A week later, in Cambria

In the sitting room of a mansion by the sea, Quinn squirmed. “Like I said, I’m really sorry about this.”

“It was my fault,” Brandon said, looking at Quinn. “I spilled on you guys.”

Quinn frowned. “I’m still responsible for that blood, Brandon.”

Across the coffee table, on the other couch, Seb rubbed his temples. “Does this mean we have to move again?”

“No! No. They’ve only got Oriel’s blood. And that’s a big thing, I know. But that’s all the feds have—the blood samples. I didn’t label any of those tubes, or record any info on you guys. They don’t know that you’re here at all.”

Seb glanced at Oriel, who walked into the room with a tray of drinks—soda and chicken blood. “What do you think, Oriel?”

Oriel glanced at Brandon and Quinn, a thoughtful look on his face. “You’re welcome to stay here for a while, if you need to. Get some new IDs ready.”

“You really aren’t offended?” Quinn blurted, his stomach a tight knot. He’d worried about this through the week they’d spent in hiding, wondering if Seb wanted compensation, or if he wanted to end their friendship.

“I guess it was bound to happen.” Oriel sighed, settling next to Seb. “As long as they don’t know where I am, I think I’m fine.”

“They tried to use me to hunt you down,” Quinn said uneasily. “It’s not possible with the distance, but... I’m unnerved.”

“This is a small enough town,” Seb said, nodding at the mansion around them. “More likely that they’ll think we’ve moved out of California. We should be safe.”

Quinn sagged into Brandon’s side, relaxing when Brandon slid his arm around him. “I forfeit all my favors, Seb. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Seb said. “No big deal.”

“It will be in the long term,” Quinn said. “They’ll investigate that blood.”

“And we’ll be prepared to counter their poisons.” Seb raised an eyebrow. “That’s what you’re here for, right?”

Quinn blinked. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. Most of what happened this week was moving from place to place, him and Brandon buying new clothes and a secondhand car. They had come up with a list of places to stay, but hadn’t decided for certain where they’d go.

Cambria was an hour’s drive from San Luis Obispo. Probably the last place the feds would look for them. “You don’t mind if we... stay here? That would be imposing.”

“Then buy the mansion next door.” Seb nodded to his left. “They’re selling the place.”

“I hope you haven’t been driving them off with your screams,” Quinn said dryly.

Seb laughed. “No. They’re moving out of the country—older couple wanting to travel. I’ve gone and looked. There are some big rooms—good for labs. We’re going to need research done soon.”

Quinn hesitated. Even after twenty years, he hadn’t invented an edible synthetic blood. Perhaps... that had been an impossible task from the start. “I’m not sure I can do it. You know about my studies—”

“You’ve gotten us to the point where I can drink some of Oriel’s blood,” Seb said. “That counts for a lot.”

Looking at the sincerity in Seb and Oriel’s eyes, Quinn believed them, the knot in his stomach easing. He hadn’t thought they’d forgive him so easily.

Brandon pressed a kiss to his temple. “Yeah, I’ll second him. You’ve spent decades on your research. That’ll help.”

“Pretty please,” Oriel added, smiling. “Seb and I don’t go out. It’ll be nice to have some company around. Especially when, you know, I don’t have to hide that I’m bonded to a vampire.”

Quinn glanced at Brandon, reading acceptance in his eyes.

“Go for it,” Brandon said. “I don’t have enough to pay for a mansion, though.”

“I do.” Over two decades, Quinn’s professorial wages were enough to buy a place outright. Suddenly glad for his Swiss bank accounts, Quinn said, “I’ve pretty much lived in my office this whole time. Free lodging, you know?”

“You need rest,” Brandon said, leaning in. “I can’t believe you haven’t at least gone and laid down at night.”

Quinn chuckled. So maybe he’d been distracting himself too much with work. He looked at Seb and Oriel, who were watching them with interest.

“So... are you blood-bonded?” Oriel asked, his eyes bright.

