Plymouth, 1855

A sea breeze rolled in from the English Channel, carrying the tang of salt and wildness, mingled with the thicker smell of pitch from the dockyards, and Gideon Hartwright paused, tipping his head back as that breeze tangled invisible fingers in his blond hair.

Six months ago, he had arrived in the port city of Plymouth.

He'd debated returning to London – it was easy for a vampire to disappear among such a crowded population, and nine years had passed since he'd fled the city after his vampire abilities had been revealed to the group of toshers that he'd worked with in the sewers. That should have been enough time for those toshers to forget what they'd seen – assuming they were even still alive.

But London wasn't the only busy city. There were other places where a vampire could blend in with the human population, places that Gideon hadn't yet visited.

He hadn't ended up in Plymouth for any particular reason. He'd simply drifted into the city one day, taken a job as a dockworker because it could be done by night and because it made good use of his vampire strength.

And then he'd met Howard.

Like Gideon, Howard was a dockworker, though he worked by day rather than night, which didn't always give them as much time together as Gideon might have liked. By the time Howard finished work, they usually only had a couple of hours before it was time for Gideon to start.

So they had to make good use of the time that they had.

Gideon quickened his pace as he headed for the docks, pausing before crossing the road as a horse-drawn bus trundled past.

Dusk had fallen, painting the sky in shades of grey and black and purple, and the gas streetlights cast soft pools of light into the streets. The city really was beautiful, if you could overlook the extreme overcrowding, and the cholera outbreaks that had killed thousands in the last couple of decades.

Howard was just leaving when Gideon arrived at the docks. He grinned, wiping pitch-sticky hands on his trousers, and Gideon had to restrain himself from grabbing the other man and kissing him. That still wasn't something he could do in public. Maybe he never would.

"How was your day?" Gideon asked.

Howard shrugged. "Same as normal. I've got pitch on my hands and my back hurts, but I'm sure you can make that better." His mouth curled into a slow grin.

They started walking and Gideon was careful to keep a certain distance between them, so no one suspected they were anything more than friends. He didn't know if anyone would really pay that close attention to them, but he was always acutely aware that while he was confident that he could escape anyone who tried to arrest him, Howard didn't have vampire abilities. Gideon was more concerned about his lover's safety than he was about his own.

"Are you sure Alma doesn't mind us using her house?" he asked.

Howard's older sister had her own house a mile or so from the docks, a rare occurrence in Plymouth where overcrowding meant that most houses were home to up to ten people. She held down a steady job at a nearby pub, and though she normally made some extra money by renting out rooms to lodgers, there were usually two or three hours each evening during which no one was home. Which was very convenient for Howard and Gideon, because it meant they had somewhere to be alone.

"We can trust her," Howard said, which wasn't what Gideon had asked, and yet it was what had actually been on his mind.

Alma knew about the relationship between them. Apparently she'd always known that Howard preferred the company of men, and unlike most people in Gideon's experience, she supported her brother. Even to the point of allowing him to use her home so he could have some time alone with his secret lover.

Howard trusted her implicitly, which made Gideon suspect that they'd had this arrangement with other men in Howard's life. If that was the case, then Alma had proved that she could keep her mouth shut. But Gideon was still nervous. The upside of living in a busy city meant a large population into which a vampire could easily disappear. It meant a constant supply of fresh blood. It meant job opportunities. The downside was that there were far more people around to notice him and Howard disappearing into Alma's house whenever she was away.

As they drew nearer to the house, Howard started walking faster, eagerness gleaming in his eyes, and Gideon hurried to keep up.

After the disaster of his relationship – if it could even be called that – with Patrick Abbott, Howard was just what Gideon needed. He was enthusiastic without being demanding, and he respected Gideon's wants and needs in a way that Patrick never had.

As soon as the front door closed behind him, he was kissing Gideon, guiding him through the kitchen and towards the stairs that led up to the bedrooms. As they stumbled into the small room, pulling eagerly at each other's clothes, Howard laughing as he almost tripped over his own trousers, Gideon felt a great swell of warmth in his chest.

He wasn't in love with Howard – yet – but this was more than just sex. He had stayed in Plymouth because Howard was here. Four months they'd been together, and in many ways things were still new for them, considering the shortage of time they actually had in between shifts at the docks, but Gideon really felt like he could have a future with this man.

Howard pushed him onto the bed, his breathing ragged as he ran his hand down Gideon's bare chest, down the space between his hips and then lower, and Gideon closed his eyes.

