Belmont

Conor hadn't been slacking off. His family situation was more complicated than ever. I had never really asked how pack life worked; he had never given me a lesson, and I had never asked for one. 

There was another wolf who was much more involved in his life than others, and he was the type I didn't want to encounter at night. Conor spoke vaguely about how Hank had helped him and that he owed the older wolf a few favors, but I knew there was something more between them. 

On the phone, he referred to him as Alpha, which made me raise an eyebrow, but honestly, I didn't want to get involved. I had promised him and myself to live a calm life and not to jump to conclusions.

Walking beside him on the street and strolling among others was a wonderful feeling, and I couldn't stop smiling. Conor rolled his eyes at me when I suddenly dragged him to the movies, bought popcorn, and enjoyed sitting next to him in the dark. He didn't protest. He didn't look happy, but he didn't complain. He sighed when I pointed out clothes I thought would suit him, and he groaned when I bought him something without asking, but I couldn't stop; I refused to stop enjoying the peace.

His evening job had been replaced with a daytime job, and we had the evenings together. Dominic still lived with us; he said he couldn't find an apartment that suited him, but I knew he didn't want to be alone. It had gone from him avoiding me to letting me hold his hand sometimes when we sat on the couch watching movies. His eyes always had a darkness to them these days, and nothing seemed to help.

"Do you know what I miss, Nic?" I asked one day when we were all gathered in the kitchen. I was doing the dishes while Conor dried the dishes before putting them away in the cupboards. 

He looked up from his phone and raised an eyebrow, "What?"

"French pastries," I grinned.

"There are hundreds, can you be a bit more specific?" he muttered, and I quickly dried my hands before taking his phone from him and searching for five different recipes.

"What do you need?" 

He gave me a tired look, "All of them?"

"All of them!" I exclaimed happily and turned back to the sink.

"Have you been craving them for a while, darling?" he teased. "Maybe it's time to take a pregnancy test?"

"Funny, Nico, very funny," I replied, pouting at him. "Write a list, and I'll go shopping."

Two hours later, the kitchen was full of bowls and simmering pots, and the smell of vanilla and pear filled the entire apartment.

"What's the plan?" asked a tired Conor behind me as I was standing in the kitchen doorway watching Dominic clean raspberries.

"He loves baking; I thought it might help." 

I got a light kiss on the neck before he walked past me into the kitchen, picked up a cookie, and stuffed it whole into his mouth.

"Tasty?" Dominic asked with a smile, getting a nod in response.

"It's okay."

"Okay?!" he exclaimed, feigning hurt, and grabbed a bowl of breadcrumbs, throwing them at the wolf, who stood stunned for a moment. "Say it's the best cookie you've ever had!" he continued, arming himself with a tub of butter.

Conor shot him a look and shook his head with a warning smile on his lips, "My mom's are better." The butter flew through the kitchen and over his shoulder into the cupboard door. "Damn, even my sister makes better cookies than you," he grinned, immediately being attacked with various ingredients that also flew back towards Dominic.

I stood there watching with wide eyes as Dominic, laughing, turned to me with shining eyes. "You look a little too clean."

I slowly backed away from the doorway with my hands over my head, "Stop it, Nic, I'm unarmed!"

"Who the hell cares," he laughed, throwing a bag of flour that landed right in my stomach, spreading its contents all over me and the hallway.

With a roar, I ran toward him, tackling him to the floor to press my floury hands into his face until he begged for mercy, but he just laughed. He laughed so hard that tears ran down his face, and I moved my hands down to his waist, changing tactics. Dominic was ridiculously ticklish.

Meanwhile, Conor walked past with a bowl in his hands and poured the entire contents of broken eggs over us before quickly making his way out of the kitchen, changing clothes, and shouting at us to clean up the mess before he got home.

"Is he mad?" Nico asked between laughter fits, but I just shook my head."Late for work, I'd guess, or maybe he just wants to avoid the cleaning," I grinned, letting go of him so he could sit up.

An uneven mixture of flour, raw eggs, and other ingredients covered us, but all we could do was laugh. I looked around the room and groaned loudly; suddenly, I understood why he had left. It would take hours to clean, but Dominic's laughter was worth the trouble. 

I barely had time to think before a pair of lips found mine, and I looked into his eyes in surprise.

"Can we take it one day at a time?" he asked cautiously, and I nodded slightly before pulling him closer to taste those sugary lips. 

We left our dirty clothes on the kitchen floor and backed into the bathroom, letting the warm water wash over our longing bodies. I was so damn happy; I had helped him, I had made him laugh, and that felt significant. I just hoped we weren't moving too fast. At the same time, I knew him, and that closeness was probably exactly what he needed.

A few hours later, Conor found us on the couch; Dominic was curled up in my arms, sleeping. The kitchen was clean, and on the coffee table sat a large plate of cookies and other pastries. He took a cookie and sank down next to me. 

"Best cookies I've ever had," he whispered in my ear, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"He'll probably stay for a while," I whispered, adjusting my body so I could lean against Conor.

A hand found its way into my hair. "You're used to a completely different life; I didn't expect it to go smoothly."

"Did you have a good day?" 

