"I know."
"I never wanted to change anyone."
"I know that too."
"Why me? Why ask? You know I never wanted anything to do with all this." I can't work out what to say next, but fate saves me with a creak of the door.
Kieran peeks round, looking like an uncertain child wondering if it's okay to enter the room.
Compared to Will and me, I suppose he is. He's in his mid-twenties, so that makes him nearly eighty years younger than me, many more years younger than Will.
"I hope you don't mind me interrupting you guys."
"Course not." Will opens one arm out, gesturing for Kieran to enter the room and come closer.
I look down while that happens. Given the subject matter of this whole conversation and the ghost of Adam Locke, whom I just can't seem to bloody exorcise, it's too painful to see another couple's closeness.
"Please do. Please, just..." I sweep my hand in front of me, showing off this boxy kitchen, sarcastically inviting Kieran in, although he's already here. Bit hard to get rid of either of them now.
"Just what, Nathan?" The way Will speaks is a dare. Just you try to make Kieran feel unwelcome.
The cheek of him. It's my house. "Please just waltz in and dist---"
"Um, maybe we should..." Kieran nods in the general direction of the front door, and a ripple of guilt runs through me. I have had some preparation time for this meeting. I could have said no then, stopped Will even coming here. But he said he needed my help, and curiosity got the better of me.
"No; don't mind me. This is just difficult for me to adjust to."
"Why would it be? You're already dead."
My head flicks up, and I meet Kieran's intent gaze. His blue eyes stare back at me, unblinking.
For a split second, I want to laugh. He's either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.
He's the only live one in a room with two vampires, so the former. He doesn't seem the type to stupidity; Will certainly wouldn't fall for him if he were mentally deficient.
Then I catch sight of the way Will looks at him and how Kieran leans in to Will, comfortably, as if they were made to be together.
Yes, that's it. Kieran simply doesn't think.
He's so taken with the glamorous ideal of being a vampire that he can't imagine that anything about this situation would be difficult for me.
"How much has Will told you about me?" I ask, and Will shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "Specifically, what has he told you?"
Kieran shrugs, and though he's in his mid- twenties, in this moment, he's remarkably boyish.
"I dunno. Not much. Just that you met during the war."
"Yes, Mister Delaney. We are that old. Better get used to such things messing with your head."
"It doesn't mess with my head---"
"Such youthful naivety," I murmur. "So dismissive."
"Be nice to him, Nathan," Will warns.
" I am being nice. This is me with my nice face on. Kieran, pray continue. I'd love to know what Will's told you about me."
"Well, I...I..." Kieran takes a deep breath, and I almost envy him that. The oxygen rushing through his lungs, the perfect, indisputable sign of life. "The two of you met during the war through your..."
I roll my eyes, a camp, over-dramatic move, but I can't resist. "I believe the phrase you're looking for is ex-boyfriend."
"Nathan. Remember how difficult this is for Kieran too."
I glare at Will. Something in his tone riles me, makes me feel patronised, and he's the one asking me for a favour?
Still, as he said, given the connection between us, who else would he ask?
Chapter 6
ADAM WAS ALWAYS AROUND. I was indisputably drawn to him. As well as the attraction I did my damnedest to keep to myself, there was something else there. An aura of danger that went above and beyond the fact that he could furnish me with black market goods with apparent ease.
I was a bloody sergeant, for God's sake, doing important but incredibly boring war work. In modern parlance, a pen-pusher. I couldn't be seen to consort with someone like Adam, but consort I did.
But those coincidental, "fancy seeing you here" meetings occurred so frequently, I began to expect him to be around. When I got used to expecting him, I wanted him to be there. He wore me down. And he fascinated me. I knew he was gay. There. I said it. I knew he was as gay as I was. Am. Don't ask me how I knew; I just did.
Perhaps it was in the way he looked me in the eye as I spoke, momentarily dipping his gaze to my mouth. Double entendres so subtle, I had to stop and ask myself, Did he mean what I think he meant?
And hints dropped into the conversation like shards of glass. Pretty to contemplate, but with the potential to hurt. He never spoke of female lovers.
References to his past were gender-ambiguous.
Claims to not be like other people.
I just assumed he was homosexual; I didn't think there was any more to it than that. Of course, I knew there was something more, but I had no inkling of the truth. Not then.
Not until Adam died in front of me.
It happened on one of our evening walks.
There had never been any physical contact between us. Nothing prolonged. He'd pass me some of that black market food I wasn't to ask him about, fingers would brush, but that was it. Enough to shoot electricity up my arm, and I could barely stop myself jumping back. No physical contact, so certainly no kiss. I spent ages each day trying to convince myself I wasn't thinking about kissing him. Something told me he'd accept it, was expecting it even, but that same something held me back. I was never a great one for making the first move.
It
