, he also knew when to keep his cards close to his chest, to sit and observe instead of making a move. When it came to keeping Angel, his friend and partner, safe, all bets were off. 

Although Alastor hardly knew Adam, he felt much the same about Adam in that moment, and he did not appreciate the waves of anger and judgement rolling off of Husker.  

“Stand down, Husker. I have no interest in harming Angel, and Adam isn’t a threat.” Alastor closed the distance between him and Adam, clamping his hand on Adam’s bony shoulder. 

Adam jerked his shoulder away, and Alastor let it go. “Ew,” Adam shouted. “Don’t touch me.” 

“Hold on a minute.” Angel held his hands up, signaling for everyone to stop. “Hold on one stinking minute.” He pointed to Adam, then to Alastor. “Is what I think going on here happening?”

“Depends,” Alastor said lightheartedly. 

“No way.” Angel reached behind him for Husker, and Husker, ever faithful, scooped up Angel’s hand in his. Angel squeezed Husker’s hand. “No fucking way!” Angel spun around, shoving his face into Husker’s. “Smiles has got a fixation! Holy fuck!”

Husker glanced around Angel to eye Adam.

“Are you going to fucking help me or what!” Adam stomped his foot. 

Husker grimaced, then glanced up at Angel. “I doubt that.” 

Adam waved his arms. “Hello! I’m right here. Listen,” Adam reached for the collar around his neck and tugged, “just rip this thing off me, okay?”

Angel spun around to face Adam. He placed his palm on Adam’s shoulder and squeezed. “Listen, babe, I know you’re freaking out. Trust me, there is a lot to freak out about, but even if you weren’t Alastor’s fixation, I couldn’t help ya. Alastor would break my wrist before I could free ya.”

“He better fucking not,” Husker grumbled. 

Alastor abso-fucking-lutely would. He appreciated Angel’s company and the many blood donations Angel had made to him over the years, but anyone who got between him and Adam would be lucky if they walked away with only a few broken bones. 

“Listen, you’re dealing with crazy fucking vampires, and Alastor is one of the craziest.” Angel redirected his attention to Alastor. “No offense.”

Alastor puffed out his chest with pride. “None taken.” 

“You’re now, like, the center of Alastor’s world,” Angel continued to explain to Adam. “His creepy, weird, and deranged world. But hey, the good news is your ass is safe. Nuns have a bigger sex drive than this guy.” Angel nodded in Alastor’s direction, a confident smirk on his lips. 

“Are you fucking serious?” Adam gawked at Angel. 

Angel patted Adam on the shoulder and pivoted away. “Yup. Sorry, toots. Shits rough, ain’t it?” Angel unzipped his jacket, revealing his bare stomach. He tugged the sleeves of his jacket down his arms, then slipped the rest of it off. 

A faded brown bruise lingered on the right side of Angel’s neck where Alastor had bitten him last, but it wasn’t alone. Without his jacket on, Angel’s arms and most of his torso were on display. Smaller, fresher bruises speckled his skin like freckles, revealing the path forged by Husker’s teeth, making it impossible to distinguish where Husker had bitten Angel to drink his blood and where Husker had affectionately left hickies to show his love. 

Angel held out his jacket for Husker to hold on to, and Husker took it without further request. Angel smiled at Husker. “Thanks, Whiskers.” 

Angel stretched his arms above his head and cracked his neck. “All right, Smiles, where you wanna do this? We putting on a demonstration for your guy or what?”

Adam reared away from Angel. “What are you going to do?”

“Feed him. Duh.” Angel rolled his eyes. “Unless you’re volunteering.” 

“Oh, hell no!” Adam shouted. 

Angel chuckled. “Thought as much.”

“I have a room in mind. Follow me.” Alastor clasped his hand behind his back, striding past Adam, Angel, and Husker then pausing. He looked over his shoulder at Husker. “Oh, Husker, would you mind keeping an eye on Adam? I’ll return the favor, of course. Angel won’t leave my sight for a moment.”

Husker’s hackles rose. Good, he’d picked up the threat. If anything happened to Adam, then Angel would suffer the same fate. “Keep pushing and maybe Angel will stop feeding ya.”

Alastor chuckled and then turned his attention to Adam. “Adam, dear, feel free to roam the manor while I’m feeding, but stay within Husker’s sight, understood?” 

Adam held up his middle finger. 

That was all the confirmation Alastor needed. After all, Adam couldn’t resist his command even if he wanted to.

