Last night had been mayhem.

That's the thought that Nico wakes to, prompted by the soreness at the base of his spine and the steady heartbeat under his ear, his head cradled upon a bare chest rising and falling with calm, even breaths.

The morning sun is thankfully shielded by drawn curtains, though they do nothing to quiet the chirping birds beyond the window. But it's peaceful, Nico thinks, and he allows himself a few moments just to relish in this glow.

Shifting carefully, leaning his weight on a partially numb arm, Nico looks down upon the sleeping werewolf besides him.

His mind is still sleep-fuzzed, but he still knows that had this been any other day: this wolf would've been long dead under his clutches. Nico would've sunk in his claws and shredded his skin like a flimsy piece of paper – although perhaps not while he slumbers, because that's a coward's way to kill and Nico likes to flaunt a little valour.

However instead of brutal gashes and fatal wounds, the wolf's body is rather a pretty mosaic of maroon-bordering-purple blemishes and bite marks. At the very least, there are scratches, though they are shallow and not put there with an intent to harm, but rather a grip on reality.

Memories don't come crashing down on him like a tsunami – as if this were some drunken one-night stand. They come back in softly swelling waves, although the images they hold are nothing of the sort.

Not the feeble way oceans gently lap at your feet while stood safely on shore. No, this was more like being swept up helplessly in mighty currents. Drowning in sensation; with little air besides exchanged pants and moans between desperate kisses. Submerged in an encompassing pleasure that doesn't let you break the surface, only dragging you deeper into darker crevices. Lungs rapidly filling out with an intoxicating scent that leaves little room for oxygen, a scent that still lingers even now.

It's strange how his life can flip in a single night, this being the third time it's happened to him now and he's still not used to it. The first time had been tragic, his family stolen from him in a single swipe that left him a lonely eleven-year-old boy. The second, obviously, was when he got the bite from the asshole sire that not only ruined his life but his entire eternity. Just when things were starting to get stable, he discovers he has a werewolf for a mate and the world has tilted on a whole new axis, landing him on his ass once again.

Nico absentmindedly brushes his fingers through that golden hair, remembering the way he had pulled and twisted at those locks only a couple hours ago. Still, it's as soft as ever underneath his fingertips and Nico allows himself this much because he can be sweet so long as no one is around to witness it – he has a reputation to keep up, after all.

Though, with a deep rooted regret he refuses to read into, he pulls away. Careful when he slips out from under the covers so he doesn't risk waking Will.

It's undeniable that last night had been an absolute dream, even with his now stiff limbs and scratchy throat, but Nico plucks up his clothes from the floor regardless, systematically slipping them on and making a pointed effort to not look at the sleeping blond's way.

Now with that lust-fuelled haze has mostly faded, he's able to think clearly. Clear enough to come to his senses and realise that this would never work. It may be written in the stars, but the stars are nothing more than clouds of burning gas millions of lightyears away. Nico's never been all that keen on fate, and he's not at all willing to jump blindly into this havoc just trusting it'd be there to catch him – but that's exactly what this whole ordeal is asking of him. Mates are fated, and he's just what? Meant to put his faith in the universe because that's what it foresees for him? The universe has always had it out for him, anyways.

Besides, it had predicted wrong. Vampires and werewolves aren't meant to be, and never will. Sure, Nico can admit that even after only a night he has developed quite a soft spot for Will, and that Will perhaps more than returns it. But what about everyone else? Nico's alone, he hasn't got much to worry about from his part, but Will is an alpha, he has an entire pack.

People don't like him when they're not even aware of his true form, so he doubts he's going to be able to make nice with a bunch of wolves that already think of his kind as demons incarnate.

With a resigned sigh, he manages to tug on his jeans and faces the full-length mirror to see just how dishevelled he looks. Like Will, he's also got hickeys all over his torso, though he doesn't wear them as prettily as the blond. However he likes the look of the finger shaped bruises curling around his waist. He inwardly hopes that it'll be a while before they fade.

And that's when he sees it, as he traces his gaze up his reflection and locking onto something prominent and eye-catching on his neck. Something that Nico knows won't fade with time; won't fade ever. Something permanently etched into his skin just when he thought that he could eventually forget...

The kiss is less like a kiss and more like simply breathing in each other's air, and with the litany of sounds that involuntarily tumble out of Nico's mouth, he doubts that he could make it a proper one if he tried.

Ankles hook behind a bare back that press urgently, forcing him closer and deeper. He tosses his head back against the pillow at the new angle, breaking that searing eye contact and absentmindedly babbling praises.

Will's teeth skim the bare column of his throat, exposed as though it's an offering. Maybe it is. Because Nico's nails claw at his back encouragingly.

"So good..." Will soothes, planting sweet kisses against his neck before picking a particularly sensitive spot and bites down, worrying it between his teeth and sucking bruises. "So good for me, baby."

