“Are you okay? How are you feeling?”
“I’d be lying if I said I’ve never been better,” Oliver started.
Quinn dropped his lids. “I’m sorry. I wish I could have given you a choice.” Instead he had let himself be ruled by his own guilt. After all, the accident was his fault, not Oliver’s.
“Don’t be. As soon as this damn stomach wound has healed, I’ll be better than new,” Oliver claimed.
Quinn raised his head, meeting Oliver’s gaze.
“But your entire life has changed.”
“Yeah, for the better. Frankly, if this hadn’t happened, I would have asked Samson to turn me.” Oliver smiled. “It’s not like I’m getting any younger and—”
“You’re twenty-five!” Quinn interrupted.
“Almost twenty-six,” his prodigy corrected. “It was about time. I don’t want to look older than the rest of you.”
Quinn shook his head. “I don’t believe I’m hearing this.” He’d known that Oliver had always looked up to them, even toyed with the idea of becoming a vampire. But he’d never expected him to take to it as easily as a duck to water, to accept his fate with such grace. Even those who’d asked to be turned had found the adjustment hard and questioned their decision later. Oliver wouldn’t be any different.
“You don’t know yet what to expect from your new life. It won’t be easy. Just ask Eddie.”
Amaury’s brother-in-law was a relatively young vampire, turned less than a year earlier.
“Eddie’s doing just fine. He’s got Thomas.”
Zane chuckled at that. “Or maybe Thomas has him.”
“Would you shut up, Zane?” Quinn snapped. “Thomas is downstairs. He can probably hear you.”
Then he turned back to Oliver.
“There’s lots to think about. For starters, you can’t live on your own right now.”
The opening of the door interrupted him. He watched Samson and Amaury enter.
“Hey Samson, Amaury. I was just telling Oliver that he’ll have to make some changes. He needs to live with me for a while.”
Samson nodded. “Already arranged.”
Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
Amaury interrupted. “An acquaintance of mine just renovated a mansion in Pacific Heights, made it vampire proof and all that shit. He wants to open it as a B&B.”
Quinn took a breath. “Out of the question. I’m not living in a B&B with Oliver. We’re returning to New York. We don’t need a bunch of strangers around us.”
“There won’t be anybody else. He can’t open the place yet—some issues with the building department. So he’s offered us the place for exclusive use until the permits are final. Knowing this city, it’ll take months,” Amaury claimed.
“And it’s better if you stay here for now, so Oliver can stay in an environment he’s used to,” Samson added, then turned to his erstwhile assistant. “Don’t you think so, Oliver? Isn’t that what you want?”
The kid nodded eagerly. “That’d be good.” Then he looked back at Quinn, his facial expression one of dread. “I mean for now, right? Afterwards, it would be cool to go to New York with you.”
Reluctantly, Quinn nodded. If it was what Oliver wanted, then he could at least do that.
“Then it’s settled,” Samson answered. “When do you want to move in? Tomorrow night?”
Before Quinn could answer, his cell phone pinged. Again his heart raced, because this time he was sure who was texting him. What he wasn’t sure about was what her answer would be.
His pulse galloping, he looked at the screen.
I agree, was all it said.
He swallowed, not knowing whether to be happy or sad about Rose’s answer, maybe both.
Slowly he tore his gaze from the phone and glanced back at Oliver.
“Hope you don’t mind that we won’t live there alone.” He pushed down the lump in his throat that threatened to rob him of the ability to speak. “My wife will be joining us.”
Oliver stared at him wide-eyed, shock plastered all over his face. “Dude, you’re married?”
10
“That’s him.” Rose pointed toward the bar.
Despite the late hour, the popular nightclub wasn’t completely packed yet. Soon, however, the clubbers would be lining up like sardines just to get a drink. And the dance floor would be looking like a can of worms, wiggling one way or another.