Blood Claim

by Laura Baumbach, Angela Fiddler, Jet Mykles

  "Do I frustrate you?” Hunter rubbed his ass against the hot cock that branded his flesh from asshole to low back. A sultry, seductive smile teased his lips.

  The smile instantly vanished when Malcolm took his face between both his cupped hands and pulled Hunter to his chest, eyes filled with an intensity and heat unlike anything Hunter had ever seen.

  Hunter's heart jumped into his throat at the low, raw sound of Malcolm's rasping voice. The vampire whispered mere inches from his lips, eyes locked on Hunter's now serious expression.

  "Like no one has frustrated me in all of recorded time."

  Hunter was dragged down into a kiss that etched the word forever into his mind and his heart. It was rough and demanding, almost brutal in intensity. Hunter knew his lips would be bruised and swollen later. Without pause, the kiss suddenly gentled into a passionate embrace, full of desire and caring so tender, Hunter's eyes flashed open to make sure he was still kissing Malcolm.

  When it was done, Hunter panted heavily, body flooded with warmth, both emotional and physical. He touched his tongue to the tender corner of his mouth, enjoying what the tiny ache told him about his lover's feelings that Malcolm couldn't say out loud.

  Eyes ablaze with wonder and want, he ran a finger over Malcolm's parted mouth, pricking his fingertip on one barely extended fang. He slid the bleeding finger across Malcolm's lips, then into the vampire's mouth. He felt the groan from Malcolm's chest vibrate through his entire body. His cock jumped, and the heat at his ass grew thicker, the tip rubbing a sticky spot into his spine.

  "What do you say we see if we can make up for some of that unsatisfying recorded time of yours? We've got forever, right?"

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Wolfe's Recluse

  Jet Mykles

  The mere sound of his cell phone's ringtone shouldn't make him hard. It really shouldn't.

  But it did.

  Matt stared at the tiny little steel-gray rectangle that was one of his only conduits to life outside his apartment. The phone's outer screen winked brilliant neon blue at him, and the caller ID told him what he already knew. Wolfe was calling. Wolfe was the only one who ever called him anymore.

  Swallowing, forcing calm, and ignoring the boner, Matt reached for the phone and punched the button as he raised it to his ear. “Hey."

  "Hello, Matt.” Sultry, sexy voice. Did nothing to quell the monster in Matt's pants. “Are you done yet?"

  Matt clicked the speaker button on his phone and set the cell on the desk beside him. “Almost.” He focused on the application screens interspersed across one of the monitors on the desk before him, fingers automatically going to the keyboard to finish a line of code.

  "How ‘almost'?"

  Matt frowned at himself and hit the backspace to erase the ridiculous thing he'd just typed. He knew better than to think he could concentrate with Wolfe's voice in the air. “I'll have it ready in a few hours."

  "Excellent! Matt, you're wonderful. Our client's going to flip for this. What would I ever do without you?"

  Matt let the warmth of the praise spread through his chest. “I'm sure you'd manage,” he said humbly, toying with the mouse. The program he'd written for Wolfe was good. Even he could see that. It was better than any of the other applications he'd tweaked and fixed in the time he'd been working for Wolfe, and this was the first one he'd written from the ground up, so it was even more special.

  "Nonsense. I couldn't have done it without you. You are a workhorse. You've got to let me reward you for this."

  Matt smiled. “Bonus?” Not that he needed it. Wolfe paid him plenty for his meager necessities and then some.

  A chuckle. “For certain. But I was thinking something a little more immediate. Let me take you out to dinner. To celebrate."

  Matt's blood ran cold. His erection deflated. “There's nothing to celebrate yet. They haven't seen the final product."

  "They'll love it. I guarantee it. So, what do you say? I know a fabulous seafood restaurant right on the beach."

  Matt stared unseeing at the papers and notes strewn across the desktop between him and the two LCD monitors. “I ... No."

  "No?"

  "I mean, thanks. Really. Thank you. But I can't."

  "Why not?"

  "I..."

  "We don't have to do it tonight ... if you have a hot date?"

  He snorted. “You know I don't."

  "Yes, I know you don't. You don't ever go out. Why is that?"

