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“It’s okay,” Tom said with a tired-looking smile. “Really.”
Jesse drank in the look on his face—disappointment, but also resignation and acceptance.
“I’m not what you really want either, am I?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Tom said, putting his hand on Jesse’s leg. “You’re fun—hot, different. All the good stuff.”
“You can’t order your heart to stand to attention,” he said, trying for a smile. “Or your dick, for that matter.”
Tom snorted. “No, I guess not.”
Jesse tucked Tom’s hair behind his ear and rubbed his thumb over the scar again. “What was it like?” he whispered.
Tom took his hand, drew it away and held it in his lap. “You don’t want to know.”
“Why?”
Tom frowned, staring hard at their hands. “Biting went wrong. More than once. After the third hospital admission, my family intervened.” Tom raised his eyes. “The falling out I mentioned.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.” Tom looked out over the snowy grounds. The wind tugged at his curls. All traces of the smile had gone from his face. “I’m still seeing a therapist about it. I know I can’t let myself do it again, but I’ve never stopped wanting to.”
Jesse’s throat was tight. The set of Tom’s face made fear uncurl under his belly, but he couldn’t deny the crackle of electricity that went up his spine. Tom suddenly looked at him like he guessed his thoughts.
“Don’t ever do it, Jesse.”
“Huh?”
“Promise me.” He tightened his grip on Jesse’s hand. “They’re not supposed to do it. It’s illegal for them to even ask, but some of them still do. It’s how they…get off.”
“Look, Tom…”
“I know I’m the last person to lecture people on lifestyle choices…” He paused to swallow, gripping Jesse’s hand still harder. “But I know what I’m talking about. Don’t do it, Jesse. Don’t even think about it.”
Jesse clamped his mouth shut, trying to not let the fact that Tom had just made the idea more exciting than ever show on his face.
“You need something more, though,” he said, his voice catching. “More than me. More than human. Is that so bad?”
“Yes,” Tom said, “it’s bad.”
Jesse’s stomach filled with ice water. “But Darragh Kelly, the lawyer? He seems interested.”
“Ican’t, Jesse,” he whispered, his voice harsh. “I can’t let myself get close to one of them again. I’d never survive it.”
Jesse took in the fear tightening Tom’s face. The fear and the desperation. “You can control pain, you know, with the right partner. It doesn’t need to control you.”
Tom smiled a shaky smile. “I’ll have to take your word on that.”
Chapter Eight
Jesse helped Tom pack up the picnic things in silence. He shouldered the bag then held out his hand for Jesse’s. Jesse held it as they walked through the ruins. Tom pointed out the old dormitory and refectory before guiding him through the arching cloisters in and around the echoing bell tower. There was sadness between them, but the feel of Tom’s hand was comforting.
“Hey, Jesse.” Tom paused as they made their way back to the path. “We’re friends, right?”
Jesse blinked, surprised. “Yeah. Course.”
“I think we both need friendship right now. Maybe more than we need…all that other stuff.”
