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1.

Trevor fucking hated the full moon. Being a werewolf was fine. Once he got used to it and over the whole stress-turning thing, he kind of enjoyed it. But the full moon was absolute shit. Usually Trevor managed to spend them at home, but he’d forgotten what night it was until he started transforming in the middle of downtown. And with everyone transformed, it was impossible to avoid members of the local frat/werewolf pack prowling around. They’d always thought of Trevor as an interloper, and had thoroughly expressed their displeasure upon finding him on their turf.

He’d won, of course. He was a Belmont; he knew how to fight monsters, even if he was a bit of a monster himself. But he wasn’t in good enough shape to risk running into more of the pack. The scar over his eye still itched from the transformation, and his souvenirs from the pack run-in stung like hell. Not that it mattered. Adrian was going to kill him. Or at least make him sleep on the couch.

Trevor shuffled behind the cover of a dumpster so that a particularly large gash down his foreleg lay in the moonlight. It had left him limping, but maybe it had closed up in the last few minutes. He poked the wound with his nose and immediately regretted it. A high-pitched whine erupted from his throat.

Across the street, a familiar pedestrian stopped in their tracks. Trevor glanced up. Short pale hair, pale skin, giant backpack, oversized blue hoodie…he definitely knew her, though he couldn’t quite place from where. “Hey,” she said, voice carrying easily through the otherwise-quiet side street, “are you okay?”

Trevor snorted. He was a wolf; what response did she expect?

“Rude.” Trevor cocked his head. Could she read his mind or something? He mentally replayed his more lurid memories, but got no reaction. While he tested this hypothesis, she darted across the street and squatted down in front of him. Her giant blue eyes got even wider as she took him in. “You’ve had a rough night, huh?”

Trevor perked up. Up close, he recognized Sypha; she and Adrian were working on some kind of research project. He had met her briefly as both a wolf and a human, but he didn’t know much about her besides her major (sociology, not public health like Adrian) and the fact that she had once called Adrian a manchild. Not in so many words, but close enough that Adrian had been grumpy about it.

She seemed sympathetic; he could work with that. Trevor gave his best puppy-dog eyes and inched forward. Sypha reached out to pet him and then hesitated, which was just untenable. Trevor pushed into her hand and was rewarded with ear scratches. Sypha grinned. “Let’s get you inside before your friends find you again.” She rose to her feet and Trevor followed suit. He staggered a little when he put weight on his injured leg, but he was already healing; he would be fine. “You can call me Sypha, by the way. I’ll have to figure out a name for you.”

As long as it wasn’t too ridiculous, Trevor was fine with that. He bumped his shoulder against her shin and she sunk her fingers briefly into his ruff.

Sypha’s apartment was only a few blocks away, in a neighborhood exclusively populated by university students. Trevor had lived there himself during his brief attempt at university. She led him up the stairs to a clean but cluttered one-bedroom: books were stacked on every curbside-rescue table and mismatched chair in the living room, and a giant collage of photos took up one wall.

“Try not to bleed too much on the rug,” she ordered, “and I’ll get something to clean those out.”

Trevor made a noise of protest. He usually healed too quickly to get infections, so he didn’t need anyone sticking stuff into his injuries, thanks.

Sypha raised an eyebrow. “Unless you’d rather I call animal control?”

Bossy asshole. Trevor settled on a bare batch of floor near the bright blue rug and waited while Sypha rifled through her cabinets.

She washed out the large gash on his leg as well as his collection of bite marks with a little help from Google and minimal list of stinging concoctions. Sypha talked as she worked, too—telling him about herself (Speaker, loved school but hated academia, missed her grandfather) and a few stories about her day. This wasn’t unusual in Trevor’s experience. People liked to talk to animals, and he’d played the part of sweet-but-hungry doggy enough to hear a lot. The way she spoke to him was unusual, though. She didn’t baby talk and rarely put words in his mouth; occasionally she’d pause as if waiting for a response.

Trevor decided he liked her, even if she was a bit weird.

Finally he was bandaged to Sypha’s satisfaction. “I’ve seen you around before, I think,” she said, biting at her lip. “You’re always waiting outside the library with Adrian…”

Oh hell yes. Trevor almost nodded in approval before remembering he was supposed to be a dog, and if dogs started acting too human, people either thought they were possessed or started posting videos to Twitter. Instead he wagged his tail.

“Want me to let him know you’re here?” Sypha asked, already reaching for her phone. Trevor pushed his nose into her hand and she obligingly scratched his head while she took a picture and sent it to Adrian. About two seconds later, her phone went off.