  Matt bristled. “Wolfe, you're my boss. I don't have to tell you anything about my private life.” Especially when the truth was so very odd.

  "You don't have to, but I wish you would. I'd like to think we're friends."

  He sat back in his chair, staring at the phone. “We're sort of friends."

  Chuckle. “I'd like to get rid of the ‘sort of’ part."

  Matt picked at a hole in his jeans. Truthfully, he'd like to get rid of the “sort of” part too.

  "Two years."

  "Huh?"

  "Two years you've worked for me, and we've never even met. That's a shame."

  Tell me about it.

  So the time that he had both dreaded and anticipated had finally come. “Has it been two years?” He'd figured that Wolfe would want to meet him someday and was, frankly, surprised it had taken this long. Wolfe had hired him sight unseen for the unconventional programming job on the recommendation of one of Matt's counselors from tech school. Without questioning it, Wolfe had had all the HR paperwork sent via express mail to Matt. They had a completely electronic relationship, working together through email, instant messaging, and phone calls. Yet, to this day, Wolfe had never suggested they meet.

  Two years? Matt thought back. Yeah, it must have been fall, because it had been a few months after that night.

  No, don't think about that.

  "Yes. It's been two years. And you've done amazing things to help me grow a small idea into a reality. I couldn't have come this far without you. It's beyond time that I take you out for a celebratory dinner."

  He squirmed. “You don't have to do that."

  "I want to.” A little bit of a growl in that voice just did weird things to Matt's chest.

  "I...” Matt swallowed, caught between desire and terror. He wanted to be with Wolfe, wanted to spend more time with him. But ... “How about lunch?"

  "Lunch?"

  "Yeah. A celebratory lunch."

  "It's not quite the same thing."

  "It's plenty. You've done a lot for me too, you know."

  "It's not plenty."

  "But..."

  "Tell me why you won't let me take you to dinner."

  Matt bit his lip, thinking. He couldn't tell the truth. He knew better. It was nothing but trouble to tell anyone why he refused to go out at night.

  "Did you find out that I'm gay?"

  Matt's heart soared. He'd already suspected as much from looking the man up on the Internet, but to hear it blurted out like that...

  "Look, Matt, it's not like I'm going to jump you or turn you gay or anything like that—"

  No? Why the hell not?

  "—I promise to be a good boy and not make any untoward advances."

  "No. That's not it. I-I'm gay too."

  Silence. “You are?"

  Matt winced. Smooth move. But it was out now and probably better for it. “Yes."

  "Well, I still won't make any untoward advances.” Except that his voice had gone all warm again, like it did when he was amused. “Unless you ask nicely."

  Matt swallowed. Had he just said that?!

  Wolfe continued as though he hadn't just flirted, however minimally. “The fact remains that I'd like to take you out to dinner."

  "I can't go out at night."

  "Why not?"

  "I can't tell you."

  "Why?"

  "I just ... can't.” It would sound stupid, and you'd either never talk to me again or you'd call someone to have me committed. Neither seemed a desirable
option.

  Wolfe sighed. “All right, Matt. I can't very well force you."

  Images flashed through Matt's mind of Wolfe holding him face down on a mattress, pinning him as his cock stabbed Matt's willing ass. There was something to be said about force.

  Which was odd because, other than certain fantasies he entertained about Wolfe, force was not his thing. Especially since...

  Don't go there. He stared mournfully at the phone. “I'm sorry."

  "So am I. I was looking forward to getting to know you better."

  Why did that sound like an ending?

  "Wolfe...?"

  "All right.” He spoke as though Matt hadn't said anything, his voice now brisk and efficient. “You're going to upload your changes so we can get a new compile?"

  "Yeah. Wolfe—"

  "Good. I'll tell Greg to expect it. Let him know if you're not ready to compile by five, yeah?"

  It felt like the train with everything he'd ever wanted was leaving the station, with him still standing on the platform. “Okay. Hey, Wolfe—"

  "Talk to you later, Matt. I'll be sure to put a juicy bonus in your next paycheck."