Brandon flushed; Quinn squeezed his knee. It wasn’t a secret with these guys, anyway. If it weren’t for Seb and Oriel, Quinn wouldn’t have thought this possible, staying with a human lover long-term. “Yes, we bonded a week ago.”

“With your student,” Seb said, grinning.

“Stop digging that in!” Quinn considered pummeling Seb. In the past, it wouldn’t have worked—he’d have been too weak on chicken blood to defeat his friend. Now, with Brandon’s blood in his veins, he stood a chance. “I’m not going back to teaching, anyway.”

“Research, then?” Seb asked.

Quinn sighed. “Yes. We’ll need insiders with the feds, listen to what they’re up to.” He thumbed through the contacts in his phone. “There might be a few willing to do infiltration. I’m just cringing at having to explain the situation.”

Brandon shrugged. “They’re your friends. Better that they know.”

“And where will they go? Move here?” Quinn asked.

“It’ll be a big pool party,” Brandon said, deadpan. “Are you going to serve them all a chicken blood Bloody Mary?”

Quinn laughed, hugging Brandon around the waist. “If I did, would you try it?”

“Hell, no. A regular would be fine. Think Oriel would agree.” Brandon exchanged a smile with Oriel, and Quinn relaxed against him, breathing in the musk of his sweat.

“I can already see it happening,” Quinn said. “Cambria, the vampires’ refuge. Ten vampire mansions in a row.”

“Bet you a hundred to one that won’t happen,” Brandon said.

“Oh, it will.” Quinn squeezed his thigh, and Brandon kissed him full on the lips. “Mm. You smell good.”

“If you need a room, we’ve got some upstairs,” Seb said. “Flaunt your age-difference relationship somewhere else.”

“Like yours isn’t one,” Brandon retorted, glancing sideways at Seb.

“We’ll borrow a room, then,” Quinn said. It was safe here, too, and they were in good company. And maybe being neighbors with his friends wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

* * *

Six months later

“How do these results look?” Brandon asked, stepping away from the microscope.

Quinn pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves, hurrying across the lab. Under the microscope, the red blood cells were intact, and the white blood cells had frozen amongst them. “Looks good. We’ll increase the concentration of prototype 7-G, and try again. Hopefully, that’ll give us a quicker response time. Great work.”

Brandon grinned. “Hey, you taught me how to do this.”

Quinn paused, pride swelling through his chest.

Six months ago, Brandon had been a student in his lab, clueless about blood. Now, Quinn trusted him to carry out experiments by himself, deciding on the experiment variables, and how far he wanted to take each test.

The past few months had been hectic: they’d stayed at Seb and Oriel’s place for a month, waiting for the mansion’s paperwork to be processed. While they’d waited, Quinn had bought a new set of lab equipment, taught Brandon how to separate Oriel’s white blood cells from the rest of his blood, and filled him in on the intricacies of blood research.

Then they’d moved into their new home, buying furniture from online stores. The centerpiece of the bedroom was now a four-poster bed, filmy curtains by the windows, and recessed lights softly illuminating the room.

The lab had become Quinn’s pet project. With picture windows overlooking the ocean, he’d had granite benches installed first. Then he’d equipped it with microscopes, a centrifuge, and other blood processing machines.

Through all this time, Brandon had stayed with him, steadfast and loyal at his side. Sometimes, Quinn would stare at him as he slept, wondering what he’d done to ever deserve this. Then Brandon would wake, pull him into a kiss, and he’d believe it was real, that he truly had a home in Brandon’s heart.

They’d gotten to know each other better: Brandon found out about Quinn’s libraries in the past, and declared a room in their mansion the library. Then he’d gone on to search for ancient scientific tomes, buying them as gifts. Quinn had repaid him with silver knives, and once a week, they’d prowl through the back alleys of Cambria, searching for vampires that harmed people.

“It feels like we’re married, doesn’t it?” Quinn said, leaning away from the microscope. He shed his gloves, washed his hands, and Brandon did the same. “We know each other’s routines so well. I think you could probably even do my research.”

“That would make me your assistant,” Brandon said, rolling his eyes.

