"Kill me."

He sounded hoarse after not talking for days. The only reply in the dark room was the hum of the oscillating fan on the dresser near the door, blowing cool air around the room, and the soft purring of the furry form that snuggled close to his chest. 

He wasn't sure how to deal with animals of the furry variety. The last thing he wanted was to be clawed. But he thought Micio and he were getting along well.

They were probably soulmates, actually.

He had never felt this close of a connection to anyone. He had let Micio inside after the cat had scratched at the window above his bed. Micio must have balanced on the porch railing and jumped onto the sill.

He had decided to give all his love to Micio. It was so much easier. No more Rowan, with her kissable lips and beautiful laugh. No more Lucas, with his overwhelming presence and rough touch. No more Kenneth confusing his mind into a muddled mess.

He shifted away from Micio to lie on his stomach. He didn't chase the friction of the mattress. That would be totally counterproductive. It would thwart what he was trying to attain by locking himself in here. 

He was just trying to get comfortable, and it took a pillow between his legs and a few thrusts of his hips to get there.

He was going insane. On top of the emotional anguish that made getting out of bed a distant dream, he was impossibly horny. He'd been like this ever since their bond broke. He knew the moment it did and died right alongside Kenneth.

Kiernan held him for hours while he sobbed. He'd been half-mad from the mental pain of the bond's absence and half from the fear that Kenneth was truly dead.

Then Kenneth's pulse returned.

Reid had gone mad for a whole other reason. Their bond was broken. Kenneth was free of him. Reid should have been happy that they wouldn't suffer its effects any longer. But, in truth, he was shaking at the thought. He wanted to march out of the bedroom and force Kenneth to retake his blood. He'd give the man an extended life. They would be together forever.

He didn't have the urge to chase Kenneth's blood like he did. But he still yearned for it, dreamed about it. But in retrospect, that could have been because he hadn't had any blood. Not since he drained Kenneth to death days earlier.

He had decided to stay in that bed and slowly starve. He couldn't face people like this. He couldn't control his thoughts, his body, or the voices. They sang twisted musings that only seemed to grow louder every day. He was a liability and a risk to everyone he loved.

He wouldn't consciously allow the dark whispers to take over. But unconsciously, he had never been great at controlling his impulses.

During his wallowing, he had heard Kenneth and Hannah reuniting. The beige wallpapered walls of this bedroom weren't thin. But he could pick up muffled conversations if he focused. 

When he'd heard Kenneth's voice, he couldn't help but listen. 

He'd hung on to every word. The urge to jump out of bed and run to the man was nearly overwhelming. But the whispers had him confined to this bed.

'They're yours', the whispers had said. 'Show them'.

That wasn't going to happen. Even if the thought has him groaning into the pillow.

He felt so alone. It's absurd, but he felt as if he had been abandoned.

He'd heard Lucas and Asha flirting earlier. Not like when Lucas treated him roughly; this was sweet and affectionate.

Lucas said he loved him that night on the deck, but the man never came to see him. Not that he wanted visitors, but... it hurt. He doesn't know how to wade through that pain in his heart. He has been choosing to ignore it while hoping it goes away.

He's been listening to Rowan and Presley, too. They are constantly whispering to each other and touching. The voices haven't been pleased. But he knew that he couldn't judge. He'd sit on Kenneth's lap if he didn't think the man would toss him across the room. 

He liked being close to people he cared about, in bed, in the shower... Okay, it's weird, but he enjoys feeling wanted.

He was aware that his fear of being left behind was probably from his shitty childhood. But understanding that didn't change the fact that he felt unwanted by everyone he loved.

He wanted to feel like he belonged. 

The last time he felt that was the night after he was turned, and he had slept in Kenneth's room.

He may be a greedy rogue. But he wouldn't be interested in belonging with Crystal involved. That woman terrified him. He was nearly certain that she had buried bodies. She gave an unsettling and detailed threat when Axel told her to stop stress-cooking.

He was being left behind. He messed up. Everything that was happening to him was his fault. He lost the companion bond. He'll lose everyone else now, too.

It was only a matter of time.

He had never been a vampire without their bond. It was as if all his yearning had extended to Kenneth. It had been stifled and grown slowly into the weird mess that had Kenneth nearly kissing him in that torture room. Now that his urges had no place to focus, he realized how pent-up he was.

He refused to fantasize about Rowan, not when his thoughts were depraved. He wouldn't sully her cuteness with his messed-up yearnings. He didn't like to think about Hannah that way, either. Even if his whispers didn't have the same boundaries.

He had contemplated texting Lucas to help him with a rough hand and a hot mouth.

It was a bad idea.

He knew that, but he had thought about it.

Micio meowed from where he had curled up in the warm spot Reid left when he shifted away. He would have to kick the cat out of the bedroom soon. He didn't want poor Micio to suffer from seeing what he was about to do in the name of sanity. He had been putting it off, but he needed to take care of the aching problem in his pants before he suffered actual damage.

'Lucas.'

"No," Reid growled. 

He pressed his face into his pillow and groaned, covering his ears with his palms. It did nothing because the whispers were in his head, but it made him feel less insane. At least it wasn't Hannah or Kenneth that the whispers wanted him to hunt hungrily.

The fan blew cool air, a balm to his sweaty skin. His palm slapped the cold wood of the nightstand as he found his cell phone. 

Turning his head, he laid the device on the mattress and squinted at the screen. The backlight blinded him after lingering in the dark for so long.

Panting, he was leaving a damp spot on the pillow.

He found Lucas's contact.

The voices sang happily. He was, for once, in agreement.

His heart leapt in his chest as he pressed the button to open a messaging chat.

The bedroom door clicked open.