  Matt opened his mouth to repeat the man's name yet again, but the line clicked off. He frowned at the lighted screen until the Call Ended message blinked off. With a frustrated moan, he propped his elbows on the desk, then rested his forehead in his palms.

  Now he'd gone and done it. Wolfe had been nothing but good to him in the relatively short time they'd almost known each other, and he'd gone and let his stupid paranoia ruin it.

  He dug his fingers into his scalp. Maybe he should call Wolfe back. He could apologize, and they could meet for dinner. Maybe he could get Wolfe to make it early. Hope blossomed in his chest as he raised his head, staring at the wall behind his monitors. It would be all right. It had been two years, after all. Surely it was safe to go out now? Just one night? Surely just a few hours would be okay?

  But the simple thought of going outside his apartment made his blood run cold. The thought of doing it after the sun had gone down froze him in his tracks. Daniel hanging limp in another man's embrace ... He pushed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets to dispel the image. Nope. He couldn't do it.

  Sighing, he turned his head so that one cheek rested heavily on his palm and used the other hand on the mouse to open a web browser window. One click on a handy bookmark and up came the company website. Very corporate, very clean and informative about their product. The main attraction—in Matt's view, at least—was a terrific picture of owner Wolfe Larsen. It was a professional portrait of the man in a sharp suit and tie before a washed-out pastel blue background. Shining black hair was pulled back behind his neck, which made it look short in this picture. The hair was sacrificed, in Matt's opinion, the better to show off the sharp, classic lines of Wolfe's brow, cheeks, nose, and chin, the deep, intriguing hollows that couched sparkling green eyes. His smile in this picture was mildly amused.

  As opposed to the second picture Matt gained with the click of the mouse button. This page had a picture of Wolfe at a charity party. Matt was pretty sure Wolfe would have started the night dressed up, but by the time the picture was taken, any jacket and tie he might have worn were long discarded. The white dress shirt might have started the night buttoned up, but in the picture all but maybe the bottom two or three buttons were undone, exposing a luscious display of bare, hairless chest and one enticing brown nipple. Here Wolfe's hair was unbound, spilling in decadent waves over one side of his face and nearly half of that exposed chest. From the looks of it, those lovely locks had to go to at least mid back, if not farther. A good-looking young man sat on the arm of the sprawling chair or couch on which Wolfe sat. The casual touch of the man's hand on Wolfe's shoulder—a touch that looked more personal than just a friendly pat—had first given Matt the impression that Wolfe was gay. Now that he had confirmation, all he wanted to do was crawl into the picture and straddle that narrow lap to let those long, wicked fingers do naughty things to him.

  Grunting, Matt found his hand gone from the mouse to stroking the erection underneath his zipper. He gave partial thought to indulging—wouldn't be the first time he'd jerked off to Wolfe's picture—but he closed the browser window instead and pushed back from the desk. He stood and headed for the kitchen, needing to distract himself. Jerking off would just make him think of Wolfe more, and he'd be tempted to call. But he couldn't call Wolfe. Much as he wanted to, he couldn't bring himself to go out at night. Besides, Wolfe Larsen wouldn't want anything to do with a misfit recluse like him, despite what he said on the phone.

  * * * *

  "Where is he?” Matt gripped the steering wheel, muttering to himself as he inched his Jeep down the dark road. “First he insists on coming to this damn party. Then he ditches me?"

  Newly outed and summarily rejected by his parents, Daniel had wanted to be surrounded “by all things gay” tonight. Matt could understand the thought, but he and Daniel were so not right for this scene. Matt had known from the moment they'd arrived and seen the drugged-out smiles and frantic dancing to the endless thump-thump music. They were geeks, for God's sake! Both of them almost done with technical school. They didn't belong at these types of parties.

  But they'd stayed, and now Matt had lost Daniel. At some point, Daniel had wandered off with a new friend. Matt had lurked in the drunken crowd around the park's closed recreation center for nearly forty-five minutes, dodging unwanted advances and alarming offers, waiting for Daniel to come back as promised. But his lover had never shown up. Pissed, he'd finally climbed into his Jeep to go search. Maybe Daniel was by one of the other park buildings. Far more comfortable and safe in his car, Matt drove down the narrow roads that meandered under the towering cypress trees, keeping his eyes peeled for a glimpse of Daniel.