“You’ve got Trevor?” Adrian asked, skipping the greeting entirely.

Trevor rolled his eyes and caught Sypha doing the same. Then she paused, glanced at Trevor, and frowned. “Trevor like your boyfriend Trevor?”

“Exactly.” Trevor could hear him grinning over the phone, and rolled his eyes again.

Sypha’s thumb traced over Trevor’s scar and she abruptly let go of him. Hard to tell with wolf eyesight, but Trevor thought she was blushing. “I see the resemblance,” she said. “He’s at my apartment. Looked a little scratched up, but he should be fine.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes,” said Adrian, even though their house was a fifteen-minute drive away. Then he added primly, “And thank you for picking him up, Sypha.”

“No problem. He’s not bad company,” Sypha said.

Damn straight he wasn’t. Trevor leaned back into her hand.

 

2.

Did you know your mom would be here lmao

Adrian glanced at the message just as another text from Sypha popped on to his screen, but the light had turned green. He swore under his breath and hit the gas. No, he hadn’t known his mother would be stopping by; she hadn’t said anything to him. Hopefully his father wouldn’t be with her. Adrian liked seeing his parents, but while his mother still looked mostly human, his eight-foot-tall, grey-skinned, pointy-eared father was a little harder to explain. Usually Adrian said he never got over his goth phase.

When he pulled down the driveway, he saw Sypha and his mother standing by Sypha’s old purple Subaru. His mother waved at his approach, and Adrian honked the horn back. Sypha jumped and then gave him the finger as he pulled into the driveway.

He’d barely stepped out of the car before his mother was hugging him. “Hi, dear!”

“Hi, mother.” He pecked her on the cheek. She had barely been turned a year ago, and her cold skin still surprised him. “I didn’t know you were coming to Gresit.”

“Just passing through. I gave a lecture on stem cells in Targoviste yesterday, thought I’d treat you to dinner on my way back.” She nodded at Sypha, who was standing back, looking a little awkward. Adrian thought he recognized the look from Trevor; Sypha was an orphan, so maybe she didn’t know how to act around parents either. “Sypha here was just telling me about your project. Let me know if you need any ob/gyn advice.”

“I already told her it was beyond the scope of our project,” said Sypha, “but I do appreciate the offer. Oh, and here are your books.” She pulled open the back door and yanked out a stack of library books and textbooks so high she had to tuck them under her chin. Their paper right now was a relatively small-scale research project, looking at Speaker access to vaccinations in Gresit. It was nowhere near the scope either of them would need for their theses next year; they’d agreed this paper would be a test run to see if they could partner up to get data for their theses.

The books weren’t that heavy, but there were enough that even he found it awkward to maneuver them from her grip into his. Once they were fully in his grasp Sypha scowled and squeezed his bicep. “How are you this skinny and this strong?” she complained. “Cheater.”

Adrian laughed. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that sentiment. “Good genes, I suppose,” he said, smirking. Sypha stuck out her tongue.

“How’s Trevor doing, by the way?” Sypha asked.

Is he doing anything lately?” asked his mother dryly. She didn’t approve of their arrangement, never mind the fact that Adrian had plenty of money to burn; he might as well spend it on his boyfriend. Trevor was perpetually between jobs.

(Also—not that Adrian ever wanted to think about this—he could read between the lines. He had a pretty good idea of how his parents got together. He definitely knew it was related to Lisa’s total lack of medical school loans.)

“He’s recovered pretty well. Thanks for picking him up the other day—he’s got a knack for getting his arse kicked,” Adrian said, ignoring his mother.

Sypha snorted. “Yeah, I can tell.” She stretched her arms above her head and Adrian found himself following the motion. He frowned and forced his eyes back to her face. It didn’t really help much; she was too cute. Bisexuality was inconvenient sometimes. “I need to head back to campus. Bean There Thursday?”

“See you then,” Adrian confirmed. They always commandeered a corner table at the hole-in-the-wall coffee shop just off campus on Thursdays to go over their results.

“You can bring Trevor if you want,” Sypha offered.

Adrian tried to picture Trevor in wolf form in the middle of the cafe. “I don’t think management is that animal-friendly,” he said with a laugh. Sypha shot him a confused look; had she meant to talk about his boyfriend? Adrian supposed he had dug himself into this hole when he called wolf-Trevor by his actual name.

