Clocksworth

For an old man like me, hours and days were a drop in the ocean, but for a charming, grumpy wolf, it was an eternity. 

I chuckled to myself when I heard the sound of wood being chopped from the back of the cabin for the third time in less than a day. He would have enough firewood for three winters, I thought, and continued with my paperwork while puffing on the cigar.

Lumiere had everything under control back home for the time being, but life as the leader of a vampire clan was a round-the-clock job, and one of the reasons I had created a temporary workspace out of the rickety kitchen table. The other reason was that I needed to keep myself occupied, not to pass the time, but to keep myself from taking Belmont over my shoulder and heading home. 

Patience had always been a problem; my blood pulsed in Belmont, and our bond would always be strong. But one thing was certain: if he chose the wolf, it would be the last time I came flying in to save his cute ass. At least, that's what I told myself.

It took less than a minute after the sound had faded for Conor to step inside the door. Sweat was pouring off him; he had taken off his shirt and wrapped it around his neck to wipe away the drops. I wasn't an idiot. I understood what Bel saw in him; The attitude, the muscles, and perhaps above all, the controlled calm must have been like training wheels for Bel's anxiety-ridden personality.

"I'm heading to the store; I can get you whiskey, but you'll have to handle the red drink yourself," he muttered as he passed on his way to the shower upstairs.

"Whiskey and cigars are all I need, Mr. Hayes."

He stopped on the stairs and groaned loudly, "Conor," he emphasized for the tenth time; he became angrier each time I used his last name. So, I continued. I wanted to see how far I could push him before the cup overflowed. It was a petty game, but I was bored.

The bathroom door slammed shut, and not even the sound of the running water could compete with his swearing. I managed to skim through three more documents before he came downstairs, dressed in loose-fitting jeans and a plain white T-shirt that for some reason smelled more like Belmont than the wolf himself. 

I chuckled; the guy was a chess player; his quiet way of putting me in my place was impressive, albeit irritating. But I would continue addressing him by his last name.

"Sleeping Beauty is squirming and moving up there; the hundred years seem to be coming to an end," he muttered, grabbing a set of car keys from a bowl. 

There was no vehicle in the yard, so I assumed he'd hidden it somewhere, an escape route no one else knew about. Smart when you're trapped in a house with vampires. I irritably noticed I was starting to respect him. I had met his father once; that man was impressive, and I saw the same signs in the son. He would grow up to be a strong alpha one day if that's what he wanted, but I suspected that his life choices would prevent him from going that route. There was trouble brewing around him, despite his calm demeanor.

"He's in safe hands," I replied briefly. 

I had intended to imply something about our previous relationship, but suddenly I felt uncertain. How would I react if Bel didn't want my help? Would I force him to comply?

"Sure," Conor muttered, but before he opened the door, I cleared my throat to get his attention."If Belmont asks me to go—"

"The princess doesn't know what's best for him right now; you stay until he's in full control of his senses," he interrupted me. "Then he can make decisions."

He left before I could say more, but the wolf's words made me realize that it wasn't just a little flirt between them. What they had was nothing I could erase, a mistake I had tried before. I should have understood that when Bel kept running back to him time and time again. I had brushed it off as an annoyance, but now I knew I had to take them seriously. Otherwise, I would lose Belmont forever.

My heart ached, perhaps because I realized how much I had been like Anthony. I'd hated how he controlled my life while fully knowing why. The blood bond was painful, but it was nothing I could change. I would love Belmont for the rest of my life, no matter what happened in the future.

Conor had been right; Belmont had woken up just a day after I had put him to sleep. Automatically, a nagging worry began to grow within me. What if I couldn't help him, and how would he react when he saw me? 

His eyelids fluttered open; it took a moment for his gaze to focus on me, and I took a deep breath to keep myself calm. "Good morning, Little One, did you sleep well?" 

His eyes rested on me for a moment before he looked around the room. "Where am I?" he whispered. 

"Relax. You're still in Conor's cabin," I replied, and his body immediately became more relaxed. I pushed away the urge to analyze his reaction and focused on the positive instead. He was calm, newly awakened and disoriented, but the beast was tamed for the moment. "He went to the store a little while ago." 

Belmont nodded slightly and sat up; one hand moved towards my face to ensure I was really there. The spark that ignited in my heart I pushed away. "Dominic called; he thought the wolf might need a little help," I said softly, as an explanation for my sudden appearance. 

He nodded again. "Was he right?" Those beautiful eyes looked pleadingly at me, and it pained me to speak the truth.

