Adrian woke to the smell of incense and the soft glow of dawn filtering through paper screens.
For a moment, he didn't remember where he was. Then it all came rushing back—vampires, blood, Kieran's storm-gray eyes looking at him like he was the answer to a prayer spoken a thousand years ago.
He sat up, muscles aching from sleeping on the floor, and found Kieran exactly where he'd been when Adrian had fallen asleep: sitting cross-legged a few feet away, perfectly still, watching the sunrise through the monastery windows.
"Do you ever sleep?" Adrian asked, his voice rough.
"Not really," Kieran said without turning. "I can, if I want to. But I've had a thousand years to sleep. I'd rather spend my time doing other things now that you're here."
Adrian's heart did something complicated in his chest. "That's... intense."
"I'm aware." Kieran finally looked at him, and there was something vulnerable in his expression. "I'm sorry. I know this is overwhelming. You didn't ask for any of this—the vampires, the danger, me and my obsessive waiting. If you want, once Viktor is dealt with, I can arrange for you to have a normal life. Protection from a distance. You'd never have to see me again."
"Is that what you want?" Adrian found himself asking.
"No," Kieran said immediately, his voice raw. "God, no. I want to be selfish. I want to keep you close, relearn everything about you, watch you smile and hear you laugh and just... exist in the same space as you. But what I want doesn't matter if it's not what you want."
Adrian stood, walking over to where Kieran sat. The vampire looked up at him, and in the morning light, he looked almost human. Almost vulnerable.
"I had a dream last night," Adrian said softly. "About a river, and two boys swimming. One of them was teaching the other how to float on his back. They were laughing, and the sun was so bright it hurt to look at, but the boy with dark hair—he looked right at me, and he said..." Adrian's voice broke. "He said, 'I'll always find you. Even if it takes forever.'"
Kieran's breath hitched. "That was the last thing I said to you. Before we were caught. Before everything ended."
"It wasn't a dream, was it? It was a memory."
"Yes."
Adrian sank down beside Kieran, their shoulders almost touching. "Show me more. Tell me more. I need to understand what we were."
Kieran closed his eyes. "Then I'll take you back. To the beginning."
FLASHBACK - 1,025 Years Ago
The village of Yùnmèng, Summer
Ten-year-old Kieran sat under the willow tree at the edge of his father's estate, watching the village children play in the distance. They were laughing, chasing each other through the wheat fields, free in a way Kieran would never be.
"Why are you sitting alone?"
Kieran jumped. Standing in front of him was a boy he'd never seen before—smaller than Kieran, with bright brown eyes and mud on his cheek.
"I'm not supposed to play with village children," Kieran said, repeating what his father had told him a hundred times. "I'm the lord's son."
The boy tilted his head. "That's stupid. Everyone should have friends." He held out his hand. "I'm Elias. My uncle is the blacksmith. Do you know how to climb trees?"
Kieran stared at the offered hand. "No."
"Really? That's sad. I'll teach you!" Elias grabbed Kieran's hand without waiting for permission and pulled him to his feet. "Come on! There's a perfect one by the river!"
And just like that, Kieran's carefully ordered world tilted on its axis.
The tree was tall, with thick branches that looked easy to climb. Elias scrambled up it like a monkey, calling down encouragement.
"Just grab that branch! It's easy!"
It was not easy.
Kieran made it three branches up before his foot slipped. He fell, landing hard on his left arm. The pain was immediate and intense, and he couldn't help the cry that escaped him.
Elias was down the tree in seconds, his face pale. "Oh no, oh no, oh no—I'm so sorry! Can you move it?"
Kieran tried and whimpered. Definitely broken.
"Okay, okay, don't worry!" Despite being smaller, Elias managed to get Kieran to his feet and slung the older boy's good arm over his shoulder. "I'll get you home. I'm so sorry. This is my fault."
By the time they reached the manor, Kieran's father had already been alerted. He stood at the entrance, his face thunderous.
"What happened?" Lord Ashford demanded.
"I fell—" Kieran started.
"I dared him to climb higher," Elias interrupted, stepping forward. "It's my fault, my lord. I should be punished, not him."
Kieran's father looked at Elias with cold disdain. "The blacksmith's nephew. Yes, you will be punished. Twenty lashes should teach you to respect your betters."
"Father, no—" Kieran protested.
"Silence." His father grabbed Elias by the collar. "You'll learn not to lead my son into danger."
As the guards dragged Elias away, the younger boy looked back at Kieran and smiled. Actually smiled.
That night, after the physician had set Kieran's arm and his father had lectured him about the importance of maintaining distance from commoners, Kieran couldn't sleep. He kept thinking about that smile, about how Elias had taken the blame without hesitation.
The next morning, there was a knock on Kieran's window.
Elias sat on the ledge outside, his back obviously paining him, but grinning like he hadn't just been whipped.
"Ready for lesson two?" he asked. "I'll teach you properly this time. Promise."
Kieran stared at him, then found himself smiling back.
"Okay."