Page 5 of Threads of Crimson 2

It wasn’t that I had a problem doing that when one deserved it for their evil deeds or when it became necessary for the safety of my kind, but I never wanted to do it to him. I never wanted him to doubt his autonomy when he was with me.

“Lysandro?” he asked, sounding confused and perhaps a little hurt. He looked adorably rumpled this morning with his hair all wild from sleep, in only a pair of bright blue boxer briefs.

What had I been thinking coming in so early? I should’ve waited, made sure he was dressed. A mostly naked Benji was the last thing I needed to see. “It’s me. Good morning.” I smiled gently, reassuringly.

He squeezed his eyes closed. “I don’t understand.”

“I know. Maybe we should go into the kitchen. I can make you a cup of coffee.”

“You’re going to make me…coffee?” He stared at me warily.

Moving slowly so as not to scare him, I ushered him into the kitchen. Once he sat down, I opened the curtains, uncovering the tinted windows, and the room flooded with pale light.

Benji jumped up, alarmed. “Oh my god! What are you doing? You’re going to fry to death.”

He tried running past me to close them, and I caught him around the waist with one arm. “No. It’s okay. Look.”

Holding out my arm, I let him take in the leather covering my arms and my gloved hand. His gaze slowly moved around, trailing my whole body. By the time he made it to my eyes, he looked completely bemused. “What on Earth are you wearing?”

The question startled me—and truthfully, embarrassed me a little—and I released him, but he pushed back into me, clutching at my shoulders. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way. It’s just…I’ve never seen you in anything but black.” He smiled brightly. “But this”—he clutched either side of my purple leather raincoat—“fits the aesthetic of your home so much better.”

“Oh, well.” I swallowed. “Yes. I didn’t think about my, uh, wardrobe.” And why would I when I’d been dreading revealing my biggest secret?

He took a small step back and nimble fingers unbuttoned my coat. Dimples appeared in his cheeks as he took in my—I glanced down, unsure what I’d even chosen to wear today. Dark purple pants with a lavender, blue, and pink paisley button-up shirt. The residents here would consider this my customary style, but Benji didn’t know this Lysandro, only the side of me that I portrayed at Velvet Vein.

“You look incredible,” he breathed out, sounding fascinated. “So colorful.”

“Uh, yes. Well, I…” Did I tell him that after centuries with my Maker and her other children, ensconced in a darkness that shouldn’t exist, I craved brightness, uniqueness, like humans needed food and drink to survive. That even surrounding myself in what I found interesting and beautiful barely kept back the darkness that permeated my existence before her final death.

“Benji, I have to tell you something important. You can never, ever, tell Rafe or anyone from Velvet Vein. It is the primary reason that I don’t let any other vampires know of my whereabouts. You have to promise me.”

He leaned in, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Anything, Lysandro. I’ll always protect you,” he said fiercely.

“I…” I faltered. Protect me? A mere human stood before me promising to protect me. He meant it. I could see the truth of it in his eyes, the set of his jaw—felt it in the way his arms tightened around me.

“So what is it?” he prodded.

I should step back and put some space between us. Letting him into this part of my life, into my home, didn’t mean anything monumental. Damien’s claim that I considered Benji my consort was absurd. I’d left attachments like those behind me long ago. It wasn’t safe. But his sincerity was drawing me in like a bee to honey, and I found myself unable to move.

“Did anyone ever discuss vampiric abilities with you?”

He blinked. “Sure. You’re all unbelievably fast, like Superman fast.”

He grinned at my frown. The notion of superheroes was an absurdity, and Benji knew full well my thoughts on the subject. In a world where the supernatural and paranormal were around every corner, only mortals would go a step further and invent such nonsense.

He snickered. “Your hearing is ridiculous. There’s the whole putting people in your thrall thing, which is freaky. You’re all so strong I don’t know how you don’t break things. Most of you seem to be loaded, too.”

I waved a hand dismissively. “Believe me when I tell you, plenty of my brethren live in abysmal conditions. Velvet Vein just happens to only cater to those who’ve learned what to do with our money over the long years.”

I huffed, then continued, “But some, not all, also have special abilities on top of that. They often don’t present until after a couple of centuries.”

“Like what?” he asked, ever curious about all the things.

“Like Damien can read the exact thoughts of humans.”

His mouth fell open. “No way.”

I hummed. “Yes. It’s not a secret amongst our kind.” At least that part wasn’t.