Triangle

bySoledad

A "Pathways in the Dark" story

Part 19 of "The Toreador Chronicles". Follows "Truth and Consequences".

For disclaimer and background information see the Introduction.

Rating: Adults only, please!

Author's note: "Sunshine" is a really existing character in one of the online RPGs. He has, of course, a different identity than the one I gave him. But the name was too good an opportunity to let it slip g.

Summary: Michael has a hard time to accept that his best friend/new lover is now a vampire. The Kindred in LA do their best to show him his possible choices, but it's the return of an old acquaintance that finally forces him to make a decision.

"Are you sure, Sweetie?" Emmett asked doubtfully.

Michael shook his head. "No, of course not. But it would be too much of a coincidence, don't you think? This 'Sunshine' character arrives in LA? And soon the press begins to spout out crap about how I've supposedly mistreated Justin."

"But Vera Vignes set those rumours right, hasn't she?" Emmett asked. Michael gave him a tired look.

"Em, just when do people give a shit for official declarations when there is perfectly good, juicy gossip to believe in?"

"True," Emmett admitted. "So, what do you want me to do?"

"You have better contacts to the half-world than I do," Michael replied. "You could stretch out your antennae a bit. I want to know if this 'Sunshine' is truly Justin, and what kind of relationship does hi have to that porn director… beyond the obvious, I mean,"

"Won't that be a bit too obvious if I approached them?" Emmett was still not sure about the whole thing.

Michael shrugged. "You used to be a porn star. He's a director of porn movies. He won't suspect a thing."

"But Justin will know whom I'm spying for, if he truly is Sunshine," Emmett pointed out.

"Yeah, but if he is Sunshine, then we already have our answer, haven't we?" Michael said logically.

Emmett sighed. "All right, I'll see what I can do."

Michael gave him one of those brilliant smiles. "Thanks, Em. I won't forget that. Oh, and… do you think you'd be willing to move in with me again?"

"Really?" Emmett stared at him in open-mouthed surprise. "You're ready to share living space with a vampire?"

"I've had weeks to get used to the idea," Michael replied with a shrug. "The thought still freaks me out a little, but – you're my friend. And I can see that you're basically still the same person. So… just no nibbling while I sleep, understood?"

Emmett laughed. "Michael, I don't hunt. I use volunteers… blood dolls, as we call them. And you know I'd never do that to a friend."

"I know," Michael laughed, strangely relieved that his voluntary hermit existence would come to an end, "or else I wouldn't ask when you are moving back in."

"As soon as I've felt around this Jean-Vincent character," Emmett promised. "I won't be delayed by the logistics of moving until then. After all, I'll need a convenient strategy to approach the Porn King of LA."

"No, you won't," Edward Blount declared in a tone that brook no argument. "If you as much as try to speak with that… that abomination, I'll break every single bone in your girlish body."

But he had to learn that – like so many people before him – he'd underestimated Emmett. For all his Southern Belle mannerisms, Emmett could be as stubborn as a mule and as tough as nails. Especially if one of his friends was in trouble.

"Excuse me," he replied languidly, "but I thought I'd be my own vampire by now. So how come that you're starting to give me orders and threatening me again, out of the blue? I can socialize with whom I want."

The big, handsome Toreador gave a derisive snort. "Your own vampire? Don't be ridiculous, Childe! The Conclave only accepted you as a courtesy to Victor and because Angelus wanted them to. You wouldn't survive in the Dark on your own for a week – you aren't even able to hunt properly!"

Emmett shrugged. "I'm not into the killing and maiming and generally wreaking havoc part – so what? I'm doing well enough with the blood dolls for someone who's never wanted to become a bloodsucking fiend of the night. Besides, people like me as I am."

"Camarilla Kindred like you, you little idiot," Edward Blount retorted angrily, "and even of them mostly those from the fashion and movie industry. Jean-Vincent is an antitribu, a follower of the Sabbat – he'd eat you for breakfast if he caught you alone."

"Why would he?" Emmett asked. "He has no reason to harm me."

Edward Blount rolled his eyes. "Have you forgotten everything we taught you, idiot Childe? The Sabbat don't need a reason; they'd kill you just for the fun of it – or to piss Victor off."

"If they are so bad why don't you guys throw them out of the city or kill them dead? Oh, wait, I forgot – we are dead already, all of us," Emmett said acerbically.

In the next moment he felt himself lifted off his feet and his foster Sire shook his so roughly that his teeth rattled.