"Yes," Nico hisses because his mind is unable to provide him with any words beyond that. Appreciatively, he rolls his hips and meets each powerful thrust. Will's fingers press harder around his waist.

When those lips still lovingly graze against his skin, feeling the pointed edge of a now elongated canine, something tugs within him in a place that is indescribable. Maybe it's his soul, twisting and coiling, demanding nothing more than those teeth.

"Yes," Nico breathes, tilting back his head even further. He hurriedly rummages his mind for more coherent words in the midst of absolute pleasure. "Please, do it."

Will pulls away, his eyes so dark, his pupils almost entirely swallowing that hypnotic swirl of blue and gold. His gaze is intense holding his, searching intently for something. "Nico..."

"Please," Nico begs, too consumed in the heat of the moment. "I want it... want you..."

Nico's back arches as those teeth sink into his neck, his lips automatically parting in a silent scream. Ecstasy upon overwhelming ecstasy stacked on top of each other finally comes crashing down in a crescendo. He comes with his fingers pulling taut against soft, golden curls...

Somewhat detached from the present world, Nico traces over Will's mating mark with his fingertips. Something stirs within him, maybe he's being too impulsive. Maybe he shouldn't—

The sound of rustling sheets snaps him back to reality.

With an inhuman speed, Nico yanks on his shirt and is out of the window in an instant.

And that is how he meets the pack.

~*~

The plan was to sprint straight into the forest and leave this town without a trace.

The plan wasn't to touchdown on the frosty grass only to be met with five or so werewolves gathered outside the apartment complex at 6am, every single one of them snarling at him.

And if the presence of one wolf made Nico's blood boil, then a whole pack of them simply sets him alight.

His claws are out before he even prompts it. Though it's not exactly surprising, their combined scent screams nothing but danger and threat, and Nico is so bombarded by it that it's a miracle he hasn't yet struck.

But he needs to play it smart and not let his volatile instincts get the better of him. He doesn't quite like his chances, five against one isn't exactly promising.

"What did you do to him?" one of them sneers, already poised in a stance to charge, and Nico can tell she only has a threadbare of control holding her back. Her wild blue eyes narrowed sharply.

The rest of them are in a similar state, and Nico rationalises that they must be really fucking pissed since the full moon isn't even close yet. But then again, wolves are extremely feral creatures, and, well, if they see a vampire in their territory, they'd undoubtedly go in for the kill.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Nico grits out because he doesn't.

"Don't play dumb, leech," another barks out, this one a male with pale blond hair and cobalt eyes, similar features to Will but worn much more harshly. Though he probably only thinks as much due to the jagged scar that pulls taut against his jaw. "We can smell him on you."

Oh is all he thinks when the predicament finally makes itself clear.

Inconspicuously, Nico's looks in his peripheral for a possible escape, but his chances are narrow. He's surrounded by them, and they only edge in closer and closer, attempting to corner Nico as though he'll get on his knees and beg for their mercy.

He could probably take them, even if he's still stiff and sore. They're a pack without an alpha, surely their dynamics must be at least a little disgruntled. Besides, Nico's got agility, wits, and experience under his belt, so whatever happens, he's not going down so easy.

"Look," Nico starts flatly, remaining undeterred as the circle of wolves grows tighter and tighter. Though his fists still coil. "I didn't kill him."

He should've, but the fact remains: he didn't.

"Then, where is he?" one demands.

Nico tongues at the sharp of a fang. "Up in there," he says, nodding to the building behind him. "Go see for yourself."

"And we're just supposed to believe you, are we?" the scarred one snarls, and Nico manages to shift into a defensive stance right before the wolf charges at him. Still, the impact knocks the air out of his lungs, and he's only just recovered as he swiftly ducks one of his clawed punches.

"Octavian, wait!" a voice exclaims but Nico's too preoccupied to pay it any mind. He sidesteps the wolf but he whirls around with a quickness that Nico had underestimated, and when Nico catches sight of that untamed expression on his face, with sharp teeth and silvery eyes, he barely dodges the ferocious bite of a powerful jaw aimed right at his throat – with all the strength to rip his flesh apart.

Has it ever been that close before?

Nico's usually more aware, but he's thrown off by the near miss, so he doesn't sense the wolf suddenly appearing behind him, seizing his arms tight behind his back in an almost bone crushing hold.

Nico struggles, kicking his legs at the wolf's shins but his efforts are futile. In the end, in terms of strength, werewolf's will always have the upper hand. No matter alpha, beta, or omega.

The scarred wolf's – Octavian's – claws come lethally close to his jugular. Nico fights against the reflexive gulp.

One slip, and Nico will be bleeding out in agony for days upon end, fading in and out of existence until he can seek out a healer.

