The Housekeeper

[maderr]

Yay, almost bed time with nothing accomplished.

But, enjoy Trevor. I'm sorry it took so long. I fail at life.

The Housekeeper

Trevor was in love with Richard.

The problem was that Richard barely knew he was alive.

Richard signed his paychecks and every now and then he actually seemed to really see Trevor. Not for very long, however, and it always seemed perfunctory, automatic. Like maybe he didn't really see Trevor after all.

There were, Trevor had determined after many a day of pondering and sighing, three main reasons Richard would never notice him in a million years.

One, he was human.

Two, he was a boring human.

Three, he was an unattractive, boring human.

Sighing softly, Trevor finished drying off the last of the plates and put it with the others, then closed the cupboard. Draining the sink, he scrubbed it clean, and finished the kitchen by giving all the counters one last wipe down.

As Richard's housekeeper, his duties included cleaning, shopping, and taking care of Richard's pets. The latest had been finished with only the previous day, and Trevor had seen him well fed before the vamps took him off to toss him back into the sea of normal life.

Thinking of the discarded pet drew out another sigh. A pretty young man, with cinnamon curls and pale blue eyes. Trevor tugged dismally at his own straw-blonde hair and wished his stupid eyes were anything except boring hazel. That he had a build that appealed to Richard, since being a swimmer apparently wasn't good enough. More color in his skin would be nice, but working for vamps left little room for sunning or even tanning.

The clock on the wall chimed six o'clock, and a moment later Trevor heard the brush of a door against carpet. No other sounds reached his ears, but not a minute later Richard appeared from the hallway, padding slowly toward the bar that divided the kitchen from the sitting area. He slid onto a barstool and yawned.

Trevor hastily looked away, focusing on his chores, going through cabinets and cupboards to see what he needed to buy at the store later. If he snuck glances here and there…well, he was only human.

Richard was definitely worth looking at. He always was, but now more than any other time. Everyone else saw Richard polished and pressed, sharp and shining. All the parties he hosted, all those he attended – Richard cut a fine figure, dominating the nightlife of his small slice of California.

Yet Trevor had always thought him far more appealing in these brief moments. The one thing Richard did not do well was wake up. It took him at least an hour before he was well and truly awake, and if he had two hours that was infinitely preferable.

There was nothing sharp and calculating about this Richard. His hair was a mess, scattered in twenty directions from sleep and Richard's absently raking it away from his face. The dark blue pants and tank top he wore clung to his slender frame, rumpled from sleep. Best of all were the eyes – soft and muddled while Richard slowly joined the waking world, a deep, warm brown rather than the more usual near-black.

Normally Richard sat there for a half hour or so before he began to stir. If he was in the mood to feed, he'd summon his latest pet. Usually, however, he just moved to the sitting room and stretched out on the couch for another half hour.

Anyone else, that would have been going back to sleep, but Richard actually seemed to wake up while he lay there.

Lately, however, that hadn't been the routine at all. More often than not nowadays he simply went back to bed. Ever since the hunter Richard had wanted had chosen someone else, Richard hadn't been the same. There hadn't been a party to clean up after for going on two months now. The most noticeable change, however, was that Richard usually preferred to keep his pets around for at least three months. These days he kept them maybe a week before insisting upon a change.

He wasn't playing in the slightest. Everyone saw Richard as a cruel and calculating playboy…but Trevor wondered how much of that was genuine. Oh, he wasn't crushing so bad he saw no wrong in the vampire of his affections. Richard could be an asshole, and often was one with relish.

Still, it was hard not to see more than a little good in a guy who looked borderline adorable draped mostly-asleep across the countertop, and who paid all his people well and never minded their taking days off. Richard threw his lavish parties, but he took care of the guests who attended. His pets were well treated, if thoroughly used. He was a hard ass, no doubt there. Trevor had seen too many hurt and angry ex-lovers (ex-amusements, Richard called them) to deny that…but still.

Part of him wished Richard had gotten the hunter he was obviously moping about. Mostly, though, he was selfishly relieved. Richard would never be his – the idea of him noticing his lowly little human housekeeper was laughable – but at least Richard didn't really belong to anyone else either.

Trevor pushed up his glasses and pulled open the drawer that held his miscellany, grabbing out a notepad and pen, jotting down the stuff he needed to buy, notes for errands he needed to run.

He started to leave the kitchen, but hesitated. No talking was the usual way of things. He'd never dared break the silence, and Richard certainly wouldn't when he was still for all intents and purposes asleep. "Anything you need while I'm out, boss?" He jumped at the sound of his own voice, and that just made him feel stupid. He could feel his cheeks burn – and they only got hotter when Richard actually looked at him.

Not much, really. Richard had his head propped on his upper arm, the forearm draped over the top of his head. He didn't move his head, but his eyes flicked to regard Trevor for a moment.

Then he simply turned away, shifting to pillow his head on both arms.

That would be a no, then. Trevor stifled his disappointment. What had he really expected?