"Don't get obnoxious on me, Emmett, or by Caine, I'll teach you some manners the hard way!" Edward hissed. "You're my responsibility; I'll drain you till the verge of Final Death before I'd let you waltz into the den of a Sabbat monster. Jean-Vincent is a ruthless killer, one that enjoys the killing. Why in seven hells do you want to get know him anyway?"

"Michael thinks this new assistant of him, the one who slipped Ita the gossip about him and Brian, might actually be Justin," Emmett admitted.

"Justin Taylor?" asked Edward Blount with a frown. "The annoyed brat who used to draw the Rage comics for Michael? He's Sunshine?"

"He might be," Emmett said. "Michael's Mom used to call him that. He might use the name just to piss Michael off. We need to know for certain."

"Wrong," Edward Blount corrected. "Michael needs to know. Perhaps Brian and Vera Vignes, too. You don't. It's not your business, so don't get involved."

"Michael is my best friend," said Emmett indignantly. "So it is my business."

"And I'm your Sire and your guardian, and I say it isn't," replied Edward Blount. "But since you're being unreasonable, I'll have to bring in stronger arguments, it seems."

Lightning-fast, he grabbed Emmett, slammed him against the wall, and tearing his shirt open, he sank his fangs into the younger vampire's jugular, drinking deeply, until Emmett's knees gave way from the heavy blood loss. Then he lifted the seriously weakened neonate like a rag doll and threw him across the room. Emmett landed on the bed with a painful thud.

"Next time you show me this kind of disrespect, I won't stop here," Edward Blount warned him before leaving. "Don't try to leave the house. You'd be caught, and then I'd be really displeased. You don't want to learn what that's like."

And he locked the door after him. Emmett didn't even try to move. He was too weak… and too frightened. Until now, the older vampires had been fairly lenient to him, so he tended to forget that he owed his Elders obedience. Especially as the goodwill of said Elders was the only thing that kept him alive… well, undead at the very least.

After two days without as much as a phone call from Emmett, Michael became worried. It was uncharacteristic for Emmett to do the vanishing act without warning, so he feared that his friend would be in real trouble. He had no idea that he had been the source of said trouble, of course.

Since he was still sorting out his feelings toward Brian's new… nature, he couldn't bring up the strength to ask him. As he had no idea that he was working with Kindred in the Studios – unlike Brian, he wasn't a resistor, so the vampires could suggest away any oddity he might have noticed – he didn't dare to ask anyone else, fearing to give away his friend's secret. That left Alain and his household, the only other persons he knew to be vampires, and as much as he hated to ask the artist for help, his concern for Emmett was stronger than his aversion towards Brian's Master.

To his mixed relief, Alain was available within three hours and agreed to meet him on 'neutral territory', as he put it. The neutral territory, in this case, was a quiet little diner in West-Hollywood, owned by one of Louis Fortier's ghouls, but visited by mortal patrons… well, mostly.

The waitress came to take their orders, but Michael didn't feel like eating; he was way too nervous. So they both ordered a drink – the usual red wine with dubious additions in Alain's case and a beer for Michael, which order seemed to startle the waitress for some reason. Apparently, the usual clientele didn't prefer beer there. After that, Michael got straight to the point.

"Is Emmett in trouble?" he asked bluntly.

Alain raised a surprised eyebrow. "Why should he?"

"Because I haven't heard of him for two days, and it's not like him to vanish like that," Michael said. "Usually, he calls at least four times a day. So, what's happened?"

"Nothing I'd know about," Alain replied. "When did you see him the last time and under which circumstances?"

Michael described his last encounter with Emmett, and Alain nodded in understanding.

"I see," he said. "I'd say his sudden disappearance can only mean that his… guardians have made certain steps to keep Emmett from doing what you've asked of him."

"Why?" Michael asked in bewilderment.

Alain looked at him seriously. "Because what you've asked of him would be very dangerous, and we protect our progeny from unnecessary dangers until they become capable of protecting themselves."

"Dangerous? I only asked him to…" Michael trailed off and suddenly became deathly pale, his voice barely more than a whisper. "This… this Jean-Vincent character… he's a vampire, too?"

"Not just any vampire," Alain replied dryly. "He's a Sabbat; one of those who've fully earned our bad reputation among mortals. He's a killer, and it doesn't really matter to him whether he kills mortals or other Kindred."

