Now Comes the Night (18 page)

Damian sighed. No matter what Conrad said, it
had
been easier when the children were youngsters, back when they would listen to what they were told, when their problems were small and—for the most part—easily resolved.

Nowadays, nothing seemed easy and, as usual, he had no one but himself to blame. When he’d brought the twins to San Francisco, it hadn’t occurred to him they would find it so difficult to adjust to life here in the nest. Not that their comfort had been foremost in his mind. He’d needed them here so that they might help him find Conrad and save his life. Whatever risks were involved in bringing them here, he’d thought it worth the reward. Losing Conrad was unthinkable. Damian would have risked a great deal more than a little discomfort, or a little extra work, to prevent that happening!

Still, the amount of adjustment had taken them all by surprise, and he, for one, wasn’t all that used to being surprised. Despite Conrad’s frequently voiced complaints about Damian’s so-called risky behavior, he was not in the habit of leaping blindly into anything. It wasn’t true that Damian didn’t think things through. He thought. He just did it quickly. And then he acted—just as rapidly.

He who hesitated was lost, after all, and most of the time, the risks Damian took paid off handsomely. But no one was perfect. Even he was prone to the occasional miscalculation. He could think of at least two or three times in his life when things had not turned out as he’d planned, times when events or circumstances, or the other people involved had caught him off guard. Times when, what he’d thought of as the lesser of two evils, turned out not to be the lesser of anything at all.

He didn’t see how that could possibly be the case this time around, but that was the problem with surprises. Whether they were good or bad, every surprise he’d ever known shared at least one trait in common. He’d never seen them coming.

Chapter Ten

December, 1981

“I’ve been wondering about something,” Paul said as he lay in bed, chin propped on his crossed arms, watching as Damian dressed. The watching had become part of their nightly routine. Damian had a sneaking suspicion he would miss it if it stopped. If Paul simply rolled over one night and went to sleep without attempting to make the most of every second, without squeezing just a little bit more out of each of their encounters, another caress, a final kiss, one last, lingering look…yes, he’d miss it a lot.

“And what is it you wish to know now?” The questions were routine too, although Damian never seemed able to predict what Paul would ask next.

“How come we never go back to your place? Or go anywhere together in public? I never get to see you anywhere but here.”

“Oh?” Damian turned his head. He arched one eyebrow and smiled mockingly. “Were we not just out in public together tonight?”

Paul’s cheeks colored as he dropped his gaze. “Dancing doesn’t count.”

Damian laughed softly. “Of course it counts.” Just thinking about how good it had felt—Paul’s arms wrapped around him as they moved together on the dance floor just a few hours earlier—had Damian shrugging out of the shirt he’d just put on and sliding back into bed. What would a few more minutes hurt? The flush on Paul’s cheeks, the faraway glazed look in his eyes told Damian that the boy was remembering it too. Music pounding in the air. The press of bodies all around. The heady scents of flesh and blood and sweat and sex. Hips grinding in unison. Hands groping, searching, claiming. Sometimes, Damian thought it even more erotic than the sex act itself. “Dancing always counts.” After living through several centuries during which engaging in such activities—in public, no less!—would have carried a death penalty, Damian refused to take this current freedom for granted. Paul had no idea how lucky he was to have been born into such a place and time.

Damian shifted closer. Leaning in, he captured Paul’s lips in a gentle kiss. The boy shuddered in response and lifted a hand to frame Damian’s face, his thumb scraping back and forth against the bristliness there. All too soon, he was pulling away, his mouth set in far too tight a line.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Paul’s downcast eyes and the rapid pounding of his heart were all Damian needed to know that this was serious.

“What question was that?”

“Do you…? That is, are you…? Is there…?” Paul broke off with an angry sigh. He raised his eyes to meet Damian’s and tried again. “Do you have a boyfriend or something?”