Alastor led Angel back to the foyer and up the stairs to his study. He bypassed the bookshelves on his walls and went to his minibar, where he poured Angel a shot of brandy in a crystal glass. The door to his study shut with a click. Alastor was immediately intrigued. Angel was not shy about being bitten, and with Husker and Adam as the only ones around to walk in on them, there was even less of a need for privacy.  

Angel sauntered over to Alastor, taking the glass of brandy from Alastor’s grasp. Angel huffed as he swirled the amber liquid. “You really need to work on getting a sweet tooth, Smiles. You start offering sweet drinks, and I’ll drink enough to get both of us drunk.” 

Alastor waved away Angel’s offer. “And ruin the taste of your blood? A little brandy to season is enough.” 

“Whatever you say.” Angel brought the glass to his lips and threw his head back. Angel downed the brandy in a couple of seconds. He righted himself, then returned the glass to Alastor, and Alastor set it aside to wash later. 

Angel hooked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at an armchair. “Now, sit your ass down.” 

Alastor did as Angel requested, taking his time lowering himself into the chair. He spread his legs the perfect amount that would ensure comfort for himself and Angel as he fed. No sooner had he assumed the position, Angel dropped himself into Alastor’s lap. He hooked his arms around Alastor’s neck as Alastor’s palm came up to brace against the cradle of Angel’s back. 

“Hey, Smiles.” Angel’s hot breath smelled of brandy. “You know how I said to bite me gently so I don’t bruise?”

Alastor hummed in acknowledgement. 

“Ignore that. I wanna see Husk get all huffy again.” Angel smirked. 

Ah, so that was why Angel had shut the door. Vampiric hearing made it rather difficult to keep secrets from vampires, even when the vampire in question was rooms away. Depending on where Husker was standing, he may or may not have heard Angel’s request. 

Regardless, Alastor was ecstatic to oblige Angel. “I would be delighted.”

Chapter Text

Adam hurled a punch at Husker’s fucking ugly face. 

Instead of smashing the shorter guy’s face in, Adam’s fist slammed into Husker’s open palm. Adam hadn’t even seen the guy move. One second, Husker was grumbling under his breath as he scrounged around in the fridge, and the next Husker was scowling at Adam with Adam’s hand cushioned in his palm. 

Husker’s touch was ice cold. Adam suspected it wasn’t because the guy had just been rifling through whatever Alastor kept in his fridge. Vampires were supposed to be cold.

“I wouldn’t recommend doing that.” Husker squeezed Adam’s fist, applying enough pressure to make Adam wince. Just a little more and Adam would be in immense pain.

“Ah, shit!” Adam cursed.

Husker swiftly released Adam’s fist, and Adam hurriedly tugged his arm back. 

“Fuck! Are all of you bloodsuckers super strong?” Adam shook out his palm and flexed his fingers. Luckily, his hand wasn’t permanently damaged. He hadn’t played a guitar in years, but if he ever got his hands on one again, it would be a bitch if he couldn’t play it. 

Husker shut the fridge door. He crossed his arms over his chest as he examined Adam. The way Husker studied Adam pissed Adam off. There was something so high and mighty about him, like he was the one looking down at Adam, even though Adam had more than a head’s height on the guy. 

“You’d be strong too if you weren’t malnourished.” Husker’s roving gaze settled on Adam’s face. There was a deep rumble to his voice—the kind that chicks and twinks loved, and made everything the guy said sexy. Annoying, but sexy. “I’m guessing Alastor hasn’t had you for too long. He doesn’t give a shit about most people, but if you’re his fixation, then he ain’t gonna let you starve.” 

“Great,” Adam sarcastically dragged out the word. “Exactly what I wanted to hear.” He ignored the way his mouth salivated at the thought of another meal. Meals had become so infrequent over the years that it was tempting to stay and play prisoner. Except that sicko had put a collar on him and treated him like a pet. 

Adam was no pet. He was a motherfucking werewolf.

“So what will it take for you to get this crap off me?” Adam tugged on the collar around his neck. “I could give you a blowjob.” 

“Ugh.” Husker backed away in revulsion. His nose and mouth scrunched up with disgust. He threw his hands up as if defending from an attack. “Not even if I were desperate.” 

“Oh, come on!” Adam stamped his foot. “There has to be something you want?” Adam’s stomach churned. Currently, the only things he could offer were whatever he could do with his body or a favor at a later date. It wasn’t much, but Husker didn’t need to know that. 

Husker arched a thick eyebrow at Adam. “You really know nothing about vampires, do you?”

“I know enough.”

“Sure you do.” Sarcasm oozed from Husker’s voice. He turned away from Adam and headed toward the kitchen cupboards. He opened one and pulled out a jar of red jam. “So you understand what it means to be a vampire’s fixation and what that entails.” 