If possible, Michael became even paler. "I had no idea… I'd never have asked Emmett…"

"You had no way to know," Alain interrupted. "Emmett should have asked his Elders before agreeing. He's a mere neonate, and a fairly weak one at that."

"Is he…" Michael hesitated. "Will be be… punished?"

Alain shook his head. "No. I think they've simply shut him away to prevent him from doing something foolish and dangerous. I'll ask a few questions and call you later about it."

"You'd do it?" Michael asked in surprise.

Alain shrugged. "Why not? I've got a long-lasting grudge with the Sabbat, and any way to thwart their plans is welcome for me. Besides, I won't do it for free, you understand. I demand a bonus from you."

"A… bonus?" Michael repeated nervously.

Alain leaned forward in his chair, that predatory, silver gleam appearing in his eyes again. "Just a little taste," he murmured, catching Michael's wrist and bringing it to his mouth, kissing it right above the big vein.

"What are you doing?" Michael was slightly panicked. "We're in a public place!"

"So what?" Alain murmured, licking his wrist to lure the big vein to the surface. "They'll probably think we're gay. You've got a problem with that?"

And before Michael could have done anything, his fangs dropped and he sank them into the vein, barely nicking it. The sharp pain shot through Michael's entire body like a bolt of lightning, making him instantly hard, and then the pleasure of the Kindred Kiss washed over him like a hot wave. The mixed pain/pleasure was so intense that he nearly came into his pants.

After a moment, Alain withdrew his fangs and licked the small puncture wounds closed to heal without scarring.

"We'll definitely have to work on your stamina," he said, licking his lips to enjoy the aftertaste, "but you taste delicious."

"Better than Brian?" Michael didn't know what had made him bait the vampire, and he regretted it right away, but Alain took no offence.

"Differently," he replied simply. "Brian tastes like an old, warm brandy: spicy and intoxicating. You taste like mulled wine: spicy, too, but also sweet… it could become addictive, given the time."

"Well, you should find another addiction," Michael quickly became defensive again. "I'm no one's personal slurpee."

"I don't consider you a food source," Alain replied, clearly amused. "Not mine anyway, although I wouldn't mind a snack from time to time – you are truly delicious, and I'm told not for feeding purposes alone." He drank some wine, sloshing it around in his mouth before swallowing to wash away the taste of blood before leaning across the table to kiss Michael. "I intend to know the other delights you can offer – however you may choose in the end."

Michael was too paralyzed with shock to resist, and after the first moment of surprise, also too honest to deny that he enjoyed being kissed within an inch of his life by Brian's maker… master… whatever. Alain was a very… educated kisser, which one could expect from someone with more than half a millennium of experience under is belt, and Michael hadn't allowed anyone to touch him since the shocking revelation of Brian's new nature. Besides, it filled him with almost childish satisfaction that Alain was now showing some personal interest for him, instead of just tolerating him for Brian's sake.

The waitress rapped her knuckles on the tabletop to get their attention. "Boys, stuff it or get a room. This is a diner, not a darkroom.

Alain let go of Michael unhurriedly. "Perhaps next time, Nellie," he said, handing her a credit card. "Excellent wine, by the way. Louis' own vintage, I assume?"

"What else?" the waitress booked off the small sum and gave the card back. "You want a kist to be send to your house as usual?"

Alain nodded. "That would be nice, thank you." Then, as she left, he turned to Michael again. "Please, keep a low profile, for safety's sake. I'll see into the issue and call you when I've learned anything."

It took Alain another four days to find out anything of importance. Under normal circumstances Michael would have climbed the walls with anxiety during this time, but to his relief, Emmett called him again, saying that he was basically all right but couldn't speak long, and Michael shouldn't worry.

That, of course, only made Michael worry even more, but there was nothing he could do. He took Alain's warning to keep a low profile seriously, because what little he'd heard about the Sabbat in General and that Jean-Vincent person in particular made him very scared. But he did worry very much; so much that he took a couple of days off and didn't even answer the phone, burying himself in work writing the screenplay for the Rouge sequel. At least that kept him occupied most of the time. Not even Brian's calls did he answer. He just didn't have the nerve to deal with the situation. Not yet.

On the fourth day, Alain finally called him again, and they met in the small dinner, as it was easy to get there for both of them.

"I've checked out this mysterious 'Sunshine', or at least I've tried," he told Michael without preamble, "but it seems that nobody has actually seen him outside Jean-Vincent's studio, where he appears to be kept all the time… which is typical for the Sabbat to treat their herd."

