Page 12 of The Vampire's Werewolf Bodyguard
“Tomorrow,” Simon says instead, and leaves.
He’s been up since before sunset. He’s too tired for this.
Once he’s on the staircase, out of the werewolf’s sight, Simon allows himself to lean on the railing. Ridiculous. He’s a vampire. Four hundred and fifty years old. An immortal creature of the night. And walking downstairs is nearly too much for him.
Maybe Dima’s right about Simon needing a bodyguard. Dima’s usually right, and when he’s wrong, it’s easier not to point it out.
Simon locks the door to his downstairs suite behind him, then heads to the small kitchenette. A counter, a sink, and amini fridge of bottled blood. Simon grabs a half-finished bottle and forces down a sip.
After a hundred years of experimenting, they still can’t fix the stale taste of the preservative compound. But bottled blood does its job. Simon can go months, maybe years, without live feeding if he has to.
But not forever. If Simon wants to feel safe drinking from a vein again, he has to solve the mystery of Lawrence Baird.
Sure, Dima is working on it. But Dima operates on a decidedly vampiric timescale. Urgency is a foreign concept, except when fascination strikes him. One hint of a mysterious relic or power can distract Dima onto a decade-long tangent.
As for Cody—the man said it himself. He’s a bodyguard, not an investigator. No matter how concerned and professional Cody acts, Simon can’t trust a werewolf.
He lied to Cody, of course. The premeditated attack was personal. Lawrence used Simon’s name. What Simon doesn’t know is whether Lawrence was a lone vigilante or part of a larger group.
Simon forces down the last sip of stale blood. He feels steadier now, at least. Leaving the empty bottle on the counter, he stares at the half-burned candle next to it. He snaps his fingers.
A hint of warmth kisses his fingertips. Not enough. The candle’s wick remains cold.
Truly pathetic.
Simon regrets killing Lawrence. He should have shot him in the knees instead of the head. Had Lawrence lived, the treaty council could have interrogated him. That interrogation would have neatly solved the mystery. No need to cowerbehind his werewolf bodyguard. But without Lawrence’s enthralled testimony, Dima’s right. Calling in the council is risky.
After the treaty, most hunters’ guilds transitioned into liaison and enforcement. The fanatical splinter groups are the ones that went underground. They had hunted vampires and werewolves for centuries. Putting down their blades wasn’t an option.
The treaty can’t prevent rogue vampires or werewolves either. Pushing a werewolf over the edge is easy, their brute nature just under the surface. Vampire fledglings struggle to control the bloodlust, too. More vampires die within their first year than any other point in their undead lives. They take risks and get themselves fried by sunlight, or they go mad with thirst and break the treaty. The treaty breakers are put down by the nearest qualified enforcer.
Rogue hunters are harder to find than vampires or werewolves. They blend in with the wider population, and Simon doesn’t have many contacts with the current generation of humans.
Hiding his search from Cody is an added complication.
But at least Simon has a name to follow, plus one of the greatest modern inventions. Who needs human contact when he has the internet?
Chapter 6
Cody
Cody stares at his own hands like they’re a threat. He could snap at any moment, nails sharpening into claws, reason crumbling into feral instinct. Less than an hour on the job, and he’s already lost control with his hands around his principal’s wrists.
Stopping a vampire from tearing out his throat? Fine. Involuntary shifting? Not fine. Especially because Simon hadn’t been a threat at all. He’d been weak as a human in Cody’s grasp.
The guest room smells of faded gardenia detergent. Dust. The scent of death dissipates quickly; Simon doesn’t spend time in this room.
Cody should call Tobias and quit. Assignment, career, everything. Vampires have slaughtered werewolves for thousands of years. Werewolves have returned the violent favor.How the fuck is Cody supposed to protect Simon with his wolf constantly snarling under the surface?
Except it wasn’t anger that drove Cody’s partial shift tonight. It was concern.
Cody jolts himself out of depressing hand contemplation. Time to familiarize himself with his temporary territory. Movement helps control his wolf, enough for Cody to think.
He’s never seen a vampire faint before.
Not that Cody’s spent much time with vampires. But they definitely don’t faint, and Simon’s reaction was telling. Alarmed, defensive. Like he was scared of Cody. Trying to hide his weaknesses. Cody understands that. He doesn’t like it, because a secretive charge will make this job even harder. But he understands it.
In the dusty, ordinary bathroom, Cody catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Bloodshot eyes, wrinkled shirt, bad decisions. That’s the face of a fucking idiot—because Simon’s defensive secrecy makes Cody want to stay.
