Belmont

My hands trembled as I made my way up the stairs. Dominic had packed some of my things before we came here, and it was those belongings I was heading up to retrieve. There were a few items that were so important to me that I risked running into Conor. I would have preferred to leave without any goodbye; that would have been easiest for both of us. But I was sentimental and wanted to keep my things. I sneaked into the room and opened the bag to stuff everything I had spread out back inside. Dominic had always been the one to keep things organized while my belongings were scattered everywhere.

"Are you leaving?" His voice wasn't as harsh as it had been a couple of hours ago, and the smell of alcohol was gone. Instead, he smelled like my favorite shower gel, and suddenly I was transported back in time to happy, rosy memories.

I consciously chose not to turn around and look at him. Fuck, this was going to be harder than I thought. So instead, I nodded slightly. "Might as well," I replied with a shrug, trying to play it cool.

The floor creaked as he took a few steps closer. "Is that a good idea?"

"Better than making your life miserable," I muttered quietly. I had wanted to sound snarky and snap at him, but I didn't have the energy to argue. Not again.

"Stay a little longer," he said, surprising me as he moved closer to run his fingers through my long hair, making me shiver.

"Why?" I whispered, closing my eyes as he moved nearer.

"So I can avoid more late-night phone calls for a while," he replied snarkily, but I could hear the hint of seriousness in his tone.

I nodded slightly and bit my lower lip. "Is that what you want? For me to never contact you again?"

With an exasperated sigh, he grabbed my shoulders and turned me around. "I have no fucking idea what I want!" he exclaimed irritably, shaking me slightly. "Do you know? Do you know what you want, Belmont?"

I stared at him for a moment before shaking my head, hesitating for a couple of seconds before brushing my thumb over his cheek. "Do we have to know right now?"

He shook his head, but it wasn't meant as a no, more like an expression of the feeling inside him, as if he didn't know what to do. "You're fucking broken, love," he sighed heavily as I watched old feelings surfacing.

I allowed myself a grin before responding, "That I know," and took a step closer to continue running my fingers through his beard. "Can't we just stop the fighting?"

"And then what?"

"I don't know," I sighed. "Do you have any suggestions?"

His lips were so warm and soft as they pressed against mine. Feelings I had tried to push away sparkled through my body like  New Year's fireworks, and desperately I clung to him, afraid he would push me away again. But he didn't. 

"No teeth," he murmured between kisses as he took a firm grip behind my thighs and lifted me so I could lock my legs around his waist as he started walking toward the bed.

"No teeth," I promised with the biggest smile I had had in a long time. He set me down on my back among the dirty laundry, old car keys, photographs, and other things. But at that moment, the stuff didn't seem so important anymore, because whether this was a bittersweet goodbye or a fresh start, I was going to enjoy every second.

Conor

That Bel had checked out was evident from miles away. The gaze fixed on my neck belonged to a predatory leech, who would drain me of blood without hesitation. I guessed his detox had gone to shit.

I got my guard up before he sank his teeth into my flesh, but he was stronger than he looked. Besides, it felt wrong to hurt him. Fuck, I should have pumped him full of Valium until the worst of the withdrawal faded away.

In an attempt to reach him, I repeated his name, well aware that I might as well have kept my mouth shut. Right now, he wouldn't hear a shotgun at point-blank range.

His skinny hands clawed over my arm, his lips drew near my throat. The same lips that had whispered words of love in my ear just a couple of hours ago. I should have been angry, but all I felt was a bottomless damn fatigue. 

Everyone except Moma Hayes's little idiot saw this coming. Who besides me would play hermit with a blood junkie? A flash vision of Hank swirled past. Suddenly, I couldn't hold back a crazed laugh. Bel and I had always navigated between icebergs of emotional baggage, and Mister Alpha didn't hide what he thought of my habit of sleeping with an immortal drama queen.

I could deal with Bel gnawing at my neck. Nothing personal; I just happened to be the nearest candy machine. Predation doesn't care about feelings, and he was too starved to give me anything but a quick end. But there was no way in hell I would survive if I ended up alone with Hank after this mess.

His stubborn and sadly skinny body pressed closer, and the thought of the wolf being a better option flickered in my mind for a few seconds. But the thought barely crossed my mind before black smoke billowed up around our feet. 

After Dominic's words about the Belmonts future as a sewer monster, I automatically stepped back, my heart pounding in what could only be described as panic. Wrestling a nightmare animal on the kitchen floor was not my cup of tea.

Soon, a hand formed around Belmont's neck, and a moment later, the little one flew backward with a force that felt borderline demonic. I stared wide-eyed at the body crashing into the wall and falling to the floor, and it took me a moment to register what had happened.

But he was soon on his feet again. I knew leeches were fast; the thirst for blood probably made the hunt more intense, but he never reached me. Stopped by a dark shadow that soon took form before my eyes.

