The man lay sleeping.

My vampiric sight revealed him in crisp detail as I crept near, moving as silent as the evening mist, and looked down upon his face.

His beauty pleased me: his features even and balanced, his skin a vibrant bronze, and his face framed by a tumble of black curls like little springs.

He wore no shirt in his sleep, for it was late summer, and the bare skin of his chest and arms looked smooth and warm, his pulse beating slow and steady in his throat.

Careful not to disturb him, I crawled onto the bed and leaned over to brush a few stray curls from his face.

If his lover were not away, I would not dare so much, for my brother is a jealous man.

Not wanting to waste my chance, I leaned closer still, pressed my lips to his lips, and kissed him.

He awoke.

"Fenn..." he sighed sleepily. "What's wrong? Did you have a bad dream again?"

"It is lonely in my room," I whispered. "And the house is so quiet."

"It's the middle of the night," he murmured. "It's supposed to be quiet."

His tone carried a hint of censure, and I felt its sting. Struck with sorrow at his rebuff, I moved to go.

"I am sorry. I have bothered you."

"Wait, Fenn," he sighed. "Come here."

He lifted the coverlet in invitation, and with rekindled happiness, I crawled beneath it and pressed myself against his side. He laughed softly and looped an arm around my back, letting me rest my head upon his shoulder.

"Silly boy," he said. "You're lucky Soren isn't here."

My brother believed that kisses and 'snuggles' were for lovers alone. I did not understand his jealousy. I wished only to be close, to express my deep affection and my love, and to feel the comfort of a warm embrace. My kisses were not amorous.

This man, though, knew my heart.

"I love you, dearest Ari," I said, breathing his pleasant, living scent.

"I know," he murmured, already half asleep again. "I love you, too, little Fenn."

~ ❀ ~

"You can't keep indulging him."

Soren had returned. He was unhappy with Ari, having learned that I had spent the last several nights in his bed.

"He has to learn what's acceptable and what is not."

"There's no harm in it, Soren. He doesn't want my blood or my body. He just wants to be comforted. Or perhaps it's me you don't trust?"

They'd gone outside to speak, but they didn't know I could hear them perfectly well from my perch on the sloping roof above.

Ari leaned against the rail of the wrap-around porch, gazing out over the blue folds of forested land. Soren stood at his back, a frown on his pale, handsome face. He looked very much like the father of my heart, who was his father by blood, though Soren had a more slender form.

"Don't be ridiculous," Soren replied. "And don't turn this around on me. I know Fenn is harmless, and you know I trust you. It's for his own sake that I worry. He can't live with us forever, and if he's going to integrate with the wider world, he needs to learn how to behave."

Ari let out a sigh and turned to face his life's mate. "He's not a dog, or a small child, Soren. If he's happy here, and happy the way he is, why should he change? Besides, he's as old as your father. He knows his own mind."

"He barely had a mind until he met you."

"Soren..."

"I'm not saying it to be cruel." Soren stepped closer and laid a hand on Ari's arm. "He's come a long way. My father says he seems happier now than he has in four hundred years. But he was barely seventeen when he was turned, remember. He has a lot to learn. Why should he stop now?"

"You just don't want him in our bed," Ari teased, a smile stretching his pretty, full lips.

"Vampires are territorial creatures," Soren replied. "You ought to know that by now."

"Hmm." Ari reached for his hands and pulled him closer. "You better leave your mark on what's yours, then."

Soren stepped into his arms, and they kissed.

It was a different sort of kiss than I had ever given or received; they breathed one another's breath, tasted deeply of one another's mouth, and made soft sounds as if of pure delight.

I watched awhile. But when Ari tipped his head back to show his throat, and Soren set sharp teeth to his soft skin, I turned away and slipped back across the roof and through the window of my room.

I had been told it is improper to stare.

~ ❀ ~

As much as it stung, my chosen brother was right.

For over four hundred years, I had lived locked within my mind, isolated and alone, able to express myself only through the lines of plays I had once known. It was only in dreams that I was unbroken and free.

The father of my heart — Soren's father, Volkir — had been the only companion of my solitude, and an inconstant one, though I had hardly noted his long absences: I knew only if he was with me, or if he was not.

Time held little meaning; days, months, and centuries passed without change. Small things absorbed my interest: insects and flowers, the secrets of nature and of arcane sciences — which I am told are no longer considered 'sciences' at all. I had my simple pleasures, my books, my alchemy. Memory was my chief enemy, and old fears followed me like a pack of wolves, always there, snapping at my heels if I dared to turn and look.

It was not until, quite unexpectedly, an angel came to visit me that anything changed.

He was not an angel — I knew that, now — but he had shone in my vision as if he were. He had saved me, healed me, made me whole again, and I owed him more than my life.

Ari was the master of my heart, and I loved him as I should have loved the father and mother, and all the sisters and brothers, relations and friends whom I had never known.

Thoughts of the wider world still frightened me. For his sake, though, I would dare anything.

~ ❀ ~

"School?" Ari repeated, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of toast. "Well... There are lots of great online programs these days. I'm not sure how we'd get suitable transcripts for you, but I'm sure Volkir could arrange something. What do you want to study?"

I stared hard at my glass of 'orange' juice. It looked more 'yellow' to me, and had a sweet taste but a sour tang, and I had yet to decide if I liked it.

When nerves upset me, I still struggled to express myself in words, and had to wait a bit until they arranged themselves in my mind.

"Not... online," I said. "School."

Ari frowned and glanced at Soren, who sat opposite him, though he did not break-fast, himself.

"Well... Where do you want to go?" Ari asked, wiping butter from his thin fingers with a linen cloth. "The local college isn't bad. Or... Volkir has friends at Oxford, doesn't he?" he glanced at Soren.

"No! I mean — "

They didn't understand. Even when I spoke as clearly as I could, even when I tried my best. And if the people closest to me didn't understand me, how could I hope...?

I took a sip of breath, my mouth went dry, and I reached for my questionably colored juice. My hand shook, and I knocked over the glass, sending the liquid sloshing across the table in a little golden flood.

"Oh!"

I leaped up to grab a napkin, but Ari caught my hand, calming me and staying the imminent avalanche of my emotions.

"It's alright, Fenn — it's fine," he said quickly, holding my gaze with his dark eyes full of hidden power. "A little accident, and Soren's got it. It's nothing. Take a breath, now."

I did as he said, and after a moment of uncertainty, slowly sat back down.

"Okay?" he asked, still holding my hand in his.

I focused on his slim brown fingers as they stroked mine and nodded.

"Now, what's wrong?" he asked as Soren mopped up the spilled liquid with a towel. "What do mean you want to 'go to school?' Take your time — there's no rush."

I swallowed, and breathed, and waited for the words to settle — to form the expression of my daring, desperate plan.

"There is no darkness but ignorance," I said at last, reciting part of a well-known line. "I wish to learn the ways of the world."

Ari frowned, the lines of his dark brows drawing close. "Of course, Fenn. Whatever you need, wherever you want to go — we'll help however we can."

I drew another quick, deep breath and lightly squeezed his hand.

"I want to go... to high school," I clarified.

Soren sat back down, rested his elbows on the table, and pressed his fingers to his eyes.

"Oh dear lord," he sighed.