The Night Owl glowed like a beacon in the darkness, its neon sign casting blue and purple shadows across the rain-slicked street. Noah unlocked the door, acutely aware of Elias following behind him.

  "Home sweet home," Noah said, flipping on the lights. "At least eight hours a day."

  Elias stepped inside, his gaze sweeping across the diner with undisguised curiosity. Noah tried to see it through the vampire's eyes: the worn but clean booths, vintage chrome fixtures, and walls decorated with an eclectic mix of supernatural artwork and nostalgic Americana.

  "It's... charming," Elias said finally.

  Noah ughed. "That's vampire-speak for 'tacky but tolerable,' right?"

  A hint of a smile touched Elias's lips. "I meant what I said. It has character."

  "Thanks. Built it from scratch five years ago." Noah moved behind the counter, the familiar routine calming his inexplicable nerves. "Coffee?"

  "Please." Elias slid onto a stool at the counter, looking strangely right there despite his formal attire. "You said you were disowned by your pack for opening this pce?"

  Noah busied himself with the coffee maker, buying time before answering. "Yeah. The Northern Pack—Marcus and his crew—they're traditionalists. Believe we should stick to our own kind." He shrugged. "I disagreed."

  "Yet they still patronize your establishment."

  "Food trumps prejudice, apparently." Noah pced a steaming mug before Elias. "They like to check up on me. Make sure I haven't forgotten what I am."

  Elias wrapped long, elegant fingers around the mug. "And have you? Forgotten?"

  "Hard to forget when the full moon comes around." Noah leaned against the counter. "But I'm more than just a werewolf. That's what they don't get."

  "Identity is... complex," Elias agreed, studying Noah over the rim of his cup. "Especially for those of us who live outside normal human parameters."

  Something in his tone made Noah look closer. "How long have you been a vampire?"

  "Two hundred and thirty-seven years." Elias said it matter-of-factly. "I was turned in 1788, during the early days of the French Revolution. I was twenty-nine."

  Noah whistled. "That's a lot of history to witness."

  "Some I'd rather forget." Elias sipped his coffee, expression thoughtful. "This is excellent, by the way."

  "Special blend. Roast it myself." Noah hesitated, then added, "I've got some AB negative in the back fridge. For vampire customers."

  Elias raised an eyebrow. "You keep blood on hand?"

  "Like I said—I serve everyone." Noah shrugged. "Don't worry, it's all ethically sourced. Medical surplus, donated."

  "I'm fine with coffee for now." Elias's gaze was appraising. "You continue to surprise me, Noah Parker."

  Something warm unfurled in Noah's chest at the way Elias said his name. "Good surprises, I hope?"

  Before Elias could answer, the door chimed. Lena entered, looking between them with unveiled curiosity.

  "Boss. Thought you weren't opening for another hour?" Her gaze settled on Elias, recognition dawning. "Oh. You must be the vampire roommate."

  "Elias Bckwood," he introduced himself with old-world formality.

  "Lena Wright." She gnced at Noah, eyes dancing with amusement. "You didn't mention he was so... distinguished."

  Noah felt heat rise to his face. "Lena's my head waitress. And apparently early for her shift."

  "The Council meeting ended sooner than expected." She hung up her coat. "Lots of chatter about you two, by the way. The vampire and werewolf dream team taking on the housing crisis."

  Elias frowned. "News travels quickly."

  "Supernatural telegraph." Lena winked. "More reliable than phones." She disappeared into the back, calling over her shoulder, "I'll start prep!"

  Noah rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry about that. She's... direct."

  "I don't mind directness." Elias studied him. "In fact, I find it refreshing."

  There was something in his voice that made Noah's pulse quicken. Their eyes met across the counter, and for a moment, Noah forgot everything—the diner, the Council, the complicated history between their kinds. There was just Elias, with his ancient eyes and the faintest hint of warmth beneath his composed exterior.

  The moment stretched, electric with possibility.

  Then the kitchen door swung open as Lena returned, and the spell broke. Noah cleared his throat, turning away to check the coffee maker with unnecessary attention.

  "I should help with opening," he said, voice rougher than he intended. "Feel free to, uh, look around. Make yourself comfortable."

  Elias nodded, taking his coffee and moving to a window booth. Noah busied himself with opening tasks, hyperaware of the vampire's presence even as he worked.

  By the time they opened, the diner was buzzing with its usual energy. Noah had worried Elias might feel out of pce, but the vampire surprised him by settling in with quiet dignity, observing the diverse clientele with genuine interest.

  Throughout the evening, Noah found his gaze repeatedly drawn to Elias. The way he listened intently to a young banshee's enthusiastic expnation of her college thesis. His polite but firm rebuff when an overly friendly nymph tried to join him. The unexpected gentleness when he helped an elderly werewolf who dropped her cane.