Leaving the kitchen and his gloomy boss, he snagged his denim jacket from one of the hooks by the door and let himself out, going over his lists one last time as he rode the elevator down.

Outside, night had well and truly fallen. Nearly seven now, not a hint of sun remained in the city. There was nothing but the city lights, people milling all about – people and more than a few vampires.

A handful of them gave him a considering look, but every last one dismissed him in the end. Part of it was that he kept his blood unappealing – mostly with garlic, which just did not get on well with vampire systems, but there was plenty of other stuff in the mix – but mostly it was that no one would mess with someone marked as being in the employ of Richard Freeman.

Trevor glanced at the scar on his wrist, a long scratch made by Richard that essentially said 'back the fuck off' to anyone who might have otherwise turned Trevor into a midnight snack.

The paltry scratch was nothing like the bite he really wanted; livid scars on his neck to proclaim that he didn't work for Richard – he belonged to Richard. But he was a lowly human fit only for housekeeping. Nothing even remotely like the beautiful hunter after whom Richard still seemed to be pining.

He yawned as he reached the grocery store, grabbing a cart and pushing it toward the aisles. His hours were nine am to nine pm, so he was available for errands, the setup of the parties, everything – he generally went to bed just as the parties were starting, after he was certain the staff hired to manage it knew what they were doing. He started early enough the following day to ensure everything was once again spotless when Richard woke up. He had four days off a month, and could request more if he needed them.

Outside of his life managing Richard's home, his interests were swimming and video games. His collection of vampire-related games was impressive and vastly entertaining. Maybe he could play one when he got off the clock. Chances were Richard would go right back to his room, and he'd never cared when Trevor borrowed the sitting room TV.

Maybe Richard would go out tonight. Trevor wasn't exactly looking forward to when Richard resumed his games…but he'd rather that than the state of misery in which Richard currently resided. Such melancholy didn't suit him at all.

Sighing at himself, Trevor made quick work of the shopping. Normally he did it during the daylight hours, but he'd gotten caught up doing other things and then suddenly it had been nearly time for Richard to wake up and he always tried to be home for that.

Hurrying up, he finished with his shopping and grabbed a taxi back to the building.

The clock was chiming nine by the time he had everything put away and tidied up, and he gave the house one last look over before going down the hall to his room. Shucking off his clothes, he showered quickly and then tugged on sweatpants and an old t-shirt that he could not quite bring himself to get rid of.

He hadn't seen so much as a hint of Richard since getting home, which meant he'd just gone back to bed. Disappointing, but Trevor had no clue how to help. Well, not completely true. He could certainly understand what it was like not to have the one you loved, but then again – Richard had tried and failed to get his precious hunter. Trevor had never so much as tried to get Richard.

Still, heartache he understood. He just…didn't know how to tell the boss that without saying way more than he should. Richard probably didn't want sympathy from his housekeeper anyway.

Scrubbing half-heartedly at his hair with a towel, Trevor perused his collection of vampire video games. Finally he picked an old favorite, one with extremely pretty vampires and hunters who favored whips.

In the kitchen, he poured a glass of orange juice and grabbed a bag of chips, then carried it all into the sitting room. Setting his snacks down, he got the TV, system, and everything running, then settled down on the floor with his back against the couch, legs stretched out in front of him.

Sometime later he heard a sharp crack of laughter and let out a startled cry, controller tumbling from his hands. On screen, the boss he'd been fighting slaughtered him.

Trevor only made note of his sudden loss from habit; every other fiber of his being was focused on the source of the laughter that had cost him a victory. He twisted around, rising to his knees, and smiled sheepishly. "Hey, boss. Didn't expect to see you again tonight."

Richard slowly moved his eyes from the television screen, and Trevor's breath caught to see that there was amusement in them. They weren't dazed with sleep or hard like usual or flat as they had been of late.

"Should I take it as problematic," Richard asked, mouth quirking in a further show of amusement, "that my housekeeper spends his time playing games that apparently entail killing vampires?"

Trevor flushed. "No—that's not—"

Richard laughed.

He was torn between pleasure at hearing Richard laugh, excitement that he'd been the one to draw out that laugh – and mortification as to the reason.

"Humans are amusing," Richard said when he'd finally stopped laughing. "A whip of all things. I do not think that would get you very far. I shall have to ask the hunter what he thinks."

Just like that his amusement died, and Trevor could see thoughts of the hunter overtaking him.

No, no, no. Trevor struggled for something to say. "There's also holy water. And crosses."

"I thought those had finally gone out of fashion," Richard said. "It's been a good fifty years since anyone tried to throw holy water on me." Annoyance flickered briefly across his face. "Thankfully, as they'd ruin my good suits throwing water all about."

Trevor laughed. "Better they throw water than champagne, though, boss." That particular incident had been one of Richard's ex-amusements. Afterwards, the man had vanished. Trevor knew better than to examine the matter too closely.

"Very true," Richard replied, grimacing again.

Then he threw Trevor completely for a loop by moving around the couch and dropping down into it. He stretched his long legs out and folded his arms across his chest, eyes on the TV for a moment before he finally turned to Trevor. "Well?"