"Wait," the wolf behind him says, this one a male with windswept brown hair that Nico catches sight of in his peripheral. "You can't, not yet. If Will's still alive, he's the only one that can find him."

"So what?" Octavian sneers, his eyes swirling with malevolence. "We're just supposed to trust it? Don't deny it, you can all smell it, he's probably already—"

But then his gaze snags on the corner of Nico's mouth, and Nico watches him intently as he smirks, though it's twisted with malice.

His hand comes up and harshly thumbs at the spot he's staring at, and Nico just about catches the smear of scarlet on his skin before he puts it on display to the rest of the pack.

"You see?! And you all want to keep him alive?" he yells outs, and Nico is sure he isn't imagining their rumbling growls.

Octavian's calloused fingers roughly grab at his jaw. Nico bares his fangs at him, refusing to back down from his gaze.

"You killed him," he spits. "You killed the alpha you fucking filthy bloodsucking leech."

This time when his claws trail the delicate skin on his neck, no one stops him.

"You killed the alpha, and I'm about to kill you... you know what that makes me?"

So it's more than just the fierce protectiveness of a pack leader. No, it's about power too. He's greedy.

Sharpened claws digs into his skin. It's shallow and deliberate, but it breaks his skin and blood is drawn. White hot pain erupts from the wound when he twists his claws torturously slow.

He doesn't usually resort to this, but he begins to summon up his thrall. The situation is dire enough. He just has to wait for the right moment...

Octavian's lips curl smugly. "It makes me the al—"

"Stop."

And that... that's not Nico's thrall talking.

In well-hidden awe, he watches as Octavian freezes, his complacent expression wiped off clean at the sound of that new yet devastatingly familiar voice.

"Get off him," Will orders, tone low and deadly. "Now."

It's an instantaneous reaction, those claws burrowed in his neck retract immediately. The vice like wrench on his arms slackens and releases him.

He can feel the cool blood dribble ever so slightly down the column of his throat, but it's something that he pays no heed to. Instead all too fascinated by the way all the wolves have their heads bowed in submission.

All wolves, besides the alpha, of course.

Who's lips are set in a flat, straight line and eyes are golden yet steely.

Distantly, Nico sees his opportunity to run. Something keeps him rooted to the very spot, though.

There's no sound besides the cool, winter morning wind and Will Solace's steadily approaching footsteps.

When those fingers cup his jaw, tilting his chin up gently that forces him to meet that searing gaze, it's everything Octavian's grasp was not. They brush against his cheekbone reverently, stroking softness over his Adam's apple as those fingertips wipe away at the venomous blood pooled at his collarbones so lightly that Nico could almost mistake them as the hands of a healer.

This time, Nico does gulp.

There's a small, concerned furrow between his golden brows.

"Are you okay?" Will asks him, with a tenderness that Nico had not at all expected.

And then he remembers: mates. Werewolves often get like this. Worried, careful, protective...

"I'm fine," Nico replies just as quietly, a plan already forming in his mind. If Nico wants to make it out of here alive, he has to be logical about this. His safety is only assured with the alpha on his side, so, for now, the alpha's little mate he shall be.

"What's going on, Will?" one of the wolves ask, the one with those bluebell eyes, contrasting with the dyed green tips of her fiery ginger hair. "Who is he?"

However Will pays her no mind, eyes transfixed upon the spot those claws had pierced his skin.

"Will," and this time it's Octavian that speaks up, an obviously evident effort made to keep his voice even. He stalks up to Will, a hand about to reach out and land on his shoulder. "Will, wh—"

It happens so rapidly, almost too fast for how a werewolf should be able to move. In a blink or you'll miss it span, Octavian's back slams against the unforgiving ground, and Will's on top of him with an expression nothing short from murderous. His fingers coiled around his throat.

"Tell me..." Will grits out, his eyes an incandescent storm. "Tell me why I shouldn't just kill you right now?"

"What...?" Octavian wheezes hollowly, his hands scrabbling at the grip, trying with all his strength to pry the fingers away as he grows paler by the second.

"Will, what are you doing?!" someone exclaims, but the origin of that voice is something so extremely insignificant.

"W-Will..." Octavian chokes. "Please..."

The alpha's glare is intense and cold. Nico, who's seen and experienced all the ugly this world has to offer, has never witnessed someone look so brutal. It almost frightening, how even the seemingly purest beings that walk this earth are also capable of being so inhumane.

But that's just it, isn't it? Because there's simply nothing humane about werewolves. Or vampires. Or any other mythic with their souls intwined to this curse of a life.

To be completely honest, Nico wouldn't have minded if that beta had just died then and there. Living over a century and a half doesn't exactly leave someone merciless and forgiving, and he's pretty certain that once he had the opportunity to thrall him, he would've killed him without a spared thought. It's the reason for why he just stands there, desensitized as he looks upon the scene while the other wolves charge forward and yank the two apart.