  When the rush finally slowed around midnight, Noah slid into the booth across from Elias with two ptes.

  "You don't have to feed me," Elias said, eyeing the food with skepticism.

  "It's a diner. Feeding people is what we do." Noah pushed one pte closer. "Blood pancakes. Special recipe for our vampire customers. The syrup is infused with AB negative."

  Elias looked genuinely surprised. "You cook vampire food?"

  "Like I said, I serve everyone." Noah cut into his own regur pancakes. "Try it. I want your honest opinion."

  After a moment's hesitation, Elias took a small, careful bite. His eyes widened slightly.

  "This is... quite good." He sounded almost accusatory, as if Noah had pyed a trick on him.

  Noah grinned. "Don't sound so shocked. I told you I was a decent cook."

  "You did." Elias took another bite, more enthusiastic this time. "The bance of fvors is impressive. Most attempts at vampire cuisine are... disappointing."

  "Spent three months getting the recipe right. Had a lot of picky vampire taste-testers."

  They ate in companionable silence for a while, the diner's ambient noise wrapping around them like a comfortable bnket. Noah watched Elias rex incrementally, his usual rigid posture softening.

  "Thank you," Elias said suddenly.

  "For the pancakes?"

  "For insisting I come. I've lived in this city for decades, but I've kept to myself. Watched the supernatural community from a distance." He gestured to the bustling diner. "This is... nice."

  The simple admission felt monumental coming from Elias. Noah fought the urge to reach across the table and take his hand.

  "You're welcome here anytime," he said instead. "Roommate privileges."

  Elias smiled—a real smile that transformed his face, making him look younger, almost human. "I might take you up on that."

  The rest of the night passed in a blur of customers, conversations, and stolen gnces. By closing time, Noah was exhausted but oddly energized. As they walked home in the pre-dawn stillness, the city quiet around them, he felt a strange contentment.

  "The full moon is next week," he said as they approached their building.

  Elias gnced at him. "Yes, I'm aware. Do you need... accommodations?"

  Noah shook his head. "I've got it under control. There's a nature preserve outside the city where I usually go. Safe, secluded." He hesitated. "Just wanted you to know I'll be gone overnight. So you don't worry."

  "I wouldn't worry," Elias said automatically, then after a pause: "But thank you for telling me."

  They climbed the stairs to their apartment in silence, but it was a different kind of silence than before—comfortable, almost companionable.

  At the door, Elias fumbled with the keys, a rare moment of clumsiness from the usually graceful vampire. Their hands brushed, Elias's cool skin against Noah's warmth, and both froze at the contact.

  Noah looked up, finding Elias's eyes on him, dark and unreadable. The hallway suddenly felt too small, the air between them charged with something Noah couldn't—or wouldn't—name.

  "Elias—" he began.

  The elevator down the hall dinged, breaking the moment. Noah stepped back as their elderly neighbor Mrs. Finch emerged, her tiny dog yapping at the sight of them.

  "Morning, Mrs. Finch," Noah called, voice surprisingly steady.

  She waved, eyeing them curiously as Elias finally got the door open. They slipped inside, the tension following them like a third presence.

  "I should—" Elias gestured vaguely toward his room.

  "Yeah, me too. Early shift tomorrow." Noah rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks for coming to the diner."

  Elias nodded, hesitating as if wanting to say more. Then, with a small shake of his head, he retreated to his room, closing the door softly behind him.

  Noah stood in the hallway, heart hammering against his ribs. What was happening to him? This was temporary—three months of forced cohabitation with a creature who was supposed to be his natural enemy.

  So why did he feel this pull? This inexplicable connection to someone so different from him?

  And more troublingly: what would happen when their time was up?

  The full moon rose heavy and bright over the city skyline. Noah felt it in his bones, in the prickling of his skin, in the sharpening of his senses. He paced the apartment, restless energy building as sunset approached.

  Elias watched him from the kitchen doorway, a mug of something that definitely wasn't coffee in his hand. "You seem... agitated."

  "Full moon jitters." Noah rolled his shoulders, trying to dispel the tension. "Like having an electrical current under your skin."

  "Is it painful? The transformation?"

  Noah paused, surprised by the genuine concern in Elias's voice. "Not anymore. When I was younger, yes. Now it's more... intense pressure. Like your body's too small, then suddenly it isn't."

  Elias nodded thoughtfully. "Fascinating. The vampire transition is quite different. A single moment of excruciating pain, then... nothing. Just hunger."

  "Sounds rough." Noah checked his watch. "I should head out soon. Beat traffic to the preserve."

  "Of course." Elias hesitated. "Do you... require anything? Assistance of any kind?"

  The offer caught Noah off guard. "I'm good. Been doing this alone for years."

  "Alone?" Elias frowned. "I thought werewolves preferred company during transformations. Pack instinct."

