The sense that in his mother's view, he had let down his family just by being who he was... was a failure of acceptance that he was never going to get over. He just wanted to live, honestly and out front, with no apology. Like everyone else. To love who he loved, be who he was… but society had a different standard, and as he always feared, his parents were a part of that.

Stop it. Do not feel safe with him. The Stockholm Syndrome is not your friend.

Otherwise, three little words would have leaked from his mouth. And undoubtedly doomed him in ways he couldn’t even guess at. Bad time. Bad place. For that kind of thing. Forever.

He went over to the leathers and picked them up. Nice Catholic boy like him didn't know much about BDSM, but it looked like he was going to learn firsthand. Taking out his cellphone, he hit V, but didn't expect an answer. He guessed GPS was going to have to come in handy once again.

It felt odd to realize she was frightened more by what he might know, and not of what he might be.

We’re vampires,” he said. “Not fairies.” “Sometimes I’m not so sure about that. You see that study your king hangs out in?” “He’s nearly blind.” “Which explains why he hasn’t hanged himself in that pastel train wreck.” “I thought you were bitching about the gloom-and-doom decorating?” “I free-associate.

You keep showing up here? Being who you are?' There was a pause. 'I'm going to fall in love with you.' -Rehvenge