Chapter 12

Freddie

A nthony was upset. Freddie understood why. But joining him in bed would be a mistake. He'd had just a taste of Anthony, and he wouldn't be able to hold himself back. Not again.

His job was protecting Anthony. That was why he was there. Everything else was secondary. He was desperate to have Anthony's skin against his, Anthony's weight wrapped around him, but he wasn't willing to risk letting down his guard.

They were so different. Anthony ran through men like tissues. Freddie hadn't had a lover in decades. Plus, he was a vampire . How would he build a relationship with that secret looming over them?

But it was more than just that. It was the monster inside of him. He had done things, unspeakable things, and stood witness to others even more horrible. He would not tie down someone he cared for to a beast.

But that justification didn't temper the confusion and shame radiating off of Anthony. They unsettled Freddie. He only relaxed when he heard Anthony's breath slow to a gentle, consistent rhythm. He hoped the singer would be refreshed when he woke up, and maybe less angry.

The next morning, Anthony didn't speak to him. He readied himself for the day in silence. It hurt, but Freddie took it as a sign that he'd made the right decision. If he was already so thrown by Anthony's frustration, he couldn't allow himself to be sucked in deeper. He had a job to do.

From the corner of the rehearsal room, he watched Anthony continue to butt heads with the conductor, who was intent on tearing Anthony down. It impressed Freddie that he kept his cool — he really must have wanted to make a good impression — but it stoked an unreasonable rage in him. He spent the morning visualizing himself performing various violent acts on Maestro Alamilla.

The afternoon was a staging rehearsal. It was a disaster. Unlike the conductor, the stage director spoke only Spanish, and that meant that the mezzo-soprano, Adrijana, required every direction go through two levels of translation: into English so that her interpreter could understand, and then into Croatian so that she could understand.

Several times, Freddie saw Anthony roll his eyes at how ridiculous the process was, and he didn't disagree. By the time it was over, everyone's nerves were frayed. The rehearsal didn't end so much as it unraveled. At some point, Adrijana left, and someone stood in and took down her staging.

People started drifting out, and Freddie got up to stand by Anthony. Anthony wouldn't look at him.

Anthony was packing up his notes when a woman wearing an apron full of sewing supplies approached. In her thirties, her long, glossy brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore heavy black eyeliner.

" Signor Bianchi?"

" Sí, cara ?"

"I'll be your dresser. My name's Gabriela."

"Wonderful!" Anthony grabbed her by the shoulders. " You will be my best friend, and we'll survive this travesty together, yes?"

Her eyes darted around skittishly, and she half-nodded.

"Perfect," Anthony said, winking. "Do me a favor and always have a bottle of water on you."

"Uh, of course, Signor Bianchi."

"And a handkerchief. I do sweat. Speaking of which, be careful to douse my costumes with the vodka spray after every show. You'd be surprised at how much moisture one man can produce. And dear god, no Febreze. I'm allergic."

At some point, Gabriela stopped talking and was scribbling down extensive notes. When Anthony finished listing his demands, she smiled and scurried away.

The room was now empty, and the silence was back. The lack of communication made his stomach squirm. Freddie couldn't help himself.

"Would you join me?"

Anthony's head snapped to Freddie, suspicion flaring in his eyes.

"For what?"

Freddie saw the hurt underneath Anthony's bitter response, and regret shot through him. He had been the cause. He'd tried so hard to put the job first, but he was also at the mercy of feelings that he hadn't experienced in decades.

"A walk. Then dinner?"

Anthony's shoulders relaxed slightly, but there was still an edge to his voice.

"Okay. Fine."

They left the opera house and strolled in silence for almost twenty minutes, the late afternoon sun casting shadows on the ancient Spanish facades. Freddie had to explain himself, but he didn't know how. His head told him that anything romantic between them would be a mistake, but his body and his soul pulled toward Anthony with an overwhelming force.

Anthony was tired of waiting.

"Did I do something wrong?"

