Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

C allum closed the last drape before the collapse happened. He hadn’t expected to go down to his knees, but without warning, there he was on the floor. Like he was praying.

Except he wasn’t.

He didn’t believe in higher powers that listened to mortals anymore. And while he was on the subject of not believing . . . how was Apex here?

“You came back to Connelly,” he reminded himself in a hoarse voice. “You chose to return.”

So how could he be surprised he ran into the male?

Lowering his head, he rubbed his eyes. “I thought he’d be gone by now, that’s why.”

His hand braced against the carpet as he sagged to the side, and then he just fucked the effort right off and let himself fall over onto his back. As he lay there, he stared up at the exposed beams overhead. They were a nice honey color, their rough cut flanks full of the character that came from hand-tooling. He imagined they were just as they had been when this outbuilding had been constructed around 1911, after the initial one had burned down. With the windows low to the floor and the roof’s overhang, there’d been no fading to the wood because the sun couldn’t reach that high up into the peaked roof.

The walls were finished with boards of the same honey hue, the flooring as well. If he’d had any soul left, he’d have appreciated the pine-scented, open quarters very much. With the galley kitchen and bathroom having been done over recently, it was the perfect meeting between the built-to-last past and the mod cons of the present.

Abruptly, he imagined Apex walking in. The vampire’s presence would suck in all the air molecules and ruin the brittle order of the place, messing up the bed Callum had made earlier, pitching the clothes in the old-fashioned wardrobe around, breaking all the dishes and glasses in the cupboard. He’d even tear the mirrored medicine cabinet out of the bathroom wall, and smash the claw-footed porcelain tub and the sink.

Hell, that male would bring down the structure. Until it was unrecognizable.

Even as he didn’t touch a damn thing.

Cranking his head to the side, Callum narrowed his eyes on the duffle and the suitcase he’d pushed under the bed. When he’d unpacked them, he’d expected to stay until the weather turned warm, and the buds came out on the bushes and trees.

He wasn’t going to make it to spring. Not if Apex was going to be in the big house.

“I need to leave now.”

His torso rose on his hips, as if he were coming awake in a crypt like something that was dead and shouldn’t have been able to move. Like he was the human stereotype of a vampire. And going with that flow, it was ironic that between him and Apex, he was the one who wasn’t really alive—

The sound of heavy boots coming up the stairs was not a surprise, and he told himself to get vertical. Put some clothes on. Pull himself together—

Oh, for fuck’s sake. He hadn’t closed the damn door.

At least he could close his eyes.

“I’m fine,” Callum said without bothering to keep the edge out of his voice.

There was a pause. “You’re fine? Is that why you’re on the floor, staining that rug red with blood?”

Apex’s voice was a deep, low rasp, the kind of thing that had, years and years ago, made a wolven think about things that were best done without clothes on.

“I don’t need—” Callum jumped as he popped his lids and found the vampire standing over him. “Do you have any concept of personal space.”

“Not in a medical emergency I don’t.”

Lifting his leg, Callum pointed to his ankle—which, okay, fine, was dripping a little. “You call this a medical emergency? I’d hate to see you with a real problem.”

He regretted the comeback as soon as it hit the airwaves. Of course, the male had already dealt with that. When Callum’s body had been in bad shape.

But who needed to bring that up.

“Where are you going?” Callum demanded as the guy turned around and headed to the bathroom.

As the vampire barged into the loo, he threw the light switch—and there was altogether way too much to see. Down below, in the snowstorm, it had been easier not to focus on the male.

Now clarity was coming at him. Like a freight train.

Apex was more muscular than before, and his face had filled out in a way that made his raw beauty even more bold and striking. His dark hair was cut in a classic high-and-tight, like he was in the military, and snowflakes were melting in a lazy way on top. He was dressed in black leather, and all that hide over all that physical power was another reason to look away. But come on, like that vampire was ever going to go dad bod? And yes, there were weapons on him, a hunting knife holstered at his waist on one side, that gun he’d shot off at the sky under his arm. There was probably more, hidden away, but well within reach—

Snow was also melting on the collar and the shoulders of the jacket, and for a split second, he imagined himself getting up, going across . . . running his hands over the leather and clearing off the cold flakes . . .