“Before you go, do you want my number?” his mother offered, already pulling up her phone contacts. “Adrian hates asking for my help, but—”

“I do not!” Adrian huffed. Sypha beamed and got out her phone.

 

3.

Trevor cracked open the coffee shop door and stuck his head in. It was crowded, of course, packed with students between classes; there weren’t that many people really, maybe twenty, but the shop was so small it didn’t really matter. He scanned the crowd for Adrian’s bright blond hair, but didn’t see him; maybe his lecture had run late.

Instead his eyes caught on a familiar redhead (orangehead?) tucked away in the corner. And the unfortunately familiar man looming over her.

Bishop was the leader of the frat werewolves. Trevor hated him, partly because he was just the biggest dick in the world, and partly because he actually called himself an alpha like they were in the fanfiction Adrian pretended he didn’t write. Back when he was still attempting to go to class Bishop had tried to talk him into joining the frat, and when that didn’t work tried to run him out of the city entirely.

Somehow Trevor doubted he had the most enlightened views on Speakers and/or women. The scowl on Sypha’s face confirmed it. Goddammit.

Trevor shouldered through the crowd toward Sypha’s corner. Bishop leaned forward, his arm coming down on the counter, effectively pinning Sypha in. And instead of doing the reasonable thing and backing down, she sat up straighter, drawing on every last inch of her height, to get up in Bishop’s face. Goddammit, where did Adrian find this girl?

Just as Trevor reached out to grab at Bishop’s shoulder—ready to swing if he had to—Sypha grabbed Bishop’s arm and squeezed. Bishop yelled and sprung back, leaving Trevor with his arm hanging in the air. “Hey,” he said lamely. “He bothering you?”

Sypha looked at him through narrowed eyes and then turned back to Bishop. “Not anymore.” Bishop scowled back at the woman he’d run into. Sypha must have grabbed him pretty hard; red marks circled his wrist below the collection of…were those WWJD bracelets?

“You,” he growled at Trevor. “Of course you’d know this—”

Sypha stuck out her hand in an odd gesture: the first two fingers pressed together and extended, the ring and pinkie forming a circle with her thumb. Did it mean something rude to Speakers? “Don’t finish that sentence.”

Bishop tried to keep his scowl steady, but Trevor saw him go white and then red. He raised his eyebrows as Bishop let out one last frustrated growl and shouldered his way out of the shop.

“Friend of yours?” Trevor managed as Bishop slammed the door shut. Then he sniffed the air, frowning. “…Does something smell burned to you?”

Sypha leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her coffee, hiding her smirk. Trevor felt his face warm. “Eh, you know how his type is.” She reached up to pat him on the head, and Trevor just resisted the urge to duck down for ear scratches. It would come off a lot weirder in this form. “Thank you for trying to help. But I fight my own battles.”

“Cool,” Trevor managed to choke out. “Adrian should be here soon, by the way.” Adrian. His boyfriend. Who he was very happily dating and living with, thanks, so he had no business getting crushes on pretty girls. Adrian was pretty enough on his own. Trevor yanked a chair out, looked at the line, and then put it back, legs squealing against the tile floor. Sypha frowned at him, which didn’t help at all. “I’m gonna go get some coffee. Want anything?”

She shook her head and stuck her leg onto the chair Trevor had just pulled out. “I’m good. I’ll save your seat, though.”

Trevor came back with the biggest caramel latte they would give him and slid onto his chair just as Adrian walked in the door. Trevor patted his legs as he approached, and Adrian decided to call his bluff. He kissed Trevor’s forehead and plopped down on his lap. “Hey, asshole, you’re late.”

“Those damn students keep asking me to teach them for some reason,” said Adrian, and wriggled. Trevor had to grab him around the waist so he didn’t fall off his lap, or worse, start floating. “We can’t actually sit like this the whole time, you know. Is that your phone in your pocket?”

“Nope.”

“Boys,” said Sypha. Trevor had to crane his neck past Adrian’s hair to see she was blushing again, looking out across the coffee shop instead of at them. “PDA.”

“If same-sex affection makes you uncomfortable, Sypha, that’s really something you need to work on,” said Adrian solemnly.

“It’s biphobic to suggest I’m homophobic,” Sypha deadpanned.

“But is it biphobic for you to call two bisexual men—”

“Oh my god you fucking nerds.” Trevor got to his feet, dumping Adrian on the ground, and leaned against the counter. “Adrian, you take my chair, I’ll just stand.”