Quinn elbowed him. “You know what I mean.”

Brandon laughed. “Yeah, I do.”

They’d learned to move around each other in the lab, their steps a coordinated dance. Sometimes, Quinn would murmur to himself, and Brandon would look up, meeting his eyes. Sometimes, Brandon would bring the notepads Quinn forgot, and Quinn would grab food from the kitchen for Brandon’s lunches.

“But just in case you think we aren’t really married,” Brandon said, grabbing a coil of copper wire from a shelf. He twisted the end of it into a loop, then snipped it off from the coil, presenting it to Quinn. “Here’s a ring.”

Quinn burst out laughing. “That’s not even a romantic proposal!”

Brandon grinned. “Do you want the ring, or not?”

“I do want it!” Quinn held his hand out. Brandon held his hand, sliding the ring onto his ring finger. They admired the reddish-gold gleam of it for a moment, smiling.

“We probably should get married,” Brandon said.

“What, the blood bond isn’t enough?”

“It is.” Brandon slipped his arms around Quinn’s waist, pulling him close. Quinn breathed in his salt-and-caramel scent, the faint musk on his shirt. “Just want more of you, that’s all.”

“You already have all of me,” Quinn said, his chest squeezing. “I’m amazed that you’ve stayed with me this long.”

“We haven’t killed each other yet.”

Quinn smiled. “We haven’t.”

He pressed his face into Brandon’s shoulder, relaxing. This was good, just Brandon and him, and the occasional visit next door, where they had dinner with Seb and Oriel every week. That was socializing enough. The rest of the time, Quinn was content to lounge with Brandon, tucked away in their mansion with the ocean breeze sweeping through their backyard.

“I’m glad I have you,” Quinn murmured, curling his fingers into Brandon’s shirt.

“Same here,” Brandon said, stroking a hand down Quinn’s spine. “I just... wish I could let you bite me.”

Quinn sucked in a shivery breath. They’d been talking about this, him biting Brandon. It wasn’t something they needed—Brandon was already his. The blood bond was in place, and Quinn drank from cuts Brandon made on his skin.

But sometimes, Quinn thought about sinking his teeth into Brandon’s flesh, marking him, drinking from a puncture he’d made. It was... tempting. “Maybe later,” Quinn murmured, dragging his nose along Brandon’s throat. “We’ll get you relaxed and in bed.”

“And then you’ll bite me?” Brandon smiled, but Quinn heard the quickening of his heart.

“We’ll practice,” Quinn said. He didn’t want to scare Brandon, and it could be many times before they’d succeed at this. If Brandon wanted to stop, then they’d stop. “Whatever you want.”

Brandon’s lips twitched in a smile. He pulled back, looking warmly into Quinn’s eyes. “I want the best for you,” he said.

“I already have the best.” Quinn traced his thumb over Brandon’s lip, where his fangs had left new cuts a few days ago. That never got old.

“We’ll try tonight, then,” Brandon said, kissing him. “And if that doesn’t work, then tomorrow, or the day after.”

Quinn laughed, kissing back. “Yes, Professor.”

Brandon rolled his eyes, hauling him close.

* * *

Two months later

“You’re really sure about this?” Quinn asked again, looking down at Brandon. “We’ve never done your throat before.”

“Just bite me already,” Brandon growled two inches away, squeezing Quinn’s hip. He squirmed, and the mattress shifted beneath them. “You don’t have to ask nine hundred times.”

Quinn chuckled. Over the past two months, Brandon’s skin had acquired a constellation of scars—puncture marks on his shoulders, his chest, his arms. There were more along his midriff, some down his thighs, and a couple on his toes; all mementos from little experimental bites Quinn had left.

It hadn’t been easy, at first. Brandon had tensed when Quinn sniffed at his shoulder, so Quinn had moved to his feet, the furthest from Brandon’s throat he could get. He’d bitten Brandon’s big toe, then his heel, and Brandon had slowly gotten used to Quinn’s fangs pricking his skin. Quinn had made sure to press kisses to the puncture marks, lick them clean.