“Uh, duh.” Adam huffed, feigning confidence while inwardly he scrambled to puzzle together something that sounded at least slightly plausible given all the context clues Alastor and his friends had been dropping. He really wished he had paid more attention when his pack mates talked about vampires, but it had seemed boring and unimportant at the time. It wasn’t like they were in a supernatural war with vampires.

At least, he didn’t think werewolves at large were. He’d only ever had his pack, and they kept to themselves, mostly. 

“So you gonna tell me what it means to be a vampire’s fixation or are you going to continue to bullshit your way out of this?” Husker asked over his shoulder as he shifted to a different cupboard and retrieved a jar of peanut butter. 

“Fuck you! Everyone knows a vampire’s fixation is…uh…” Adam scratched his cheek as he wracked his brain for an answer. He hated to admit it, but after last night his cheek felt softer. Still dry and rough in places, but better. “They’re… soul mates.”

Husker slammed the jar of peanut butter onto the counter. He hunched and his shoulders bunched up to his ears as he quaked with restrained laughter. 

Embarrassment burned Adam’s cheeks as revulsion at the thought of being soul mates with Alastor churned his gut. He hadn’t thought about it that deeply when he’d responded, but yikes! Gross! He would never want to be soul mates with someone like Alastor. 

Husker snorted as a few chuckles escaped him. Boisterous laughter erupted from him as he threw back his head and laughed. 

“It’s not that funny.” Adam pouted. 

“Oh, it’s hilarious.” Husker patted his chest, his palm thumping over his heart. Husker took a deep breath to quell his laughter, then exhaled. “Phew. Do you want the actual answer, or do you wanna keep pretending that you know anything about vampires?” 

Adam threw his hands up in surrender. “Fine. Educate me.” 

“It’s a lot like it sounds.” Husker shuffled down the counter toward the wooden bread box. With a flick of his wrist, he opened the box and yanked out a loaf of bread. The loaf was small and looked like half of it was already missing. Husker rolled the load over in his hands—checking for mold, if Adam were to guess. “A vampire’s fixation is the person a vampire has fixated on. Sounds obvious, except vampires are fucking intense.” 

“Don’t I know it.” Adam shuddered as he mentally replayed his conversation with Alastor last night. 

Husker made an amused sound as he piled the bread and jars of peanut butter and jam on the counter. He maneuvered over to the cupboard where Alastor had grabbed a plate from prior, retrieving a plate of his own and setting it with his collection of food. “To someone who doesn’t know any better, it might seem like that soul mate bullshit that you see all the time in books and crap. It’s an obsession. Why, when I met Angel, I…” Husker trailed off. “Nevermind.” 

“Don’t blue balls me, man!” Adam already had enough shitty stuff going on. He really did not need to be getting edged right now. 

Husker yanked open a drawer and pulled out a serrated knife. 

Adam tensed up. 

Husker noticed Adam’s reaction and grinned. He held up the knife between his forefinger and thumb. “Relax. It’s just a knife. You’re a werewolf, aren’t you? A little bitty thing like this will not kill ya.” 

Adam scowled. “It still hurts, asshole.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I’m not planning on using it on you.” Huker pointedly grabbed the loaf of bread and carved into it, freeing a slice. Husker plucked the slice off the counter and dropped it onto the waiting plate. He repeated the motion, then unscrewed the lid off the jar of jam and dipped his knife inside. “As I was saying, the details are different for every vampire, but the point is, everything in Alastor’s being drives him to focus on you. He wants you—he wants to be with you. He probably would love nothing more than to watch you all the time, and who knows what else.” 

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the guy who has a fixation with the twink who’s currently getting his blood sucked by Alastor knows what else?” Adam sassed. “You’re talking, but you’re giving me absolutely nothing. Like why the fuck is this guy interested in me? Huh?”

Husker slid a glob of jam onto one slice of bread. “If you can answer that question, every vampire would thank you.”

“Huh?”

“We don’t know what causes it either. If we did, probably every vampire would do whatever they could to avoid it.” Husker went to the sink to wash off his knife. 

“Even you?” Adam asked. 

Husker didn’t answer right away. He let the water wash over his blade as his gaze turned inward. His voice lowered as if a part of him wanted to keep his words a secret. “Some days, but no. It helped me find Angel, and I needed him as much as he needed me. Still do.”

“Ugh. So sappy.” Adam’s stomach roiled with disgust. 

