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Fuck, he wanted Marcus so damn bad. Why did the man have to be so sweet, sexy, vulnerable, and adorable? One perfect package all rolled into one. Except maybe for the fact that he was a vampire.
Was that really such a bad thing? It wasn’t like he’d tasted of blood when they kissed, and he didn’t get pierced by a set of sharp fangs.
But working for Marcus wasn’t supposed to be about finding a hot fuck. He was supposed to be locating and destroying the person who murdered his goddamn family.
Ethan flopped face first down on his bed and groaned. He wished he could hear what his mother or father would say about this mess. He couldn’t even be sure they’d accept him for being gay, but he liked to imagine they would have.
When he was alone and on his own, he’d imagined how it could have been to tell them. Sitting nervously on the couch, clutching his hands together to keep them from shaking as he admitted in stumbling words that he liked boys. He pretended that his mother and father would hug him and say that they loved him regardless of who he liked. His mom would kiss him and say she was proud of him. His dad would wink and say that the same rules applied to him as his sisters—no boys in the bedroom. It would have been the perfect moment.
But he never got to have that moment. The only good thing was that at least he missed out on having the bad one where they disowned him and kicked him out of the house.
What the hell was he supposed to do?
If he came clean, would Marcus understand about him going to Carl and the League? Would he even help him find the vampires who slaughtered everyone in his apartment building?
Everything was a giant damn mess, and it was supposed to be so fucking easy. He would find the killers and take them out. He would get justice for his family and finally be able to move on with a sense of completion. He’d have the knowledge that no one else could be harmed the way he’d been.
With that done, he’d finish getting his degree and he’d find a real job. He’d start living his life. No more vampires. No more death and chaos.
No more Marcus.…
He could easily imagine Marcus telling him to fuck off after he found out that Ethan was with the anti-vampire hate group. They bragged about killing scores of vampires in the name of saving humans. But after spending two weeks with Marcus, Ethan was figuring out that a lot of their information about vampires was utter bullshit. And if their info about vampires was bad, did that mean these lunatics were killing innocent vampires? Hell, they could be murdering people who weren’t actually vampires at all.
He needed fucking help and right now—but the only person who could possibly help him was Marcus. Ethan couldn’t figure out if it was more or less fucked up for him to turn to the person he’d been setting up to be killed only a few weeks earlier. But he knew deep down in his soul that Marcus wouldn’t hurt him. He might very well be the only person he trusted in this world.
Chapter Twelve
Marcus slid his hands into his pockets as he stood over Bel’s sleeping form. The long cuts on his face had healed completely in his sleep, restoring his natural beauty. While Rafe and Beltran weren’t identical twins, their looks were very similar. But where Rafe had a devilish and wicked cant to his features, Bel’s face held a sweetness to it. As if they were the good angel and wicked devil that stood on a person’s shoulders.
For a moment, Marcus debated pulling aside Bel’s blanket so he could peel away the bandages over his heart. In the end, he decided against it. His healed face was proof enough that he was on the mend. Bel needed his sleep. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t wake until sunset. Then he’d be able to hunt again to regain his strength, and possibly talk about their mother.
It was not a conversation he was looking forward to. The attack on Bel was the worst any of them had suffered in a few decades. Marcus had started to entertain the silly notion that maybe their mother was evening out a little, that her episodes were growing less violent, or they’d gotten better at managing her.
But he’d been wrong.
Marcus had no doubt that Bel could handle Julianna. He’d been handling her well enough for nearly two hundred years. The problem was that they never wanted to hurt her, while she showed no restraint in trying to harm them.
Swallowing a sigh, Marcus silently left the music room and shut the door behind him. He paused in the hallway, straining to hear every sound in the house. He’d slept until nearly four in the afternoon. The worries over Meryl’s threats, the coming move, the antics of the Ministry, and then his mother’s episode had left him drained.