"Same crap as always," he replied, reaching for the entire platter before allowing me to get comfortable again with his arm around me. "This is better."

With Conor's warmth behind me and Dominic in my lap, I couldn't help but agree.

Conor

I had just stacked the winter tires in the corner when I spotted Princess strolling toward me. He had a cigarette in his mouth and a brown bag in his hand; he looked relaxed, but I couldn't help but wonder how the hell he had found his way here. 

"Hungry?" he asked with his most dazzling smile, and his sharp fangs glinted as he tossed the bag to me. 

I caught it in midair and settled onto a car hood to open it. The mundane ham sandwich hidden among Dominic's colorful macarons reminded me of how damn different we were, as if the sandwich represented me and the workshop while the colorful blobs mocked me. 

"Thanks," I mumbled, picking up the pink one; the raspberry-flavored ones were the best.

 Belmont effortlessly hopped onto the car and sat behind me, his arms resting around my shoulders as he peered into the bag before snatching a yellow macaron. His body leaned heavily against mine, and as usual, he acted as if it had been a decade since we last saw each other. 

I didn't mind; he wasn't the only one walking around with a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach that the bubble would burst at any moment. His lips brushed my neck for a millisecond, sending electric shocks through my entire body. He had that effect on me, and if we had been anywhere else, I would have ripped off his clothes and bent him down over the car hood.

Fortunately, the workshop was empty of idiots, except for Hank, who was in the office, and I prayed to all the devils of hell that bookkeeping would keep him occupied for a while longer. 

It didn't take long before that thought went up in smoke, and I felt his eyes on us. I was just about to hint to Princess that it was time to leave when he made a smooth jump from the hood and walked over to a small, worn Peugeot. 

"Damn, I used to have one of these," he grinned, caressing the turquoise paint as if the car was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"It's been sitting here a while," I remarked, crumpling the bag and aiming for a trash can 

Belmont gave me a sly smile before opening the hood and taking a look inside. With a practiced motion, he tied his long hair into a messy bun on his head before leaning down to start twisting and squeezing the engine parts. I cast a glance over at Hank; he was as unreadable as ever, standing with his arms crossed, studying Belmont. 

The vampire had just yanked off a hose that he inspected for a while before going over to a scattered set of tools to grab a rag. My eyes rested on his concentrated face as he polished the hose, searching for damage. His fingers were already covered in oil, his white T-shirt was stained, and he moved skillfully among the tools and machine parts.

The radio, which was always on, crackled to life, and his vampire ears immediately picked up one of his favorite songs. His lips began to move to the lyrics, and he took small dancing steps as he went to look for a screwdriver. It struck me that this was the human side of Belmont; this was his true self, and he could have been part of the decor.

His eyes scanned the area until he found what he needed. He sauntered over, singing, reached over the counter, and took the tool from the wall. Back at the car, he unscrewed parts, polished them up, screwed them back in, cut off worn hoses, filled up with water, and everything went incredibly fast and methodically. I followed every move and couldn't tear my eyes away from him. Then it hit me that maybe we weren't so damn different after all; fate had placed him in a castle, but it was here, in a shabby workshop, that he felt at home.

"Try starting her," he finally grinned, turning to me while wiping his hands on a dirty rag he found on the floor. 

I sat in the seat and pressed the clutch before turning the key; the car purred like a cat, and I was met with a dazzling smile from the other side of the window.

I threw a glance at Hank; he was still standing there, but one corner of his mouth slowly curled upward. "The Mercedes needs an oil change," he said, stepping out of the shadows and onto the floor, "the exhaust pipe needs replacing on the Toyota."

Belmont turned to him and nodded, "Give me a couple of hours."

I shot a warning glance at Hank, but he ignored me. Belmont was a natural talent, and Hank probably needed his expertise, but my chest tightened anyways. A feeling that my life had just become twice as complicated hung over me like a gray cloud in a blue summer sky.

"Just breathe, Kiddo," he smirked, giving me a pat on the back, "your friend's got talent."

I felt Belmont's eyes moving from me to Hank and then back to me, but before anyone said anything, he had walked over to the Toyota, and soon he was lying on his back under the car, unscrewing the old exhaust pipe.

Belmont

The headphones blared loud music, and I hummed along while cleaning up after myself. I paid no attention to the others; they weren't exactly thrilled about my presence, but no one said anything. 

Hank had given me my first paycheck a couple of weeks ago and asked me to come back. I didn't care about the money; it was the smell of oil, the chance to do something useful, and the weight of the tools in my hands that drew me back.

 A thought had started to grow inside me: maybe it was time to put Dad on a flight here. He would like Conor, and he deserved to retire and spend his last days with his only son. Maybe we could open something of our own? 

"Belmont, give me a hand," one of the guys shouted, and I pulled off my headphones and walked over to the wolf who was struggling with the radiator while his arms were pressed under the hood. Together, we grabbed the rusty part and pulled upward, his forearm scraping against the metal that jutted out, and I watched, mesmerized, as a drop of blood formed at the crease of his arm and soon trickled down along his skin. 

