Sequel to Vampire Food
A former blood slave. A talkative vampire. Dreams about canned goods.
Chaton Roux was rescued from a blood bar and taken to a gated community of supernaturals. For two years, he’s kept his head down and done his best to avoid people. The only time he finds peace is when he’s in the garden he shares with his best friend. They’re doing their best to grow as many vegetables as possible since the community is on the verge of starving.
Asher Blackmore knows he should keep his distance, but there is something about Chaton that always makes him want to push for more. Things would’ve been easier if he’d been a mayfly shifter, then he wouldn’t have a mouth and wouldn’t say stupid things all the time.
When the community’s business goes up in flames, the threat of starvation becomes all the more real, and Chaton does his best to come up with ways to preserve food to last them through winter. It’s hard labor, but what better way to deal with a chatty vampire than to drag him into the kitchen and put him to work?
Asher was grumpy. And hungry. And bored. What the fuck would he do now when he didn’t have a job? He still had to do his guard shifts, but they wouldn’t give him any money, and while he had some tucked away, it wouldn’t last long.
If he was to be unemployed, he wanted to be able to keep his Netflix subscription. What else was there to do all day than to watch movies?
When there was a knock on his door, he gave a silent snarl. If it was Noah coming to check on him again, he was gonna explode. He wanted to sulk.
He yanked the door open. “What?”
He instantly regretted his harsh tone when Chaton took a stumbling step back, then almost fell down the three steps of the stairs.
“Shit, sorry.”
Chaton jumped off the landing and down on the flagstone walkway, claws curled around a jar of something pink, and eyes with slitted pupils swept the surroundings. Crap.
“Kitten?”
The pupils dilated, and a shiver slithered down Asher’s spine. He didn’t fear Chaton, he was only human-strong, but he’d bet his right hand the change was a sign of aggression. Chaton wasn’t aggressive, but a cornered animal lashed out.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t know it was you. I thought it was Noah.” His voice was raspy, and he tried to clear his throat, but it didn’t help. Fucking smoke.
Chaton gave one small nod, then he placed the jar on the first step. “Gertrude wanted me to check on you. You look like you’ll live.” He took a step back, and Asher wanted to rush out and grab him to prevent him from leaving.
“Come inside.” He kept his voice as soft as he could, but the rasp was still there, it would be for another day or so.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He took another step away.
“Babe, please. I didn’t know it was you. What’s in the jar?” He didn’t care if he sounded desperate.
Chaton glanced at the jar, his eyes shifting to human, and Asher almost missed the light brown of his cat. His darker human eyes were pretty, but there was something far more exotic about them when shifted. Which made him an ass who fetishized cat eyes.
“Rhubarb.”
Right, okay, rhubarb. What was he to do with rhubarb? “Okay. Thanks.”
Chaton nodded and took another step back.
“What’s special about the rhubarb?”
“Nothing. Gertrude said I should give you a jar.”
He should thank Gertrude. “Should we open it?”
“You can open it when you want. It’s canned, so you can save it till winter.”
“Oh, sweet boy.”
Chaton’s eyes changed in an instant, the scent of fear coiled in the air despite them being outside, and Asher cursed loudly. “I meant nothing by it. No boys, I promise.” Fuck, he was stupid. Of course, some idiot would have called him boy in the past. The terminology didn’t turn him on, not his kink at all, so why had he used it?
“Chaton, please. I mean you no harm. None. Never.”
“I should go.”
No! “Come, look at the potato plants.” He forced himself to walk down the steps slowly. Chaton didn’t move for several long seconds, then he walked around the house with Asher. Leaves were forming rows where there once had been a lawn. “Looking good, right?” He edged a little closer to Chaton, nothing too obvious. “Rue says they’re doing well.”
“Yeah, good.” Chaton increased the distance again.
Asher smiled and took a small step in his direction. “Are you planning on canning the potatoes too?”
Chaton frowned at him and sidestepped. “Can you preserve potatoes?”
“Yeah.” Asher stepped closer, doing nothing to hide either the step or his amusement.
Chaton glared at him but didn’t look ready to bolt or attack. “I hadn’t planned on it. I figured I could store them in my basement, it’s dark and cool.” He took a step away, and Asher took two rapid steps in his direction.
“It’s a good idea. Will you hand them out to people in the middle of the night?”
This time Chaton didn’t move, he stared directly into Asher’s eyes. “Maybe. Or handing things out at my house.”
That was new. So far neither Chaton nor Rue had wanted anyone to come near the house, and Gertrude had forbidden everyone to approach them. Asher had seen far more of Rue and Chaton than most other people within the walls since he was friends with Noah. Almost everyone else kept their distance. “At the house?” He took a small step in Chaton’s direction, keeping eye contact the entire time.
“Asher.” It was a plea and a warning packed into one tiny word.
“Yes, kitten.”
“Stop.”
If it hadn’t been for the slight tremble in his voice, he wouldn’t have, but now he gave Chaton a small nod and took a step back.
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