“Better sappy than the alternative,” Husker grumbled, taking his knife out from under the faucet and turning off the water. He returned to his sandwich making and started spreading peanut butter on the other slice. “You may not like Alastor, but there are some vampires who… let’s just say they aren’t nice to their fixations.” 

“Right, because kidnapping me is ‘nice.’” Adam made air quotes with his fingers.

“You could be in a cage barely big enough to fit you,” Husker stated. “Your vampire could force you to give blood whenever they wanted. Your loved ones? Murdered in front of you as your vampire rambles like a lunatic about how your family and friends were undeserving of you. If they’re more voyeuristic, they might make you do something you don’t want to and get their jollies out of watching you suffer. Maybe have someone rape you just so they can admire the agony on your face as you’re powerless to do anything.”

Horror body-slammed into Adam. “What the fuck!” 

Husker shrugged as if he hadn’t just listed off a bunch of messed up shit. “It happens.”

“The fuck you mean ‘It happens’?”

“Just that,” Husker said calmly. He folded the two slices of bread together, completing his sandwich. “I’m not saying Alastor is a delight or that you’re unjustified in being pissed at him. I’m trying to get you to understand the intensity of what’s going on. Whether or not you like it, Alastor is in your life now, and unless you’ve got some fancy tricks up your sleeve, you’re going to have a difficult time shaking him.”

Adam burned with indignation. “So you want me to roll over and show my belly?”

“Yes.” 

Husker’s answer surprised Adam, snuffing out his anger like a candle’s flame. Adam had been certain Husker was going to bullshit him and say, “No.” 

Husker gestured at Adam with the peanut butter coated knife. “You wanna get away from Alastor? Then you can’t fight him. The more you fight, the more he’s gonna hold on to you. You gotta play the long game. Make him trust that you’re not gonna run off the second he takes his eyes off you.”

“Yeah, right.” Adam folded his arms over his chest and scoffed, giving off a dismissive air, but inwardly he mulled over Husker’s suggestion. He got what Husker was saying. It made sense, but his nerves prickled with trepidation. Husker had no reason to help him. 

However, what other choice did he have? He wanted to fight Alastor and show him who was boss, but as long as he was wearing this stupid collar, he couldn’t do anything. He’d have to wait for an opportunity to flee when Alastor had his guard down. 

Fuck. He hated waiting. 

“Suit yourself.” Husker meandered back to the kitchen sink, setting his knife down inside it. He picked up the pink sponge and bottle of dish soap sitting on the edge of the sink. After applying the soap to the sponge, he turned on the water and began washing the knife. He aimed a mischievous smile at Adam. “Wanna play a trick on Alastor?” 

“What kind of trick?” Adam asked warily. 

“The kind that annoys him, but won’t get you in trouble.” Husker nodded his chin toward the kitchen table. “See the salt shaker?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Unscrew the lid a little.” 

Adam scoffed. “Seriously? Spilled salt?”

“Trust me. You’ll like this.” 

Adam rolled his eyes, but he marched over to the table and did as instructed. Husker’s prank seemed lame as hell, but curiosity gnawed at him. What was so good about tricking Alastor into spilling salt all over the place? 

“Good,” Husker said, as Adam finished loosening the lid. “When Angel and I leave the kitchen, knock it over.” 

“Ugh. This is so—”

Husker shushed Adam. “Angel is coming down the stairs.”

Suddenly, the water shut off. The utensil drawer, the bread box, and the cupboard doors opened and then closed in a blink. The loaf of bread and jars were no longer on the counter. Husker disappeared from the sink to reappear near the kitchen entrance with his plated sandwich held in one hand and his arm extended out as if waiting to hook someone around the waist.  

For a few seconds, Husker stood there, waiting and expecting Angel’s arrival.

Contented humming and skipping steps preceded Angel. Followed by a high-pitched, “Husky!” Angel bounced into the kitchen and right into Husker’s waiting arms. Angel laughed like he was drunk and peppered kisses all over Husker’s face. 

“Aww. You made me a sandwich, Whiskers?” Angel crouched and wrapped his arms around Husker’s neck, swaying in Husker’s embrace. 

Husker’s arms tightened around Angel, which was a feat since the guy was still holding onto that plate. He cocked his head, getting a better view of Angel’s neck. Blood dribbled out of two puncture marks, dripping onto and staining Angel’s shoulder red. 

Husker’s head snapped toward Adam with a murderous look on his face. “First you bite him like he’s a blood sack and then you don’t even heal him?”

Adam reared his head back. Why the fuck was Husker yelling at him? 

“Is he not a blood sack?” Alastor’s voice came from behind Adam. 

Adam whirled around. 

