Rare Vigilance (Whitethorn Agency)

“And I thought only you and I had that special relationship,” Cristian commented.

It was the kind of quip Atlas had gotten used to hearing and he looked to Cristian with the start of a smile. The flash of connection when he met Cristian’s gaze brought back a rush of memories from the previous night, and he suddenly remembered where he was, what Cristian was, and forced his expression back to neutral. Cristian noticed and shut his mouth again, a statue once more.

It was too late to hide their interaction from Decebal, who inspected his son again, carefully this time, before glancing back at Atlas. “My son wished to speak with you as well. I will give you both some time.”

He rose slowly, ensuring Atlas had time to move away from his chair if he wished it. He didn’t. At least, he tried not to, but the closer Decebal came, the harder it was to ignore the anxiety crawling along his nerves, tightening his muscles in anticipation. Decebal was nearly even with his chair when Atlas had to capitulate to his instincts and take three steps to the side, keeping the chair between their bodies.

Decebal showed no sign of offense. If anything, his nod as he passed was respectful. Atlas listened to him walk down the hallway. Once he was on the stairs, Atlas unclenched his jaw and started to close the door.

“You don’t have to,” Cristian said.

“I know,” Atlas replied. The latch slid into place with a click too soft for the momentous shift of tension in the room. “I’m not afraid to be alone with you.”

Cristian rested his head against the back of his chair, his doubts clear.

“I saw you fight,” Atlas said, “and I know I could take you.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Your father, not so much.”

Cristian laughed. His eyes widened in surprise when he realized what he’d done and he cut himself off a second later, returning them to awkward silence. Atlas broke it first, unwilling to let Cristian control the tenor of the meeting. “What did you want to talk about?”

“You were terrified.”

Atlas clamped his mouth shut and waited, unwilling to confirm Cristian’s observation. He’d already bared

too much to him before.

“I didn’t realize that when I started to feed. Once I saw what you’d been through—”

“Have you told anyone?” It pushed out in a rush, and the moment the question hung between them, Atlas regretted it. He didn’t want Cristian to know how much his answer mattered.

“No,” Cristian whispered, horrified. “No, no... Atlas, I wouldn’t.”

“Why not?” Atlas asked. Cristian was never this contrite, and his kindness grated against Atlas’s already raw nerves. “It’s something else you could hold over my head. Another story about me to laugh over with your friends.”

“I don’t laugh about you—”

“Really?”

Cristian couldn’t hold his gaze. “Maybe I acted poorly before, but...” Atlas’s derisive snort interrupted his train of thought. “I just...”

He tried to rally, but whatever he saw in Atlas’s expression must have been too much. He trailed off again and looked away.

Atlas was beginning to suspect he did it when he couldn’t string his thoughts together fast enough to keep up with that silver tongue of his. What experiences had taught him it was better to shut up and think though, rather than to continue on in the vain hope of sounding confident or smart?

Cristian took a breath and promised, “I just wanted you to know I wouldn’t take you for granted.”

It was a vow made from guilt, and one Atlas hadn’t expected. He’d already decided he would return to Decebal’s employ for the chance to take back even a bit of the security and peace that had been stolen from him. He’d expected his humanity would make it harder to gather intelligence from the vampiric world. Instead, Decebal and Cristian both seemed determined to return Atlas’s desperate act with their loyalty. Allowing him into their inner circle, trusting him, would give him access to valuable information. And if Decebal was indeed under threat from other vampires, perhaps Jasper’s employer could use that information to clean up Scarsdale once and for all.

Monsters had taken from him. Perhaps it was time for him to take a little of his own back.

“Careful, Mr. Slava,” he said. “Someone might think you were admitting you’d behaved badly in the past.”

Cristian’s head jerked up. He searched Atlas’s expression, confusion furrowing his brow, until it clicked. His sigh was so deep his shoulders shifted and the buttons of his shirt strained from the expansion of his chest. “I never behave badly, Mr. Kinkaid,” he lied.

“Of course not.”

Atlas turned and started for the door. Movement behind him, enough to make his shoulders tense, but not enough to send him into a full-on panic. He’d meant it when he said he wasn’t afraid of Cristian. Wary. Hesitant. Realistic. But not afraid.

“Wait,” Cristian called. “Are you coming back?”