It started raining as Gideon left the Hartwright family home, where he'd spent his whole life, and started on a new path. But he didn't slow down. Even when the tears started to fall, mingling with the rain streaming down his face, he kept on walking.

He had to.

By the time he reached the London pub where Nicholas currently rented a room, his clothes were soaked through and his boots were heavy with mud. His breath puffed out on the cold air, and he couldn't stop shivering.

Nicholas was waiting outside for him, sheltering under the eaves from the rain, like he had always known that things would happen this way. Like he'd always known that this was the day Gideon left it all behind.

He took off his coat and put it around Gideon's shoulders, taking him inside without a word.

The room that Nicholas rented was simple: a bed and washstand, a heavy trunk for clothes, a fire in the grate. The curtains were drawn, which was curious, considering it was still daylight outside.

"Here," Nicholas said, handing him a rough-spun woollen blanket. "You need to get out of those wet clothes."

He left Gideon alone while he changed, and Gideon was grateful. Less than an hour ago, he'd wanted Nicholas to take off his clothes but now he was cold, wet, and so very tired. He dried himself off with the blanket, and dressed in the clothes that Nicholas had left folded on the bed for him.

They fitted a little too snugly – Gideon was bigger than Nicholas – but they were better than nothing.

Nicholas knocked on the door. "Are you dressed?"

"Yes."

Nicholas came back into the room, and stopped a short distance away, clasping his hands behind his back. "I think we have a lot to talk about."

"I'm not going home," Gideon told him. "Ever. That part of my life is over now."

It occurred to him that he had no idea what he'd do next. Nicholas had often suggested that Gideon come here to his room, so they could be private, but that didn't mean he was willing to put a roof over Gideon's head for anything longer than the time they'd spend in bed together.

Maybe Gideon hadn't thought this through, but it was too late now. He honestly thought he'd rather die than go home.

Nicholas slowly nodded. He didn't look surprised. "Let's get you something to eat," he said.

Downstairs in the main room, where a big open fire burned, and men sat around it, smoking their pipes, Nicholas bought a plate of beef and potatoes and a mug of home-brewed ale, and slid them across the table at Gideon.

"You'll feel better after this," he said.

"You didn't have to pay for it," Gideon muttered.

Nicholas gave him a gentle look. "Do you have any money?"

He didn't, Gideon realised. He'd left home with nothing but the clothes on his back. He had nothing, and that filled him with sudden panic.

"No, but –"

"I have plenty of money, Gideon. The least I can do is make sure you're fed."

This was news to Gideon. Since Nicholas only rented that one small room, he'd always assumed Nicholas didn't have much money. Then again, Nicholas's clothes were always tailored and fitting in with the latest fashions, and he could afford to take coaches to and from London when he came to visit Gideon.

"I don't understand. If you have money why do you live here? Why not buy a house of your own?" Gideon asked, attacking the plate of food.

Nicholas smiled, but it was sad. "Tell me what happened with your brother," he said.

Gideon told him.

Nicholas listened quietly.

"For so long I've been afraid of the future I thought would be forced on me. I've always known I'm expected to take a wife and have children with her, and I can't do that. Do you know that feeling of being so trapped, of knowing there's nothing in your life but a bleak future that you don't want?"

"I know exactly how that feels," Nicholas said.

It was starting to occur to Gideon that there was an awful lot that he didn't know about Nicholas Smith. Over the five months they'd spent together, he'd started to feel like he knew Nicholas better than anyone, but that wasn't quite true. There were things Nicholas hadn't told him, things he was still keeping back.

"You're not eating," he noticed, and nudged the plate at the other man.

"I'm not hungry."

"You're not drinking either."

Nicholas gave a faint smile. "I'm not thirsty."

There was more to it than that, Gideon was sure, but he didn't push.

"Why did you come here, Gideon?" Nicholas asked, and Gideon almost choked on his beer.

Nicholas didn't sound disappointed, but there was a definite note of caution in his voice. He'd done nothing but take care of Gideon since he arrived, but maybe that was simply softening the blow for when he told Gideon that he couldn't stay.

"Because I want to leave my old life behind, no matter what it takes. Maybe I should have left years ago, but I never could find the courage, and I didn't want to leave Godric. Now I know there's no reason to stay," Gideon said.

Nicholas rested his elbows on the table, hands clasped together in front of his mouth. His eyes were unfathomable. "Would you take an entirely new life if you could?"

