“Nicholas,” Gabriel whispered, relishing the taste of his mate’s new name against his tongue. 

 

He observed Nicholas under the cover of night and rain, lowering his back window a notch when the steady deluge threatened to obscure his view. 

 

Nicholas moved around the opulent apartment wearing nothing more than a sheer red bralette and matching lace thong. The cock sheath embraced his soft length lovingly. He was still as slender as Gabriel remembered, although his cheekbones were now as sharp as a freshly forged blade, and his skin a soft shade of fawn where it had once been a darker hue. He was no less beautiful, though. More beautiful, even.  

 

“What else did you find out about him?” 

 

“He’s twenty-three,” Marcus responded from the other side of the raised partition. “He recently obtained a bachelor’s degree in theology, lives alone, is single, and has one close friend.”  

 

“Just one?” Gabriel frowned. 

 

“Yes. A former foster brother. They’ve been with each other since Nicholas’s rebirth.” 

 

A stab of pain pierced through Gabriel’s ancient beating heart. Zayn had never trusted easily. A burden that came with being hunted from the day he was born. Constant self-preservation had hardened him in his past life. It seemed it did so in this life as well.   

 

“Any interests?” He drew in a lungful of tobacco smoke.  

 

“Fencing, Sayyidi.” 

 

Gabriel had known Marcus since they were little more than offspring still nursing their lifeblood from their mothers. He’d addressed Gabriel as Sayyidi even then, at times, as they ran through fields laughing and dueling with their wooden batons. 

 

Marcus had been the son of servants, tending to Gabriel’s household. To Gabriel, he’d simply been a loyal friend, both then and now. 

 

Gabriel believed the title of respect—a rough translation of ‘my Lord’—to be sentimental to Marcus, so he allowed the occasional use of it, although he’d never truly felt worthy of the honor. 

 

“Fencing,” he exhaled, tendrils of smoke curling throughout the car’s sleek interior. To know Zayn was drawn to the sword, even in his new life, warmed something in Gabriel. He pressed a palm to the pulsing ache in his chest, feeling it heat. 

 

“It’s truly him,” he whispered, afraid to believe it.  

 

“Yes,” Marcus confirmed, his affection and joy for Gabriel evident in his tone.

 

Gabriel had long ago given up hope that he and Zayn would one day be reunited, but here he stood right before him, as beautiful as the day he was torn from his arms. 

 

Gabriel glared down at his tainted hands. Even clean, they’d forever be blood-stained. He’d had to become someone else to save Zayn, to ensure his return. Gabriel never managed to resurrect his former self. Would Nicholas love him anyway? 

 

Gabriel couldn’t turn back time, couldn’t undo a single bad thing he’d done. For better or for worse, he was an unforgiving monster. 

 

Some may have argued that he’d always been monstrous. The difference now was that the truth of it no longer kept him awake at night.  

 

The storm winds intensified, and the desolate street darkened further when a row of streetlights went out up ahead. Nicholas didn’t seem to notice as he leaned against the window frame, gazing absently into the downpour.

 

“What weighs on him?” Gabriel wondered aloud, searching Nicholas’s warm brown eyes for the answer. They were the color of aged pine at the height of fall. 

 

A middle-aged man crossed the room, running the pads of his fingers from Nicholas’s bare shoulder to his elbow. Nicholas stiffened, but didn’t pull away.  

 

“Easy, Muharib,” Marcus urged. 

 

Gabriel caught sight of himself in the reflection of his window. Dark brown skin pulled tight over prominent cheekbones, rage-filled eyes condoning thoughts of murder. 

 

“Who is he?” 

 

“He’s a businessman.”

 

“You said Nicholas was uninvolved!” 

 

“Nicholas is an escort.” Marcus met Gabriel’s obsidian gaze through the tinted glass. “You know what finding him means.” 

 

His transition has begun. 