Not this again? Damian frowned. “Haven’t we already talked about this?” He knew they had, and only a few months ago at that…

It was in June that Damian first grew concerned about Paul’s feelings for him, that he first determined it was time to break things off. As much as Damian had been enjoying the boy’s company, as much as he found himself unexpectedly craving him—the taste of his mouth, the touch of his hand, the smile that illuminated his face each time they met, like the moon emerging from behind a bank of clouds—a part of him was growing worried. They’d been seeing each other for less than two months at that point, but already Paul had started dropping hints, guarded questions about feelings, subtly worded requests for a commitment Damian could never give him.

A jealous outburst one evening, while they were at one of the clubs Paul liked to frequent, was all the excuse Damian needed to end their affair. He’d walked away without a word and spent the next three months scrupulously avoiding Paul’s company.

Logistically, it was easy. Having learned all Paul’s favorite haunts, Damian knew just where not to go. Filling his time, finding another use for all those hours he might have otherwise spent with Paul, was also not a problem. The twins were thrilled to be once again the focus of so much of their uncle’s time and attention. But Damian had missed Paul fiercely. It wasn’t the sex, or the blood, both of which he could easily get elsewhere. What he missed was the friendship that had grown between them.

He had always had people in his life, too many people, for the most part. He’d had parents, of course, and siblings, lovers and masters, scads of acquaintances, servants too, once upon a time. For the past ten years, he’d even known what it was like to have children, and though he would never trade that unexpected joy for anyone or anything, Paul had been the first person he’d ever thought of simply as a friend. Now he was gone, and Damian was finding it unexpectedly difficult to adjust to his absence.

Telling himself it was all for the best didn’t help in the slightest. Nor did reminding himself that this separation had always been inevitable, a matter of time. Right from the start, their paths had been fated to diverge. So it had been sooner rather than later, so they’d had months together, rather than years, what did it really matter? It’s not as though they could ever have had decades or centuries or even greater stretches of time. All the same, he found it just a little unfair.

Finally, one Friday night in late September, after a week in which Conrad had been particularly trying, Damian slipped quietly into a club where he suspected he might find Paul. He told himself it was nothing more than curiosity that had brought him there. He told himself he just wanted to catch a glimpse of the boy, to see how he was doing, to prove to himself that they’d both moved on, that his decision to break things off had been the right one.

The minute their eyes met he knew he’d been lying to himself. Just as he knew he’d be back in Paul’s bed that very night—if the boy would have him.

Paul had stilled at the sight of him. Then he pushed his way through the crowd, his gaze never wavering, until they were standing within an arm’s length of each other. “D.” The single syllable emerged as the faintest whisper. Paul’s eyes searched Damian’s face. “You’re back.”

There was a question in those words—and in his eyes—a challenge of sorts, one Damian answered with a slight shrug and a wry smile. That was all it took. Paul closed the distance between them then. He pulled Damian into his embrace and took his lips in so hungry a kiss that Damian momentarily reconsidered his earlier assumption. It was possible they would not even make it as far as Paul’s bed tonight.

They did, eventually, make it there, however. The sex was scorching, almost violent in its passion, everything Damian hadn’t even realized he’d been missing. Afterwards, they’d talked. They’d laid out the rules. They’d detailed what they could and couldn’t expect from one another…

Did Paul really intend to re-open that discussion now? Damian’s heart sank at the prospect. There was only so much he could give the boy. That had always been the case and it always would be. If that wasn’t going to be enough to satisfy Paul then Damian would have to resign himself to the fact and once again let their friendship come to an untimely end. This time for good.

“We agreed we were not going to be exclusive, Paul. That we weren’t going to pry into each other’s lives or push each other for information, or details—or
anything
we weren’t ready to give. You swore to me that you were okay with that.”

“I
am
okay with it,” Paul insisted. “That’s not what this is about, all right? I don’t care how many other men you fuck. ’Cause you know what? You’re not the only one who might wanna screw around either. And, dude, I don’t give a shit if you’ve got guys lining up from here to China for the chance to suck your dick. I just want to know if…if that’s all I am to you as well.”

