Two men, one secret… A brand new life…
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Abandoned to the streets of London as a teenager by homophobic parents, Tamir is rescued by the one person he needs to survive what he is. Vidar is a rich man, happy to offer the suicidal young man a sanctuary where no one can touch him.
Or so they think.
There is something different about Vidar, something that could mean trouble—or death—for both of them. Vidar is harboring a secret that could destroy both them, and the world of safe havens they've created.
But flourishing in a love born of blood, suicide, hate and abandonment, will Tamir and Vidar's relationship last across their forced separation? Or will their fierce dependency, when combined with the uncontrollable split, send them rocketing on a path that will lead only to their deaths?
Darkness crowded in on him, and he fell from the railing. With nothing but twelve stories of open air between him and the ground, the blood and rain streaked over his body as the blade sliced deep into his thigh. He fell, tumbling past the windows of the building...
There was a flapping sound, and something dragged his body back, back to the safety of the building. Tamir collapsed, lying, dying, on the floor. The older man, blond-haired and serious, licked at the blood on the dying man's arm, moaning as the crimson liquid touched his tongue. A gel-like substance from his lips soothed the cuts and stopped the bleeding, clotting it and acting like an instant scab.
But blood still pooled with the rain on the dry floor. After a second, the older man noticed the gash in the young man's thigh, the red liquid oozing slowly onto the stone floor.
"You silly sod," the man murmured, then hesitated. Slowly, watching the young man's unconscious face, he licked the blood from the gash, the taste seducing him almost instantly.
Forgetting about the blood the young man had already lost, the man licked at the wound, drawing still more blood from Tamir's dying body. After a few minutes, he pressed his lips to the gash. What had been an open sore was now sealed shut with more of the gel-like substance, holding what remained of the young man's blood in his body.
"Beautiful," the older man murmured, running a hand over the pale skin of the unconscious young man's stomach, showing above his jeans. "Delicious."
Tamir's stomach twitched, and the young man's head rolled towards his rescuer, though he did not wake. The man sighed, then started as the thunder sounded off alongside a flash of lightning. He licked his lips, allowing himself one more taste of the young man, and leaned back.
"So young," he murmured, pressing his fingertips to his lips gently. "So delicious. So alone, so unwanted." He smiled. "I will look after you, cica." He ran his long fingers through the young man's black hair, frowning at the tangles. His fingers graced the young man's cheek, making Tamir roll away from him slightly. The tall man stared at his bared neck, visibly holding himself back.
"You will be good," he murmured, lifting the young man up into his arms as though he weighed nothing. "I need a young man like you to keep me... straight..."
The man turned. Within a couple of seconds, all that remained of him was the flapping of his dark cloak. Lightning flashed, and he was gone from the towering building, the young man along with him.