 

It was the beacon that drew Gabriel to him, exactly as the saahira had promised. Gabriel had awoken on a gasp the night before last, a sense of urgency thrumming through his veins. He and Marcus had sped through the rain-slicked streets in search of the source. They found Nicholas alone in the cemetery, crying on a garden bench, head bowed. 

 

Gabriel’s already fractured heart had fissured further with each silent whimper. He’d wanted to scoop Nicholas into his arms and seek retribution for whatever—or whoever—had hurt him. Marcus had wisely cautioned him against engaging, though.  

 

“Let me find out who he is first, Muharib. You’re a stranger to him. He won’t welcome you with open arms.”

 

They kept watch until Nicholas left, but the sight of his mate’s tears left a permanent stain on Gabriel’s heart. A stain that he would do anything to keep from spreading.  

 

“Follow him,” Gabriel had ordered Marcus, not trusting himself to do it. “You have twenty-four hours. Find out everything, then take me to him.”  

 

Gabriel refocused on the present. “How long has he been an escort?” He was afraid to learn the answer.

 

“Not long. It’s likely he’d been suffering mild symptoms and trying to ease them. Those symptoms will now pale in comparison…” 

 

Gabriel pressed a fist to his lips. Nicholas’s body would be demanding things of him, things he wouldn’t understand, needs he alone couldn’t satisfy. The hunt for relief would soon consume him, drive him mad, even. It wouldn’t matter how many men he allowed to bed him; only Gabriel’s blood and seed could bring Nicholas the solace he sought. Only Gabriel could ease the burn of the transition. 

 

Nicholas needed his mate. Nicholas needed him. 

 

Gabriel watched until he physically couldn’t, until his fangs descended, and the need to tear the man’s throat out overrode logic. He flicked the stub of his hand-rolled cigarette out the window, instructing Marcus to pull into the shallow gangway along the side of the building.  

 

“Don’t be impulsive, Muharib.” He shook his head, his locks grazing his shoulders. “This situation calls for patience.” 

 

“His hands are on my mate,” Gabriel spat. “His cock is inside my mate, and yet I sit here. If that isn’t patience, then what is?” 

 

He regretted ordering Marcus to immediately take him to Nicholas. His friend had warned him against it, said he wouldn’t like what he found, and that they should wait until Nicholas returned home for the night. But it had been twenty-four hours by then, and whatever connection drew him to Nicholas that first night had diminished, worrying him.  

 

It went against Gabriel’s nature to allow this to go on. He fought against the primal part of himself, wanting to castrate anyone who dared to lay a hand on what was his. 

 

“He doesn’t know,” Marcus reminded him gently, as if calming a wild animal. “Neither of them knows.” 

 

Of the two of them, Marcus had always been more compassionate, more understanding. Better at being… human.

 

“This isn’t their fault.” 

 

Those words weren’t intentionally aimed at Gabriel’s heart, but they hit their mark anyway. If anyone were to be blamed for the predicament they were in, it was him. Still, he could only be reasoned with so much. He fell silent, waiting for Nicholas’s departure.

 

It came a short while later. 

 

Gabriel slipped on his gloves, the leather creaking around his fists. “Follow him. Make sure he gets home safe.” Ignoring Marcus’s renewed warnings, he stepped out into the rain. 

 

Breaking in through the rear of the building, he bypassed the freight elevator in preference of the stairs, letting himself into the lavish apartment once he reached the top floor. The sound of running water led him to the primary suite. 

 

The bedroom reeked of sex and heat. His mate’s heat. The skin around his narrowed eyes tightened as his body readied itself for bloodshed. He lowered himself onto the armchair facing the disheveled bed, withdrawing a handgun from the holster beneath his suit jacket. Marcus’s words drifted through his mind. 

 

“He doesn’t know. Neither of them knows.” 

 

But Gabriel wasn’t in a merciful mood. He screwed the silencer onto the muzzle, resting the firearm on the small end table beside him. 

 

The shower cut off, and seconds later, a man matching Gabriel’s impressive height stepped into the dimly lit room, running a towel over his wet, graying hair. 