They’d progressed from his toes to his calves, then his thighs. With each bite, Brandon’s heart didn’t skip quite so much, and his breathing evened out. From his thighs, Quinn had moved to Brandon’s fingers, then his wrists and elbows, and his arms. Then he’d returned to Brandon’s thigh one day, biting close to his groin, and Brandon’s cock had pushed thick against Quinn’s cheek, leaving a wet smear.

After that, they’d done the rest of the bites naked.

“I don’t need to bite your throat,” Quinn purred, kissing up Brandon’s chest, pausing to lick his nipples. “Everywhere else is fine.” To prove his point, he stroked his fingers down Brandon’s abs, cupping his cock, squeezing it.

Brandon smirked, rocking into his hand. “I know. But I want to. It’s a challenge, damn it.”

Quinn met his eyes, his heart swelling. They’d come a long way since that confrontation in that alley months ago. Back then, Brandon had panicked when Quinn’s fangs brushed his skin. These days, he smiled when Quinn bit him, grew hard, and Quinn held so much respect for this hunter, this man who had overcome the fears from his past.

He caught Brandon’s hand, kissing the white gold ring on his finger. On his own hand, a matching ring gleamed.

They’d gotten married in the backyard a month ago, with Seb as the unofficial officiant. Then they’d swapped roles, Quinn marrying Seb and Oriel, and they’d all sat down to dinner, newly married, and still close friends.

“If you’re sure,” Quinn said, trailing a line of kisses up Brandon’s throat, meeting his lips. Brandon pulled him into a kiss, and for a while, they forgot about even the bites.

Brandon dragged his palm down Quinn’s back, and Quinn smiled, pulling away. “I’m ready,” Brandon said.

“If it gets bad, push me off,” Quinn said, like he always did. “Use a knife. You have one nearby, don’t you?”

Brandon shrugged. Their bedside table held two things: a glass of water, and lube. There were a silver knife and a gun in the drawer, too, but those weren’t for Quinn. “Sure,” Brandon said. Quinn suspected Brandon wouldn’t draw the knife, even if Quinn couldn’t control himself. “I have faith in you.”

“I still can’t believe you’re my prey,” Quinn whispered. “You’re a hunter.”

Brandon slipped his hand between their bodies, brushing his knuckles down Quinn’s chest, to his abdomen, rubbing over his cock. “Stop talking and start biting.”

Quinn groaned, crawling down the length of Brandon’s body. He kissed the silvery lines over Brandon’s heart, then down his stomach, and his abs. He dragged his lips over Brandon’s thigh, breathed in the fresh sweat of his body, listened to the blood rushing in his veins.

Brandon’s pulse thrummed, tempting, inviting a taste. Heat whispered through Quinn’s body. He wanted Brandon’s blood on his tongue again, wanted his own body pressed against his prey’s.

His fangs pushed out into his mouth. In the recessed lighting of the bedroom, Brandon’s body gleamed lightly with sweat. Quinn dragged his fangs down his muscled thigh, drawing thin lines of blood. The scent of iron burst through the room. Quinn groaned, licking up Brandon’s blood, Brandon’s heat soaking into his skin.

Brandon lay beneath him, naked, vulnerable. Mine, Quinn thought. He didn’t want this to go quickly, but Brandon’s need was obvious in the strain of his cock, in the heat of his gaze.

“I’m not scared of you,” Brandon murmured, angling his cock down, rubbing its damp, velvety head over Quinn’s lower lip. Quinn groaned, licking up his salty precome. Brandon smirked. “I like when you bite me.”

And he tilted his head, exposing his throat.

Quinn’s instincts roared. Prey. He surged forward, up the bed, hunger searing through his gut. Brandon’s pulse stuttered. But he held still, and Quinn brushed his lips over Brandon’s throat, hovering over his pulse point, touching his tongue to it.

Beneath that soft, thin skin, Brandon’s blood waited for him, rich and silky-smooth. Quinn reined his instincts in, forced himself to trace Brandon’s throat with the pointed ends of his teeth. Brandon shivered, his breath catching.