"Their what?" Michael frowned.

Alain leaned forward and lowered his voice as if not wanting anyone to hear them. "Michael, the Sabbat are different from us Camarilla types in many ways, as I've already told him," he said. "They consider mortals as cattle; so whether this 'Sunshine' is Justin Taylor or not, Jean-Vincent surely treats him as his personal property. He'd use him as a fucktoy and a food source – if the little brat is very lucky, perhaps as a favourite pet – until he gets bored with him."

"And when he does get bored with him?" Michael asked. "What then?"

Alain shrugged. "Depends on the twink's personal talent. He could be turned, which is the Sabbat version of the Embrace, made a ghoul or kept as a blood doll… or simply killed and thrown into a garbage bin. There are various possibilities for him to survive, though."

"Each of which would make him part of your world," Michael said slowly, "getting him closer to Brian again, while discrediting me and Rage at the same time. Clever; but Justin always had been single-mindedly ruthless when he wanted something. Or someone."

"You believe he still wants to get Brian back?" Alain asked in surprise. "In case he is this 'Sunshine', that is."

"I'm sure he is," Michael replied. "It would be too much of a coincidence. Besides, he's been obsessed with Brian from the day on they first met."

"He should have realized by now that the whole thing is fairly hopeless," Alain said.

Michael shook his head. "You don't understand. Justin simply can't accept the fact that one doesn't make things work just because one wants them. Often enough, he got his wish by being selfish and aggressive enough – and so he kept behaving that way, with the help of numerous women who, for some reason, seem to adore him, no matter what."

Alain was silent for a few endless moments. Then he looked at Michael intently, like a snake trying to enthrall a bird.

"If you consider him such a threat, you should fight against him," he said. "Our 'world', as you call it, is open for you, too. And we have ways and resources that mere mortals don't have. Use them!"

"How?" Michael asked bitterly. "I'm still trying to come to terms with the fact that Brian and Emmett are now vampires. I'm not ready to make a decision just yet. This isn't something about which I could change my mind later, should I decide to join the Lost Boys in any way."

"That is understandable," Alain nodded. "I don't think you'd be ready to accept the Embrace, either. Not for a long while yet; perhaps never. But I can give you a taste – literally – of what it means to be acquaintanted with a particular Kindred bloodline.

"What do you mean?" Michael was scared to death and fascinated at the same time.

Alain gave him another one of those hypnotizing looks, and this time his eyes had a definite silver gleam.

"I can give you a taste – a very small taste, because you wouldn't be able to bear more – of my Vitae… my own blood," he explained. "It would make you feel sick to your stomach, yes, and you'd feel as if your intestines were on fire.; but it would also give you a glimpse of the power contained in our Blood… and of the connection between all those of our line who regularly share blood with each other."

Michael felt his stomach turn over from the mere idea and was sure that he looked somewhat green around the gills. But his curiosity was definitely piqued now.

"What do you mean with connection?" he asked. "Can you guys read each other's thought or whatnot?"

Alain nodded. "We can if we wish, and if the other one is willing. We can also share feelings. Emotions. Desires."

"And I'd be able to read Brian, too?" Michael asked with ill-concealed longing.

"Not from a little taste, you won't," Alain replied. "You'd only be able to get a glimpse from me. But that would give you a general idea what it's like."

Michael shot him a doubtful look. "I'm not so sure I'd like to take a look at your mind," he said. "Quite frankly, you creep the hell out of me. No offence intended."

"None taken," Alain grinned. "Actually, I'm flattered. But don't worry, it won't last long. In a few hours, it will be gone again."

"And it won't harm me in any form?" Michael asked suspiciously.

"Define harm," Alain said. "But I won't lie to you. Have you once tasted my Vitae – or that of any other Kindred, in fact – it would leave a hunger in you that no mortal pleasure would be able to satisfy. We call it 'a touch of the Wild', for this is how it works with any mortals who taste Kindred blood. That's why they all choose to come over into our 'world' sooner or later, one way or another."

"So, doing this would ease my way to your world," Michael said slowly.

Alain nodded. "That's the real purpose, yes."

"But won't it take the decision out of my hands, too?" Michael was decidedly uncomfortable with that thought.

"No," Alain said. "It only opens the door for you. Whether you go through it or not, is and will always remain your choice."

"It will draw me to your world, though," Michael said.