"Uh—" Trevor blinked. "You want me to keep playing?"

Richard shrugged, eyes sliding back to the screen. "It's amusing."

Trevor nodded and retrieved his controller, then resumed his seat.

Licking his lips, trying to focus on the game and not the long legs close enough to touch, he selected 'continue' and went for round two with the boss.

It was just after two in the morning when Richard suddenly stood up, and vanished down the hallway after a brief, firm touch to Trevor's shoulder.

Trevor sighed, suddenly feeling all the exhaustion he'd ignored so long as Richard was there with him – talking, laughing, making an occasional joke. It wasn't a side of Richard he'd ever seen, except in too-brief passing moments. This Richard was like the sleepy version, only completely awake.

A pity it was already over. Trevor would have cheerfully given up a night's sleep to spend those hours playing silly games just to amuse Richard. Oh, well.

Yawning, he shut everything down and then carried his glass and chips into the kitchen. Putting the glass in the dishwasher, the chips back in the cupboard, and seeing that all was well, he turned out the lights and wandered down the hall to his own room.

He couldn't help casting a brief look at the door to the master suite, as firmly shut as always. Succumbing to another yawn, he stripped out of his t-shirt as he entered his room, and did not bother to do anything but fall into bed.

*~*~*

"You have to jump," Trevor said, motioning uselessly. "Not there! Over! No, the other way! Ha—there, I told you so."

Richard scowled at the screen. "Seems like a bloody stupid way to construct a castle. Why would anyone put a wall in such a place?"

Trevor laughed and took the controller Richard absently held out. Quickly he did exactly what he'd been trying to tell Richard to do. "There," he said, handing the controller back. "Now be careful, and stop wasting potions."

"I cannot help it if my thirty-two bit ancestors are bloody cheaters," Richard muttered, glaring at the screen.

"More fun to cheat than be cheated?" Trevor asked, unable to resist laughing again.

"Precisely," Richard said, but the rest of his retort was lost to a growl as he was abruptly attacked by a hoard of zombies. A minute later the growl had faded into a smirk. "Take that, you stupid zombies."

Trevor shook his head, falling back against the couch laughing harder than ever. "The vampire has become the hunter."

Richard made a face and tossed the controller at him. "If being a vampire required I dress like that, I'd want a hunter to kill me too. Your turn."

Catching the controller, Trevor mashed the button to start the next level.

It took more effort than he liked to admit to keep his eyes on the game and not on Richard.

He'd thought that first night had been a one time thing…but every night since Richard had reappeared to watch him play, and on the fifth night Trevor had dared to ask if he wanted to try playing.

Eleven nights running, now, and Richard was getting pretty good at killing vampires.

Trevor wondered why Richard was bothering, but he wasn't going to voice the question. He wasn't going to say a single damned word that might take these unexpected nights away from him. They wouldn't last forever, so he wanted them to last as long as possible.

"It looks so simple when you do it," Richard groused. "Yet every time I try it, I wind up dead."

"Takes practice," Trevor said. "First time I played this one, there were times I threw the controller around in sheer frustration. There's one game I still can't beat." He turned away from the TV to grin at Richard. "I'll bring it out next time we play."

Richard nodded, then returned his attention to the screen, occasionally making a snarky comment about the vampires and hunters whenever they talked.

A few minutes later he handed the controller back to Richard. "Here, this is an easy fight. You do it."

Looking utterly unconvinced by the assurance of an easy fight, Richard nevertheless accepted the controller.

Chuckling, Trevor snatched up his glass and stood, making his way to the kitchen.

He turned his head as Richard swore loudly at the screen – and promptly tripped on the small step leading up into the kitchen from the sitting room. He landed hard, swearing loudly as pain cut through him – and realized that he hadn't let go of the glass he'd been holding.

The hand which had held the glass was now a bloody mess. Trevor sat up awkwardly, grimacing at the sight. Yuck. He wasn't squeamish about blood, but his hand was not a pretty sight. It really fucking hurt, too.

Reaching up, he grabbed the counter with his good hand and hauled himself up – only to collide with something.

Someone. He turned around to see he'd collided with Richard – whose eyes were only for his bleeding hand, nose slightly wrinkled.

"Sorry, boss," Trevor said. "I'll get everything cleaned up."

Richard didn't reply, simply reached out to take his hand. There was no missing his fangs, not this close, nor the way his eyes had turned near-black. Trevor realized suddenly that Richard had not fed recently…so unappealing or not, his blood was bound to stir a reaction.

He stood still, too surprised to do anything else, as Richard simply began to pick the glass from his hand as carefully as possible. It hurt, oh good lord did it hurt and that was way too much blood—

Then Richard lifted his hand up and began to clean away the blood with as much care as he'd shown in picking out the glass and Trevor could only stand and stare and try not to freak out or move closer or anything.

It was hell, because Richard wasn't missing a single damned part of his hand at all. When he finally released it, Trevor could not do more than the same staring he'd been doing the entire time.