"Are you crazy?!" Octavian splutters as he pushes himself back to his feet, words like gravel as he chokes between violent gulps of air. "What is wrong with you?!"

Although he's got four pairs of hands holding him back, Will's thrashing still threatens to break him free.

"This isn't you," the brown-haired beta claims. "C'mon Will..."

At that, Will immediately relaxes under their hold, breathing heavily as he comes back to himself.

His eyes squeeze shut, and when they flutter open the vivid blue of those irises return. "Okay..." he says hollowly. "I... yeah, okay. I'm okay, let me go."

Reluctantly, they obey. Will rolls the tension out of his shoulders, trying to steady himself.

However, his sight then falls on Octavian, still wheezing but otherwise silent.

His glower is lethal. "But don't you dare ever touch him."

Nico shifts on his feet and a branch snaps underfoot. It's as loud as a gunshot piercing through the silence.

All of a sudden, all eyes land on him.

He refuses to shrink under their scrutiny, though. So instead he stands tall – proud – and raises his chin slightly.

Nico almost wants to smirk. Will was the one who said it, none of the wolves would even dare touch him.

"Who is he, Will?" an omega finally asks.

Will's face is unreadable, but by the time he approaches and stands by Nico, his hand woven with his own, he smiles softly.

"This is Nico di Angelo. He is a vampire," the alpha announces before looking over his shoulder, giving him a long, definite, overly-fond look. "He is also my mate."

~*~

No one had believed it until they saw the mark etched into his neck.

It's as though it's some sort of spell, the way they all went wide eyed and enchanted by it. Stunned into silence after such a pandemonium. Like some sort of pathetic bite could hold all the meaning of the universe.

Nico hates it.

Because it isn't any of that. It's just some scar. And now look where it's gotten him.

It's not like he's welcomed into the pack with open arms, no that would just completely be against the very laws of nature. It's not as though he's got their respect either, because in their eyes Nico's still the scum on the bottom their shoes. Not that he had expected otherwise, of course, but then again, he didn't exactly expect to meet them under any circumstance in the first place.

As instructed, he stays put in the bathroom. Shirt off and blinds drawn. It's surprisingly spacious for an apartment, polished grey tiles lining the walls and granite counter tops to match; the walk-in shower admittedly impressive. It's a shame though that the cool floor gets ruined by slow drips of his blood.

He had easily agreed to follow Will back up to his place. Call it counterintuitive, but right now he needs the protection from a pack that stares at him like dead meat – like the beasts they are.

The door swings open and Will Solace enters with a first aid kit in hand, the look on his face unreadable.

"You do realise that I heal on my own, right?" Nico says as Will tears open an antiseptic wipe, silently cleaning away the dried blood from his skin.

He doesn't even acknowledge the question, a noticeable clench to his jaw as he works. The air heavy and weighing down on their shoulders.

There's something strangely intimate about this, he thinks. It's different from sex: this is all the tender sans the pleasure, a genuine care and worry. In all honesty, it's a little unsettling having someone fret over him in matters that are so minor, as if he's worth being the target of all that sincerity.

Once done, the plasters he puts upon the already healing wounds are unnecessary. "Will—"

"Don't," he cuts him off. "I don't want to see anyone else's marks on you."

"It will fade."

"But it's still there."

Nico huffs frustratedly. "I don't need your coddling, okay? I know how to look after myself."

"I want to be able to look out for you," Will says, brushing his fingers reverently over his mating mark. It's still sensitive and Nico finds himself repressing a shiver. "I should've known."

"I'm not some omega weakling you have to protect," Nico says. "It's not like I need your constant surveillance."

Will gives him a long, hard look, one that Nico wishes he could actually decipher. "I've spent years tracking you down, it would kill me to suddenly see you slip right through my fingers..." he sighs. "I'm sorry but I have to look out, at least for now. Until the rest of them start warming up to you."

With that the first aid kit snaps shut and Nico bites back a retort hanging on the edge of his lips. He's never been so much of a listener, but for the sake of the charade he has to tame himself.

A sharp knock rings out against the door, a muffled voice coming from the other side. "We still need to talk about this, Will."

The alpha's eyes narrow in irritation. "I thought I told you guys to not follow me up here."

"Not in that big bad alpha voice of yours, you didn't." the voice replies. "...It's just me."

With a resigned sigh, Will tosses Nico a fresh shirt he had brought in earlier and goes for the door. Opening it reveals the side profile of the brown-haired beta leaning lazily against the frame, his arms wound across his chest. He actually seems quite surprised.

"Wow," he says, standing up straight. "I thought that would take a lot more convincing."

"No, no you're right," Will admits tiredly. "I know they're not happy with me right now, the three of us should at least talk it through."