Adrian smoothed down his floofy white shirt and took Trevor’s vacated chair. Which in hindsight might have been his plan all along. “You know, Trevor, if you’re uncomfortable talking about your identity…”

“Eat shit, I’m getting sugar-free syrup in your coffee,” Trevor said, and walked to the counter to the sound of Sypha’s giggles.

He never did figure out where the smell of burning skin had come from.

 

4.

Adrian leaned back in his chair, cracking his knuckles, and looked away from the glare of his laptop screen. It was nearly the end of the semester, so he and Sypha had spent the last week in the library poring over data sets and starting to draft their respective papers.

But it was also well after dark. Adrian’s eyes itched from staring at a screen for too long. He needed sleep, food, and blood, not necessarily in that order. Sypha looked about as bad off as he did. Adrian was pretty sure she’d been wearing the same hoodie for a week. She glanced over at him and they exchanged a look of deep understanding, and also sleepiness.

“How’s it going?” Sypha asked.

“I’ve been staring at one sentence for the last thirty minutes. You?”

“Changed the font four times.” Sypha leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes, letting out a small laugh. “Ugh. I think I need a break. What about you? Hungry? Thirsty? I can help, you know,” she added awkwardly, scratching at the back of her neck.

She had no idea. Adrian really did need to get a drink soon. Probably something from a blood bag before he bit Trevor, just in case. He had to tear his eyes away from the long line of her legs. (Necks were fine, but femoral arteries were more to his taste. Trevor alternated between finding this weird and sexy.) Adrian cleared his throat. “I can get Trevor to bring me something.”

“Doesn’t he get tired of being at your beck and call?” Sypha asked, arching an eyebrow, joking but also sounding worried on Trevor’s behalf.

“He’s a kept man. Gives him something to do,” Adrian explained. Sypha blinked. “Don’t feel too bad for him. He’s a trust fund baby as well, he just likes to mooch off mine.” Dracula—and by extension Adrian—was richer than God while the Belmonts had just been rich, so Trevor was at least not burning through his inheritance while he figured out what the fuck to do with his life. And Trevor was likely to drink himself into a stupor if he was left with nothing to do, but Adrian wasn’t going to air that particular bit of dirty laundry.

“Ugh,” said Sypha. She stared up at the ceiling for a long moment. Not like she was thinking very hard; more like she was trying to fall asleep with her eyes open. “I’m going to get my own food, then. And coffee. Maybe Red Bull.”

Adrian frowned. Sure, they’d spent all day together, but he didn’t really like the idea of her going off by herself while he called up Trevor. Especially since he could afford to throw around way more money than Sypha. “Why don’t we call it a night, and you come eat dinner with Trevor and me?”

Sypha hesitated. “I don’t want to intrude,” she said slowly. “We’ve been holed up together since Sunday.”

“You’re not intruding, I’m inviting. Besides, we like you.” And…well, he’d seen Trevor checking her out a couple of times, and Adrian felt less guilty about having a bit of a crush on Sypha if his boyfriend did too.

Blood rushed to Sypha’s face and Adrian ran his tongue over one of his canines. That was probably creepy, right? Trevor would say he was being creepy. Trevor would probably offer to let Adrian bite him afterwards though. He was great at mixed signals. “You do?” she squeaked, and Adrian narrowed his eyes. Sypha cleared her throat and smoothed down her hair where it had turned into a bird’s nest at the back. “I mean—sure. Dinner sounds great.”

“Good,” Adrian said, pulling out his phone. “Where do you want to go?”

They ended up meeting Trevor at Taco Bell, because where else were two grad students ready for death going to go. Sypha and Trevor ended up putting about three normal-person meals away, each. Adrian stayed quiet and watched.

Later in the car, Adrian sucked down a blood bag and slouched in his seat, drumming his fingertips against his laptop case. “How do you feel about asking Sypha out?” he asked.

The car accelerated an extra ten miles an hour before Trevor finished swearing and took his foot off the gas. Adrian tried to keep calm, but—well, this was a bit risky. He and Trevor hadn’t actually talked about opening up their relationship or anything. The closest they got was discussing fantasy threesomes. “What, like, me asking or you asking or just—us? Asking her out?”

Adrian wiggled his hand. “All of the above, I suppose.” He cleared his throat, feeling his face warm. “It’s fine if you’re uncomfortable, but…”

“She’s gorgeous and probably has a strap-on, yeah,” said Trevor. Adrian choked. Trevor shot him a sideways grin. “What, too much?”

“No, no, you’re probably right,” Adrian managed. That image would probably stay with him. He wasn’t sure whether it was a good or bad thing—he still had to work with her until they finished with the project. “That’s, uh. Hmm.”