His hand was almost as good as new. Wet, sticky, but red with healing rather than blood. He tested it gingerly, but there was nothing but a faint soreness remaining. Smiling, he looked up. "Um – thanks, boss."

Richard shrugged the words off. "Take more care."

"Ah—my blood—you won't get sick, will you?"

"Sick?" Richard asked, looking confused. Then the expression cleared. "No. I admit your blood does not taste terribly good, but I'm too old for such tricks to make me sick. Best see that hand is good to go, and then clean up in here. Good night."

"Good night," Trevor replied, but Richard was already walking away.

Sighing, he glanced at the TV – where Richard had lost the fight, probably because he'd stopped right in the middle to help his clumsy housekeeper.

Trevor stared again at his hand, trying and failing not to think about the mouth and tongue which had lavished such extensive attention upon it – but in a wholly impersonal fashion, and with the added comment that his blood really did taste awful.

Moving to the sink, he moved mechanically through the motions of washing his hand, then fetched what he needed to clean up any glass remaining on the floor. Next he cleaned the sitting room, gave the kitchen another once over, and finally turned out the lights before heading down the hall.

As he reached his room, Richard came out of the master suite.

Gone were the faded jeans and white t-shirt, the rumpled hair and laid back manner.

No, the Richard of the past few days was gone. In his place stood the more familiar Richard – black slacks, deep maroon shirt, hair neatly combed, a single gold stud in one ear to match the pin in his black and gold tie.

Beautiful. Untouchable. Clearly on the prowl.

Trevor nodded to him as Richard passed, but he didn't even get so much as a glance in return.

Inside, he shut his door and moved stiffly to his bed.

He stared at his hand. Faint scars were scattered about it, from the larger pieces of glass. It still ached, but by morning there would likely be no pain at all. Not in his hand, anyway. Damn it.

It wasn't like he hadn't known…Richard had somehow been using the video games and crap to chill and recover and get over shit. Trevor's stupid damned falling and cutting himself had, it seemed, stirred the vampire from his slumber.

Richard had probably had to go out just to get rid of the taste of Trevor's blood.

Man, he couldn't win for losing. Just once he wished he could think of something to convince his boss to really and truly look at him. Or that he had the balls to simply walk up and say 'Look at me, you idiot. I'm better for you than any damned hunter.'

A better dishwasher, he thought bitterly. Errand runner. Video gamer buddy – but even that was now firmly and forever in the past. All because he'd tripped.

Making a rough sound, Trevor turned off his light and then threw himself into bed, tugging the blankets up.

He fell almost immediately to sleep, but woke up restlessly throughout the night. When he stirred at roughly five am, he could just barely hear Richard speaking. By the tone of his voice, he was soothing a snack.

The clock said he was due to be working in roughly four hours. Normally he got up soon, to do his own things before tending to the household…

Snatching up his pillow, Trevor dragged it over his head to block out the sounds coming from the living room.

*~*~*

A break was exactly what he'd needed.

He didn't exactly feel better…but he felt less inclined to throw himself off a balcony. Richard, he could tell, hadn't been exactly thrilled that Trevor had asked for a week off but he wasn't the kind of boss to say no just because he could.

So here he was playing beach bum, alternating between swimming and watching the hot surfer boys.

He took a break for an early dinner and a nap, then went right back to the beach.

With moon rather than sun in the sky, tourists and locals alike had abandoned the sand for evening entertainments. No one remained but him and a handful of surfers. Technically the beach was closed, but the cops didn't care about a few familiar – well behaved – friendly faces.

It'd been how long since he'd taken some time for himself?

Too long, he supposed, to judge by the self-pity in which he'd been wallowing.

Not that he'd stopped wallowing, per se, he'd just managed to move back into the shallow end.

Shaking his head, refusing to think of anything but sand and surf, he stood and stretched, then moved back to the beach and waded into the water up to his thighs, then dove into the deep waters, kicking back to the surface and began to swim freestyle.

He stopped eventually, just when he start to feel he'd had enough, and swam back to the beach.

Stopped short as he realized two of the surfers were standing by his towel.

"It's awfully late for even a beachhead human to be out swimming," said the shorter of the two.

Trevor swore softly – how the hell had he missed two of the surfers were vampires? He also noticed rather belatedly that the other surfers had long gone home. He hoped they'd gone home. Otherwise, it was likely they had served as one meal and were now feeding the fish.

"Back off," he said. "I work for Richard Freeman."

The vampires laughed. "You do not."

Trevor glared at them. "The fuck I don't, and I know damn good and well you can smell it."

"We can smell he's healed you, and was rather thorough about it," the taller vampire said, drawing close. "You smell too good to be an employee, beachhead."

"Back off," Trevor snapped, but it was a futile effort and he knew it. Oh fuck, did he know it. Shit. Richard's healing him must have somehow negated the 'don't touch' on his wrist, and of course he hadn't noticed, and Richard obviously had been too busy thinking about other things…

He stepped back, wishing stupidly that he was not so defenseless. Obviously he was way too used to Richard's protection, if he'd gotten so fucking lazy. He wasn't stupid enough to walk around unarmed…but he had been stupid enough to leave his gun in his bag while he went swimming.