He continued to say something, but I couldn't hear; I was completely focused on the blood running down his arm. I took a deep breath and inhaled the sweet, intoxicating scent that ignited a fire inside me. Fuck, it had been so long since the last time, I thought before I was interrupted by a firm grip on my neck. 

"Take a breather," Hank muttered behind me, yanking me out into the yard and throwing me down onto the ground. "Should I be worried?"

I took a few quick breaths, clearing the fog that had started to creep in before shaking my head. "I'm fine." 

He wasn't satisfied with my answer, so I squeezed out a thank you, staggered to my feet, brushing off the dust and gravel, and started walking toward the door when he grabbed my arm.

 "Your shift is over," he muttered, nodding for me to leave.

I wet my lips and gave him a brief nod. "It won't happen again."

"Is that what you tell yourself at night, darling?" His words hurt more than I would have liked, but he had a point. 

"Am I welcome back?" I asked cautiously, avoiding his scrutinizing gaze. 

It took him a moment to answer, and I suspected he was considering whether I was worth the trouble."Quench your thirst and ponder on the meaning of life; when you stop shaking, you can crawl back. The cars don't fix themselves." 

I nodded and turned to leave, but he stopped me again. "What do you say?"

"Thank you, Sir," I mumbled, staring at his worn boots. Suddenly, I understood why Conor hesitated when Hank offered me the job; the man is not someone you say no to. But how bad could it get? After all, it was just a workshop, not some damn asylum filled with Griffes.

The apartment was filled with clattering and life when I got home. Dominic still hadn't found a job, and I knew he wasn't looking very hard. He had changed; the old drive he had to get his life together seemed to have vanished. He mostly hung around the apartment, but as long as he was happy, I was content. 

He had swapped the couch for the bed, and neither Conor nor I minded. Their relationship was a strange version of friends with benefits, but we still made it work in some odd way.

I sank into the couch and exhaled. He immediately noticed that something had happened, but I didn't want to burden him, so I excused myself and locked myself in the bathroom for a shower. The image of the blood was like a permanent fixture on my retinas, and Hank's words swirled around in my head. Quench your thirst. Had he just told me to drain someone of their blood? I shook my head and massaged shampoo into my hair; he probably had no idea about my past.

 To him, I was just a vampire among many who happened to catch Conor's attention. When the hot water ran out and the conditioner bottle was back on the shelf, I wrapped a towel around my hips and opened the door. I was immediately met by Conor's hard gaze.

"Something you want to tell me?"

I bit my lip and collected myself before nodding and led him follow me to the bedroom. "It was an accident," I started apologetically.

"Accidents are a dime a dozen over there," he muttered, "the question is how do you plan to handle them?"

"I don't need a babysitter if that's what you mean."

"Are you sure about that?" he asked sarcastically.

"Conor," I pleaded, finally meeting his gaze, "I'll make this work."

He sighed deeply and sank onto the bed. "And what happens if you lose control?"

"If or when?" I shot back challengingly.

"Tell me, sweetheart, what would have happened if Hank hadn't been there?" he asked harshly, and I fell silent; I had no answer. "As I thought," he said, running his hands through his hair.

I felt tears burning behind my eyes, but it wasn't his words that hurt the most but the knowledge that he was right. I didn't have control over myself. "If you want me to leave, just say it," I whispered, and it was clearly the last straw for the wolf.

"Who's always talking about leaving, Belmont? It's not me, that's for sure. If you want to leave, be my guest; the door is right there!" he roared, pointing with his whole hand. 

We stared at each other in silence for a while, he was fuming, and I could see him struggling to keep his emotions in check. "Maybe I've been unclear about what I want, but if I didn't want you here, I would have kicked you out a long time ago." My eyes followed him as he stood and walked toward the door. "How do you think it makes me feel when I head you were about to slaughter the entire damn shop!"

"It wasn't like that," I mumbled, earning a frustrated sigh in response.

"So you're saying you could have controlled yourself?" 

I nodded, but we both knew I wasn't entirely sure. And how the hell could I be? How do you train yourself to control your addiction if you're not exposed to the temptation? A hand found its way to my face, and a calloused thumb caressed my lips. "You do realize that I get worried," he murmured. "Tell me what you need."

"Time," I whispered. "Just give me time to learn how to handle the cravings."

He licked his lips and nodded. "Next time, you call me right away."

"There won't be a next time," I replied defiantly.

"Stop being naive, Belmont," he sighed. "Better to prepare for the worst."

"Like you?"

"I'm realistic; Fuck, I don't blame you. I understand it's hard, but it won't get better by ignoring the problem and living in a dream world."

"What the hell am I supposed to do then?" I screamed, backing away from him.

"We're going to a club," Dominic interrupted from the doorway, and both Conor and I turned to him questioningly. "There are underground clubs for vampires," he explained to the wolf. "They sell bottled blood at the bars, and humans walk around on the dance floor selling a quick fix from their wrists." Then he turned to me. "If you can handle that, you can handle anything."

I watched Conor hesitate. "Sounds charming, but not suitable for a junkie."

"Thanks, darling," I muttered, letting the towel drop to the floor as I pulled out clean clothes from the closet. "But that's exactly what I need."