Crying for the Moon (15 page)

In the living room, they discovered Tish and Duncan asleep on the couch. Tish lay curled up at one end, propped on a cushion. Duncan’s long length took up the remainder of the couch, his boots hanging off the edge, his head in Tish’s lap. He had one hand on his slightly distended belly. His mouth had fallen open and there was the faint sound of snoring in the room. Julie was nowhere in sight.

“So much for getting their help with the mattress.” Tate sighed. “I’m surprised they ate anything at all this morning; they looked stuffed already as it was.”

“Bacon and eggs has its appeal even when you’re not very hungry.” Alex shrugged.

Tate shot him an assessing look. “Well, no matter. I’m sure you and I can handle it by ourselves. Do you think Nick will mind if we borrow the van?”

Alex hesitated. He didn’t want to risk spending time alone with Tate in his house, but a part of him wanted to see where he lived and what his private space was like. Nick and the others were likely down for the count until much later in the afternoon. He didn’t want to go upstairs and try to fish keys out of Nick’s jeans’ pocket if he hadn’t left them in the van. He didn’t want Tate to go to all the trouble of moving the mattress set for such a short-term situation either, but he didn’t know how he could accommodate everyone for the time Peter needed to heal, particularly if everyone began sleeping nights in the house once the moon was on the wane. Just what the fuck was he supposed to do about Julie? He sighed. When did his life get so complicated?

“Let’s see if he left the keys in the van.” Alex indicated the driveway with a flick of his fingers.

“Okay, but if he did, I get to be Daphne.” Tate’s smile begged Alex to join in the game.

“Wait. That would make me Velma,” Alex said with a mock frown as they headed for the door. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

“Are you kidding?” Tate said. “Velma was the brains of the whole operation. She was the really cool one of the bunch. Velma’s my favorite.”

“So, why aren’t you Velma, then?” Alex winced as they stepped outside into the brilliant sunlight. He glanced up, shading his eyes. He could admire the perfect blue of the October sky, but he needed sunglasses just the same.

Tate waited patiently as they stopped by Alex’s Escape and he fished around for his shades in the glove compartment.

“With this hair? Yeah, I’m always Daphne.” Tate sounded a little put out by that fact.

Alex gave a little internal sigh of relief when he put on the sunglasses. He shut the car door, pausing to look at Tate. “Your hair is amazing,” he said. “It was one of the first things I noticed about you. Your hair and your eyes.”

Tate blushed, the color rising charmingly over his cheekbones. Alex was amused when he turned away and went over to the van to peer into the driver’s-side window. Alex filed the information away for future reference. Interesting that for all his boldness, Tate could be shy when complimented on his appearance.

Julie stepped out of her minivan and shut the sliding door. She was carrying a suitcase in one hand and a heavily laden canvas bag in the other. She marched past Alex and Tate without a word and re-entered the house.

“Yes, of course. Be my guest,” Alex said in her wake. “By all means, make yourself at home.”

Tate snickered as he opened the driver’s-side door of the Mystery Machine. “Keys in the ignition!” he announced happily. “The mission is a go. You want to drive or shall I?”

“Better let me drive,” Alex said. “That way, if we wreck the van, Nick won’t eat you.”

“There are so many places I could go with that statement, but I won’t,” Tate said as the two of them took their seats in the front of the van. “Phew!” He wrinkled his nose. “Smells like wet dog in here.”

Alex couldn’t really smell anything noticeable. The interior of the van was surprisingly neat. Alex remembered that Nick had been a pilot and wondered if that had something to do with it.

“Wait a minute,” Alex said as he quirked an eyebrow at Tate. “You’re complaining about the doggy odor? I’ve seen clouds of hair tumble out of your car at your approach.”

Tate threw back his head and laughed. “I know. Dr. Pot meet Mr. Kettle. My car is filthy, but it’s my own dirt, see? You get used to it and then you don’t notice it anymore.”

They fell into a companionable silence as Alex pulled out of the driveway and turned up the road toward Tate’s place. He knew it was the last house on the road; he’d just never driven that way before. The state maintenance ended after nearly a mile and the road became dirt. A little storm of dust followed in their wake as Alex drove slowly up the steeper grade. No wonder Tate’s car was always covered in mud. The road was narrow; the dense stand of trees pressed in on either side.