The beta raises a quizzical eyebrow. "The three of us...?" he begins before he leans forward and pokes his head through the door, his sight instantly falling upon the elephant in the room. "Oh, I see... he's here."

"A pleasure to meet you too," Nico greeted with a short wave and a shit-eating grin.

"Oh so you've landed a snarky one, Will. Just when it couldn't get any worse—"

"Cecil." Will reprimands exasperatedly, but trails out of the bathroom.

Nico easily follows the two wolves into the living room, and quickly he realises that this is where he woke up. Right on that couch. And despite it being pretty comfy, no one makes a move to sit. Instead Nico finds himself a shaded corner to lean against.

"Honestly, there isn't much to say," the alpha starts, drawing the curtains shut so the winter morning sun no longer pierces through the frosted glass. "You know I've been trying to track the scent for a long time, Cecil. I've found it now."

"Yeah. Congratulations, man." Cecil deadpans. "Too bad you've been misled."

"Ce—"

The beta cuts him off. "Look man, you know that this is not how it's supposed to work. I have no idea what the hell it is drawing you to him, but it can't be scent. Vampires don't even have scent glands, for god's sake."

Nico almost finds himself voicing his agreement.

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, Will tries to calm himself. "I know, okay? I realise that this isn't how it's supposed to work. Obviously. I don't know how to explain it, but do you really think I wouldn't be able to tell who my own mate is?"

Cecil looks grim. "Depends whether you're in your right mind or not."

Nico stiffens against the wall when the pieces start falling together. He abruptly meets Cecil's gaze, already fixed upon him with a challenge.

Will's eyes flash gold with warning. "What are you suggesting...?"

"I'm saying," he begins, breaking the eye contact to meet Will head on, intently trying to get a read on his expression. "You've been thralled, Will."

Already one step ahead, Nico's off the wall and holding the alpha back in a flash, quicker than Will could even get ready to pounce on the beta. It shouldn't be surprising, the way Will seems to relax under his hold, but he can still easily break free if he wishes to.

"It's out of the question," Nico spits.

Cecil ignores him though. "Don't you see, Will?" he exclaims. "You were never like this before! You were just about to attack me— hell, never mind that, you were actually going to kill Octavian out there!"

Growling, Will throws off Nico's grip, however he doesn't step further into the other werewolf's space. "He was out of line."

"This!" Cecil cries out, incredulously gesturing between the two of him with a frantic hand. "This is so very out of line! It's... it's unnatural! And I don't even mean that in some derogatory way, I mean that it's just simply impossible."

Despite the truth of his argument, Nico retaliates with venom in his tone. "You shouldn't speak of things you don't understand, beta."

Admittedly, Nico admires the balls on this guy, since instead of backing down he meets him with a silvery, daggered glare and a curled lip. But then again, these packs are so furiously loyal to the point that it's a flaw, and would inevitably lead to their own demises by charging headfirst into situations out of their hands in the name of allegiance.

"I'll show you exactly what I do and don't understand," he threatens, trying to size him up and Nico just about catches himself before grinning at the wolf's gall.

Flashing his claws, he allows himself a knife-like smirk. "Bring it on, puppy."

"Enough. Both of you."

It's with no expressed thought that Nico finds himself backing down, retracting the fangs that he didn't even realise had elongated in the first place. Before him, Cecil visibly backs off too, his initially hunched, hostile posture straightening out in obedience.

"I think you should leave," Will continues, facing the beta with a look of repentance. "Don't make me force you."

Cecil purses his lips. "I'm telling you, Will. He's using you," he says flatly, but then makes his leave without further hassle.

~*~

The rest of that day remains uneventful, to the point that it could almost be considered boring.

Nico's spent a good majority of his life alone, so he's used to having only himself to keep him company. It's by choice though, as there's an undoubtable freedom that accompanies it. He could do what he wills whenever he pleases without having to worry too much about the consequences – as was often the case when it came to near immortal, partly demonic, nocturnal creatures that are only said to exist in horror stories and myths.

However now he feels like a dog on a leash, cooped up in a den because he absolutely knows that Will would not let him out of his sight, and he really doesn't understand why. Perhaps it's just instincts, but certainly the more rational side of the wolf's brain should have him know that Nico most certainly knows how to look after himself.

He's well aware that he can always just make a run for it, but now with his pack more enraged by his presence than ever, he thinks he should be a little more cautious. Play his cards right.

That's why, once Nico's familiarised himself with the various books upon the shelf and casually snooped through his bedroom drawers, he finds himself pausing in his antics; taking a moment to just step back and think once he catches sight of a photograph upon the bedside of someone that Nico assumes to be Will's mom.

Only then, is he reminded of his own family. Of a grief-stricken mother and an all too caring sister. Both untimely deceased. Possessions and photos of ever busy Venice streets and a seemingly golden family.