 

“Fuck!” He fell back against the bathroom doorjamb, wincing. 

 

“W-who the hell are you? How the hell did you get in here?” 

 

He looked toward the open bedroom door Nicholas had left through moments ago, paling. The foul fragrance of betrayal seeped from his pores, and it angered Gabriel further to have his mate’s integrity questioned.   

 

“Sit,” Gabriel said curtly, but the man simply stood there gaping at him. Gabriel reached for his gun, pointing the lip of it toward the foot of the bed. “Sit.”  

 

“Y-you don’t want to do this.” He fixed his gaze on the weapon. “Do you know who I am?” 

 

“Sit.”  

 

“Okay, O-okay.” He held his palms out, making his way over on shaky legs. “Is it money you want? I-I’ve got money, just please—”

 

“Give me your name.”

 

“J-just tell me your price,” he bargained, but Gabriel couldn’t be bought or swayed. He trained the gun on the man’s flaccid cock. 

 

“Jeremy!” he squealed, hands cupping his genitals. “J-Jeremy D-Dalton.” 

 

“You touched something that belongs to me, Jeremy Dalton. Someone who belongs to me.” 

 

Jeremy’s sweat-slicked brows formed a hard line. “Someone?” 

 

“Yes,” Gabriel hissed, finger hovering over the trigger.  

 

“Wait! I-I… Fuck. I don’t…” 

 

His panicked gaze traveled to the bedroom door again, widening before flashing to the mantel above the fireplace. A small black box rested there. Gabriel stood to inspect it. 

 

“I-I didn’t know. I don’t know him. I just asked f-for someone pretty a-and submissive. I swear it. Please…” 

 

Gabriel was too preoccupied with the tiny camera in his hands to tell Jeremy that begging only made him scent more like prey.  

 

“Where’s the source?” 

 

“Please—” 

 

Gabriel appeared in front of him, clamping a gloved hand around his throat. 

 

Jeremy’s eyes bulged, skin turning a grayish-blue as he struggled to pry Gabriel’s hand off him. 

 

Gabriel leaned in close, his tone a deadly whisper. “Where?”

 

Jeremy gestured wildly to the cellphone on the nightstand, pitching forward when Gabriel released him. He coughed, clutching his bruised neck. 

 

“I-I can explain.” His voice was strangled. 

 

Gabriel scrolled until he found the camera application, then watched in bitter fury as another man mounted his mate while violating his privacy. Nicholas’s tears were evident. He may have consented to this, but he did not want it. The screen cracked in Gabriel’s punishing grasp.   

 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warned in a deceptively neutral tone, his back to Jeremy. 

 

Jeremy now held the gun Gabriel had left on the mantel, the heavy steel rattling in his unsteady hands. 

 

“T-toss me the phone and camera, or I’ll put a bullet in you.” 

 

Gabriel pocketed the camera and the phone, unconcerned by the weapon pointed at him. He turned slowly, his long, glistening fangs visible through his mocking grin. 

 

“What the fuck—”

 

Gabriel was on him in a blink, snapping his wrist, sending the gun skidding across the floor. Jeremy’s howl of pain stirred Gabriel’s hunger, and he inhaled deeply, devouring his scent of fear. 

 

“Nicholas is mine.” 

 

Gabriel wrenched his head to the side, sinking his razor-sharp canines into the pulsing vein at his neck. His eyes fluttered shut as his stomach filled with warm, nourishing blood, made that much sweeter by Jeremy’s resistance. 

 

Jeremy’s struggles eventually ceased, his body going slack in Gabriel’s arms. 

 

Sated, Gabriel flicked his tongue over the puncture wounds, sealing them before dropping Jeremy to the floor. Stepping over him, he retrieved his gun, sliding the heavy steel back into its holster. 

 

He buttoned his blazer, taking one last look around before exiting the apartment, noting the absence of guilt. 

 

He’d need to work out a plan to get his mate back and avoid leaving a trail of bloodless corpses throughout the city. 

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