"Of course," Alain replied. "As I said, that's its purpose. We're a species that breeds by transforming humans into our kind. We need a way to show possible candidates what our unlife is like. This is a risk you'll have to take if you want to understand us… to understand what Brian has become."

"It seems to me that I'm taking one risk after another where Brian is concerned, ever since I've come to LA," Michael commented dryly.

"That's true," Alain said. "But one has to, if the prize is worthy. The question is: how worthy do you consider that which you might have with Brian in the future. Every other thing depends on your answer to that."

"Then I don't really have a choice," Michael said.

"Love like yours rarely has," Alain replied simply.

Michael gave him an odd look. "Voice of experience speaking here?"

"You have no idea," Alain answered with a sigh. "Five hundred years haven't been enough to help me getting over that one loss."

"Five hundred years?" Michael repeated, completely flabbergasted. "And you still haven't gotten the guy to notice you? Man, but being undead really sucks!"

"He's dead," Alain replied with a sad little smile. "He wasn't one of us, you see. I accepted the Embrace from some stray Toreador to be able to protect him and to stay with him. He never knew who – what – I was, although he sometimes wondered why I wouldn't age."

"He must have been very important for you," Michael said.

Alain nodded. "You don't meet a genius like Leonardo every day. Not even back then, when geniuses were a lot more common than nowadays. Once you were enthralled by him, you were hooked and couldn't leave, no matter what."

"Leonardo?" Michael, having visited Europe with David and learned something about art by default in the process, made a quick calculation. Five hundred years ago…. "You mean Leonardo da Vinci? You were involved with that Leonardo?"

"There was only one Leonardo in the entire history of art," Alain replied, "but we weren't 'involved', as you understand it. I was already in my mid-twenties when we met, and he… preferred younger muses. No, not that way, either. He surrounded himself with very young admirers: beautiful younglings whom he patroned and on whose admiration he thrived. He was inspired by their beauty, but he never touched them – not that I'd know of it, and I spent a lifetime as his apprentice, secretary and personal bodyguard."

"And he never knew what you felt for him?" Michael asked.

Alain shrugged. "Perhaps he did. I'm not sure. But he never cared about my feelings. He was the Maestro; he considered admiration as his rightful due. Plus, he was a very private person. He didn't like to share his feelings or even show them."

"But you stayed on his side for a lifetime," Michael said. "It must have been hard to see him grow old and die, without returning your… affections. At least Brian knows that I've always loved him. That would comfort him, should I choose to remain mortal."

"I think you underestimate your role in Brian's life… well, unlife in these days," Alain replied seriously. "He was telling the truth about not having been able to manage life without you. That part has never changed, not even beyond death and rebirth as a Kindred. Should anything happen to you, Brian would take a walk in the sun."

Michael frowned, not understanding the typical Kindred euphemism at first – then he blanched as he finally did.

"You are fighting dirty," he said accusingly.

Alain shook his head. "No, I don't. I'm just making you realize the full importance of your decision. You're holding his life in your hands – you always have and always will. But mortal hands are week. I don't want you to drop him."

"I won't do such thing!" Michael protested indignantly.

"Not willingly, of that I'm sure," Alain replied. "I'd just prefer to give you the strength to hold him safely."

"I see," Michael said. "You'd accept me in his life… unlife… whatever, just so that you can keep him."

"That about sums it up," Alain agreed, "and I've already admitted this to you several times. For the first time since Yitzhak's betrayal – another long story for another time – I've finally found someone I actually care for. I'd do anything in my power to not lose him."

"I understand that," Michael said. "Believe me; no one understands it better than me. It's the same for me, you see. I'm just not sure the whole undead business is without my power."

"I can see how it could be frightening," Alain replied. "But in the end, if you want to keep him as well, there isn't any other way."

"Which means I ought to try the vampire blood thing, eh?" Michael asked doubtfully.

"It could help, yes," Alain said, "although it's not strictly necessary."

"Well, that's encouraging," Michael said sardonically.

They were quiet for a while, each of them sipping on his drink, deep in his own thoughts. Finally Michael shifted in his chair.

"All right," he said reluctantly, "I think I ought to give this… this thing a try, at least. For Brian's sake."

"Are you absolutely sure?" Alain asked. "The craving, once you've tasted my Vitae, cannot be undone."

"I realize that," Michael said, "and if I want to be honest, the thought freaks me out, big time. But I need to find a way to protect Brian, and if this helps…"

"I can protect Brian," Alain said, but Michael shook his head.

