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“You,” Lorien blurted out. “You’re a wolf. And I’m a vampire. We both prefer our own kind. And…”
“We like each other. That’s okay.”
“Is it?” Lorien heard the slight note of hysteria in his voice. “What can we even do?”
“Most things,” Henry winked. Lorien went weak at the knees.
“I feel like I’m the last person, thing, you’d ever be interested in. I’m a mess. I’m young for a vampire, and a hundred years too old for you. I’m…”
“Shhh,” Henry said, pressing his finger to Lorien’s lips in a very intimate gesture. His finger was strong and warm, just like him. “You don’t need to tell me what you are and what you aren’t. I see you.”
“Then you should be running in the other direction. I’ve done… I am…”
“I know,” Henry reassured him. “When I say I see you, I don’t just mean the brat who makes Maddox’s hair gray, or would if his hair could change color. I see the darkness that lurks inside you too. I see the power. I see what you are, and I see what you will be.” He lifted his hand and ran it through Lorien’s long hair in a surprisingly gentle caress for such a muscular beast of a man. “You’re perfect.”
“I’m far from perfect,” Lorien denied, though the truth was when he looked into Henry’s eyes, he started to think he might, maybe, be better than he imagined.
Henry just smiled and patted his cheek lightly. “I’m going to get some food,” he said. “I’m starving. Want to join? I know you don’t eat, but you can watch football.”
“Oh gee,” Lorien replied, resorting to sarcasm at the mere mention of the game.
“Not a sports fan? What do you like to watch, then?”
“I don’t watch television. It’s too modern.”
“What do you like to do then?”
“I used to like playing the piano, but Maddox doesn’t have any musical instruments. He thinks they summon things. Don't even ask. Underneath all the modern trappings, he is as superstitious as they come.”
Henry thought about that for a second. “I think I saw a piano, or an organ at the Library? You want to go there? I can grab a slice, and I can listen to you play.”
"You want to hear me play?”
Henry replied in a dominant, low, gravelly tone that expressed a level of desire Lorien could barely fathom. “I want to experience everything that is you.”
That was the most romantic thing anybody had said to Lorien in a long time.
“Yes,” he said. “That sounds like a nice idea.”
The Library was quiet. Or it had been until Lorien took to the keys of the piano. Then the place was full of light music and song.
“Is it an earthquake,” Lorien sang, his voice resonant. “Or only a shock? Is it the good turtle soup? Or is it the mock?”
Henry wouldn’t have a clue what he was singing about, he realized. He pulled his hands from the keys. “My references are very outdated…”
“I think I can follow,” Henry smiled. “You have a beautiful singing voice.”
“Okay, what’s going on?” Lorien looked at him. “Nobody likes me this much. What are you playing at?”
Henry could have taken offense to the question. It was a very offensive question. He didn’t. He looked mildly confused and stopped mid-slice.
“I said you sing well.”
“No. You said I was perfect. And you’re listening to me play music. Nobody listens to anybody else play this music anymore.”
“You've been taught to loathe yourself so much that you can’t believe it when someone likes you. I’m not being that nice to you, Lorien. I’m eating pizza, not showering you with gold coins. It’s pretty basic.”
“True. Sorry.”
