Chapter 4

F or once, Grant didn't think about the consequences of his actions. He raced out of the parking lot of the upscale housing development and drove straight to the liquor store. With a case of beer in one hand, he walked out with a troubled mind and one goal—to forget the entire day.

Since Aunt Florrie didn't approve of alcohol any more than she did homosexuality, Grant drove to his fancy but dirty condo, which he'd promised to clean. He flipped on the television after stowing the chilled cardboard box of treasures in his fridge, grabbed two beers to numb his mind, and sacked out on the sofa.

In two large gulps, he emptied the first can and tossed it aside. It landed on the hardwood floor with a metallic thunk, and he belched loudly. Grant didn't want to get up immediately, so he opted to consume the second beer with some restraint as he surfed through the channels.

It didn't matter which show he landed on; the only thing Grant could see was the popcorn-smelling zombie who'd demanded his phone number. What the hell was he supposed to do if the guy texted or called?

Ignore it.

But was that what he wanted?

Hours passed as Grant failed to keep those few minutes with a stranger named Roman out of his head, despite the number of cans now littering his floor. His phone had beeped and rang often, but it wasn't the one Roman had the number for. That one was still stashed in his glove box. If Grant brought it into the condo, he was afraid Reginald would find it and his chance to escape would hit an obstacle. That would cost him more months trapped in a life he no longer wanted.

As if he'd summoned the man, Reginald appeared in the living room. Grant rolled his head to side and enjoyed the way the room spun. The beers were pleasantly sloshing through his system. Unfortunately, they weren't doing shit to calm his nerves or rid him of memories of the handsome zombie with the way-too-attractive face.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Reginald demanded. As usual, he was dressed impeccably in an expensive suit and his brown hair was gelled perfectly into place. He'd been wearing his hair like that since the day he'd graduated from law school, and Grant wanted to muss it. But Reginald didn't allow that—not even during sex.

"Huh?"

"Are you drunk?" Reginald screeched, glancing around the space Grant had failed to clean. Reginald hated messes. Maybe that was why Grant insisted on making them. That thought made him laugh. Grant hadn't realized he'd grown so dirty to annoy the irritating man.

"Yep."

"What the hell is so fucking funny?"

"Nothing," Grant said, trying to contain his chuckles.

"Why the fuck didn't you answer your phone?"

"Did it ring?" Grant asked stupidly.

Reginald narrowed his brown eyes, and Grant wished he could remember when they weren't filled with meanness and arrogance. "I assume you left your assignment early because you have the evidence we need."

"Nope, some zombie showed up," Grant replied. Guilt surged through him at mentioning Roman to Reginald, but Grant wasn't sure why. The fallen knight wasn't anything to him. But Grant distinctly remembered being called Roman's mate . What the hell did that mean anyway?

"Did you call the police? You were on human land. That goes against the treaty, and you should've had the zombie arrested."

Grant laughed again. "I can't call the cops. They hate me."

"That is your fault. You're the one who lied and broke the law. You're damn lucky I had enough connections to keep your ass out of jail."

"The only reason I did those things was because you asked me to," Grant argued.

Being a cop hadn't been his first choice, but once he'd taken on the role, he'd treated it with honor. For a while anyway. Then Reginald had realized what a boon it was to have a boyfriend in law enforcement and talked Grant into making decisions he regretted. Grant had snuck around, destroyed evidence, planted some, and helped Reginald become a sensation around town.

When the consequences of his actions had caught up with Grant, there were questions about how much Reginald had known about the suddenly missing evidence and the helpful data that had fallen into his lap which impacted his cases. Reginald had freely admitted that he'd met Grant in his teens—and he'd used his terrible childhood to paint him as a troubled soul. Reginald had stood in front of the press and convinced them Grant was obsessed with his friendship and would have done anything to move in his circle.

And Grant had been stupid enough to back up his statements.

Reginald was lauded for the dignified way he'd handled the situation. As for Grant, he'd scuttled off in disgrace.

"Did I force you? Were you threatened with violence if you chose not to go along with what I wanted? No. Stop blaming me for your decisions. You wanted to make me happy. You'd still do any fucking thing I asked of you because you like my dick that much. We both know it, so don't try playing the victim. It won't work."

Grant wanted to tell Reginald that the sex wasn't good anymore, but he said nothing. His gaze dropped to his hands, and he wished he'd drunk enough to fall asleep so he wouldn't have to deal with Reginald's shit.

"Get up," Reginald demanded.

"Huh?"

"Come on, I have to be home in an hour. I'm here. The least you can do to placate me is get naked. But not in here. This room is filthy. I'm not kidding, you need to clean this tonight. Right after I leave."

The last thing Grant wanted at that moment was to get naked with Reginald, but he dragged his sorry ass off the couch.

