For the Bite of It

by Viki Lyn

  Like a randy teenager. Except John followed seconds later, his hips grinding into Vince. Stiffening, his shout was music to Vincent’s ears.

  John clutched t Vince close. Their breathing slowed, harsh pants giving way to softer breaths. Legs curled around each other’s waist, the heat between them cooling. John rocked Vince gently as he stirred back to reality.

  Vince started to pull back, sure his weight was crushing John. But John grunted a no, digging his fingers into Vince’s hair. Not letting him go, not letting him get a grip on what they had done.

  Vince looked down at their messy, splattered chests. “Amante, I’m going to get us a towel,” he murmured.

  John licked Vince’s earlobe in response. “In a minute,” Vince settled back against him, still bracing his hands on the couch on either side of John’s head. A feeling of calm, peace settled over him. He couldn’t think of a time recently he’d felt such harmony with someone.

  “We’re good together.”

  John rubbed a lazy hand over Vince’s back. “Yeah, the sex was great.”

  “It’s more than sex. Admit it.”

  “Let it be. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

  Vince could wait. He’d waited a lifetime, more than a human life-time actually, for this man to come along. For now, he’d savor the closeness, the warmth.

  * * * *

  John woke with the sound of voices coming from the kitchen. He’d fallen asleep on the sofa, his muscles paying for it now. He stretched like a cat trying to clear his head and make sense of what he was hearing.

  “Why are you here so late?” Vincent’s whisper carried.

  “Vin…”

  The woman’s voice faded and then John heard what seemed like a kiss. What the fuck? He peered over the sofa, careful not to be seen. A woman had her hand on Vincent’s shoulder, standing way too close. The single light above the sink cast a dim light on the two of them. From where he lay, John could see she was a striking woman, tall and commanding like Vincent. They had similar hair coloring, and she wore a robe of some sort. Where the hell did she come from?

  Jealousy seared across his chest, and he flopped back down.

  “I’m so happy you accepted the Jurisdictio’s offer.”

  “Fine, Sera, but you must go. Now.”

  A lighthearted laugh rang out. “I see you have someone here. You are not going to introduce me?”

  “Dio. Stubborn as ever. No, I am not.”

  “I will find out sooner or later who he is.”

  John shook his head. Her teasing reminded him of his sister, always butting into his life too. So was she a sister, or a friend?

  He listened, as the room grew quiet. Did she leave?

  Vincent rounded the sofa, carrying a blanket. “Oh, you’re awake, amante.”

  “Don’t…” John sat up and held out his hand to stop Vincent from approaching him. “Who’s the woman? I saw you two just now. Where is she?”

  Vincent leaned over him, his mouth set firm. “Ah, I’m being interrogated now in my own home?”

  “Who the hell stops in for a visit at this time of night?”

  Vincent laughed. “Yes, I see where you might be suspicious. She’s my sister. Serafina.”

  So he’d been correct about who she was. Her teasing tone had reminded him of Julie—the way she liked to rag on him—and she looked like Vincent, so he had to be telling the truth.

  Ah, shit, there he went again, not trusting Vincent completely. Would he ever give the man one hundred percent of his trust?

  John reached for his wristwatch on the carpet and lifted it up to read the time. “It’s three in the morning. Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, yes, she’s a night owl. She drops by at the oddest hours.”

  John glanced over by the kitchen. He never heard the front door slam shut. “She left? I didn’t hear her leave.”

  “Sera moves stealthily like a cat.” Vincent sat next to John and kissed him, “Enough about my sister. Now that you’re awake…”

  That grin caught at John’s heart. Damn. He wouldn’t be taken in by that grin. “I thought she lived in Italy? You never mentioned she lives here.”

  He had too many questions to ask. And what was the Juris-something? It sounded political. Was Vincent part of a political family? He never mentioned that. Come to think of it, he knew shit about the man’s past.

