Season content notes include discussion of violence, explicit sex, and bondage.
The morning after that first night at work, Avery woke to a mild headache and cursed. He’d been privileged to have a second bottle of blood about two days ago, but he wasn’t about to ask for more. He had a feeling the stash wouldn’t last if he kept using it. How to slake his thirst was another question he’d have to worry about later.
The more pressing problem was how, once he pushed past the headache, his thoughts were full of the orders and demands of his trainers. Deryn was a vampire — but he wasn’t evil, no matter what Avery had been taught. So he knelt on the bed, loose fists resting on his knees, and forced himself into a meditation. Years of practice helped focus his breathing, and soon the thoughts faded away.
Mostly calm, he pulled his rope out from under the pillow and started wrapping and unwrapping his hand until the buzz beneath his skin faded. Avery then grabbed a fresh outfit and headed straight upstairs to the shower.
When Avery walked in, Deryn glanced up from the breakfast fry-up he had on the stove. He frowned but didn’t say anything. To Avery’s surprise, when he served breakfast, he set a bottle of blood next to Avery’s plate. Embarrassed, Avery focused on his food and didn’t touch the bottle until he met Deryn’s eyes and the vampire nodded. With a sigh of mixed relief and irritation at how easily Deryn saw through him, Avery drank to the blood and felt the headache and hunger wash away.
A week or so after Avery’s first night working the bar, Deryn dipped into his savings to get more of a stash of preserved blood. Avery would need something to sustain him when he struck out on his own. In the meantime, he’d need to keep his strength up. Kid still didn’t understand how Deryn could always tell when the blood hunger was hitting him. Deryn really needed to teach him how to use his nose.
Deryn wondered if Avery realized that as a pure vampire, Deryn could go without blood for much longer than Avery. Sure, he’d lose some of his supernatural abilities, but he wouldn’t get truly, physically ill. So it wasn’t a hardship to make sure Avery had enough to eat
Life fell into something like a routine over the next two weeks. Avery would spend an hour every morning meditating to quiet the frenzy of his training. He’d listen for Deryn’s heartbeat and breathing upstairs to make sure he was still asleep, then wrap and unwrap his hand at least twelve times. When he finished and felt calm and sure of himself, he headed up to shower. By the time he was dry and dressed, Deryn would be making breakfast for the two of them.
After breakfast, Avery would insist on cleaning up while Deryn took a look at the bar’s inventory and various orders. After the dishes were clean and put away, Avery would steal the big fluffy chair in the living room and lounge with a book. His eyes would often dart to Deryn.
“Hunting season starts in a few weeks,” Deryn said one morning as a way to start a conversation.
Avery’s head snapped up sharply, eyes narrow, brow furrowed. “What the fuck do you mean, hunting season?” The tone made it clear that answering was not optional.
Deryn jumped. “Sorry, s– um. Sorry. Forgot you might not know.” He took a deep breath to get a hold of himself. Damnit, he hadn’t reacted this strongly to anyone in over a decade. Why now? Why Avery?
It wasn’t that Deryn couldn’t say no. It was that with certain people, he didn’t want to. It was why he lived here, far from where vampires tended to band together. Here, his… quirks made him less of an outsider, and he wasn’t an easy target for the other nightwalkers.
With an effort, he pulled his thoughts back to the conversation. “Deer hunting, it’s a human thing.”
Avery blinked, and let out a slow breath. “I wasn’t aware they did that.”
“Yeah. Some of ’em. I do some bow hunting some years, but most of the humans use rifles. We’ll need to start wearing vests when we go out once the season starts.”
“Vests? Why?”
Deryn snorted. “Because some humans are damn fools. Ayuh. More than one person’s been shot by a hunter who couldn’t tell the difference between a human and a deer at the end of a long scope. One reason I prefer the bow — you have to get up close to use it.
“The vests are bright orange, so even the worst human can tell what they’re looking at.”
“Is their eyesight really that pathetic?”
Deryn shrugged. “Yes and no. The real problem is that they use guns that can shoot farther than they can see. Add the branches and trees in the way confusing things…”
Avery scowled. “That’s not sensible hunting.” He shook his head and shrugged, then turned back to a book of local ghost stories.
“Just don’t worry if you hear an occasional gun in the woods the next few months. I’m going to see if I have an extra vest you can use if you go out at all.” Not that Avery had left the bar for anything beyond necessity — and mostly for trips into town, but it was better to be safe.
And if it got Deryn out of the room so he could get himself under control, so much the better.
Deryn went to the garage and gently banged his head into the wall. He wasn’t a fledging. He was a mature — not to say ‘old’ — vampire. While yes, he preferred to not be in charge, he had his own business and had been on his own for decades now.
How the fuck had Avery, raised in a literal hunter cult, grown into such a confident, powerful man that he made Deryn want to drop to his knees and fucking beg without even trying?
Worse, the dhampir was barely more than a kid AND dependent on Deryn. He couldn’t say anything. Not without being that kind of shithead.
Avery turned the page and stifled a sigh. He needed the job experience the bar was going to provide, and the money for a better car, but… If Deryn was already retreating like that, then his welcome was already wearing out. At least the vampire left, so the buzz under Avery’s skin could settle down for a minute. He really didn’t need the sudden talk of hunting with his assigned prey sitting six feet away.
While Deryn was checking the garage, Avery retrieved his rope and started wrapping and unwrapping his hand. If only it were the vampire’s hands wrapping that rope. Maybe with knots. Wait, where the hell had that come from? Avery stared at the rope and hastily put it away as the door opened. Damn it. He wanted that vampire’s hands on him. Or something. What the hell was he thinking? He double-checked that the rope was out of sight and got himself under control. Then he headed out to start pulling down chairs for the evening.
The weekday regulars were used to Avery by now, but he still drew attention from the weekend crowd. Deryn, Avery quickly learned, had always refused to take on help for more than a day here or there, and Avery heard all about Deryn’s other strays — lost flatlanders he’d rescued and sent on their way.
It was Saturday, and once again Avery caught bits of conversation speculating about him, Deryn, and their situation. He kept his eyes on washing dishes and cleaning tables and gave no indication he heard them, but… dhampir. He heard every word.
Unfortunately for Avery, Deryn’s regulars knew were a rowdy bunch, and Deryn got a lot of ribbing about a supposed ‘crush’ on Avery.
Avery wished they were right.
After ushering the last of the patrons out for the night and turning the sign to closed, Avery started sweeping up. He couldn’t hide the blush when he caught Deryn using those graceful hands to polish the bar. Why did he think of that rope whenever he saw Deryn’s hands moving? Deft, delicate, adept…
Damn it, no.
No, those humans were wrong about Deryn. Avery was only another stray, just needed a little more than the others.
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