Chapter 3 - Auðr

This cannot be happening. I’m a fucking vampire! I’ve been dead for over a century! I get that the Darby bloodline was meant to evolve to be wolves, but that was my little brother Joseph’s destiny. He was fated to be mated to a werewolf, which sparked the evolutionary change in our line to be the basically pureblooded wolves they are today.

Even if I hadn’t died and been turned into a vampire, I’m G-A-Y! I can’t have children with another man. On top of all that, why over a hundred years later? Either this wolf has their wires crossed, or their Mood Goddess is DRUNK and HIGH because there is no way a vampire is fated to a werewolf.

While my purple Skittle, ugh, not mine, knock that shit off the brain, was getting pissed that I was keeping my emotions in check, I saw the guy they’d punched trying to get up. I’d managed to catch Rune’s eye without altering the wolf.

We don’t have telepathy, but Rune picked up the social cue I needed to back up. He helped the protester up and, with his eyes, asked if he could do what he wanted with the guy. To that, I nodded.

I knew what Rune would do to the guy. It wouldn’t be pretty, but if he cleaned up and was on time for our gig, I didn’t care. I won’t deal with sloppy vampires in my band. Rune knows that.

There’s a reason we had an opening for a drummer when I brought Léonel in. Fucker was messy, and I killed him before he brought human authorities or, worse, after us all. Rune won’t dare cross that line. None of them will.

Skittles tried to argue about taking this somewhere private. There was no way I was having this conversation in public. There was too high a possibility that we’d say something that gives away our supernatural natures.

I’ve never broken the statute of secrecy, and I’m not about to change that. That would mean facing the wrath of Hana Kinsey. No, thank you. Thankfully, Skittles saw reason when I name-dropped their pack princess.

I led the wolf through the crowd back to Enigma and into my private dressing room, ignoring the weird tingles holding their hand was giving me. Not letting myself think about those little sparks and what they may or may not mean.

My brain outright refused to consider this to be real. My undead heart was a different story. The thing hasn’t even twitched since I became a vampire. Yet those little sparks from holding Skittle’s hand were trying to jumpstart it with all their might.

I let their hand go, feeling a mix of emotions as I was free from the sparks trying to jumpstart my dead heart. I locked the door, not wanting any possible interruptions. I doubted there would be any until closer to show time, but better safe than sorry. I checked my pocket for my phone. While I will focus on dealing with this, I still need and want to be available if Léonel needs me.

“Well, we’re not in public. Are you going to talk now or stand there like some sexy statue or mime?” Skittles demanded, folding their arms, their unique amber eyes shimmering purple.

Sexy statue or mime? This wolf’s brain was fried. I mean, I know I’m sexy, but come on. And purple eyes? Over a hundred years as a vampire, and I’ve seen some weird shit.

However, I’ve never seen a purple-eyed anything. I know hybrids get weird-colored hair and eyes, though I doubt the purple is natural, as I could see the roots had recently been touched up. I’d have to check the carpet to know the true color of the drapes.

No. No. NO!

Not going there. I don’t know how old this wolf is, beyond sixteen. Nope. I might keep my life private, but I’m still a celebrity. People try to make my personal life their business.

I don’t need any of that ‘he fucked a minor depending on the state’ press. I’m not touching this wolf beyond that hand-holding to get them in here. At least not till I know definitively how old they are.

“I’m still assuming you’re part of Bloodmoon, though you could be from an affiliated pack here for the festival. But something about your smell screams Bloodmoon.” I assessed. “So, the questions become: what’s your name, and how old are you?”

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or insult. It better not be an insult ‘cause Bloodmoon is the best pack in the world.” Skittles grumbled.

“In the world? How many packs have you visited to come to that conclusion?” I shook my head, still waiting for my answers.

“A few since I turned sixteen,” Skittles said.

“Uh-huh. So, name and age.” I gestured for them to carry on.

“I’m Sage Carlisle, and I’m eighteen. No need to ask your name unless you’ll tell me your Darby family name since I can’t imagine Auðr was your birth name.” Sage narrowed their eyes at me.