  Vincent wrapped the blanket around their shoulders, snuggling them into a tight embrace. He spoke softly, his accent thicker than usual. Vincent’s voice weaved around his heart and his head, and every part of him seemed to be boneless, relaxing. Vincent’s hands stroked his pecs, made small circles in the small of his back. Caressing, soothing hands.

  “Let’s talk of this in the morning.”

  John massaged his temple. Vincent was right. Why get angry over a sister’s visit. “You could have introduced us.” At least he’d get in the last parting shot.

  “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  Yes, he’d been asleep. Why was he getting all riled up? So what if Vincent’s sister wanted to visit him in the middle of the night? He dealt with Julie’s irritating habits all the time. “You’re right. We have better things to do.”

  John grabbed Vincent’s shoulder and brought him in for a kiss.

  Chapter Fourteen

  John swiveled in his office hair, his mind a million miles in space, floating and useless. Sex the other night with Vincent had reached a new level of intimacy. Emotions had developed, and that raised the stakes. Discovering his newfound feelings, he desired more than a fuck in bed. He massaged the back of his head, vaguely recalling their late night discussion about Vincent’s sister. Strange, that visit, but somehow once morning arrived it had slipped John’s mind to ask any more about it.

  His cell phone beeped. “John here.”

  “Oh, honey, did I catch you at a wrong time?”

  His mother’s voice sounded anything but apologetic. “No Mom, what’s up?”

  “Don’t forget dinner this Sunday.”

  His jaw tightened. “I never do.” So why call and remind him?

  “Well, I got off the phone with your sister.”

  Now what? Jules had a way of making trouble for him. “Yeah?”

  “She mentioned you have a special friend you’re seeing. Why don’t you bring her to dinner, dear? It’s the Italian girl, isn’t it?”

  Jesus, Mary and Joseph!

  He was so going to kill Julie. “Ah, well, you see, she’s busy on Sundays.”

  “Oh, you never told me what she does.”

  “Look Mom, I’m not serious about her, we’re just friends. You know Jules. She exaggerates when it comes to my love life.”

  He heard the disappointment in his mother’s deep sigh. Shit. He ran his hand over his hair and wished like anything that he could be the normal red-blooded American male of his parent’s dreams. But he wasn’t, and he liked men not women. One man actually. Dammit, he wouldn’t end the relationship because he feared disappointing his parents.

  Vincent was worth the risk of discovery, worth his trust, worth the lies he’d have to tell.

  “Sorry to disappoint you.” His words coming out harsher than he wanted, but damn Julie, he’d kill her.

  “Okay, but any friend of yours is always welcome in our home.”

  “Got to run now. Love you.” Too agitated to sit still, he rose from his chair. He took off down the hallway without a destination in mind. Taking the stairs, he entered the men’s locker room. Maybe he’d call it a day, stop by the bakery to indulge in a cupcake or more.

  An officer’s voice boomed in the near empty room. “That fairy touched me. I need to take a hot shower.”

  John’s heart froze at those words, as well as his feet. He ducked behind a locker unable to leave.

  Another familiar voice laughed. “Yeah, good thing you didn’t bend over in front of him. He’d have speared you with more than with his cane.”

  “Shit, that’s disgusting.
We should round them up.”

  “Shut your trap, O’Reilly or you’ll get slammed with a lawsuit. You never know who might be listening.”

  “Like I’m afraid of any faggot.”

  John’s ears burned, as did his throat. He recognized the voices of two of his buddies. They’d gone through training together, played basketball in the park, chased down beers at the local bar. Shit. What the hell was he thinking? He’d never be able to come out to them. And could he really be happy in a relationship if he had to hide like a dirty secret?

  Lightheaded, he hurried from the locker room. His heart pounded and he bumped several shoulders as he rushed out of the building. He sat in his jeep, his hands shaking as he stabbed the key in the ignition.

  Pulling out of the parking lot, he hated himself for what he was about to do.