Swearing, he weighed his options – become food, or make a run for it first.

Fuck if he was going to be anything but fast food.

He bolted, running as fast as his feet would carry him, surprise alone carrying him past the vampires and up the beach, sand and then cement beneath his feet, and he wondered if by the end of this he would be able to walk.

If he was lucky enough to be alive, and not a broken vamp, he didn't particularly give a fuck.

He'd just reached the parking lot when they caught him, and stars flashed behind his eyes as his head connected with the hood of a car that was probably ridiculously expensive. Weren't they always in cases like this?

He groaned as he was yanked back up, then turned and shoved against the car. It was cold against his back, and his feet did fucking hurt, and was he really going to die a vampire snack after all the hard work—

The teeth sank into his neck, and oh god did that hurt and it wasn't fair that it happened like this. The hands holding him in place were painfully tight, rendering his struggles futile, tears stinging his eyes as he recalled hazily there were two of them. It was going to be a long and painful night.

His vision had dulled to a fuzzy gray when he heard the second vampire scream in pain. The report of the gun was jarring and loud as it echoed through the parking lot. It echoed a second time, and Trevor found himself on the ground. The vampires lay close by.

"Hey, buddy," a voice said, and he was turned over, his cheek gently smacked. "You'll be okay."

Trevor tried to speak, but it only came out a shaky sound that was either a laugh or a sob.

"Stay with me, buddy," the man said, and something about him looked vaguely familiar.

He heard a whine, a soft chuff, and turned his head a bit to see a massive ass dog – German shepherd, maybe – standing by the dead vampire, sniffing it thoroughly.

The familiar stranger was speaking again, and with an effort Trevor turned his head back to him. "I…" he licked his lips, or thought he did. He was so damned tired.

"What's your name?"

"Trevor…"

"Trevor, stay with me, okay? You're going to be alright."

He blinked to clear his vision, or something, but his eyes refused to open. His rescuer's voice came from far away, orders and commands and pleading to stay with him, to talk, to answer questions.

It took all the strength he had left, but Trevor dragged his eyes open again. "Richard…"

"What?" the man asked.

Trevor passed out.




He woke with a start, chased into consciousness by shadows with sharp teeth and bruising hands. Gasping, choking on a scream, he struggled to take firm grip of the real world.

The world slowly took the form of a stale hotel room, complete with dingy carpet and tacky flower bedspread, lights that were more yellow than white, and a TV that had probably been made in the eighties.

Groaning, he slumped back down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Where was he?

Vampires had attacked him on the beach… Trevor shuddered at the memory and covered his face with his hands. He shouldn't be this shook up over a couple of fucking bites – except they'd bitten with every intention of a total draining, that had been pretty clear.

Still, he worked for a vampire. Being scared of vampire bites when his employer was a vampire was like…like…it was fucking stupid.

He pulled his hands away from his face and slowly sat up, grimacing in pain as the wounds at his neck throbbed. Where was he and how had he gotten here?

Oh, right. Someone had saved him. A guy with a dog or something. Maybe he'd imagined most or all of that. He really didn't remember much of anything past the first bite, the way they'd held so tight they'd probably left bruises…

Shuddering, he hugged himself and took a deep breath. Stupid, stupid, stupid. This should not be fazing him so much. Hell, it was probably what he deserved for getting lazy about his blood while on his impulse vacation.

Yeah, he wanted his blood to be more appealing to Richard. So maybe he'd sort of hoped there might be some chance of Richard noticing it before he was forced to make it unappealing again.

That would teach him to give in to his selfish, stupid, pointless impulses. Richard was back to playing, he wouldn't notice his housekeeper no matter the state of his blood.

Shit. Work. He'd been due back in the morning. What time was it?

He whipped his head around to the nightstand between the beds – and nearly tumbled off the bed from the wave of dizziness that resulted. Okay, moving quickly equaled bad idea. Slowly this time he glanced at the clock, which read 3:47.

AM or PM?

Squinting, he examined the little red dots alongside the numbers. His alarm clock had an indicator light that lit up when the time was PM. The one in the kitchen, however, lit up when the time was AM.

This seemed to be an AM clock, and the light wasn't lit, which meant it was now 3:48 PM.

Fuck. That meant he was almost eight hours late for work. Damn it.

Of course the phone would be all the way on the other side of the room. Why would it possibly be on the nightstand where phones normally were in hotel rooms. He wondered if his stuff was still on the beach, or if it had been snatched.

He snorted. Snatched, of course.

Groaning, he turned slowly over to bury his face in the stale-detergent scented pillow.

How long he sat there he didn't know, and he might have drifted off back to sleep, but the sound of the door opening jarred him fully awake and even a bit of dizziness did not keep him from looking up at what was likely his rescuer.

Oh.

He vaguely recalled thinking that his rescuer was familiar-looking…now he knew why. "You're related to Preston."