Despite his boiling urge to just flee from everything, he knows he can't leave without those items. They're the only grip Nico has to his former life; he needs them for his own sanity.

Nico's thumbing the scraped wooden edge of the picture frame when he hears the bedroom door creak open, and he promptly sets it back upon the table within the blink of an eye. Luckily, Will doesn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, instead giving him an all too fond smile.

He makes quite a sight – clad only in grey sweatpants, his blond hair dripping from the shower – so Nico is a little helpless to do otherwise than to slyly quirk his lips right back at him.

"I was thinking," Will begins as he reaches into one of his drawers and pulls out a shirt to tug over his head – something that Nico can't help but be a little disappointed at. "It's been a long day; we should go get drinks."

"Getting drunk to run away from your problems?" Nico teases. "I expected better of you."

The blond narrows those vividly blue eyes at him as he roughly towel dries his hair. "Seems more like I've just asked my one problem to come and get drunk with me, actually."

Huffing out a laugh, Nico pushes himself off the bed. "So I'm the problem, huh?" he drawls, drawing himself close to the alpha and looking up at him through dark eyelashes – in a way that he knows makes him look good, desirable – admiring the splash of freckles over the wolf's cheeks.

"You're a menace," Will agrees easily before swiftly leaning down and capturing Nico's lips in a kiss. Humming his approval, Nico tilts his head slightly in an attempt to deepen it; trying to pry past those sealed lips for a taste, but Will pulls away just as quickly as he swooped in, wearing an infuriatingly cheeky grin.

"I wasn't done yet," Nico finds himself mumbling, twisting his fingers into the cotton of his extremely inconvenient shirt in a bid to drag him back in.

So what if he's planning to run away? He likes to have his fun while he can.

Will's slight chuckle is breathy against his lips. "Do you want to go out or not?"

Resigned, Nico grabs for his jacket that he had tossed sloppily upon the chair, refusing to go anywhere without his leather. "Lead the way."

Side by side, they stroll through the near empty streets of their town: a small expanse surrounded by towering woods and a river, nothing quite eye catching to it in comparison to big cities and their buzzing metropolises. By no means does that mean that the town in underpopulated, since a few decades living here Nico's always managed to find a new donor whenever he's hungry and hardly ever runs into the same faces confronting him on why he never called back. However by nightfall there are not all that many mortals roaming the roads in fear of something they don't even know themselves, every now and then a missing person's flyer stuck onto lampposts and a few bodies found in a landfill. Though a considerable many are, not all the citizens are deterred. They just rather roam in groups or opt for cars and cabs instead of lonely walks.

That's because nightcrawlers tend to hunt at night, mythics like Nico and many others besides vampires. And, well, say if one stumbled across an unimpressed siren or a wolf under the glare of the full moon, one's chances of survival aren't all that promising...

Unironically – when Nico looks over at his supposed mate during this frosty, midnight hour – Will looks aglow under the shine of moonlight, catching in his hair and casting pretty shadows across his face. His eyes, though tame and blue, gleam a little more golden than usual.

The bar they find themselves is nothing special, but by far the least seedy of the very few within the area. Nico often comes here when trying to pick up a clueless stranger to feed from but other than knowing that it happens to be a great place to land a guy desperate to get laid, he really doesn't know much beyond that. Despite his frequent visits, he's never actually bought a single drink – and it makes sense, since vampires don't even get drunk anyway.

Being a mythic certainly does impact one's life in all sorts of devastating ways, but close to the very top of his forever growing list of problems is the numbed effects of alcohol. It may no longer poison his liver (not that any of his organs are functional in the first place) but that also means that he can't get absolutely smashed when he seeks it. Sometimes, all he wants is to forget; just to escape – even if only for a little while – this misery of a life he's being forced to endure. However whatever sadistic Gods that are peering down upon his puny self clearly enjoy winding him up like some plaything, so even that would be a too merciful thing to gift.

Distantly, he wonders if he should remind Will of this fact.

However as Will starts a tab and orders a couple shots of something Nico is too unbothered to care the name for, he promptly decides against it.

He would have to be a fool to dismiss such a blatant opportunity, one that he hadn't even planned yet handed to him on a silver platter. Each drink they'll toss back will become hazier and hazier, but only Nico will be faking his inebriety. All he has to do is wait for that tell-tale, glazed look in Will's eyes, until his words slur and all his inhibitions faded before Nico can vanish without raising immediate alarm.

So it's with a solemn 'cheers' and a happy clink of their glasses that they simultaneously drain their first shot. The trail of fire it sends down his throat is a surprise – because of course the pain will still be there – and from not having done this in a while, he can't help but splutter a little.

"What the fuck was that?" Nico wheezes as he coughs into his fist. He'd be a little embarrassed if he hadn't stopped caring about what other people think of him decades ago.