Anthony's question burst through Freddie's bubble of internal rumination. "What?"

"I must have messed up somewhere. I'm not always the easiest. I can be demanding. I don't like rules. But I thought…"

Anthony's voice broke, and a sharp shock of guilt spiked in Freddie's chest. This was his fault.

"No. You didn't."

They continued to walk, the air growing cool as the sun got low enough to hide behind the buildings of Barcelona. Anthony radiated anxiety as he waited for an explanation.

Why wasn't Freddie more of a talker? He'd always been better at doing than saying. He took a deep breath and dove in.

"Master Hughes saved me. I was in rough shape when he found me. He gave me a home and a job."

Anthony glanced over at him. "Rough shape?"

Freddie nodded. "I'd been purposeless for a long time. He made me feel useful."

"Oh."

"I can't fail at this job. Master Hughes asked me to protect his nephew—"

"I'm not his nephew," Anthony said, chuckling. "He and Uncle Danny were only just married."

"Step-nephew, then? Family. He needed me to keep his family safe. I could never live with myself if I messed that up."

Anthony slowed to a stop, turning to Freddie.

"We may have just met a few days ago, but you are excellent at your job. Extreme competence recognizes extreme competence."

Freddie smirked at Anthony's positive assessment of his own abilities.

"I don't think you're able to get distracted enough to screw up," Anthony continued. "I saw how you took care of those guys in San Francisco."

"They were just punks."

"Still." Anthony tilted his head. "There's something else. What are you afraid of?"

Freddie stared at Anthony. The vulnerability made him uncomfortable, but Anthony needed more.

"I've been alone for a long time. I've never been good at this. And I've done things. Before I met Master Hughes. Violent things. People got hurt. People died. I don't…I wouldn't want you to see me differently. To see me as a monster."

Anthony frowned, shaking his head. "I could never."

"You don't know what I've done. If you did…" Lifetimes of blood flashed before Freddie's mind's eye. Centuries of death.

"Do you regret them?"

"What?"

"The things you've done. Do you regret them? Would you do them again?"

Freddie breathed in, reflecting on his long life. Who he fed on those first few years. The people he killed out of spite or uncontrolled rage. The empty life he had constructed in the ruins of his human one.

When Master Hughes took him in, that was the laying of a new foundation. But still the rot of his old life haunted him.

"I don't regret all. Some things I did to survive, or because I didn't know better. But most, yes."

"Have you tried to make amends?"

By the time he had seen the error of his ways, many of his victim's families were long dead. But he'd done his best to improve the lives of any remaining survivors.

"I have."

"Then what more can anyone ask?"

The answer, of course, was more. So much more. His very existence. But so far he had gone on living, so all he could do was move forward and use his abilities for good.

"I don't know."

"If you've done your best, it's no one's concern. And you sell yourself short in the romance department."

Freddie didn't say anything. His last relationship had been with another vampire forty years before. Damian hadn't been willing to put up with Freddie's work obsession, nor with his silence. He'd had his own agenda. The whole thing had ended in betrayal.

"I don't know."

Anthony reached up and pressed his palm to Freddie's cheek. "I'm sure of it."

Anthony removed his hand and kept walking. Freddie stood stunned for a moment, then followed a beat later, catching up as they continued without speaking, more comfortable now.

Soon they came upon an enormous park guarded by a whimsical stone structure with a white marshmallow roof. Anthony turned to Freddie.

"Is this where you wanted to go?"

Freddie nodded. "Parc Güell."

"It's incredible."

They walked up the stairs and Freddie stopped at the table to buy tickets. After a glance around the fantastical structures out front, they entered the park.

It was magical. The sun hung low in the sky, painting the greenery with yellow stripes, and enveloping Gaudí's architecture in an amber glow. Anthony grabbed Freddie's hand and kept pulling him eagerly toward the next sculpture. A colorful mosaic lizard climbing a bannister. A huge stone canopy with Roman-inspired columns. Stonework and tile and nature, all of it integrated and interacting in surprising ways.