  He sat in his jeep staring out the window, gathering the courage to break it off with Vincent. Taking a deep breath, he flung open the car door and slammed it behind him. He strode up to the house and rang the bell—once, twice, then three times.

  “Have you heard of patience?” the lyrical voice rang out as the door opened, revealing the slim, dark haired man John had seen in the parking lot getting out of Vincent’s convertible.

  A hand fluttered to the wavy curls in a feminine gesture that didn’t take away from his attractiveness. John couldn’t help but be fascinated with the man’s good looks, but what was with the tie-dyed t-shirt?

  “Oh, you must be the detective that has Vince tied up in knots. He’s all happy right now. Come in. Maybe then he’ll stop playing that god-awful music.”

  John brushed past the man and noticed the enticing smell emanating from him. An intriguing scent—spicy and exotic and alluring, similar to Vincent’s scent.

  He could hear a strange cacophony of music coming from inside the house. “So he’s here?”

  “Yes. My name is Angelo, and you are John, no? Follow me, Mr. Policeman.”

  John rolled his eyes and obediently followed the man through the foyer. Those pants were so tight he could see the rippling of butt cheeks. Nice and firm. Did Vincent admire this man’s ass, too?

  Jealousy flared in his gut, and he slowed his step taking a breath. Picturing Vincent rolling in the bed with this…this oddly attractive man, well…damn it. It didn’t sit well. Vincent had said Angelo was a friend.

  Jesus, he was losing it, and fast. They already had too many issues without adding jealousy into the mix. The bottom line was he didn’t trust his lover.

  He loosened his collar, easing the warmth, and concentrated on the music. There was a techno-beat in the background. Did Vincent have a whole band in there? A strange mix of hip-hop and jazz sounds followed, played on the…piano? John shook his head at the strange composition, and the Angelo shrugged.

  “As I said, that’s his happy music. Don’t you dare fight with him. Can you imagine what he’d play then?” asked Angelo with a visible shudder.

  John smiled despite the affectations of Vincent’s friend. A few steps behind Angelo, he stepped into what had to be Vincent’s bedroom. A sense of déjà vu came over him.

  This was the room from his dream, down to those odd framed photos on the wall, bleak, white and cold. Even the sun-room, through the glass doors now open to the baby grand, where Vincent now sat. How in holy hell could he have dreamed up Vincent’s bedroom when he’d never seen it before?

  But yes, he knew those wine-colored sheets, that Shaker headboard, that stucco wall. What was going on? Suddenly he needed answers. It had never been a matter of just breaking up with Vincent.

  “John?” Vincent glanced up and smiled. He stopped his playing and stood, reaching out his arms. He seemed taller, broader, sexier.

  Jesus Christ. He had it bad for this guy.

  “I want to know the truth about you. Right now, right here. No bullshit. No lies.”

  *

  Not this again. What had set John off now? The last time Vince had seen his lover was yesterday when they had kissed goodbye at the door, after an evening of incredible sex. Vince had only sent a mere suggestion of a thought at John—to let Sera’s visit go; accept there was nothing suspicious about her disappearing. Dio, between his desire not to interfere with John’s thinking and his need to keep his bloodlust under control, his temper wasn’t holding all that well.

  Vince glared at Angelo wanting privacy. But his friend gave him a limpid gaze and remained lounging in the doorway.

  “Angelo. Get out,” he growled.

  He could have tossed Angelo out with a wave of his hand now that he was whole again. Yeah, and what would the suspicious Detective Reeder make of that?

  He glared at Angelo, his fingers curling into a fist.

  “You guys are no fun anyway.” With a mock salute, Angelo sauntered past John and out the door, the provocative swaying of his hips doing nothing to ease Vince’s temper.

  John looked after Angelo, suspicion in his eyes.

  “Don’t start,” Vince’s voice was harsh with anger. “Angelo may be crazy but he’s one of my oldest friends. He is not, however, my lover and never has been.”

  “That isn’t what it looks like.”