  "Usually, yeah." Noah busied himself packing a small bag—spare clothes, water, protein bars. "But like I said, no pack."

  "Because of the diner?"

  "Partly." Noah zipped the bag with unnecessary force. "Also, because I wouldn't agree to an arranged mating. Pack traditions and all that."

  Elias's eyebrows rose. "I didn't realize werewolf packs still practiced such things."

  "The Northern Pack does. Very big on bloodlines and continuing the 'pure' werewolf heritage." Noah's ugh held no humor. "Ironic, since we're basically mutts to begin with."

  "So you chose independence."

  "Freedom," Noah corrected. "To live my life how I want. Love who I want."

  Something flickered in Elias's expression. "Admirable."

  The word hung between them, weighted with meaning Noah couldn't quite interpret. He shouldered his bag, suddenly eager to be away from the intensity of Elias's gaze.

  "I'll be back tomorrow morning," he said, moving toward the door. "Don't wait up."

  "Noah." Elias's voice stopped him. "Be careful."

  The simple words, the genuine concern behind them, made Noah's chest tighten. "Always am."

  The door closed behind him, and Noah took a deep breath of the cool evening air, trying to clear his head. What was wrong with him? He'd never been this distracted before a full moon.

  He knew the answer, of course. It had been growing inside him for weeks now, impossible to ignore. This strange, unexpected connection to a vampire who, by all natural ws, should repel him.

  Instead, he found himself drawn to Elias—his quiet dignity, his unexpected kindness, the brief glimpses of warmth beneath his cool exterior. It was dangerous, potentially disastrous.

  And yet, as Noah drove toward the nature preserve, the moon rising higher in the sky, he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

  The transformation took him under the light of the full moon, his human form giving way to the wolf in a rush of stretching muscles and sharpening senses. The pain was brief, familiar—then exhiration as he ran through the woods, everything sharper, clearer in this form.

  But even with the wolf's simpler consciousness, thoughts of Elias lingered. The vampire's scent had become familiar, comforting even. Against all instinct, against centuries of ingrained enmity, Noah's wolf had accepted Elias as... what? Pack? No. Something else. Something his wolf brain couldn't quite comprehend but his human heart recognized.

  Hours ter, exhausted from running, Noah circled a familiar clearing and froze. A scent caught his attention—unfamiliar werewolves. Many of them. And something else, something that made his hackles rise. Blood. Fear.

  He followed the scent cautiously, every sense alert. In a small ravine, he found its source: a campsite, destroyed. Tents shredded, supplies scattered. Blood spttered the leaves, but no bodies—they'd been taken or had fled.

  Something glinted in the moonlight. Noah approached carefully, nosing aside torn fabric to reveal a pendant—a silver crescent moon entwined with a thorny rose. The symbol of the Rose Thorns, a radical anti-human group rumored to be gaining strength among younger supernatural beings.

  Noah growled low in his throat. This was bad. If the Rose Thorns were moving from rhetoric to violence, it would damage the already fragile peace between supernaturals and humans.

  He committed the scene to memory, unable to investigate further in wolf form. Tomorrow, he'd report it to the Council—and to Elias. Something told him the vampire's centuries of experience might shed light on what was happening.

  As dawn approached, Noah returned to his starting point, the transformation reversing as the moon set. Human again, aching and exhausted, he pulled on his spare clothes and checked his phone.

  Three missed calls from an unknown number. One text message: Urgent. Contact Victoria at the Council. Your roommate is missing.

  Cold fear gripped Noah's heart. Elias. Missing. The words didn't make sense together.

  He dialed Victoria's number with shaking fingers, dread building with each ring.

  "Mr. Parker." Her ancient voice betrayed no emotion. "I see you've received my message."

  "What happened? Where's Elias?" Noah demanded, already heading for his car.

  "That's what we're trying to determine. He missed our appointment to deliver the evidence. When our representative arrived at your apartment, there were signs of a struggle." A pause. "And a message, Mr. Parker. For you."

  Noah's blood ran cold. "What message?"

  "'Blood traitors pay the price.'" Victoria's voice hardened. "It seems your unconventional living arrangement has attracted unwelcome attention."

  Noah thought of the destroyed campsite, the Rose Thorn pendant. "I think I might know who's responsible. I found something in the preserve tonight."

  "Come to the Council chambers immediately," Victoria ordered. "And Mr. Parker? Bring anything of Elias's that might contain his scent. We're assembling a search party."

  The call ended, leaving Noah standing in the dawn light, fear and fury warring within him. Somewhere out there, Elias was in danger—because of their friendship, because they'd dared to bridge the ancient divide between their kinds.

  The wolf inside him howled with protective rage. Elias might not be pack in the traditional sense, but he was... important. More important than Noah had let himself admit.

  "Hang on, Elias," he murmured, starting the car. "I'm coming."