"You couldn't control yourself; it was close, Bel, too close." He nodded again, and silence echoed in the room. "I can help you," I offered gently. 

We hadn't been on bad terms when he left, but old memories and feelings always played a role in new encounters. "How?" he whispered, "Do I have to go with you?" The panic hinted in his voice broke my heart; he wanted to stay here. 

I shook my head, "If you want to stay with him, I respect that, Bel," I continued in my softest voice, "as long as you feel better." 

With a deep sigh, he threw himself around my neck and sobbed. It didn't take long before I felt the drops from his tears against my neck. 

"When I got hurt, Anthony's blood could heal me; I think I can do the same for you," I said carefully. "The addiction is like a disease, Bel; I believe my blood can remove it." 

His red, tear-filled eyes looked into mine; he hesitated for a moment before opening his mouth, "But?" 

"No buts," I replied calmly, wiping his tears with my thumb. 

"Are you sure?" 

I chuckled softly and nodded slightly, "Completely sure." 

He bit his lip, and suddenly he looked like the small, insecure Bel I used to know, the one he had been when he was human, surrounded by vampires—the boy I had once promised myself I would always take care of. The one who was scared and lost. 

I rolled up my shirt sleeve and punctured the vein at my wrist with a knife I had found in the kitchen. A single drop formed on my olive-colored skin. He hesitated, and I did not blame him; blood meant something entirely different to him than it did to me. 

Soon, the red drop spread its scent around us, and that was all it took. The beast took over, and  his lips were pressed against my arm, and his teeth sank hungrily into my skin. He gulped down my blood in deep swallows, and I watched as his expression shifted from bloodthirsty to calm within a few minutes. 

I didn't even need to stop him. Amazed, I looked down at his smiling face as he licked his lips. "How do you feel?" 

"Like I could eat an entire bakery," he grinned. 

"The pastries or the waitresses?" a voice asked awkwardly from the door, and immediately Bel jumped to his feet and threw himself around the wolf's neck. 

"I'm sorry! So sorry..." he repeated over and over, covering his face with feather-light kisses. 

I watched as the tense muscles in the shifters body relaxed; he nodded slightly and put a finger under Bel's chin to tilt his face up so he could meet the vampire's gaze. 

"The pastries or the waitresses, darling?" 

"Croissants and éclairs and macarons and cookies, raspberry cake, apple pie, and those green pastries with jam inside," he beamed, but the wolf just nodded. 

"Good," was all he said before he gave Bel a kiss on the cheek and left. 

"I guess you want to keep an eye on me a little longer?" Bel asked, turning to me.

"A couple of days at least," I replied, pulling my shirt sleeve down. 

 "Thank you, Theo," he said with his sweetest smile. A smile that made my heart melt.

Conor

The door to the bedroom opened in the dark, and footsteps that were barely audible approached my bed. Annoyed, I noticed my heart racing in my chest. The Princess' attack had evidently left its mark; the question was only what mood he was in now—angel or demon? 

 I mentally prepared for the worst-case scenario. Even though I would never say it out loud, I was fucking relieved the gangster king was sitting on the ground floor at the kitchen table as usual. The footsteps hesitated at the edge of the bed, and I felt my muscles instantly relax; he wasn't the predator type who crept around. This was the lost, fragile version of the boy my heart refused to let go of. 

My eyes were closed as I waited for him to make a move. During the day he'd repeated his apologies until my ears could no longer perceive them, and I suspected this was going to be an extension of all the kisses he had pressed over my face. It was nothing I demanded. I didn't blame him, but to ease his guilt, I let him, and he had continued to shower me with small acts of affection throughout the day 

What surprised me was the king's reaction; jealousy perhaps wasn't in his nature. His behavior was more brotherly, almost fatherly toward Belmont. How one goes from lovers to mentor and apprentice was beyond my understanding, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't grateful. Everything was complicated enough. 

 A tentative cold body slowly slid between the sheets, and fingers found their way around my chest. He didn't say a word. He just lay there, struggling with the countless emotions housed in his small frame. As so many times before, in a time before the cabin, he sought comfort after the tormenting dreams of the night. It didn't take long before his ear pressed against my back 

Something as simple as my heartbeat had always calmed him, and I let him be. The wolf within me wanted nothing more than to have him there, but reason told me to cut the ties before it went too far. The wolf won. Slowly, I turned around, and immediately his head burrowed under my chin. His hair smelled as it always had, but his body was weaker than ever. 