"You're probably too drunk to get hard," Reginald taunted.

Reginald reached out and roughly grabbed Grant's cock. Shocking them both, Grant immediately puked all over Reginald's pin-striped suit.

"What the fuck?" Reginald shrieked.

Grant stood there shell-shocked as Reginald raced out of the room to clean himself up. Although Grant had had plenty to drink that night—he often did—he wasn't nauseous. Revulsion had swept through him the second Reginald touched him.

While Grant wasn't in love with him anymore, Reginald was a handsome guy with a nice body. Sex with Reginald wasn't fantastic, but that was because it was fast and Reginald only cared about himself. It made no difference to him if Grant finished or not. When Reginald came, he climbed off him and went about his business. Grant would jerk himself to completion and wonder how much longer he had to put up with Reginald's crap.

But not once had Grant become physically ill. Was it just the alcohol? Some voice in his head told him there was far more to it than that. But what the fuck did he know? His life was a disaster of his own making.

∞∞∞

It wasn't long before Roman was sitting in an elegant vampire-owned restaurant as the men around him hugged and greeted one another. They were quite the crowd—Council leaders, assassins, fallen knights, vampires, and a lone man who'd been human like Grant.

"So, why is Nikolai buying us all a fancy dinner?" Conley asked.

"Because it is my pleasure to offer you a delicious meal, and the establishment is mine," Nikolai said, a smile lighting up his pale blue eyes. "It would be distasteful of me to expect you to pay me."

"How long has this one been open?" Drystan asked.

"A few months," Nikolai replied. "The food is incredible. I talked Henry into allowing me to pay him a consultation fee, and he hired the head chef. It has been wildly successful thus far."

Henry Gennevios was a renowned chef and, like everyone at the table, was part of the extended D'Vaire clan Roman called his family.

"How did you get him to agree to take a fee?" Arvandus asked. "Aleksander and Rafe tried to compensate him for the many months he ran the kitchen at their house while Noirin and Kendrick were spending time with the new baby, and Henry refused."

Seneschal Duchess Noirin D'Vairedraconis was High King Aleksander's cousin, and her tiny son was the first baby born to the illustrious D'Vaire name. Her other half, Seneschal Duchess-mate Kendrick, had insisted on naming their child Rafe Jaylen in honor of his brother, High King Rafe. It was difficult to get a chance to hold the latest addition to the D'Vaire clan because everyone wanted a turn with little RJ, but Roman had squeezed out a few minutes on his last visit. The baby was adorable and had every D'Vaire wrapped around his finger.

"By explaining that my restaurant would be in direct competition with his own empire and that I was taking money from his pocket," Nikolai responded. "Also, he called me frustratingly persistent when he gave in."

James laughed. "If not for your frustrating persistence, I'd probably still be single and miserable."

"You didn't want to be with a vampire, did you?" Roman asked.

"Absolutely not," James replied. "Not only had I sworn off relationships, but humans are taught not to trust anyone from our Council. I didn't understand the concept of mates, and I wanted Nik to move on and find another one. The idea of Fate pairing us was difficult to wrap my head around. Thankfully, I was drawn to Nik and kept seeing him, even though I didn't grasp why I didn't want to walk away. Until it grew overwhelming and I stopped talking to him. That remains the worst decision of my life."

"And ancient history, so we will not dwell on it, darling," Nikolai insisted with a kiss to James's cheek.

A server arrived, and Roman thought over James's words as his companions picked both their drink orders and entrees. Grant had freaked out that afternoon, but was that typical of humans? Roman had been taught his entire life about Fate and his other half. Humans were not.

A treaty was signed two centuries ago, making it illegal for anyone in the Council to walk on land owned by humans. Vampires were unwilling to honor it since many of them dreamed of having a human mate. They required blood to live, and having a human as their permanent donor was considered the ultimate gift from Fate. It was why James wore an intricately beautiful necklace—which he'd gained after his matebond was completed—that far outshined the plain one worn by Nikolai. The vampire wanted everyone who glanced at his other half to know how much he valued him.

"As wonderful as this place is, I'm guessing you didn't invite us here tonight because you missed us," Chander said, his pewter gaze resting thoughtfully on Roman's face.

"No, I have to tell you something, and I want your advice," Roman replied.

"Of course you do," Baxter responded. "Honestly, I'm not sure why everyone doesn't constantly seek us out for advice."

"Probably because you spend so much time giving us unsolicited info about sex," Arvandus retorted.

"You forgot that his advice is also usually crappy," Samson added.

"Fight later," Chander ordered. "What's going on, Roman?"

To those who weren't aware of his trip to a suburb of DC to help James, Roman explained his short mission that afternoon. Then he took a moment to gather his courage. "So, the private investigator following this woman around? He's…he's my mate."