Warmth bloomed in Freddie's chest when he saw the smile on Anthony's face. He thought over what Anthony had said. It's possible he was right. Being involved with Anthony might not distract him. Perhaps it would fuel him.

Either way, his feelings for Anthony were deepening. He wasn't certain he'd be able to rein them in for much longer.

They reached an empty stretch of path with no statues or art. It was dusk now, and they strolled in quiet solitude. Anthony threaded his arm through Freddie's and leaned against him as they walked. Freddie was filled with a sense of wonder. There was a vulnerability about the way Anthony was with him. It was unlike how Anthony was with anyone else. His trust was a warm blanket, a protection.

He wanted to be that for Anthony.

"I'm sorry I kept my distance," Freddie said, tightening his hold. "But I know myself. I can be protective. Obsessive. If you don't want that…"

Anthony looked away, over the trees and into the sparkling city of Barcelona below. Freddie couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"It's not something I wanted. It's just, when my parents died…"

Anthony swallowed, distress showing on his face. Sadness bloomed in Freddie like a funeral flower. He never wanted to be the cause of Anthony's pain.

"You don't have to tell me," Freddie said. "I understand."

"No." Anthony took in a breath, and tightened his grip on Freddie's arm, although he still looked away. "I want to. My parents died in a car accident when I was seven. They didn't…it wasn't their fault."

Anthony paused, and Freddie leaned down, kissing him on the top of his head. He waited for Anthony to continue.

"It was a drunk driver. The youngest son of some rich family. He'd been out partying, and no one had taken his keys or tried to stop him. He ran a red light, and they were killed instantly. I was safe in the back seat. The kid hit us and sped off."

Tears were rolling down his cheeks now. Freddie was desperate to take this pain away, to eradicate the hurt, but Anthony needed to say this. It was part of who he was, and he was sharing it with Freddie. That was an honor.

Anthony turned back, simmering rage shining in his eyes. "Uncle Danny took me in and raised me. The guy, the man who murdered my parents, got six months of community service. And I…I had a hard time. A couple of years where I was just not good, despite how kind my uncle was, despite the therapy he'd gotten me. But when I came out the other side, I just…I wanted to be in control, you know? I wanted to make the decisions, to captain the ship. To go after my dreams and not let anything stop me. I didn't want that drunk asshole to be the one in charge. I still don't."

Anthony's words hit Freddie like a knife. Physical pain spidered through his nerves and muscles. It was a new, unpleasant sensation. But this moment wasn't about him.

"You deserve to be in charge. I don't want to stand in the way, but—"

Anthony looked up, putting both his hands on Freddie's chest, his eyes still wet with the remnants of tears. "Listen. If you can promise me we will be partners, that we will make decisions together, then I'll concede that you know best about…punching stuff."

Freddie chuckled, his heart opening at Anthony's words. "Punching stuff?"

"I guess you did some wrestling on those steps in San Francisco. Also throwing."

" Wrestling ?"

Anthony ignored Freddie's faux-outrage. "It's your job, after all. You can be obsessive if you want to be."

Freddie shook his head ruefully. "It's not that I want to be. But if you were in danger…" Freddie's throat closed up at the thought.

Anthony's hands cupped Freddie's face, and the warmth was a balm to his anxiety.

"Hey." Anthony's voice was firm. "I'm not in danger now. I'm here with you."

Freddie looked down at Anthony's open, playful face. There was a vibrancy there that had been absent from Freddie's life for a long time.

Freddie leaned down and kissed him.

Anthony's lips were soft and plump, and a shock of electricity ran down Freddie's spine at the touch. The scent of leather and lemon filled Freddie's nose. He'd never get enough of that. The kiss was gentle for a moment, but Anthony pushed forward and it turned ravenous.