 It ached within me as I thought of everything he had been through. As I said, I didn't blame him. Maybe it was the recognition of my own life that haunted me. Most often, it was the protective instinct that drove me. 

 With a deep sigh, I pulled him closer. My arms wrapped protectively around the trembling body, and my fingers found their way into his hair, and despite knowing better, I let my fingertips wander further down his back. 

 "Does this mean you're not angry?" His breath brushed against my skin as I shook my head. "Why?" he insisted. 

 "There's nothing to be angry about." 

 "B-but I..." 

 "You couldn't control yourself," I interrupted, "I made the mistake of not locking you up." 

 His body tensed, and his fists gripped the blanket tightly. "I don't want to be like that again," he whispered, whimpering, and inside me grew the feeling I had struggled to push away. 

 My lips moved toward his forehead; the words came automatically. I had stopped thinking rationally, stopped worrying about tomorrow, at least for the moment. And that's what I told him. "We take one day at a time, okay?" 

 He nodded slightly and moved closer, "I'm sorry." 

 "Stop." 

 "But I..." 

 "Stop." 

 "I just want to—..." 

 Before he could say more, his words were stopped by my own lips. I knew what he wanted to say, but I couldn't bear to hear more. It wasn't a well-thought-out plan. It was foolish, but it was all I could do at that moment to get him on other thoughts. Soon fingers groped along my waistband, desperately searching for more skin. The bed creaked worse than ever, and it was no hard guessing game what we were doing. 

Fuck it, I thought as Belmont straddled me, fingers playing over my chest. His smile hit me like an electric shock. When was the last time he smiled? I almost yanked him down to me with the sole goal of ensuring he kept that smile all night long.

Clocksworth

I immediately heard Belmont's footsteps upstairs and prepared to rush up there to save the wolf's life yet again. I listened intently. Nothing happened. Eventually, I heard muffled voices—they were talking. The wolf would survive another day, I thought, a grin spreading across my lips. A grin that faded more and more the longer time dragged on, as I became increasingly aware of what was going on upstairs. 

 I pushed the thoughts away, lit a cigar, and turned on some music, but it was hard to keep my emotions in check. I downed my third glass of whiskey and stared at the paper in my hand. It was Belmont who had gone to him, not the other way around. Belmont had made his choice. 

 I stared at the note in my hands. The last time I'd written a farewell letter, I'd destroyed his life. It was what had sent him spiraling into depression and drinking blood from humans. And yet here I was, considering doing the same thing again. 

 With a sigh, I pulled out a few empty blood bags from my bag to drain some of my own. He would need to drink at least twice more. I had planned to leave without saying goodbye, but I sat frozen in my chair, glass in hand. 

I didn't even notice when the sun began to shine, and Conor came down the stairs. Freshly showered, but Belmont's scent clung to him like a mist. He didn't say a word, keeping a blank expression on his face. I already knew him well enough to recognize that the mask was a survival tactic. 

 "Slept well?" I asked as I leaned back in my chair and propped my feet up on the table. 

 He studied me for a moment before muttering, "Do you ever sleep?" 

 "Not anymore," I replied, lighting another cigar.  He opened the fridge and immediately grabbed one of the blood bags, raising an eyebrow in silent question. "When the craving hits, give him one," I explained, even though it sounded entirely unreasonable. But so far, it had worked. My stable blood had brought Belmont back to his normal state. 

 "You leaving?" 

The tone of his question surprised me. It wasn't accusatory, but neither was it relieved. "Belmont doesn't need me anymore," I said simply. 

 He tossed the bag back into the fridge, closed the door, and then turned fully to face me, meeting my gaze. His completely fearless stare was something I had started to admire. His posture and his reckless courage. "And what if you're wrong?" 

 "Belmont has made his choice. He wants to stay with you," I said, puffing on the cigar. "It's clear as day." 

 "So, you save our lives and then leave? Just like that?" He raised an eyebrow. "No price?" 

 I understood his doubt, but the truth was, Belmont was stronger now than he'd been back when I'd forced him to leave the wolf behind. Back then, I hadn't seen another option. 

 "I've lived for hundreds of years," I began. "In sixty—give or take, you'll be dead and buried, and Belmont will, hopefully, have lived the life he looks forward to with you." I stood from the chair and began packing my things. "For me, it's just a fleeting moment of waiting for him to come back to me."

 The wolf studied me for a long time. "He deserves more than a note this time." 

 I nodded slightly, glancing toward the stairs. "He'll get a proper goodbye."