Utter silence followed his announcement. Roman swore no one was even breathing. They just stared at him with varying degrees of shock and concern. The server returned with drinks and exited swiftly, as if he'd picked up on the awkwardness of the table.

Roman took a fortifying drink of his wine as he waited for them to absorb the news.

"Congratulations," Chander said, glaring at their dinner companions. The men immediately added their felicitations, but there was a distinct lack of joy. Roman understood it. He was confused and concerned too.

"Wait," Drystan commented. "Are you saying your mate is human? I thought that was impossible."

"It is up to Fate to decide who is meant for someone," Alaric remarked, his emotions unreadable in his glowing green gaze.

"No, I get that, but if fallen knights are being paired with humans, who else is missing out on a human mate because of this damn treaty?" Drystan asked.

"Vampires," Nikolai stated dryly.

"I know that, and I'm sorry," Drystan replied. "You were added to the Council after the treaty was already signed. Vampires are the reason we don't enforce the treaty and allow vampires to visit human land without us hovering around, ready to arrest them."

"You're not okay with this," Arvandus said, concern in his blue eyes.

"He called me a zombie," Roman told his best friend. "How the hell am I supposed to have a conversation, let alone a relationship, with someone who thinks I'm a fucking zombie?"

"He's misinformed," James said pragmatically. "Give him some time to process today. It's incredibly overwhelming to have these powerful sensations you don't understand. Mates aren't a concept discussed amongst humans."

"So, you think I should give him space? Wait for him to contact me?" Roman asked, genuinely worried about the path ahead.

He was dealing with his own—dare he call it disappointment ?—about finding himself with a human. But that didn't mean he was against having a mate. In fact, the opposite was true. Roman chastised himself for thinking less of his gift from Fate and promised himself he'd get over his issues swiftly. There were no second chances. He didn't want to convince someone of demonic blood to separate them. That was a two-year process that would require him to live with his mate for twelve months anyway.

"No," James replied. "Be persistent. But offer your companionship and friendship without pressure. Ease him into things and provide him with education. We've worked hard to create books and pamphlets geared toward aiding humans to understand our Council. I keep copies at our condo. I can give you some tonight if you want."

"Yeah, I'd love that. I need to read through them myself. I want to understand his viewpoint and why he's convinced I'm a zombie," Roman responded.

"He is your perfect match," Brynnius commented softly. "That can be difficult at times to understand for anyone. We should have been more enthusiastic when you announced it. I am not sad for you. I was shocked. We didn't know humans could be paired with fallen knights."

"And it is no secret how you feel about humans," Albrecht added, his smoky voice uneasy.

Roman closed his eyes. "Yeah, I need to deal with it. Although I'm full of mixed emotions, I don't want to fuck this up."

"Of course you don't," Arvandus said, smoothing a hand over Albrecht's cloaked back. "You've wanted a mate forever. You have one now. It sounds like it's going to take some work, but you've got us. We're here for you."

"And if you need sex tips, call me anytime," Baxter teased.

"No one is ever going to call you for sex advice," Benton told his other half.

Alaric laughed. "It sounds as if you should focus on Ben's pleasure and stop worrying about everyone else's bedroom activities."

Roman flashed a grin at the disgruntled expression on Baxter's normally placid face.

"Ben has no complaints," Baxter stated forcibly. "Tell them, Ben."

Benton rolled his eyes. "It's no one's business."

"Everyone is going to think our sex life is terrible now," Baxter refuted.

"Can I put them in a black bubble so I can enjoy a meal in peace?" Chander asked.

"I'm cool with it," Roman said.

"We want you to be cool with your mate," Conley replied. "Don't keep everything internalized. We can't be here for you if you don't let us. The human thing? Let's move past that. Modern humans bear no responsibility for what happened to me and Drys."

"Yeah, I'm going to put it behind me," Roman promised both himself and Conley. He'd carried a grudge for centuries, but this was his long-awaited matebond. The last thing he wanted to do was squander it. "The past can't be a deterrent. I want to be happy and have a mate."

"With an attitude like that, I believe you'll find success," Nikolai said, lifting his goblet. "Now, shall we have a toast to your mate? What's his name?"

"Grant," Roman replied. "His name is Grant."

Nikolai smiled. "To Grant…who will soon find out how very lucky he is that Fate picked him to be a part of our world and to be paired with an honorable man dedicated to our Council. Grant has a wonderful life ahead of him. You both do. I thank Fate for finally granting you this gift. Few deserve it as much as you."

Humbled, Roman clinked his glass with his friends' and drank deeply. It was imperative that Roman do whatever it took to build a future with Grant. Thankfully, he'd learned long ago to be tenacious, and he hated any unsolved case. Now that Grant was on his radar, it was Roman's duty to aid his other half in learning what he needed to know to accept Fate's gift.