Trevor slapped him affectionately on the back of the head. Adrian glared. “I’m on board if you are.”

“We should probably wait until after the end of the semester,” Adrian said reluctantly. “Just in case.”

“Ugh. That’s, what,” Trevor asked, “two weeks from now?”

Adrian nodded, relaxing a little and grinning to himself. “I suppose we’ll have to tell her what we are before we get too involved,” he added. “She’s going to notice that we don’t actually have a dog named Trevor.” Besides, the idea of lying to someone who he was trying to date rubbed him the wrong way.

“Hmm.” Trevor pulled a face. “Think she’ll freak out?”

Honestly, Adrian had no idea. She thought astrology was stupid, but she also believed in God enough to think he was a dick, so her tolerance for the supernatural lay somewhere between the two. “She’ll believe us if she has proof, I think,” he said slowly. “Besides that, who knows? I’ve never told anyone who didn’t already know.”

Trevor nodded sympathetically. Of course he’d grown up with hunters, so he didn’t have much of a frame of reference for normal people who encountered the supernatural either. “Let’s see how the date goes over first, yeah?”

Adrian leaned over to rest his forehead on Trevor’s shoulder. “Look at you, sounding smart.”

“Suck my dick,” Trevor snapped back. Adrian snorted. “…Okay, but—”

“Yeah, once we get home.”

 

5.

Trevor wasn’t sure if this counted as a date, but he was at least enjoying the show.

Apparently graduate students set loose from the prison of academia just really wanted to party. Before he or Adrian could manage to ask Sypha out on an actual date, Sypha had declared she was going to go on a bar crawl and then sleep for about a week, and invited the two of them along. Adrian had been mildly disapproving; he got touchy sometimes about Trevor and booze, but he knew how to not black out, thanks. Case in point: Sypha was way more sloshed than he was.

And oh, man, she could not dance.

The bar crawl had rapidly turned into a club crawl, and when some pop song had come over the speakers, Sypha had declared that it was her song and pushed her way through the dance floor. Trevor could see her from his spot against the wall, all elbows and head-tossing in her sparkly little crop-top.

“Wow,” said Adrian, wide-eyed, and took a swig from his fruity pink cocktail. (Trevor used to make fun of him about those, but after Adrian had thrown one in his face—before they were dating, mind—he’d learned they tasted a hell of a lot better than shots.) If Trevor didn’t know better, he’d think Adrian was turning a little pink himself.

“She’s adorable,” Trevor agreed.

Adrian finished off the cocktail and then hauled Trevor in by the collar, planting a messy kiss on his mouth. Trevor laughed—Adrian wasn’t usually so sloppy—and reached for Adrian’s hips, but before they could really get going Adrian pulled away. “I’m gonna go dance with her,” he declared.

“What?” But Adrian was already weaving his way through the crowd, coming up behind Sypha. She grinned when she saw him and pulled him in. Trevor grabbed another drink and settled in to watch. Unlike them, he knew his limits.

For the first song it was funny. They just seemed to be having a good time flailing around out there, sort of in sync, trying to imitate each other. Then the second song came on with its heavy bass and somehow sleazy beat, and they…changed. Sypha ground back against Adrian playfully at first, and then Adrian’s hand went lower and Sypha’s head tilted back and—

It was hard to be bad at this part of dancing, Trevor figured. His mouth felt dry so he tossed back the rest of his drink. Sypha’s eyes met his over the rim. She looked caught, stricken, and Adrian ducked down to mutter something in her ear.

Right. Trevor wasn’t just going to stand there and watch this. He elbowed his way to them, ignoring the resulting glares until he reached the square foot of dance floor where they were standing. Sypha shoved her sweaty hair out of her face and crossed her arms. “Trevor, I—”

“Room for three?” he asked, bouncing his eyebrows. It came out louder and more slurred than he’d expected. Apparently the cocktails were hitting.

A slow smile spread across Sypha’s face. “Yeah,” she managed. “Yeah.”

Trevor slid his arm past her to rest on Adrian’s hip. And it felt like the most natural thing in the world when Sypha leaned back and let Adrian kiss her. They kept at it for just long enough that Trevor started to feel awkward. Then Sypha broke away, grabbed Trevor by the collar (a good sign, he thought), and pulled him down. She threw her whole body into it, from her tongue against his to her arm around his neck to the slow roll of her hips to the beat and—yeah. “Home?” Trevor managed, a little dazed, and met Adrian’s eyes over Sypha’s head. He looked hungry in a way Trevor usually associated with fangs.

