The 2nd Rule Of Blood

Lake’s POV:

I thought this was what I was looking for. Attending a college house party was on my list of things to experience.

This place was exactly what I’d imagined when I was in my hospital bed. But, then again, if being here was the thing I wanted, why wasn’t I… happier?

I planted myself on the couch near a group of jocks slamming shots. I stared out the window. Rain pelted the glass. I was a solitary island at the edge of the unruly young men. It all kept coming at me—bumping music, the press of bodies, people laughing like they didn’t carry entire histories of awkward silence around inside them. Why did everything about college feel like I’d walked into a play halfway through and everyone else already knew their lines?

I shifted in my seat. Spencer’s house smelled of stale beer, sweat, and something sour that had died in the carpet weeks earlier. Laughter ricocheted off the walls, tangled with the pounding music. It all pressed into my skull like someone tightening a vise. I felt a pang of homesickness. The resort had been quiet. Clean. The ocean breathing softly beyond the balconies, the hallways smelling of citrus polish instead of dirty feet. This place was the opposite of that. Too loud. Too crowded. Too…

Human.

Sighing, I stared down at my red plastic cup with lukewarm beer. When I was in the hospital, I compiled a list of things I figured I’d missed while I was sick. Things like learning to ride a bike or doing my own laundry. As the years went on, my list morphed into everything I wanted to do, like being kissed passionately in the rain, having a sleepover with a pillow fight, and learning to hotwire a car. And so… yeah, I was supposed to want to be here, but since starting at the university, I’d found that I hated the taste of beer, the noise, and, to top it all off, human interactions. Since I’d left Branson’s side, everything felt… off.

I rose from the damp cushion and scanned the group cheering for some little dude doing a keg stand. Everyone’s voices pressed into my skull. Every laugh sounded like it was hurled straight at me. The simple answer smacked me in the face.

Just leave.

My roommate, Hayden, had dragged me out into the rain and to this party, promising fun. For Hayden and his girlfriend, maybe. For me, not so much. I should tell my roommate I was going back to our place. Hayden probably wouldn’t even notice I was gone. I set my beer next to my umbrella on the scarred coffee table. Then I glanced around, looking for my friend.

“Want another beer?” Hayden’s voice had me spotting my roommate weaving toward me, cheeks flushed, eyes glossy. Drunk. Or nearly there.

I hadn’t gotten drunk yet. Not sure I could do it unless I felt safe with someone. I’d not met that someone yet… except Bran. Yeah, the vampire wasn’t the type to help me get so loaded I’d throw up.

“Hayden!” Mandy’s voice cut across the room like a whipcrack. Hayden’s girlfriend called from near a dartboard, curls bouncing, already holding up a pair of darts and waving them like tiny flags. “Come on!”

Hayden bolted before I could answer the beer question. I should just walk out. Our house was close to here. It was only two blocks from Spencer’s place, three blocks from campus. Everyone told me how lucky I was to land a spot like that. I wasn’t so sure. Dorm life might’ve been easier, might’ve forced me into a swirl of the full college experience. But Sonny, ever the powerful Vivum-Vampire, had insisted on a house, claiming I needed quiet to study. I suspected the truth. The Dux Fortis wanted to keep me, an Ostium, from ever running into Malum-vampires again.

I couldn’t argue that. I didn’t want to meet Malums ever again, either. Also, Sonny might’ve been right. I could use a little silence. I’d wanted the full college experience, begged for it before agreeing to the Ostium baby-making arrangement, but nights like this made me wonder if I’d chosen wrong. I never fit in. My awkwardness clung like wet clothes, no matter how hard I tried to shake it off.

Maybe I should return to the resort. Really, I wanted to return to Branson. Ah, frick, I missed Bran. With my Vivum, the world was quieter somehow, like someone had lowered the volume on reality. I could laugh with him. Breathe with him.

With Bran, I was safe.

A high-pitched giggle caught my attention. The sound punctuated my thoughts. Everyone I’d met so far made college life look easy. They slipped into flirting, laughing, and falling into friendships like stepping into the warm light of the sun. For someone who’d grown up in and out of hospitals and homeschool isolation, this was like trying to read a language without knowing the alphabet. Every word I spoke came out ratchet, and every attempt tangled in embarrassment. My anxiety snarled inside me like a chained dog, pulling hard enough to choke.

If only I could relax…

I scooted around the couch, ready to go, and then paused. Talk about relaxed. I wished I had that. My attention snagged on a blond guy leaning against the wall like gravity treated him better than everyone else. One hand hung loose around a plastic cup. Completely unbothered.

For a moment, the rest of the room blurred into nothing. I envied guys like this. Confident. Sexy. Handsome.

Relaxed.

The stranger had thick blond hair that looked like it had never seen a comb yet somehow made him look effortlessly hot. This was the kind of guy who raked his fingers through his hair, flashed a smile, and walked away, leaving everyone stunned. His nose was straight, his jaw sharp, his cheekbones carved to perfection like God had entered a sculpting contest and won.

