I finally know what it feels like to be truly happy.
I’m woken with a gentle rub of my chest. We’ve switched positions. I’m on my back now, arm extended, and Collin’s head rests in the little nook created by my shoulder.I feel warm, relaxed, and at peace—and still hella groggy.
It must show in my eyes.
“Sorry,” he whispers, glancing up. “You can go back to sleep. I just wanted to tell you my database updated. All the kids are still alive. I thought you’d want to know.”
His words are like a splash of cold water. It’s what I hoped to hear, but of course there are worse things than death.
I push my free elbow down against the mattress so I can sit up slightly. Collin adjusts to his side, off my chest.
“Are they hurt?” I correct myself. “Ormorehurt? Did the vampires feed on them?”
He glances off in that searching way of his, but only for a second. “They did get fed on, but not too badly. From what I can tell based on the most recent human knowledge, after all the damage you and Rafa did, there are loads fewer vampires at the Benevolent Society. And keeping the children alive and well seems to be the priority. For now, at least.”
Based on human knowledge.He’s used that term before when talking about his database updates.
“You can’t get information about the vampires directly? Like exact numbers?”
“Paranormal beings are outside of my scope. I don’t get any answers to questions about them, unless the answer can be inferred from their interactions with humans, or if it’s through the watch owner’s senses. It’s a hard limit. For the thousands of years I’ve been trapped in the watch, there’s only been one exception to that rule…” He catches my eye, a small smile flickering.
Me. I’m the exception. Because of that question he asked.
Now I’m even more curious what that was. But then I realize what human knowledge his database would need to draw on.
“The kids are still in that dungeon?”
“Yes,” he replies. “And they’ve recently received food and water. They’ll be weak, but when we rescue them, they should fully recover.”
I like that he uses “when” instead of “if.”
“Well, that’s something. Can you get any information on whether Rafa was able to convince the clan to stage a rescue?”
Collin gives a small, regretful shake of his head. “No. It could be because Monster Hunters have made themselves into something more than human, but the only answers I’ve ever gotten about Rafa have come from your senses. I don’t know how he’s gotten on since you both parted.”
Right. So, I’ll need to find out the old-fashioned way.
I reluctantly extricate my arm out from under the Irish boy and swing my legs over the side of the mattress so I can reach for my phone on the small Formica table next to the bed. There are no new notifications. Rafa hasn’t texted me yet.
It’s 2:05 a.m. I must have slept about four hours. Surprisingly, now that I’ve woken up a little, I feel pretty good. That might have something to do with my incubus power getting charged up. Then again, it might just be because the sex and the cuddling in itself was the best experience of my entire life.
I pull up Rafa’s name in my messages and quickly type out: “Avatar says kids still alive and OKish. Any luck on your end?” The message shows as “Delivered” but it doesn’t tag as “Read” even after I give it several beats.
I frown at my phone and briefly consider hunting for its charging cable on the floor, when Collin's fingers scrape lightly across the sheet next to him, smoothing an inviting landing spot. “You should try to get a bit more sleep, Alvin. If the clan does choose to help, they’ll want to wait for dawn. Especially once they know the children aren’t in imminent danger.”
It’s a good point. And even better when I look at the cute naked boy I get to snuggle with.
Still a little drowsy, I nod my assent so I can nestle into his waiting arms. I put the phone down and close my eyes as he pulls me in. It only takes a few moments of his delicious skin-on-skin warmth to float me back to sleep.
I’m woken again by the phone buzzing like an angry hornet against the tabletop.
It can’t have been much more than an hour. I’m so comfy that for a half-second I consider just leaving it—but then I lever myself up while Collin scoots out of the way. The wry expression on his face must mimic mine. We both know that if this is Rafa, it can’t wait.
The message is, in fact, from Rafa’s phone. But it’s not from him.
It says: “Sorry, Alvin. I’m afraid my son won’t be able to text you back. If you ever want to see him alive again, bring the Avatar and no one else. The longer you make me wait, the more he bleeds. And there’s only *so* long I can resist…” It ends with a green smiley face with fangs emoji.
The next message is a camshot: Rafa slumped on the floor, beaten badly, his back against the bars of one of the cells in the vampire dungeon. His duster and chambray shirt have been removed, and his head hangs limply over the chest of his tank top.