A man in his thirties, with a well-groomed beard, dark hair slicked back, ending in well-kept curls just below his ears. He was dressed in a suit and long coat, out of place in my filthy cabin, but damn if he wasn't welcome. Clocksworth, I remembered they called him. It wasn't the first time we'd met, but it was the only time I felt a grain of gratitude towards the vampire in front of me.

I let my pulse settle as I watched him drop to one knee and hold Belmont down against the floor, impressively with just one hand, whispering words in French. Snow White struggled for a moment before his body finally gave up and fell into some strange sleep. Someone else might have taken the opportunity to leave, but the cabin was mine, and I wanted to see where this would end. Besides, the kid on the floor was a priority, fuck knows why, but he was mine too.

The vampire stood up and turned toward me, his gaze studying me intently for a while before he pulled out a thick cigar from the inner pocket of his coat and lit it. He took his time puffing out the thick smoke a few times before nodding toward Belmont. 

"He'll sleep for a few hours; you might want to tuck him in somewhere." His accent was rougher than the Princess', but something in his voice told me he was used to giving orders. 

The wolf in me wanted to protest, but the guy in front of me was clearly my superior. So I gave him a nod, pulled my hands out of my pockets, and walked past him to lift the limp body into my arms. The stairs felt too fucking long, and it would be worse when I had to go down again. The guy had probably saved my life; the question was how the hell I felt about it. And maybe most of all, what would he demand from me after this?

Clocksworth

It was obvious how unwilling the wolf was to come down the stairs to join me in the kitchen. I had heard him tuck Belmont in upstairs and a key turning in a lock. Smart dog, I thought with a smile on my lips. 

I rolled the cigar between my fingers and emptied the ash into a dirty coffee cup before bringing it to my mouth again. A part of me was jealous, but those were old feelings I had tried to bury for a long time; another part of me was glad that Belmont had the chance to start over with the man he loved. The man I had forced him to leave.

"Dominic Loyson called," I said loud and clear before he had made it down, "he suspected you might need a helping hand." 

 Conor stopped at the bottom of the stairs and watched me; we had seen each other briefly a couple of times. None of them had been particularly pleasant, the most memorable being the time I took Belmont away from him in an old, rundown factory. Much had happened since then, but I knew I wasn't liked. The question was just what role the wolf played in this drama. 

 "He left a couple of days ago," he replied surprisingly calmly. 

 "Did he say why?" 

 "That's between him and sleeping beauty," he muttered, nodding towards upstairs. 

 I chuckled to myself; the situation felt painfully familiar in an unsettling way. Life with Belmont had never been easy, but until now, he had managed to keep his head above water, sometimes swimming in panic. But now he was stuck on the lakebed. 

"How long has he been like this?" 

 Conor scratched the back of his head before he went to stand at a respectful distance by the sink. "He was locked up when I got here," he sighed, and the fatigue was evident on his face, making me wonder what he'd gone through before I arrived. "He was fine the last time I saw him before that, it's been more than a week." He shrugged, "Nic said he was draining people; I didn't ask for details." 

 "Has he calmed down?"

 "The last two days, he was himself again," he paused for a moment, "until a few minutes ago." Automatically, his hand moved to his neck where Bel had scraped his fangs against his skin. He'd been lucky. 

 "And you let your guard down," I filled in understanding. "Easily misstake." 

 A wrinkle formed on his forehead before he laughed dryly, "what do you want from me?" 

 I took a long drag and let the tobacco scratch my airways before I slowly exhaled through my mouth while holding his eye contact. The man in front of me meant a lot to Belmont; he had hated me when I had forced him home from his beloved wolf. The days he had walked around in the oversized, wolf-scented sweater had been torture. I hated it; I hated this situation, but I wasn't going to make the same mistake again. 

 "I'm here as Belmont's creator; he has my blood in him, and I can help him get better." Conor raised an eyebrow and waited for me to continue. "The question is, what do you want? Do you want me to stay and help you and then leave you alone?" I took another puff from the cigar, "or do you want me to take the problem to France?" 

 "So I get to choose?" he asked with amusement. 

 I shrugged, dumped the cigar into the coffee grounds before standing up to take off my coat and jacket, hanging them on a chair before rolling up my shirt sleeves. "Do you have whiskey?" 

 Conor stood still for a moment, the gears turning in his head before he opened the fridge and tossed a beer to me, taking one for himself. I looked down at the bottle in disappointment and sighed a little before twisting off the cap and tasting the contents. The bitter taste made me shudder with disgust. 

 "I've learned from my mistakes," I replied to his question. "I don't know what kind of—" I bit my lip and wrinkled my nose, "relationship you two have," I pressed out. "That's why I'm asking." 

 "Not my choice to make; you'll have to ask him when he wakes up." 

 I shook my head, "that's going to take days; this is your decision, Conor Hayes."