"It's pretty strong, huh?" Will chuckles, seemingly unaffected in a way that infuriates him. "So you still feel stuff like that? Taste? From food and drinks in general? Do you even need to eat?"

Once the burn in his throat has settled down, he shrugs. "I can still taste things, actually I can taste more. All your senses get enhanced when you shift." Nico explains, and Will nods as if he understands. "I don't need to eat, though. Or drink. I mean, it's nice to sometimes, but it's easy to forget about it. I won't get hungry or starve to death without it, and eating isn't filling either. It just has no effect."

"I see," the wolf says. "And you don't ever get cravings?"

Nico shakes his head. "Not for food, no."

"Only for blood then?"

He furrows his eyebrows; he didn't expect Will to be so blunt about it. "Only for blood," he affirms, but then Nico can't help but eye him studiously. It's strange, because he's not too sure what prompts the question, and it's not as though he particularly cares for the answer either. "Does that bother you?"

"No." Will answers, his gaze unwavering and earnest.

And Nico can't bare the weight of that for some reason, so he reaches for another one of the shots and downs it without a thought. Will swiftly follows suit.

"So," the blond starts conversationally. "What does it taste like, then? Blood?"

"What is this? Twenty questions?"

Despite his irritable attitude, the wolf shrugs; leaning more comfortably into the bar stool. "Maybe I just want to know more about you," he says. "Humour me."

Licking his lips, Nico keeps his reply clipped. "It tastes good."

Though the answer isn't nearly as simple. Objectively, it tastes good, but wouldn't anything if you craved it like a drug?

Already, Nico notices with a start, Will's face is starting to flush, and Nico can already hear the tantalising roar of it under smooth skin.

The wolf hums. "And does it all taste the same?"

It's not... right. The conversation sets his nerves on edge. These sort of topics are considered taboo – from whatever mythic etiquette dictates, at least. Not that Nico particularly cares for what's considered impertinent or not, but he just doesn't want to discuss it. Nico may be an exception, however he doubts he can say the same about the alpha, so why is it that he's being so damn persistent?

It's the laid-back attitude; the easy-going smile and the genuine candour that Nico just can't get a read on. He hates not knowing where his intentions are at. It's unsettling.

Another shot goes down the hatch, and Nico ignores the concerned side eye the bartender throws him after practically inhaling the drinks. "No, some donors taste better than others. You just have to be good at picking them out, it's easier to tell by scent."

"Huh." Is all Will says, seemingly satisfied with the answer as he tosses his head back with another shot. Nico can't help but admire his side profile, the sharp cut of his jaw and the way his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. His straight nose and long, fair-coloured eyelashes catching the coloured lights.

They lapse into a silence, and Nico feels the weight of it despite the rambunctious hustle-bustle of the bar.

He doesn't expect the question, doesn't even decipher the question due to the wolf's conversational tone when he asks. "So, does mine taste good?"

Abruptly, Nico looks up. His incredulous eyes meeting Will's encompassing ones. "What?"

"My blood." Will clarifies all too casually. "Does my blood taste good to you, Nico?"

There's something to his gaze: fierce and knowing and Nico couldn't tear away from it even if he wanted to. His mouth suddenly turns desert dry.

He can feel Will's tequila tinged breath delicately fanning his face. When had they gotten so close?

Subconsciously, Nico licks his lips. "Yes," he breathes, as if in a trance, ignoring the blaring alarms in the back of his mind. Urging him to pull away. To run.

But why? Why does he need to run? Everything he wants is right here.

Gods, what is happening to him?

The disorientating barrage of thoughts dissolve into white noise when Will presses his lips against his. The bar; his motives, all forgotten as Nico presses into it instantly, a helpless whimper slipping from his tongue.

Nothing has ever felt more natural than press of the wolf's soft lips; the warm palm of his hand cupping the back of his neck. The heat of the kiss so much more intoxicating than the taste of alcohol present on both of their tongues.

Hearing the jackhammering of Will's heartbeat – his pulse point right underneath Nico's fingertips – he's hit with an all new wave of desire.

"Will," he sighs, regretfully pulling away from his warmth and looking up at him from half-lidded eyes. "Will. Private."

Chuckling breathily, pupils almost completely swallowing those blue-gold irises Nico's come to love. "You want to go home?"

"I want you," Nico demands, his grip tightening upon the wolf's wrist. "Now."

Will's eyes flicker. "Let me just get the tab—"

"Will," Nico begs, and he knows it's a dirty card but he can't bring himself to care when the wolf is back on him and kisses him hard and unrelenting, as if helpless to do otherwise.

He barely notices Will reaching into his pocket for some cash that he slams against the counter as Nico parts his lips and welcomes his tongue, definitely too much money for how little they've had and too generous of a tip but neither of them voice a concern.