  “Looks can be deceiving. You should know that in your line of work.”

  John shrugged. “So tell me the truth.”

  “Dio mio, I have. There is nothing other than friendship between us.”

  How could he still want to kiss this stubborn mule? There was no explaining this attraction, but for Vince, it flared hot and strong, since the first day John had walked into his bakery.

  “Okay, even if I bought that about your friend, you’re still keeping secrets.” John trailed a finger over its polished surface of the baby grand. “There’s a helluva lot not right about you or with this situation.”

  “And there is a helluva lot right about it. You and I made love. And you enjoyed it as far as I could tell.”

  John jerked as if the words Vince hurled at him had struck his body. That square jaw just got squarer, the jaw tight and a muscle ticked madly in his left cheek.

  “It’s all about sex with you, isn’t it?” John’s tone had taken on that flat quality it did when he was pulling back.

  Vince laughed. Or rather, he made a sound between a croak and a sob that was intended to be a laugh. “If it was just about sex, we wouldn’t be having this argument.”

  He raised his hand and crashed it down on the piano keys, the bass notes resonating in accompaniment to his words. “If it was just about sex, I wouldn’t care that you don’t trust me.”

  His fingers rammed the keys again. “If it was just about sex for you, you wouldn’t care about my so-called secrets.”

  Bass chords added their sonorous dirge to the one-sided conversation.

  John shouted. “Jesus! Stop.”

  Vince glanced up to find John with his hands over his ears. He shrugged and played a classic, lilting treble chord with his right hand.

  “Dammit, Vincent, you’re not helping the situation. I’m allowed to ask questions, aren’t I? Or is it your way or the highway?”

  The weight of John’s mistrust bowed Vince’s shoulders. He looked up from the black and white keys. “You’re right. Except I don’t know what the hell will help in this case.”

  “I’ve told you.” All the weariness Vince felt was echoed in John’s voice. “Tell me how you knew about my vacation. Tell me where you’re from. Tell me what you’re hiding. Why I know this bedroom down to the nth detail without ever being here?”

  Vince studied John’s expression. Behind the belligerent jut of his jaw was uncertainty. Vince knew that as surely as he knew he was gay. He thought fast. In all his years of living and he’d lived far longer than the average human, no one had affected him like John. For that alone, it might be worth a compromise. But dio what kind of compromise could he make? He couldn’t very well out who he was to John.

  One last swipe on the keys and Vince stood and stepped away from the piano, turning his back
on the man who had twisted his world inside out. “There are things I cannot tell you just yet. Can you trust that and see where things go with us?”

  “You won’t.” The flatness was back in John’s voice. “Fuck you, Esposito. At least you can’t say I didn’t try.”

  John’s heavy footsteps faded as he left the room, and vanished from his life. How long he stood without moving he didn’t know, rousing only when Angelo shimmered into view before him.

  “I thought I’d seen every idiotic side of you but this one takes the entire bakery not just the cake. Go and tell him the truth.”

  “And what would the J say if I revealed my existence to a human? And didn’t you berate me out the other day for even thinking of John and white picket fences in the same breath?”

  “Fuck them. They don’t have any right to dictate your behavior, not after the way they treated you.” Angelo shrugged his shoulders. “I can admit when I’m wrong, although it doesn’t happen often.”

  Vince raised one surprised brow. This was the first time Angelo admitted the J had been wrong. “Dissension in the ranks, amico?”

  “I wouldn’t be the friend you call me if I didn’t try to make you see how miserable you’ll be if you don’t go to him.”

  “It’s over. We had a few good times. It has to be enough.”

  Angelo shook his head in disbelief.

  “What? What do you want me to do? You heard him. He wants answers. Answers I cannot give him.”

  John was the best fucking thing that had ever happened to him in his godforsaken life. With John, he might have had a chance at happiness living among humans. Vampires mated for life. He never thought when he found his mate it would end so miserably.