And worse, this stranger had presence.

I felt that charisma in my blood. That quiet vibration was all around him. Relaxed self-assurance, steady and smooth, as if the party bent around him instead of the other way around. Something in my blood stirred. A whisper beneath my ribs, like a harp string plucked by an unseen hand. Branson’s voice echoed in my head. The first rule of blood is to listen when it speaks. The second is to trust what it says.

My blood said that blond was safe, calm, and nonjudgmental. This young man could make everything quiet down and smooth away the rough edges of the world. My pulse quickened as I studied the stranger. Those lips. That smile. That bright tan skin over well-developed muscles. The blond wasn’t overly tall. He was shorter than me, but there was an easy strength in his compact frame. I could imagine being pinned to the floor and kissed like it was the only thing that mattered. Heat flared at the base of my cock. I hadn’t thought about sex, not really, since leaving Branson’s side.

Then the young man’s green eyes flicked to me.

I jerked back as if burned. My knee knocked into the corner of the coffee table. I’d been caught staring. I ducked my head, locking my eyes on the dartboard near Hayden. My pulse thundered. Did the guy think I was creeping on him? Probably.

Time to go.

I spun on my heel and started toward the exit. My sneakers squeaked as I threaded through the press of bodies, head down, shoulders tight. I reached the door that was crowded with two men teasing some pouty woman in a tiny tank top. I gathered myself enough to ask them to move, and then a thought hit me.

My umbrella.

I muttered curse words under my breath before I spun back toward where I’d been sitting. Groaning, I forced myself through the crowd. Elbows, drinks, perfume—yuck. I tried to shrink, invisible, but eyes seemed to follow. Judging. Always judging. Like when I was at the Vivum-vampire beach resort, though there, the stares felt more like worship. Either way, I never really relaxed in any setting.

I never really found what I wanted.

I reached the couch where I’d been only to find it occupied. A cluster of college-age girls in sweaters and miniskirts drank and laughed from my spot. I hesitated, sliding on the wet floor, arms flapping for balance. And now I was extra. They probably thought I was drunk. Their eyes landed on me, pinning me in place. Panic surged. I stumbled and kicked the coffee table. A beer cup rocked and then tipped on the floor next to the girl’s shoes.

Her scowl said loads.

“I’m looking for my umbrella,” I mumbled, voice fighting against the rock music.

“That’s a new one.” One girl smirked.

My cheeks burned. Did they think I was hitting on them? I thought fast.

“I’m gay,” I blurted, like that somehow solved everything.

They blinked.

“TMI.” The pink sweater girl shook her head slowly.

Was that too much info? I’d been known to overshare when my anxiety spiked, but I thought I’d gotten better at not talking so much. Ah, frick, what did I know?

“You don’t dress like you’re gay.” Another, sipping her beer, eyed my t-shirt.

I blinked. Was there supposed to be a uniform? I guessed I’d missed that meeting.

“You look poor,” a third chimed, pushing up from her seat. She tossed her long hair over her shoulder and sauntered off to beer pong.

“Umbrella,” I tried again. I just wanted to get out of here and go back to my bedroom. Could I live in my bedroom forever? Probably couldn’t pass my classes from under my blankets.

I scanned the old couch, the cluttered coffee table, and the floor. Empty. My umbrella was gone. Sure. Because apparently the universe liked reminding me that I was terrible at existing in public.

I exhaled hard, resigned. It was just an umbrella. I understood that, but still, it was my protection against the wet, cold night. Now it was gone. I wasn’t sure why I expected more from my waste of an outing. In fact, I wasn’t sure why I expected so much from college in general.

I turned back toward the exit. I threaded through the crush. Whatever. I would just leave.

Then I froze.

The sexy blond stranger stood by the door.

Ah, frick, the man looked even more painfully perfect now that I was up close. One shoulder was propped against the window next to the door, late autumn rain glinting behind him like silver threads. Balanced in the center of his palm was my umbrella.

Air lodged in my chest. Someone bumped into me from behind, shoving me forward. I muttered an apology and found myself moving closer, pulled as if on a string. I wanted to be near whoever he was.

The overhead light near the exit caught the man’s face, shadows sharpening his features, green eyes gleaming. His whole being radiated calm, effortless charm, the kind of relaxation that made my blood sing with reckless trust. I wanted to gamble on this man. I wanted to follow him even if he didn’t know where we would go.

“You forgot to take this with you.”

The man’s grin was wicked and warm all at once. His green eyes twinkled as if this stranger were a magical water sprite. My lips opened in a soft exhale.

“My umbrella?” I reached for it, my fingers brushing the stranger’s hand. The brief contact sent a pulse of lust through me, bright as lightning, enough to banish the chill of the rain outside.

“Not that.”

That dazzling smile hit me like sunlight.

“What did I forget to take with me?” I asked.

“Me.”