(Then again fangs usually also meant sex with them. So.)

They staggered out with Sypha’s arm around Trevor’s waist and her other hand holding Adrian’s. The hot night air made everything feel slow and syrupy, time blending together and then stretching out. They definitely made out against the side of the club, him and Sypha and Adrian, until their uber arrived (and who the hell got the uber? Definitely not Trevor). And Adrian definitely tried to keep everything PG-rated in the car, because he was a prude like that.

By the time Adrian boosted Sypha’s legs up around his waist Trevor was only vaguely aware of the need to lock the front door behind them. Sypha bit her lip, her hands tangled in Adrian’s hair as he left a trail of hickeys down her neck. “No biting,” she warned him, and Trevor laughed as they stumbled into the bedroom.

 

+1

Adrian woke to brown and strawberry blonde hair tickling his nose, and had to stare for a moment before he figured out where he was and what was happening. His head pounded too hard for him to think clearly. But eventually he realized that was Trevor’s face tucked into his neck and Trevor’s arm around his waist, and Sypha’s head on his chest and leg crossed over his.

It would have been nice, if the morning breath situation hadn’t been terrible, and if Adrian could feel anything but static coming from his arms.

Carefully he detangled himself enough to sit up and finger-comb his hair into some semblance of order. It helped to get the blood flowing back into his limbs. Sypha and Trevor made identical noises of protest, curling against Adrian’s legs, and he had to supress a snort. “Kittens,” he muttered to himself.

“Hmm?” Trevor asked, cracking one eye open.

Adrian shook his head and combed his fingers through Trevor’s hair. “Nothing. Breakfast?”

“Mmm. Don’t wanna move.”

“Coffee,” Adrian reminded him, and Trevor groaned but rolled off the bed. Adrian followed, passing Sypha a pillow to cling to.

They had hangover breakfasts down to a routine. Trevor got the bacon and coffee started while Adrian put bread in the toaster oven, then got down glasses and pain pills for Trevor. By the time Sypha stumbled in, the bacon was beginning to sizzle and they were reasonably recovered. Her hair was pointing in all directions instead of its usual slick-backed look, and sometime during the night before she’d managed to lose both her bra and her pants. Or maybe she just didn’t care. Adrian certainly didn’t mind.

Adrian pushed a glass of water, the bottle of ibuprofen, and toast over to Sypha. She stared uncomprehendingly for a moment. Then she tossed it back with remarkable speed and leaned back onto the counter.

“So,” she said slowly, “we all had sex, right?”

Adrian nodded and exchanged glances with Trevor. It felt a bit early for this talk, but they did sort of bring it upon themselves. “Is that a problem?”

“’Cause we were planning on asking you on, you know, an actual date before yesterday,” Trevor added.

Sypha smiled and leaned back some more until Adrian began to worry she would just slide to the floor. “Good. I just wanted to make sure. Ooh, coffee.” She made grabby hands at the beeping coffeemaker until Adrian handed her a mug, fixed the way he’d seen her do it after too many early-morning and late-night study sessions. She was the only one without magical healing; she deserved the first cup.

The thought actually reminded him of a talk they really needed to have. He glanced over at Trevor, who was turning over slices of bacon and swearing at the tiny, burning spatters of grease. Adrian busied himself with fixing Trevor’s coffee and then his own before he said, “If you want to try, um, dating us, there is something pretty important you should know.”

Sypha raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”

“Oh, we’re doing this?” asked Trevor, blinking rapidly as he caught up to the conversation. “I’m a werewolf, and he’s half-vampire.”

Sypha stared at him for a moment, big eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. She burst into laughter and just as suddenly brought her hand to her temples, wincing at her own loud noise. Adrian glanced back at Trevor, who shrugged. “That’s it?” she asked finally. “You think that’s a surprise? Shit, my head.”

“Well, my father is Dracula,” said Adrian carefully. Sypha only laughed harder. She had to put her cup down to clutch at her sides. “Sypha, are you—”

“Boys. I’ve known what you were since we met. And yes, I’d love to date you.” She took a few deep breaths, steadying herself against gales of laughter. What the hell, thought Adrian. “But first you should know something very important about me.”

Then she raised her hand and summoned a ball of fire.

“Holy shit, you’re a Speaker-Magician,” Trevor said.

“Yes, very good of you to notice,” Sypha said, and reached up to scratch behind his ears.