“Okay?” Quinn whispered. His teeth ached.

“Yeah,” Brandon said, nodding.

Their eyes met, Brandon’s hazel gaze steady, trusting. And Quinn slowly, carefully sank his teeth into Brandon’s throat, avoiding his veins. Brandon’s heart thudded, his breathing slow and controlled. So Quinn pulled his fangs out, groaning when Brandon’s blood welled up through his skin, crimson and glistening.

Quinn closed his lips around the wound. Salt-and-caramel blood slicked his tongue, a burst of flavors that made him reel. Brandon’s blood tasted like life, like power, like home, and Quinn wanted. He sucked down Brandon’s blood, needing more, needing to make this man his.

He rocked his hips forward, thrusting up, and Brandon spread easily for him.

Mine, Quinn thought, needing to push inside. He licked along Brandon’s wound, dragged his hands down Brandon’s sides, grinding his cock between Brandon’s cheeks.

“Up,” Brandon murmured. He slipped a hand between them. Quinn lifted his hips, and Brandon’s cool, slick fingers wrapped around his cock, lubing him up.

Quinn gasped, fucking into his fist. When had Brandon grabbed the lube? Maybe when Quinn had been distracted by his blood. Brandon squeezed his cock, stroked down it, and Quinn moaned, rutting against his callused fingers. He needed to be inside Brandon, needed to stake his claim.

He licked along Brandon’s throat, catching the droplets of blood that trickled down his skin. Brandon released Quinn’s cock, held his legs open, and Quinn rolled his hips, sliding against his hole, pushing in.

Brandon’s body spread for him, hot and slick inside. As though he’d prepared for this earlier. Quinn groaned, his hips snapping forward, a thrill shooting down his spine. “You—you did...”

“Yeah,” Brandon whispered, grasping Quinn’s hips, pulling them snug together. “Wasn’t gonna wait.”

Quinn imagined Brandon lubing himself up in the bathroom, imagined Brandon wanting him inside. Brandon had read his hunger well, had allowed Quinn to bite his throat. He’d given Quinn all of himself, and he was more than Quinn ever thought he’d deserve.

“Gods, I love you,” Quinn gasped, fucking in deep, until he could go no further. Brandon moaned, and Quinn hooked his hands behind Brandon’s knees, bending Brandon’s heavier body beneath his own, burying himself to the hilt. Mine.

Quinn lowered his face to Brandon’s neck, sucking on the wound, his cock throbbing in Brandon’s heat. Brandon stroked his hair, kissed his forehead. How had Quinn ever found this man?

“I—I don’t—” Quinn gasped, Brandon’s blood on his tongue, Brandon’s body tight around his.

“You deserve it,” Brandon whispered, cradling Quinn’s face with his hands. The ring glinted on his finger. “Remember that.”

Then he pulled Quinn close, kissing him softly on the lips. Quinn shuddered, his chest tight with everything he felt for this man.

“I love you,” Brandon whispered into his mouth, his lower lip catching on Quinn’s fangs. Neither of them noticed, because it was just another part of their life now, sharing blood, sharing space, sharing heat.

“L-love you,” Quinn panted, his voice breaking. Then he pushed deep into Brandon, shoving himself closer, until pleasure crashed down on him and Brandon held him through his release, his arms tight around Quinn.

He felt safe like that, Brandon holding him, Brandon’s body wrapped around his. Brandon pulled him close, until Quinn didn’t know where he ended, and Brandon began. It didn’t matter. He cupped Brandon’s cheeks with his hands, kissing him hard, trying to show Brandon everything he felt for him. Brandon returned the kiss just as fiercely.

They were in their own home, safe in their little bubble, and Quinn couldn’t ask for more. He had a man who loved him, a hunter who saw him for who he was, and they’d have their work cut out for them in the days to come. But come what may, Quinn knew one thing.

He had found a home in Brandon, and he would do his best to protect what was his.