Brother Blood

Chapter 33: temper temper

Aidan was much slower running back, not that I wanted to say anything. The sun came up and I was mercifully unaffected. And for the first time in a while, content. Werewolf blood was more satiating than even human; I wondered why vampires didn't pursue that option for frequently. Sure, Aidan could order me about, but I could walk in the sun and not want to kill everything on sight.

It was mid-morning by the time we arrived at the farm. Aidan shifted back, patting his hair down futilely. He was pale and his eyes had dark shadows under them, even though he had slept most of the night.

"How do you feel?" he asked me.

"Fine," I replied. "For now."

"I was thinking on the way here. I would wager you'll have to contend with the werewolf temper," he said. "I think Keith and I have nearly killed each other a dozen times over the years, mostly over stupid things. Having Ralph and Mel so calm helps us, but I don't think it'll help you."

"Any pointers?" I asked.

"Just walk away if you get upset, even if it's stupid," he recommended. "You're faster than the others, and I know you don't want to hurt them." He took my hand and squeezed it. "We'll be fine."

I wasn't so confident. Aidan was putting a lot of faith in me; I hadn't been fully in control even with Conor's blood. It was ridiculous to think today could go well. Mel met us at the door, Katie and Brian carrying laundry downstairs behind her.

"I thought you'd be gone longer," she remarked. "I assume that Aidan's blood works based on the time of day, though maybe you shouldn't have drained him quite so dry."

She gestured for us to come inside and headed to the kitchen to heat up a plate for Aidan. He took it gratefully as I pulled out some orange juice and poured him a glass.

"I did save back one mug of coffee," she told us. "Keith was going to drink it all."

"Jerk," Aidan laughed. "Grant, do you want it?"

"Only if you don't," I replied.

Mel handed me the mug to heat up in the microwave and we watched Aidan wolf down the plate of sausage and potatoes. He gave Mel an apologetic grin.

"I promise to have better manners at lunch," he said. "So what can we do?"

"Grant can help me with that lunch while you go take a nap," she replied. "Sleep in Conor's room if you want, but you stumbled across the threshold and I'm not letting you near heavy machinery."

"Mel, I'm fine," he complained.

"You can lie to yourself all you'd like, I'm not so easily fooled," she retorted. "Go on now."

He grumbled some more but finally headed downstairs when Mel didn't budge. We began pulling out bowls and ingredients for fried chicken once he was gone.

"Thank you," I said.

"You need to be careful with him," she told me. "I know you wouldn't hurt him on purpose, or I would have never let you back into the house. But Aidan's the problem child between the two of you. He's reckless."

"I know," I snorted. "He tests my limits constantly. I am doing the best I can, but I only have so much self-control."

"I don't remember you having this issue with Conor," she remarked as she cracked the eggs into the bowl.

I measured the flour and cornmeal before stirring in the spices.

"Conor was never so physically close," I said. "I can feel Aidan's pulse through his fingers, hear his heartbeat in his chest. It's like dangling a steak in front of a wolf, and I can only resist so long."