He raised his head and looked over his shoulder. For a moment, he thought that he had put out a horny psychic signal or something and that Lucas had come to ravage him.

But it wasn't Lucas standing at the threshold; it was Kenneth. He was barefoot in track pants and a black t-shirt. His brown hair was a mess. He stepped inside.

Micio jumped off the bed with soft taps of his little paws, abandoning Reid to his fate.

Kenneth let the cat into the hallway. Then he closed the door. He approached the bed with an unreadable expression, quickening Reid's heart.

Reid slowly turned his cell phone's screen down and slid the device under his pillow. He blinked at Kenneth. The moonlight from the slit in the drapes of the window illuminated the man's handsome face. Reid was reminded of the last time they had seen each other.

The bloody bedroom. Alma. The agony when that knife was cutting into his back and the deep pain in his soul when he felt Kenneth dying. He truly believed that was their grisly end.

Reid should have been the first to say something and apologize, but he couldn't. His mouth was dry, and his throat felt too constricted to speak. 

Kenneth's breathing quickened.

And suddenly, the voices whispered, 'He's going to leave. There's no reason for him to stay, not when he's free of the bond."

His head ached, and he shoved his face against the pillow. 

They don't stop.

'Make him take your blood. He'll be better for it. You'll be saving him. Then, make sure he never fights again. He'll be safe, and you'll be together forever. That's what you've always wanted.'

He groaned. The pills were the only thing that quieted his mind when it was loud like this. He didn't have dark whispers back then. But he had felt the same weight on his chest, making it hard to breathe now.

He needed drugs.

Kenneth growled, "What the fuck did you say?"

Did he say that aloud?

Reid laughed into the pillow.

He was officially going insane.

He was unable to sleep for more than a few hours. He kept dreaming that he was back in that bedroom, falling unconscious only to wake up again in agony. And worst of all, he kept waking up gasping from horrible memories. Of Kenneth with Alma's fangs in his neck, dying slowly, then with a bloody wrist shoved against his mouth.

Reid was suffocating in his constant fear of the future now that Kenneth was free from him. His self-loathing kept reminding him that he deserved all this suffering.

And now, he was hating himself for a whole new reason. Kenneth's presence hadn't waned his arousal. Reid wished that it had. He was a complete and utter degenerate. 

He should be thrown into the woods and left there to hump trees and frighten the poor forest animals until he expires.

The bed dipped. Kenneth didn't touch him, but he was near. Reid could feel the man's warmth and hear his heart beating faster.

When Kenneth spoke, it was with a rough voice, "You'd better have said you needed a shower, not what I think I heard."

Reid didn't answer. 

The whispers in his mind sang for Kenneth to touch him.

He would die of embarrassment if Kenneth could read his thoughts. He was burning up, but not with a fever. 

If only.

A hand came to rest on his upper back. He made a noise into the pillow. He hadn't realized how much he needed Kenneth's comfort.

Kenneth murmured, "Look at me, idiot."

Taking a deep breath, Reid slowly obeyed. His tear-dampened pillow cushioned his cheek. He blinked up at Kenneth, who sat turned toward him with a knee bent on the mattress and his other leg slung over the edge of the bed.

Kenneth's eyes seemed impossibly green in the clinging darkness. "Talk to me."

"I'm...." Reid rasped. "I'm so sorry."

He hated that he couldn't feel the man anymore. They had breathed one breath together. Now, they were separate. He felt as if a part of himself died in that blood-covered room, and he'd carry the scar left on his heart forever.

Kenneth's chest rose more quickly.

"I'm such an idiot," Reid whispered. Please don't leave me.

With a shaky exhale, Kenneth put an arm around Reid's upper back and pulled him into a tight embrace.

The man was heavy. Kenneth's draped weight crushed Reid into the mattress. Reid didn't care. He would suffocate happily. He had his fingers in Kenneth's hair, and the man's familiar smell was blanketing him in comfort.

He could breathe for the first time in days.

Reid clung to Kenneth desperately, gasping as all the days of numbness broke. He felt so much despair that he choked. If Kenneth tried to pull away right now, Reid wouldn't let him.

Fingers slipped through Reid's hair. Kenneth's low, raspy voice whispered, "It's okay."

The voices quieted, subdued by Kenneth's presence. For the first time in days, everything was silent. Reid listened to the thuds of Kenneth's heart. They were alive. Somehow, they had escaped that nightmare of pain and torment.

Now, they were lying on a bed, embracing each other. He could hardly believe it was true.

The world fell away.

He tried to even his fast breaths and resist his tears but failed. He was a mess, but Kenneth was pridefully quiet, except for quick inhales and rapid rises of his chest.

'You didn't fail,' the dark whispers assured. 'The coin was revealed. The key to Shadow Peaks. Azrael's demise is worth all sacrifices.'

Reid thought angrily: Nothing is worth putting the people I love in danger.

'Better they wear your scars than his.'

A shiver of dark anticipation ran hot through his blood. The vivid fantasy of Azrael dying at his feet pathetically flashed through his mind. 

Then, the desire to bite into Kenneth's throat and quell the hunger hit him hard. He had been ignoring his want for blood. But his starvation these last few days came in a sudden rush, impossible to ignore.

"Reid," Kenneth whispered.

"Kenneth..."

Kenneth must have heard the shift in Reid's dark tone. The man moved away—not far, just enough to look into Reid's gaze. He took in the black pools of hunger that had taken over Reid's eyes, and frowned deeply.

"Hey, idiot," Kenneth prompted, his gaze flickering to Reid's neck cautiously. "Your eyes..." He swallowed, and the bob of his throat was captivating.

They wanted the same thing. Reid wouldn't let the man deny it like he always does.

Reid was shaking, and his voice was too when he whispered, "Bite me."