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“Don’t you fucking dare tell me about pack law, you pinche puta,” Angel roared so loudly that Paul almost flinched. “I fucking wrote the pack law and I’ll change it any damn time I want. Now get the fuck out of my face and let me deal with this. All of you.”
There was some angry mumbling and shuffling and then Paul sensed that the room was clearing out. Soon it was empty except for him and Angel.
“Paul…” Angel knelt by him and Paul dared to open one eye. Not that he could open it very much, it was almost swollen shut. “Paul…Pauly…” Angel was crying, his tears falling on Paul’s face and stinging the fresh cuts.
“Angel?” he croaked, trying to sit up.
“Shhh—lie still. Just lie there awhile. Got to make sure everybody’s gone.”
“You…” Paul coughed. Every part of him ached. “Thought you were gonna kill me, ’mano. ”
“I should’ve but…I couldn’t. Couldn’t let them.” Angel sat back and swiped the back of one hand angrily across his eyes. “Fuck, man…why’d you have to change?” “I didn’t change, not really.” Paul tried again to get up and couldn’t. He was too weak. Too hurt. “I’ve always been this way. Just…couldn’t admit it until…until Laurent showed me how.”
Angel stuck a finger in his face. “Don’t you fucking talk about him to me. He took you away from me. He stole my best friend and turned him into a…into a…”
“Go ahead and say it—you said it before. I’m a faggot. A maricon. A mariposa. I’m gay.” Paul laughed and the sound hurt coming out of his throat. “Dios, I spent so long denying that. Thinking if I didn’t do this or didn’t do that it wouldn’t be true. And now when I finally realize what the truth really is, it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Why you say that?” Angel sniffed and pulled a razor-sharp butterfly knife out of his pocket. He twirled it expertly until the blade popped into view and then went to work on the duct tape wrapped around Paul’s wrists. “You’re gonna make it.” He sawed at the tape, cursing when the silver filaments stung his unprotected flesh. “Soon as I get you out of this fucking tape you’ll heal in no time. Did I ever tell you my uncle gets this tape made special for torture? Dios, you don’t want to know where he puts it when he’s breaking some sad cabron down or busting them out.”
Paul lay still, letting his ex-packleader and best friend work on the tape, letting Angel’s words flow over him. He was going to live. He was going to wake up tomorrow morning and breathe in and out and walk around and still fucking exist. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered now that he had broken the bond. I ache for him. For the way he touched me, for the feel of him in my mind. But he’s gone and I can never get him back. He didn’t even know what had happened to Laurent. The last thing he’d seen, he’d been standing in front of the council and it had looked like he was being judged.
Judged by the other vampires and found wanting.
Looking up, Paul saw that the night was officially over. Outside the small, dirty window the sun was rising—it was going to be another sweltering Miami day. For the first time an icy shard of fear pierced his heart. Laurent, what will they do to you? Where are you? Are you safe?
He wished with all his heart that he could send the questions through their link but when he tried, it was like shouting into a dead telephone. The bond was well and truly broken, at least on his end. He hadn’t tampered with Laurent’s end but what good was it if Laurent’s part of the bond still worked? It would be like talking into a Walkie-Talkie with no one at the other end.
“Gonna get you out of here,” Angel was saying as he finished stripping the tape off Paul’s wrists and forearms. “Just as soon as everybody else is gone. So just lie there and heal a few minutes.”
Paul wanted to get up and go looking for Laurent but he had no choice but to do what Angel said. He was still too wounded, too weak to go anywhere. But I’ll be well soon and then I’ll find you, babe. Even if it’s too late for our bond, at least I can be sure you’re safe. *
“You stupid, ignorant, ungrateful little bastard!” Laurent’s father pushed him up against the wall in the hallway and slapped him again and again, reddening his cheeks as he inflicted the stinging pain.
Laurent stood there, silent and uncomplaining. Why should he protest or try to protect himself? The only reason he had for living was gone. Paul had broken their bond and even now was probably dead on the floor of the dirty, ramshackle house his pack kept as a hideout.