Alastor was inches away from him with a creepy half-lidded smile on his face. 

“Awww, Whiskers.” Angel cooed and cupped Husker’s face. He planted sloppy kisses on Husker’s lips. “Don’t waste time with Al. Just make me feel good.” Angel hopped and swung his legs up and around Husker’s waist. Husker was either used to Angel wrapping his legs around him or used his vampire speed to keep up with Angel. Just as quickly as Angel moved, Husker adjusted his hold on Angel, tucking his arm under Angel’s ass. 

Angel’s plea snapped the fury out of Husker. He still shot a glare Alastor’s way, but he relaxed as he held Angel. “Eat first, and then I’ll make you feel better.” Husker lifted the plate between his and Angel’s faces. 

Angel startled as if noticing the sandwich for the first time. His expression softened. “You made me a sandwich?” 

Husker huffed like this was a conversation he and Angel had had thousands of times. “You need to get your nutrients back up.” 

Angel pecked Husker on the lips. “You’re so good to me.” 

Adam grimaced. “Dude, it’s just a sandwich.” 

His own words made him cringe internally.The sappiness had gotten too much for him, and he needed to defuse it. The pathetic reality was, Adam knew how damn important and meaningful something like a sandwich could be. His life had gone to shit—been shit for some time. So he knew exactly how a simple kindness, like someone taking the time to make food for you—to think about you at all—felt like a goddamn blessing. 

Hell, until Alastor had collared him, Adam had seen Alastor as a fucking saint. The night they’d met, Adam had been freezing, hungry, and desperate. He didn’t have anywhere to go and no one to turn to. As a werewolf, he could typically handle colder temperatures, but he’d grown so weak that the freezing air had cut to his bones. So when Alastor, a complete stranger, had let Adam inside his home, Adam had almost wept with gratitude. 

If only Alastor hadn’t been such a creep and had invited Adam to stay with him for a few days instead; Adam would have been so happy. 

“It’s more than just a sandwich!” Angel shouted in protest. 

Husker let out another heavy sigh. He walked toward the exit, hauling Angel with him as if Angel weighed nothing. “Come on, Legs, let’s go somewhere you can eat in peace.”

“And you’ll clean me up, right?” Angel purred flirtatiously as he and Husker journeyed deeper into the manor and out of sight. “Use that nice tongue of yours to help clean up these nasty bite marks, huh?”

Adam shook his head at Angel’s antics. “What is up with him?”

“Vampire bites are euphoric,” Alastor stated. “Husker will sate Angel’s cravings.”

“They’re gonna fuck? Here?” Adam asked. 

Alastor held his palms up and shrugged. “An annoyance, but a fair price to pay for fresh blood. Much as I love a good hunt and stalking my victims, it is convenient to have a supply on standby.”

Adam eyed Alastor. “Have you ever joined them?”

“Ha ha. I’d sooner die again.” 

“Right…” Adam wanted to put space between him and Alastor. He shuffled sideways, his hip bumping into the table. He remembered Husker’s prank with the salt just then. For a second, he contemplated being subtle about knocking over the salt, then changed his mind. He reached over and batted the salt shaker over. 

Salt spilled onto the wooden table. 

For the first time since Adam had met him, Alastor’s eyes narrowed into a glower. “Someone thinks they’re clever.” Alastor reached for the closest chair and yanked it out from under the table. He pointed at the chair. “Sit.” 

Adam groaned. Of fucking course. He knew Husker was being a little shit to him. Asshole. 

Unable to resist, Adam plopped himself onto the chair. 

Alastor tucked the chair and Adam under the table. He pulled out another chair and seated himself across from Adam. He picked up the salt shaker and righted it. Alastor then dabbed his finger into the pile of stray salt and separated a few grains from the rest. Alastor continued to separate the grains. 

“What are you doing?” Adam asked. 

“Don’t distract me.” Alastor pulled out more grains from the pile and separated those as well. 

Adam opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Pissed off and unable to say anything, Adam huffed, blowing several grains of salt across the table. 

Alastor tensed for a beat. He then resumed whatever the fuck he was doing.

Unable to move or say anything, Adam observed Alastor. It looked like the guy was counting the grains. 

As Alastor continued what he was doing, it dawned on Adam that it didn’t just look like Alastor was counting the grains of salt. He was! 

Why would anyone count salt? 

Was this a weird vampire trait? 

Wait a second. Could Alastor not control himself? Was this vampiric OCD? 

Holy shit! That was hilarious if that was true. 

And if it was true, then Adam might have just found a weak point that he could exploit to get away from Alastor. 

Adam could feel freedom within his grasp.