  He saw a lot else. A lot. He'd never have been able to have sex out in the open like he'd seen in the last twenty minutes. The threesome in particular had blown his mind. He hadn't realized that two guys could do that to another at the same time!

  He really needed to find Daniel and get back to sanity at home.

  Wait! Light blue shirt with a garish logo on the back. Was that...? Oh, that had better not be Daniel! Not in the arms of some other guy!

  Matt inched the Jeep forward, taking in the details. Yeah, that was Daniel's shirt with that huge hot pink “I like boys” logo blazoned across the back. Not that Matt could currently read it since another guy's pale arms were wrapped around Daniel's torso. Plus the other guy's long red hair spilled like blood down Daniel's shoulder and over the other guy's arms.

  Matt braked, jaw clenching as the two men moved, the one leaning against the trunk of a tree, fairly lifting Daniel in his arms. Daniel's arms hung loosely at his sides, his neck bent far to the side to make room for the guy to nuzzle it.

  Perhaps disturbed by the headlights, the stranger lifted his head. Blue eyes glowed at Matt. Matt knew they glowed because he could see the color clearly from twenty feet away. The redhead smiled, which drew attention to the sharp white teeth—surrounded by the blood oozing from the corners of his mouth.

  Blood. Red. Blood. Blood on the guy's mouth, blood oozing down Daniel's neck and into the back of his silly blue T-shirt.

  The stranger slowly unwound one arm from around Daniel's back and reached for Matt. Daniel's body—for it had to be pretty much a corpse by now—sagged over his other arm.

  "Come to me,” the vampire said.

  Matt jerked awake, eyes wide and immediately scanning the room around him as he sat up. Cheery sunlight seeped through the crack between the thick, opaque curtains obscuring the window over the dresser, the lit floor lamp showing off the paisley-ish pattern on them. The open bedroom door revealed no one in the living room; the open bathroom door showed that the bathroom was also empty. He sat and listened hard, but heard nothing except the normal sounds of birds and passing cars outside. He slumped back against the headboard, bringing his knees up so he could rest his elbows on
them. The rumpled sheets were wet from the cold sweat that sheened his bare skin.

  "God.” He hadn't had the dream in a while. Not so much a dream as a memory. A memory of the night he'd lost the man he loved, the last friend he'd had. The night he'd learned that reality was not all that it seemed. For a moment, he had to comb his hands through his hair and concentrate on breathing over the gripping lump in his chest. Tears burned his tightly shut eyes.

  The familiar pain of the memory didn't last as long as it used to. Back after it had first happened, the fear and pang of loss wouldn't release him for hours or even days on end. He'd holed up in his apartment—their apartment—helpless to release himself from cold terror and agonizing loneliness. He'd lost his part-time job, stopped going to school, and wouldn't talk to the few friends he had. What could he tell them, after all?

  Taking a deep, sighing breath, Matt raised his head, letting his long, lank brown hair fall about his head and shoulders as he withdrew his fingers. Swallowing tears, he scooted out of the bed and padded naked across the carpet to the low table in the corner of the room. Kneeling on the pillow that sat before it, he reached for the box of matches that lay nearest him and extracted one to light it. Blinking as tears dried up rather than drenching his cheeks, he lit the four fat candles that sat before a simple urn and a framed picture of him and Daniel.

  This little makeshift altar was all he had and all he had been able to do to pay homage to his lover. Daniel's cremated remains had been given to him. He'd tried, halfheartedly, to contact Daniel's parents, to return Daniel to them, but he'd never heard back from them. In the weeks after the incident, the police visited him twice, once the next day to tell him that Daniel had been found dead. Daniel had been one of four people who had been assaulted and left to bleed to death. They questioned where Matt had been, and he answered that he'd left the party without Daniel because he couldn't find him. Part of him had wanted to tell them about the vampire, but he decided not to. A psychiatric ward had not been appealing to him. He had fully expected them to accuse him of Daniel's death. Wasn't that always what happened in the movies? But other than one follow-up visit a week later to find out how he was doing and if he'd remembered anything else, the police had never shown again.