The man in the doorway paused, then his mouth quirked in a smile that was exactly like Preston. This had to be one of the brothers he mentioned from time to time. "Yeah, that I am. Name's Billie." He closed the door, then knelt and scratched the head of a massive German shepherd. "This is Helsing. He was the one who smelled trouble, otherwise I don't think I'd have found you until too late."

"Thank you," Trevor said. "I probably don't look it, but I'm deeply grateful not to be a bloodless corpse right now."

Billie smiled. "You won't be broken either, thankfully. They bit you hard and deep, but were too hungry to bother spreading anything. A day or so more of rest and you should be right as rain."

"Are the vampires dead?" Trevor asked, lightly touching fingers to the bandages on his neck.

"Mm, I killed the one who had his teeth in you at the time, but the other got away while I was trying to save you. Been trying to track him down, because averages don't have free range licenses and he was definitely out of bounds and feeding on an off limits human…" Billie shrugged. "So far, no luck, but I'll find him soon."

Trevor laughed. Off limits human. Yeah, he was supposed to be way off limits. By law vampires were restricted to certain territories, and only so many permitted per territory to keep a balance between predators and prey. Vampires were not allowed to kill. The moment they did they put themselves at risk to the vampire hunters.

Off limit humans included those considered 'valuable' to society, those too weak to endure having their blood drained, and anyone under eighteen. Broken vamps and a good number of average vamps ignored these and other laws, which meant hunters always had plenty to do – especially since broken and careless averages weren't careful about making new vampires.

Hunters were also technically off limits, though that rule perhaps only was stringently enforced at the lower levels. Trevor knew damned good and well top hunters blurred the lines a lot more than other hunters.

Also off limits, because vampires were nothing if not possessive and territorial, was anyone who worked for or otherwise 'belonged to' top vamps.

He laughed all the harder when Billie only frowned at him in concerned confusion.

"I'm not just off limits," he finally managed. "I work for Richard Freeman. I'm his housekeeper. I was taking a short vacation."

"A top?" Billie asked, brows shooting up. "Shit, I guess I'd better hurry up and find the poor bastard before your top does."

Personally, Trevor rather hoped Richard found him first. He turned his thoughts away from the assault before it got to him again. Seriously, he needed to stop wigging out about it. He worked for a vampire, he'd had more than a few vigorous fantasies about being more than merely employed by a vampire…he needed to stop freaking out because he'd gotten a couple of nasty bites.

Which reminded him he really needed to call Richard. "Hey, can you get me over to that phone, or bring it here? I'm like nine hours late for work, Richard will fucking kill me himself if I don't contact him soon. I don't suppose my stuff made it off the beach?"

Billie's expression suddenly was entirely 'I've got to tell you something you don't want to know.'

Trevor groaned. "What's wrong?"

"You've been unconscious the better part of two days. That attack really did almost kill you. After you passed out, you slept the rest of the night and all of the following day. This is well into day two now."

"Shit!" Trevor said, throwing back the blankets. Richard would be livid. He was actually kinda surprised that someone hadn't tracked him down already. Possessive vampires didn't like when their stuff went missing.

"Whoa," Billie said, catching him when Trevor fell right back over again, stomach roiling with the dizziness that washed over him. "Sit down, I'll get the phone, but you're not going back to work quite yet. They bit you good and deep; it takes time to recover from a vampire attack like that. Fucking miracle you're not the slightest bit turned."

He crossed the room and grabbed the phone, setting it on the bed and sitting down on the one opposite. "Anyway, if you work for a top – why the fuck did those morons bite you? They weren't broken, they should have known better."

"I cut myself pretty bad several days ago," Trevor said as he punched in Richard's number. "Richard healed me and I think it accidentally erased the 'do not touch' sign."

"Ah," Billie said softly.

Trevor barely noticed, all of him riveted on the voice that answered the phone. Given the hour, he hadn't expected Richard himself to answer. Why was he up so early? Still, Trevor felt better just hearing him, especially since for all the coolness it was clearly relaxing at home Richard, not in the middle of a party Richard.

"Richard, it's Trevor. I'm sorry I'm really fucking late for work. I—"

"Late?" Richard asked, voice still level and cool, but a bit of confusion slipping into it. "Oh, yes. I see. You were supposed to be back…yesterday? The day before that? I hadn't noticed."

All the warm relief and happiness he'd felt turned cold as ice in his veins. Hadn't noticed? Richard…wasn't mad, didn't care…hadn't noticed he was missing? At all?

Ouch.

Trevor hadn't realized it was possible to hurt so goddamn much. He'd known he was just the housekeeper, but Richard always looked out for his own no matter what anyone said to the contrary.

Hadn't noticed. The words echoed over and over in his head, twisting deeper and harder with every repetition.

All his work. The years of service. Watching and wishing quietly, without bothering anyone, always doing what was asked… What about the recent hours playing games? The way Richard had healed him?

Not a bit of that had been missed? Did he really mean so fucking little?

He didn't deserve that. In fact, he deserved a hell of a lot fucking more. Goddamn it, he deserved to be fucking missed.