“Pablito.” Damian gazed at him reproachfully. “What’s this all about? You know you mean more to me than that.”

“Do I? How much more, D? I’m not stupid, you know. You never ask me to go home with you. You never stay here until morning. Hell, I’ve never once even seen you in daylight. It’s like you’re some kind of damn vampire or something.”

Damian could barely keep the smile from his face. “Well, that’s just ridiculous, isn’t it?”

Paul sighed. “You know what I mean.” He paused for a moment then asked, “So, is there someone else? Is that why? Do you have someone you go home to every night when you leave here? Am I just something on the side, a convenient way to kill a few hours every week when he or…or maybe it’s a
she
has something else going on? Is that it?”

Damian shook his head. It should be easy to say yes. It should be easy to simply walk away. It wasn’t. “There is a reason. But it’s not at all what you think.”

“Yeah? Well, how the hell do you even know what I think?” His voice bitter, Paul turned his head away. “It’s not like we ever talk about it. Anyway, I guess that was a yes.”

Damian took Paul’s chin between his fingers, forcing the boy to face him once more. “You’re partially correct. There
is
someone I go home to when I leave here. Three someones, to be exact. I don’t take you home with me because I don’t live alone. I share a house with my…with my father and my orphaned niece and nephew who I’ve helped raise since the time they were infants.”

“Oh.” Paul blinked in surprise. A faint flush colored his cheeks. “You’re right. That-that’s not what I was thinking.”

“
Sí
. I know. I told you so, didn’t I?”

“So, does that mean…are you saying you
never
bring anyone home with you? It’s not just me you’re keeping a secret from them?”

“When the children were younger, I did occasionally entertain guests at home from time to time, but I’ve not done that for quite awhile now. They’re at an impressionable age, you see. It might be confusing for them and I just don’t think it’s wise.”

Paul hesitated and then asked, “Are you not out to them? Is that why? Are you afraid of how your father would react if he knew? Because, you know, I’d totally understand if that was it.”

Again, Damian thought, it would be so easy to lie and say yes, but Paul’s family had disowned him when they learned of his preference for men. Damian knew how badly the boy had been hurt by their rejection, how the loss of his family still plagued him. Damian didn’t have the heart to trade on that pain. “No, that’s not the problem. Not exactly. It’s just…awkward.”

“It doesn’t have to be. I mean, it’s not like we’d have to jump each other, you know, or stick our tongues down each other’s throats when they’re around. I can be discreet.”

Damian’s lips quirked as he considered Paul’s usual appearance. With his jewelry and his glittery clothes, his bleached hair—or even right now, naked but with faint smudges of makeup still circling his eyes—Paul was
anything
but discreet. “No, you can’t. And I wouldn’t really want you to be. You’re perfect just as you are. That’s not what worries me.” More than anything, he was worried the twins would recognize Paul—the taste or the scent of him, rather than his outward appearance. He was worried they’d mention it to Conrad and that Conrad would insist Damian break off this very dangerous liaison. If only there were a way of reintroducing Paul to them all without arousing Conrad’s suspicions, without forcing Damian into an ugly confrontation with his sire, one that he could only lose.

“They must be very important to you, if you’re willing to put your own life on hold in order to help care for them.”

“
Sí
. They are.
Very
important. And, besides, it’s only a very small portion of my life really, just another few years and then…who knows what will happen?” A frightening thought. One he’d rather not dwell on overmuch. Damian’s gut clenched. How likely would Conrad be to still keep him around, when he was no longer so useful to him?

“I’d like to meet them.”

And they’d probably like to eat you.
The idea should have brought a smile to his lips. That it didn’t was unexpectedly disturbing. The idea of the boy being viewed as nothing more than a convenient source of food or amusement bothered Damian much more than it should.
“Someday, perhaps.” Then he pressed his lips to Paul’s, allowing a trace of venom to mix with his saliva—enough to put at least a temporary end to the boy’s arguing.