Eighteen? Well, that was something of a relief. No tabloid could say I was taking minors into back rooms. Not that I’m planning to do anything with Sage. Interestingly, their name is a shade of green, but their color is purple. I need to get on track with my thoughts.

“No one outside my family knows my birth name, and not a damn one of them would take the gamble on calling me that name.” I shook my head.

Elvin Louis Darby died in the streets of New Orleans on June 28th, 1925, after a bunch of homophobic assholes took umbrage with the fact I fucked one of their brothers. Enzo Beaumont was the living embodiment of ‘the juice wasn’t worth the squeeze.’ When Enzo’s brother Brice heard a rumor about seeing his brother leaving La Trinité with me, Enzo sold me out.

Everyone knew but didn’t say anything about La Trinité being a queer club. So, Enzo spun it that I made him go there, forced myself on him, and let others have a turn. The great irony was that Enzo was the one that invited me to that club, and he was the one that initiated the orgy that night.

After I was left to die in the street, losing the fight, Caleb was like an angel of mercy. He found me and offered me revenge. I took the offer, killed the nine men who left me to die, and then I killed Enzo. From that day, I made it a rule never to get involved with closet cases.

“You’ll tell me eventually. Mates don’t keep secrets.” Sage smiled like that was a foregone conclusion.

“Listen, Skittles… I mean Sage.” I corrected myself.

“You’re wrong. We aren’t mates. We can’t be mates. I am the undead. I am a vampire. I don’t even think I technically have a soul anymore, and if I did, it’s damned for opposing death and becoming this…” I gestured to myself.

“Vampires have mates. The Silverclaw Deltas are a mated human and vampire. Byron and Shannon are mates. Caleb and Marianna are a mated pair of vampires. Princess Hana and Albert are mates.” Sage tried to make their counter.

“Allow me to be more specific. Only werewolves have fated mates. Every couple you listed chose each other. Also, none of those couples include a werewolf. Not fated mates. No mate bond glitter sparkle magic.” I explained.

“Shannon is like a quarter werewolf. She’s even related to you.” Sage said as if that made a difference.

I rubbed my temples as I took a deep breath. My temples were not letting go of the idea of us being mates.

“Be that as it may, Shannon does not have a wolf. She is human, and she chose to be marked by Byron. Who knows that if for any reason he ever hurts Shannon or any of her children, there is a long list of Darby werewolves that will rip him apart if I don’t find him first.” I sighed.

“The point remains that vampires don’t have fated mates. I’m dead, undead, but whatever. I can’t be your mate. You’re confused.” I said.

“I was never a religious person, but belief in the Moon Goddess isn’t a religion ‘cause werewolves exist; therefore, she’s real. The Goddess works in mysterious ways. How many generations of your family are werewolves? I don’t know the full family tree, and what I know is only ‘cause my twin’s mate found out they’re a Darby.” Sage rambled.

His twin’s mate is a Darby? His twin is mated to Léonel’s child. That’s why they were here. It wasn’t simply chance or that they were here for the festival. They likely came here with their twin and Léonel’s kid. It’s freaky to think they have a twin in the club right now. Are they identical? Fraternal? Sage’s twin is mated to my great great great-grand nibbling, and they’re trying to convince me we’re mates.

“If your Moon Goddess had some grand plan for my family to integrate into being werewolves, she fulfilled that with my brother Joseph over a hundred years ago. She missed her window to have me as a pawn the day I died and became a vampire. Not to mention, as a gay man, I wouldn’t be contributing to turning my family into werewolves.” I shook my head.

“Agree to disagree because I’m not wrong. My wolf recognized your scent as our mate. Plus, when you touched my leg and held my hand just a few moments ago, I felt the sparks of the bond.” Sage protested.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you felt nothing when we touched,” Sage demanded.

They stepped into my personal space. We were nose to nose only because of the height the boots gave them. Without that added four inches, I’d be taller. I could see every variation in Sage’s amber eyes and how the purple pulsed in the amber. We were so close I could practically taste their strawberry kiwi gum on their breath. I can do this. I can lie to someone’s face. It never stopped me before.