One thing he had learned with Howard was that he needed to be careful in a way he never had before. Vampires' eyes flared red when they were angry or hungry or sexually excited, and Gideon hadn't had to worry about that with Nicholas, as he'd also been a vampire, and he hadn't had to worry about it with Patrick, because he'd never been able to look at Patrick during sex. But with Howard, who sometimes enjoyed things face to face, it was a bit more difficult.

He kept his eyes closed as Howard stroked him, kept them closed as Howard rolled him over, as he heard the faint noise of Howard sliding on a condom, and only opened them again when he was sure Howard couldn't see his face.

Maybe with time he'd get better control of this aspect of his vampire physiology. Or maybe he'd one day tell Howard what he really was, and then he'd never have to worry about it hiding anything again.

Then Howard was carefully slipping inside, and Gideon couldn't think about anything else.

Afterwards, Gideon lay on the bed, pretending to breathe heavily, his eyes still closed until he could be sure they weren't red anymore.

"I've been thinking about that all day," Howard said, flopping down beside him.

"Me too."

Usually, if they curled up together after sex, Gideon would put his head on Howard's chest, just in case his eyes weren't fully human yet, but this time Howard was the one who rolled over so he could cuddle against Gideon, letting out a relaxed sigh as he draped an arm over Gideon's chest.

Gideon didn't think anything of it, not even when Howard raised his head and gave him an odd look. He lay down again, head on Gideon's chest, but he felt tenser than he had a moment ago.

"What's wrong?" Gideon asked.

Howard said nothing, but his breathing was getting faster, and not in a good way.

Then he jerked away from Gideon, scrambling back on the bed to put space between them. His eyes were wild.

"Howard?" Gideon sat up, moving slowly so as not to startle him.

"What are you?"

"What?"

Howard pointed a shaking hand at him. "Your heart . . . your heart doesn't beat."

Gideon's blood turned to ice. He'd let Howard rest his head on his chest. He could pretend to breathe and seem human in that respect, but he could never pretend that his heart still beat. He'd been so careful to hide his eyes and his fangs all these months, and now he'd made the stupidest of mistakes. He'd been so caught up in the post-sex bliss that his guard had slipped.

He reached out to Howard, but Howard leaped out of bed and backed away. "What are you?" he said again.

"I . . ." Gideon's mind went blank. There was no possible way he could explain not having a heartbeat.

Maybe it was time for the truth.

"Will you give me a chance to explain?" he tried.

Howard skirted around the bed, like Gideon was a wild animal, and grabbed his clothes from the floor. "Stay away from me," he warned.

"Please, Howard, just listen –"

Howard paused in the doorway, still clutching his clothes in a bundle against his chest, like a shield, and Gideon's hopes lifted. If Howard was prepared to listen then he had a chance to salvage this.

But he'd misunderstood.

"I don't know what you are, but you're not human. You're not right," Howard snapped, and Gideon's hopes shattered.

Howard backed out of the room, not taking his eyes off Gideon until the door swung shut, blocking him from view.

Gideon couldn't move.

For the longest time he sat there, while the warmth of Howard's body faded from the bed, then a sharp bolt of fear cut through the numbness.

Where had Howard gone?

To tell others what he had seen?

To bring them to Alma's door, where Gideon still was?

He tried to think clearly.

Logically, Howard couldn't tell anyone how he knew that Gideon had no heartbeat – he wasn't about to admit that he'd put his head on Gideon's chest when they were lying in bed together. But if he told the people of the city that Gideon was not human, if he whipped up fear and anger, then maybe no one would stop to ask how he knew.

Gideon couldn't risk it.

He'd thought earlier that he'd be able to escape anyone who tried to arrest him, but now he realised he'd rather not wait around for someone to come after him.

He'd rather just . . . go.

Once again it was time to pack up his few possessions and move on.

But it was harder this time.

When he'd left the Abbott farm, it had been with a sense of relief because of how things had ended with Patrick. This was very different. Earlier that evening he'd thought about the possibility of a real future with Howard, and in one moment of carelessness, all that had come crashing down. It didn't matter that he wasn't properly in love with Howard yet. It had felt as something was really beginning between then, something bright with hope and possibility.

All over now.

There was a chance that Howard was just in shock and that, when he'd had time to calm down, he might come back. He might be willing to listen.

But Gideon couldn't take that risk.

He had to leave Plymouth, and he had to leave tonight.