“Do you get snowed in up here much in the winter?” Alex asked, navigating through a set of ruts in the road.

Tate shrugged. “Not often. We don’t get that much snow this far south. Usually, I have enough notice and I can plan for it if we do, so it’s no big deal. It’s not often I schedule any days off, so I have to admit, I like getting snowed in. I can read or watch a movie, have a glass of wine, just kick back and relax for a change. It’s never more than a couple of days anyway.”

Alex gave a quick glance in Tate’s direction. “You seem pretty relaxed to me. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who enjoys life so much as you
.
”
It’s part of your appeal
, Alex thought.

Tate smiled, but it was more somber than usual. He stared out of the window into the forest before speaking. “I guess I just spend a little too much time working. Partly to make ends meet but also because when it’s just you, it’s easy to get sucked into saying yes to everyone else before yourself.”

“Tate,” Alex said, gripping the wheel tightly. “You know you don’t have to be doing this. At my place, I mean. You’ve done so much for Peter as it is. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Tate reached out and briefly squeezed his arm. “I didn’t mean you. I
like
spending time with you and your friends.”

The road began to widen and opened out into a small bowl of land. Ahead, Alex could see a log house perched on the side of a hill where the mountainside dropped away to reveal a view of the valley below. He pulled up in front of the house and they got out of the van.

“Oh, wow,” Alex said, turning to take in the full measure of the scenery. The break in the trees allowed a view straight down into the valley. The fall foliage was at its peak; the trees were aflame with a riot of yellow, red, and orange. The nearer mountains looked as though a soft, patchwork quilt had been draped over them. In the distance, the mountains blurred into a hazy, blue smudge as far as the eye could see. “This is amazing.”

“Thanks,” Tate said with a small smile. “I love it up here.”

He led the way up the porch stairs into the house. Inside, the rooms were sparsely furnished. Alex’s first impression was one of open space, gleaming wood floors, and large windows that let in great beams of warm light. Alex kept on his shades as he looked around curiously. There were a few overstuffed couches, several of which still sported cat hair. The central room also had a large fireplace with a woodstove, the front of which was glassed in, which combined the best of a fire with heating comfort, as far as Alex could tell. The décor was in shades of tan and gray with splashes of blue accents here and there. A large, thick rug lay near the woodstove, and Alex had a sudden vision of the two of them curled up there, sharing a glass of wine in front of a crackling fire.

The windows faced the mountain range. Alex walked over to the balcony doors that led to a deck on the back of the house and stood staring out at the scenery. The room was warm and serene, and Alex felt an unaccustomed sense of peace.

“Want some coffee?” Tate offered, motioning over his shoulder toward the kitchen.

“We shouldn’t stay,” Alex said. He moved away from the balcony doors and walked over to one wall to look at the large photograph there. It was a black-and-white study of a bald eagle on a nest, perched on the edge of a cliff. He moved on to the next one: a photo of several autumn leaves that had fallen into a pond, a rim of ice at the edge of the water, the leaves half-submerged and muted in color.

He caught the sight of movement out of the corner of his eye and discovered a digital picture frame on a small table, the images within rotating slowly through a series of nature shots. They were exquisite: deer in a mist-shrouded field; a tiny mouse feeding on a head of grain, the weight of its body bending the plant to the ground. The brilliant colors of a bluebird on a fence post in one shot contrasted with the scarlet and black of a red-winged blackbird on an overhead wire in another. As he watched, the photo scrolled to a small cardinal, puffed up against the cold, its red body the only note of color in a scene of falling snow.

“These are beautiful,” Alex said.

“Thanks,” Tate replied with a self-depreciating little laugh. “I have a good camera.”

“You took these?” Alex turned to look at Tate. “These are professional quality!”

Tate shrugged.

Alex moved around the room looking at the photos until one caught his eye and held him transfixed in front of it. A man clung to the side of a sheer rock face, wearing a yellow and white sleeveless sports shirt and some black nylon pants that came down to just below his knees, revealing muscular calves as his foot dug into the rock wall. One leg was elevated at an impossible angle up the rock face; the other seemed to support all his weight simply on his toes. His arms, every muscle cleanly outlined by the brutal sun, appeared to be reaching for a handhold. His hands were white with chalk. A small bag hung at his waist, along with a water bottle and what looked like a mass of carabiners.