"By all due respect… no, you can't. It's my job; it has been since we were both fourteen. I must do this… or try, at the very least. There's no-one else whom he would trust."

Alain gave him one of those long, piercing looks… then nodded.

"All right. It would be awkward to do this in the atelier house, but I've got a small haven in West-Hollywood, too."

"Let's go," Michael said, pale but determined.

They paid the bill and left the dinner together, Alain having a supportive hand between Michael's shoulder blades. Neither of them noticed the young man hiding in the shadows who stared after them with bitter satisfaction.

They said that Kindred were generally bisexual especially the males, and that was true for most of them. Some of them preferred one gender a little more, however, and there were a few rare individuals who were exclusively straight (like Horatio Ballard in Pittsburgh) or exclusively gay. Camarilla Kindred respected one's preferences as a rule; Brian was still glad to have Alain's foster Childe as his new assistant. Sarina, while generally open to both directions, looked the predatory instincts of female Toreadors who had a hard time to accept no as an answer, and was more than willing to keep their working relationship an entirely platonic one.

Plus, she was completely immune to Brian's temper tantrums. Being infested with – and nearly killed by – demon spawn (while still a mortal) apparently changed one's perspective. Fledgling vampires from one's own household weren't considered as a real danger anymore.

While Sarina's main goal was to become an actress, and she also did some modelling for the Girard Fashion House, she had needed a day job to earn a living. At first Brian hadn't liked the idea of introducing her to the ad business, but soon enough he had to change his mind. She was smart, ruthless and attractive, not to mention willing to learn. After a somewhat bumpy start, they had gone along fabulously. The fact that she had zero interest in him as a man helped a lot.

They had finished the last touches on the campaign for Salvador Garcia's Argentinean wines – the one Alain had promised the legendary Anarch leader in exchange of the loan of Garcia's vampire-safe jet and pilot some months ago, so that Brian could go to Michael when Ben had been dying – and Sarina left to study her role for the Rage sequel. She had already been selected to play the title role in Rage II – The Black Widow, in case the first movie proved to be a blockbuster indeed, and was now taking acting classes to make a good impression on the silver screen. As Michael had already charmed the investors into financing a potential sequel, Brett Keller wanted to shoot a lot of scenes back to back in advance and produce a lengthy and detailed trailer for the second movie. That way they saved a lot of time and money, and could merchandize the trailer via Internet, even if the first movie flopped. Which was unlikely, but not entirely impossible. Rage was an unusual concept, to say the least.

After Sarina had left, Brian contacted first Cynthia, then Ted via MSN to see how things were going in The Pitts. What he learned sounded good. Horatio Ballard and his business empire could feed Kinnetic alone, for years, and there were plenty of other offers for his little ad firm. Vanguard had to give way in several different areas, and that filled Brian's undead heart with evil glee. His former boss and partner would have to learn yet what Kindred contacts were worth.

Finally, he opened his mailing program to shift through the spam folder. He did this once a week, as spam filters sometimes managed to catch important messages by accident. After deleting dozens of ads for the newest SlimFast diet, herbal Viagra and penis enlargement pills, he found such a message. The subject line was a somewhat provocative question: Are you sure your Mikey is still faithful?

It sounded like a lot of other spam messages – it was amazing how many private investigators were willing to sniffle after one's cheating spouses and partners – but it was the name "Mikey" that caught his eye. He checked the sender's address which was , obviously a fake one. After a moment of hesitation he opened the anonymous message. It said:

Your doe-eyed little bitch is getting fucked by your Sire. Are you going to let them make a fool out of you? Then you're the one who is truly pathetic.

For a moment he couldn't believe his eyes. But the barbed thorn of suspicion was already caught under his skin. What if it was true? Michael might not believe in his own attractiveness, but Brian knew there were many who fell exactly for that slender, boyish type. And few could ever withstand those beautiful, liquid dark eyes…

He tried to reach Alain through their link, but his Sire was either on the other side of the town or blocking him. He grabbed his phone and called Alain's number, but his Sire's cell was off. So he finally called the house to ask after Alain. It was Peppone who answered his call.

"He's gone out to meet someone in West-Hollywood," the Italian Toreador said. "He's called half an hour ago and told me he's gonna spend some time in his personal haven. Is there a problem?"

"No," Brian replied slowly, the phone suddenly very cold in his numb hand. "No problem at all. I'll talk to him later."

TBC