If his life had taken a different course all those years ago, he would have done that. And it would have been natural because Apex would have been living here, too. And they would have been happy, buying each other flowers even in the winter—

Nice frickin’ fantasy. Which was a total waste of neuropathways. One, you didn’t get a do-over in life. And two, happily ever afters were fiction.

“I’m fine,” Callum called out as he looked at his ankle properly.

Just a couple of puncture wounds. No big deal. He’d had them before.

After Apex got the water running in the sink, the vampire started going through that medicine cabinet and then the cupboards.

“What are you looking for in there,” Callum muttered. “A black hole?”

“Why don’t you have a first aid kit in here?”

FFS, he barely kept food in the kitchen. And Mr. Medicine wanted a transplant team?

When Apex finally came out, he had two smaller towels with him. One was damp and sudsy. Guess the dry one was for . . . well, drying off—

Nope. The thing was put across Callum’s hips.

Oh, right. Guess he was naked.

“Dog bites are dangerous.” Apex knelt down. “You have to keep after them.”

Callum hissed as the warm towel with the suds brushed against the teeth marks on his ankle.

Apex’s eyes flipped up. “Sorry.”

It didn’t hurt, but Callum was not interested in explaining that he’d jumped for another reason: No one had touched him in any way in a very, very long time. Matter of fact, it had probably been Apex himself, back in . . .

The strangled sound that rose up Callum’s throat, that came up from the past, was just barely caught and held—and like a wild animal, it tried to get free.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said roughly.

The vampire stopped with the cleaning. But didn’t look up. “How can I not.”

“You don’t start.”

“Too late for that, isn’t it.”

Rubbing his eyes, Callum tried to find a change of subject, something else to say. Words failed. Then again, he never allowed himself to think about the past or the vampire who had both kept him alive . . . and driven him away from that old, crumbling sanatorium—

Goddamn it, the soft stroking on his ankle made him want to scream.

Apex was just so gentle with the soapy corner of the hand towel, the blood turning things rose-colored in a bad way—and what do you know. Suddenly, between one blink and the next, they weren’t here, in this pine-scented outbuilding, on this rich male’s estate. The calendar was set back to another lifetime, and they were in a different place.

He was coming around from a coma, his body’s pain signals overwhelming so much of his brain . . . except for one thing: Awareness of how this fierce vampire took care of him.

Callum moved his foot out of reach. “That’s enough. It’s good.”

Apex sat back on his heels, and the silence that crashed down had Callum looking at the open doorway and wondering which one of them was going to use it first.

“Do you have any Polysporin? Neosporin?” Apex asked.

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

“I’ll deal with it later.” When the male didn’t move, he tacked on, “You can go—”

“I’d wondered if you were dead,” the vampire said. “All these years. When I didn’t hear anything about you.”

Callum held out his arms. Turned this way and that on his hips. “Still alive.”

In the sense that he had a pulse and lungs that went in and out.

“Have you been back to Deer Mountain a lot?”

He shook his head. “No.”

Apex glanced away. Then nodded as if coming to some kind of conclusion. “Here.”

The hand towel with its diffused bloodstains was held out, and Callum took it because he figured it was the quickest way to get the male to depart.

“Mayhem’s with me.” Apex got to his feet. “If you want to avoid him also, you’ll need to give a pass to the big house for that reason, too.”

“I never go over there.” He thought of the generators. “Unless I’m required to.”

“Okay—”

“When are you leaving?” Callum blurted.

The laugh that came back at him had an edge. “When my job’s done. That okay with you?”

The male didn’t wait for a reply. He just went back over to the stairs, his powerful body moving like he was stalking something. When he hesitated on the threshold, Callum kept his mouth shut so he didn’t press for details. Like, was this a kitchen installation that was going to take months? A roof repair that would last a week? A boundary line assessment of some kind that could be done in twenty-four hours?

If it was that last one, he could make that work. With the others? He was seriously thinking of handing in his resignation now.

Apex looked back over his shoulder, those unforgettable, jet-black eyes narrowing. And then he just descended the steps without another word.

When the door at the bottom was opened and then closed softly, Callum let his head drop.

I’m sorry , he mouthed, even though he didn’t know what exactly he was apologizing for. Fate was a cunt, for sure, but that was hardly something he was responsible for.

Looking at the hand towel, he ran his thumb back and forth over what was still warm and a little frothy.

Funny, what you couldn’t get out of things.

What stains were permanent.