Freddie matched the change, and his tongue tapped at the place where Anthony's lips met. Anthony opened up, and Freddie invaded, tasting and roving as Anthony trembled in his arms. Anthony whimpered, and it spurred Freddie on, his hands moving down to cup Anthony's beautiful round ass.

He fucked Anthony's mouth with his tongue, and Anthony sucked on the welcome intruder as Freddie took control. The blood flowed to Freddie's cock, and he got even harder as Anthony moans grew louder.

After a few moments, Anthony broke it off, breathless. "Damn. You make me want to let you take the lead. You're so strong and…solid. I didn't know I needed that."

Freddie bent down and stole another kiss, tame and sweet this time. "You taste so good."

Anthony reached down and squeezed Freddie's cock through his pants. "I want to know how you taste."

Anthony looked in either direction along the path. It was a more secluded area of the park, and as dusk turned to night, they had seen few other people. Anthony guided Freddie back against a short stone wall and dropped to his knees.

"Anthony—"

"Shh. You don't get to be in control tonight." Anthony undid the button at Freddie's waist and pulled down the band of his navy boxer briefs. Freddie shivered as the cool night air reached his bare cock. Anthony rubbed his cheek against Freddie's shaft and wrapped his hand around the base.

Freddie throbbed inside Anthony's tight grasp.

"God, you are perfect," Anthony whispered, and then came an intense, wet warmth as Anthony's tongue ran along the underside of Freddie's balls.

"Fuck, you feel so good."

Anthony looked up at Freddie and winked , and Freddie knew he was done for. This unreasonable, ridiculous human was never escaping him.

With one swift motion, Anthony swallowed Freddie's heavy girth to the hilt. Freddie thrust forward involuntarily, his cock hitting the back of Anthony's throat.

Anthony didn't gag or move back, instead rocking back and forth a little at a time, as the head slid against the root of Anthony's tongue. It was incredible. He was enveloped inside Anthony's warm mouth.

Anthony hummed, sending electric shocks down the shaft that hit Freddie at his core. He shook at the overwhelming sensations, putting his hands against the wall behind him for support.

Anthony pulled back, his slick lips dragging across Freddie's cock and leaving trails of wet pleasure. Freddie was desperate for Anthony to find a rhythm, but when he did, it was painfully slow. Anthony moved up and down, savoring every taste as his mischievous eyes gazed up at Freddie.

The need was unbearable.

"Anthony, please…"

Anthony quickened, giving Freddie some relief, but it wouldn't last long. Freddie's legs trembled, but Anthony kept up his brutal pace, never going quite fast enough to push him over the edge. A tingling gathered in Freddie's balls, an urgent ache that Anthony refused to alleviate.

"Go faster. Please." Freddie heard the frantic need in his own voice. When was the last time he'd been desperate like this? He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember a time when someone had cared this much about his pleasure. Anthony was hungry for it.

Freddie moaned and bucked as Anthony slowed down the pace even further, then slid off the head of his dick with a pop.

"Do you want to come?" Anthony batted his long eyelashes. Freddie could tell how much he loved to tease. He was in his element.

Freddie nodded, unable to speak.

Anthony flicked his tongue against the underside of Freddie's cock, and it twitched and pulsed in response. He gasped.

Then, without warning, Anthony was off, fast and wet and punishing. Freddie felt his cock hit the back of Anthony's throat over and over, his muscles tightening as he got closer and closer to the point of no return.

When it happened, the intensity was overwhelming. He was gone, his body shaking as he poured himself down Anthony's throat, his eyes clenched tight. He roared, a ragged growl, unable to help himself. It was a feral noise, an animal breaking free from its cage.

The feeling of his fangs dropping dragged Freddie out of the abyss and back into consciousness. He closed his mouth, hiding them. Anthony was still suckling at his cock, squeezing out the dregs of his release.

"That was amazing."

With a last lick, Anthony pulled off and came to his feet.

"It must have been," he said, the words spilling from his swollen lips. "You made sounds I've never heard come out of a man before. They were almost…inhuman."