"Yes," Gideon said.

"What if I could give you that?"

Gideon frowned. "I'm not sure I understand."

"I can give you an escape, Gideon, an escape from everything you've ever known. I can give you the ultimate gift, and all you have to do is say yes."

Gideon still didn't understand what Nicholas was saying. He didn't understand why Nicholas was looking at him like that, with eyes that suddenly seemed too old for his face. But he did know that he trusted Nicholas. He'd left everything behind for this man, and if they could start some new life together, he'd gladly accept whatever Nicholas was offering.

"Yes," he whispered.

Nicholas's eyes flared with something Gideon couldn't identify, then he pushed the mug of beer towards Gideon.

"Finish your drink, quickly," he said.

"Why?"

"Because it's the last one you'll have."

That suited Gideon – he wasn't in the mood to get drunk, anyway. He drained the last of the beer and pushed away the empty plate.

"Come with me," Nicholas said.

He led Gideon back to his small room, and locked the door behind them.

"It's so dark in here. Why don't you draw the curtains?" Gideon asked.

Nicholas stood by the bed. He was very still, and as shadows from fire flickered over his face, Gideon again thought he saw something red glinting in Nicholas's eyes.

"Come here," Nicholas said.

Gideon went willingly.

"Tell me again that you will accept this gift," Nicholas said, running his fingers through Gideon's rain-rumpled hair.

"Yes," Gideon whispered.

That was when Nicholas bit him.

It happened too fast for Gideon to react.

One moment Nicholas was standing in front of him, the next he'd grabbed Gideon's shoulders and buried his face in Gideon's neck. Something sharp pierced his skin, and a cry of pain tore from his throat before Nicholas slapped a hand over his mouth, silencing him.

Fire raced beneath his skin, hot and painful, and he felt an awful tugging sensation on his veins, as if Nicholas was . . . as if he was drinking Gideon's blood.

Desperately, Gideon tried to fight him off. He was bigger than Nicholas – it should have been easy. But Nicholas was impossibly strong. Trying to fight him off was like trying to move a mountain.

Please . . . he wanted to beg, but Nicholas's hand was still over his mouth, so tight he almost couldn't breathe.

The room spun around him and his knees buckled as his strength flowed away. Dark spots flashed in his eyes, and still Nicholas drank, relentless, his mouth pulling hard on Gideon's throat. He'd used to like kissing Gideon there. Now he was killing him.

Tears burned Gideon's eyes as his legs finally gave out, and Nicholas lowered him onto the bed, still drinking. The room was nothing but a hazy blur now, colours bleeding together, dark at the edges.

When Nicholas finally pulled back, Gideon couldn't even lift his head. Beads of his own blood dotted Nicholas's lips, as red as his eyes. They were red. Gideon had never imagined it.

Nicholas was . . . Gideon didn't know. But he wasn't human.

Gideon had trusted him. Nicholas had given him the strength to walk away from the life he'd always known – he'd gladly given it all up for the chance to be with this man, the one who'd made him feel so alive.

Had that all been a lie, too?

First Godric, now Nicholas.

Maybe it was better to die here than to keep facing betrayals from the people he loved.

Nicholas's thumb glided across Gideon's face, wiping away tears.

He raised his wrist to his own mouth and bit down, and Gideon tried to climb off the bed and run for the door, but his body wouldn't move – he'd lost too much blood.

Nicholas pressed his wrist to Gideon's mouth, and something warm and coppery slid down his throat. He gagged and tried again to pull away, but Nicholas put his hand on Gideon's forehead, keeping him still.

When he finally pulled his wrist away, Gideon could still taste blood on his lips. Nicholas wiped it away with a gentle hand.

Gideon felt like he was floating, like he was untethered from the world, and darkness was rushing up to meet him.

"What's happening?" he slurred, fighting to stay awake.

"You're dying," Nicholas told him.

It was what he'd expected, but he didn't want to go. He didn't want to die at the hands of the man that he loved. His eyelids fluttered, and he forced them to stay open, but the darkness continued to rise, beckoning to him. He wasn't strong enough to stay.

The world faded out as his eyes finally closed.

Vaguely he felt the coolness of Nicholas's lips against his forehead. "It's alright, Gideon. I'll be here when you wake up. I'll take care of you."

How can you take care of me if I'm dead? Gideon wondered, and then he slid down, down, down into the darkness.

His heart beat once more, and then went still.

Part 2/5