It was Tate. There was no mistaking that auburn hair. It was longer in the picture and pulled back in a ponytail. What struck Alex the most about the shot was how relaxed Tate looked there, clinging to the wall, as though he were out for a casual stroll.

“That’s you,” he said stupidly. He removed his sunglasses to get a closer look, setting them down on the side table.

“Yeah,” Tate said. “I like that shot. One of my friends took it a couple of years ago. I don’t have many photos of me. Usually, I’m the one with the camera.” He gave Alex an assessing look. “You’d be really good at rock climbing. You’ve got those long legs, and I know you’re freakishly strong. There are a lot of easy climbs around here. You should go with me sometime. Work your way up to the tough stuff. Hey, we could even take a trip out West somewhere together. It’d be fun.”

Alex found himself staring at Tate’s photo. He could see the appeal. Something about pitting himself against the elements like that—the stone, the sand, the sky. It almost seemed as though he belonged there.
Yeah, right.
“Only if they make SPF 2000.” Alex said sourly.

Tate laughed. “Look at me. I burn at the drop of a hat. You better believe I pack the good stuff. I can provide all the coverage you need.”

There it was again, that smoldering heat between them that suddenly sparked upward into a flame. Alex knew that he had to speak before he lost his nerve. Before he gave into temptation. “Tate. Look.” He hesitated, uncertain how to say what he needed to say.

Tate’s face took on a cool expression. “Here we go. The ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech. I like you, Tate, but….” His eyes were wide open in mock sincerity as he mimicked Alex’s speech before giving him a tight little smile and turning away. He walked over to the sideboard and pulled out a bottle of wine from a small rack there, uncorking it, and pouring himself a glass. He headed over to the couch, glass in hand, looking a little stiff and unapproachable. His sudden change of demeanor, so different from the laughing, fun-loving person that Alex had come to know, was disturbing.

“So, is it your reputation or mine that you’re worried about? Or maybe you don’t normally do guys. Is that it?” Tate’s expression was almost a sneer.

“It’s not like that. Please. Hear me out.”

Tate flicked a glance up in his direction before setting his glass on the coffee table and leaning over to unzip his boots. “I’m all ears,” Tate said dryly. He pulled off his boots and placed his socked feet on the coffee table, crossing his legs at the ankles. He watched Alex through half-slit eyes, sipping his wine as Alex poured a glass of Merlot for himself.

He came over to the couch and sat down at the opposite end from Tate. Stalling for time, he took a sip from his glass and was surprised at the rich, full-bodied flavor. “Wow, this is good,” he said.

“Alex,” Tate said reprovingly. “We’re not here to discuss my taste in wine.”

“Yes. Right. Well.” Alex set his glass down on the coffee table and wiped his hands nervously along his jeans. “This
isn’t
about you. You have to believe me on that one. I’ve… I’ve never felt this kind of attraction for anyone before. I mean it. But my life is really complicated….”

“So I gathered,” Tate said, a hint of amusement sneaking back into his voice. He reached out for his glass and took a sip.

“You don’t know the half of it. You know about Nick’s pack—fine. You have to admit— that’s bizarre enough for the average person. But there’s more to it than just that. It’s not safe to be with me. I moved up here on the mountain for a reason. To deliberately disappear from my former life.”

Tate raised an eyebrow. “Are you hiding from someone?”

Alex sighed. “In a manner of speaking, yes. It’s nothing I can’t handle, but I do have to worry about the people around me.”

“I’m a big boy, Alex. I can handle myself.”

Alex just shook his head. “In most circumstances, I’d say yes, you can. But you don’t know Victor like I do.”

“Tell me about him then.” Tate looked at him so calmly, so prepared to hear whatever it was he had to say—no matter how strange—that Alex was sorely tempted to tell him everything. He collected his glass and took another sip of wine instead.

“So, if it’s not about the fact that I’m a guy,” Tate said slowly, “is it because you’re a vampire?”

Alex spit wine out.