"Let's go." Will says, voice low and gravelly and leaving no room for argument. Not that Nico would anyway, if he could even muster the coherency to do so, all too addicted to the sight of swollen lips and the divine scent of blood rushing through his veins.

There's not an ounce of resistance when the wolf drags him out of the bar with his fingers woven in his own, palm large and warm in contrast to Nico's icy skin. The sight of their joined hands is one that he's not accustomed to, so foreign yet intimate. Change is not something Nico usually embraces, but the swooping sensation in his stomach tells him that maybe he can make an exception.

The air is silent and the town is at rest, the stars hardly visible behind looming clouds as the two of them half- stumble down the road in their urgency and Will's tipsy state.

Nico could run. Take Will with him. Take him by the hand as they sprint together back to his apartment and press him into the mattress.

But even inhuman speed would be too long a wait against his desperation, so instead Nico pulls him around the corner and into a small, secluded alleyway, hidden away from the glaring streetlights.

"Ni—" but Nico doesn't let him finish, tugging him in by the lapels of his jacket and taking claim of his mouth once more. There's no stilted shock to it, Will immediately meets him with a matched fierceness. Too much tongue and teeth knocking together, but what's lacked in finesse is made up in sheer passion and Nico is obsessed with it.

Soon enough, his back hits the brick wall with a painful thud, the rough texture of it no doubt scuffing his leather but he pays no heed to it. All he acknowledges is the hand the curls around his waist – it's presence heavy and electrifying – while the other arm coming up to rest behind him, cushioning his head from the unforgiving brick that has Nico subtly biting Will's bottom lip in silent gratitude.

There's a line of kisses trailing against his jaw as he lets his eyes flutter shut to revel in the sensation.

"You have no idea what you do to me..." Will whispers against the shell of his ear, teeth grazing against his earlobe in a way that has Nico shivering. "How hard it is to control myself around you."

"Then don't," Nico tells him before sliding his fingers into blond hair and dragging him back in.

There's no more talking after that, no sounds besides the pleased growl that Nico swallows eagerly and the rhythmic dripping of a distant, leaky water pipe.

His mind is vacant, but if he could spare a thought it'd be that he could stay right here for the rest of his days quite happily. Deep in this dark, damp, and dingy alleyway so long as he can forever share these forbidden kisses with this werewolf he ought to be fearing. Not riding waves of euphoria with as his knuckles turn bone white the tighter they wind into soft curls or exhaling shuddering sighs as he rolls his hips against a sturdy thigh wedged between his legs.

"Fuck," he breathes out, breaking the kiss only to tilt his head back and pant to the night sky above them, his clothed erection strained and painful in his jeans but he still grinds against Will as if his body has a mind of its on. Just desperate for any kind of friction. Any kind of relief.

A soft breath on his neck and the softest drag of teeth against his mark hits him with a wave of déjà vu. He welcomes it – his blood singing as he's brought back to those memories from only the night before – and moans brokenly at its sensitivity.

He doesn't know how or when it happens, but his jacket is hanging by his elbows and Will tugs down the collar of his shirt, taking advantage of all the newly exposed skin to leave a long path of marks and kisses across. His bites rough and unrelenting, yet he still takes special care to avoid the not quite healed claw marks his beta had previously left.

Nico's lost in the heat, in the sparks of arousal flaring up and down his spine and pooling in his gut as his hips grind increasingly insistent to the point he can't even think. That siren of warning that has lived in his mind for as long as he can remember finally diminished to an almost silent white noise that he barely has the capacity to pay heed to.

However that doesn't mean that his reflexes all shut down too. For one moment he's bodily rocking with his mate in a newly found rhythm like the push and pull of crashing tides, and the next Nico runs off complete instinct as he roughly shoves Will off and out of the way, tackling him onto the filthy concrete.

Not even a splint second later, a sharp crack resonates off the alley walls.

Nico frantically looks up to find an arrow, unmistakably crafted with care and it's silver arrowhead embedded between the shattered bricks. Had they not jumped, it would've been lodged between Will's shoulder blade and make for a gory sight.

"What the fuck was that?" Will exclaims, but Nico pays him no mind as he pushes himself off the ground and thumbs at the delicately designed metal fletching, the engravement upon it only confirming his suspicions.

In his peripheral, he catches a blur of movement but it's gone just as quick as he caught it.

"Fuck," he mutters.

There are not a lot of beings that can shoot with that sort of deadly accuracy, between mythics and mortals alike.

"Nico, are you—?" the wolf begins with a charged urgency, but suddenly cuts himself off as his gaze lands on the very engravement Nico's glaring at.

Nico's fangs elongate before he even realises it. His claws out and ready for a fight that's surely about to come.

Subconsciously, he picks up on Will's low, threatening growl rumbling in the silent air.

"It's them, isn't it?" Will grits out.

"It's them," Nico confirms, then spits with as much venom as he can muster. "Hunters."