Hurt turned to anger, the ice in his veins turned boiling hot. "Then I guess now's a good time to announce I fucking quit!" He slammed the phone down in the cradle before Richard could get a word in edgewise, then picked up the phone and threw it back across the room.

See if Richard managed not to notice that.

"Uh…I'm going to guess that's not the way that was supposed to go."

Trevor said nothing, wishing he had something else to throw.

"I'm guessing you just broke up or something?"

Trevor laughed – laughed and laughed and laughed, and tried not to notice it sounded way too close to sobbing or something equally stupid and girly. "Apparently, there was nothing to break up. He didn't even notice I was missing." He shook his head, and spoke before Billie could say anything further. "I think I need a shower."

Billie frowned, but clearly knew better than to argue. "Just go slow, man. Cracking your head on something when you fall over isn't going to help anything."

"Yeah, what a fucking pity a concussion would be," Trevor said bitterly, slowly making his way to the bathroom, wondering miserably what in the hell he was going to do now.




Eight days later he was still mired in misery, with a heavy suspicion he would be mired for a very long fucking time to come.

But he was comfortably mired in misery, at least. A lakeside resort had nothing on a beachside resort, but beaches made him think too much of home.

Of not being missed. Shit, he'd been so confident – cocky – about telling those vampires they shouldn't mess with him because he worked for Richard. Probably Richard would have told them to enjoy themselves.

He slammed his book shut and threw it across the room, then picked up his beer and drained the glass.

Damn it. Richard hadn't noticed. Could not have cared less. That was that. Over. Done. He wasn't doing himself any favors by brooding on it. The best thing he could do now was move forward, find something else to do.

Though, really, he didn't have to do anything. Playing housekeeper to a top vamp paid extremely well. He could play for years and not have a single thing to worry about.

He'd rather be washing dishes while surreptitiously watching Richard wake up.

Heaving a sigh, disgusted with himself, Trevor stood up and retrieved his book. Setting it on the table, he slipped on his sandals, made certain he looked moderately respectable, then ventured downstairs to the hotel's bar and ordered another beer.

This one he nursed slowly, though the temptation to drink the third as quickly as he'd drunk the first two was strong. People came and went around him, and he thought a couple had tried to talk to him, but he simply could not bring himself to give a fuck.

Halfway through his fourth beer, he abruptly decided he'd had enough of trying to play normal. He didn't fucking know how, and he didn't want to. Vampires had always been his thing, and he'd liked running Richard's home – even those stupid fucking parties.

Sighing, he finished the beer in one long swallow, then fumbled for his wallet to pay the tab. Briefly he recalled he could just add it to his room bill, but the thought slipped away in an alcohol-induced buzz before it could solidify.

Then a hand covered his, stilling his movements, and another settled on his back.

"I'll take care of it."

Oh.

What the hell?

Trevor stood in stunned silence, struggling to both breathe and think, as Richard paid his tab.

Then he remembered he was hurt and pissed, and the reason why.

Jerking away, stumbling back, he summoned every last bit of pain and anger he'd been nursing for over a week. "What are you doing here?" He snapped.

Richard said nothing, merely murmured a polite thanks to the bartender, left a tip, and then grabbed Trevor's arm and hauled him out of the bar.

Trevor struggled to get away, struggled not to notice Richard.

Oh, gods did he look good. As upset as he was, as much as he wanted to hate Richard, he still looked so fucking good. A sight for sore eyes if ever there was one, even if he shouldn't be, even if Trevor didn't want him to be.

He wasn't all fancied up, that's what really did it. Every time Richard left his home, he was dressed to the nines. Now…he was wearing khakis and a simple polo, the Richard equivalent of faded jeans and an old t-shirt. His hair was mussed, like he hadn't bothered to do more than run a comb over it.

Trevor wanted to jump him, and that just pissed him off more. He attempted to pull away as he was half-led, half-dragged from the bar. Richard didn't give. "Let me go."

"We need to talk," Richard said quietly, pressing the button for the elevator as they reached the lobby.

"Why?" Trevor asked bitterly. "I can't think you'd give a fuck one way or the other about your ex-housekeeper."

The elevator chimed, and he was yanked inside – and right up against Richard, who seemed perfectly content to hold him in a fashion in which one did not normally hold his housekeeper. Especially an unmissed housekeeper.

"So what are we talking about?" he asked, attempting to put some space between them and failing miserably.

Richard's arm around his waist was warm, steadying, and Trevor wanted to stay fucking furious and it hurt to be this close when he knew Richard didn't care and couldn't he just go away so Trevor could try to get over him once and for all?

"Pride goeth before the fall," Richard said quietly, "or so I believe that saying always went."

"What?" Trevor asked.

Richard shook his head, and pushed gently as the elevator doors slid open, and Trevor was entirely unsurprised to learn that Richard knew his room number.

Inside, Richard still would not let him go and Trevor really wished he would.

"So talk," he said.

Instead of speaking, Richard jerked him close – and kissed him.

Trevor's eyes widened, because there was no mistaking that, but he couldn't fucking make sense of it either.

He tried to resist, but it was a token resistance at best. Obviously he'd had more beer than he remembered, if he actually thought this was happening. Goddamn, why couldn't reality actually be this good? Richard tasted sharp and slightly sweet, a surprise because he never thought sweet a possibility. He kissed with all the skill and confidence he showed everything…but with a warmth that made Trevor think of him in full on sleepy mode.

It wasn't until they broke apart and he opened his eyes to meet Richard's that he realized he wasn't lost to some drunken fantasy.

"What's going on? Why did you kiss me?"

"Because maybe I should have long ago," Richard said quietly.

Trevor attempted to respond to that, but before he could figure out what to say Richard sank fingers into his hair and tilted his head back and to the side. Then he made a sound that was one hundred percent pissed off possessive vampire.

"You were bitten," Richard snarled. "I thought that hunter said it just to piss me off. Who dared bite you?"

"What do you care?" Trevor asked, so tired of being yanked back and forth between emotions. "You didn't even notice I was gone, why would you care I was bitten?"

Richard sighed softly, though his grip in Trevor's hair did not ease. "I'm a liar, and far too good of one, if this mess is anything by which to judge." He trailed his fingers lightly across the scars upon Trevor's throat.

Trevor closed his eyes, unable to take it all – Richard kissing him, touching him, getting snarly possessive over him. "Liar?" he finally managed.

"You have never taken off for so long," Richard said slowly. "No…perhaps that is the wrong place to start. I wanted Preston, he rejected my advances. I was upset…but more upset that I was not as upset as I thought I should have been."

That took a minute to work through. Slowly Trevor opened his eyes again. "So…you weren't as upset at getting turned down flat as you thought you would be?"

"Precisely," Richard replied. "Still, it was hard to take, and I did not take it well. Your games drew me out of my sulking, albeit reluctantly at first."

Trevor waited.

Slowly Richard eased his grip on Trevor's hair, combing through it lightly, stroking across the back of his neck and Trevor could not have stopped himself from shivering any more than he could have stopped himself from breathing.

"Healing you, that last night, did not leave me wholly unaffected," Richard continued, still speaking slowly, as though working through every word. Strange from a man who usually spoke quickly and confidently. "I thought it meant I was over my sulking…"

Yeah, he remembered that night. He hated listening to Richard and his fucking toys.

"Then you took off for a week, and I lost all interest in doing anything. I could not understand why…then you did not return when you were supposed to…and then another day passed…and I was at last forced to admit that what I wanted was my housekeeper, and he was nowhere to be found. I finally gave in to weakness and called your cell, but you never answered. Then I began to grow worried, then angry – then you called, and I'm afraid my pride went up. I did not want to admit I had been sitting in my house sulking and waiting for you to return."

Trevor stared. "You did notice?" he asked, and he didn’t care how he sounded, because goddamn it that had really hurt. He didn't think he'd ever forget how much that hurt.

"I would say the real question," Richard said softly, "is why did I not notice sooner? Truly pathetic is a vampire of my age not realizing until his housekeeper quit just what he could have had." He rubbed a thumb over Trevor's lips. "How long?"

"A long time," Trevor said.

"Hmm," Richard said, and bent to kiss him again, slow and thorough, the sort of kiss that left a deep ache. "Do I stand a chance of convincing you to come back?"

Trevor's laugh was a bit wobbly with disbelief and no small measure of happiness. "I'd say you're doing a good job so far, but I still find it hard to believe you'd want me when you never cared before."

"Is there not an old saying, tired but still true, that says you do not know what you have until it's gone?"

"Something like that," Trevor said. He frowned, hesitating despite himself. "So are you just here to get your housekeeper back?"

Richard gave an inelegant snort. "I admit everything has gone quite wrong without you to run it, but I will find another housekeeper if you would prefer to be relieved of those duties – because if you come back, it will be as mine."

Trevor shivered again, eyes sliding closed against the possessive growl that slipped into Richard's voice. He had to be dreaming.

The fingers stroking over his bite scars made him startle.

"This is my fault," Richard said softly. "I undid my mark when I healed you. I should have realized it."

"S''okay," Trevor said, drawing a shaky breath. "Accidents happen."

"Not this kind," Richard snarled. "Certainly it will not happen again."

That was all the warning Trevor got before he was bitten – hard and sharp and it hurt, but Richard's arms were sure and warm around him, reassuring rather than painful. The bite was over nearly as soon as it had begun.

Richard lapped at the wound, healing it, then the lapping gradually became light, quick kisses trailing a slow path back to his mouth, which Richard took thoroughly when he finally reached it.

Trevor moaned and held on for dear life.

"You taste much better when you are not trying to taste unpleasant, though a good red wine will suit you far better than the beer," Richard said when he finally broke the kiss, a faint smile curving his mouth. "So will you come home?"

"Yeah," Trevor said, resting his head against Richard's chest.

Richard held him tight, nipping lightly at the lingering marks from his own bite. "Good, because to add insult to injury I still cannot kill Dracula."