by Lyn, Viki
Aric's brows knitted together at the indifference in his answer. He thought Stu would be more enthusiastic.
Stu tapped his ring on the rim of his coffee cup. At first Aric thought it was a class ring, but on closer look, he could see it was embossed with some sort of heraldic form. Before he could comment on it, Stu surprised him—again.
“I want to get my lit degree. I have one more year before I'd even consider the draft. I'm going to England this summer on an exchange program.”
“Don't they play a different football over there, like soccer?”
“I'm studying poetry, not playing sports.” Stu's eyes scrunched as his mouth turned down. “You're really rude, you know that? Not all of us on the football team are dumb jocks.”
“Sorry, yeah…” Aric looked down at his fidgeting hands. “I didn't mean…uh…” He looked up. “You're a poet?” Yet he couldn't visualize Stu as one. Maybe it was his athletic build. Poets were supposed to be anemic-looking, pale men—more like himself, actually, and he smiled at that thought. He couldn't quote Shakespeare to save his life. Were his assumptions about Stu way off base?
Losing the momentum of the conversation, he wished the waitress would bring their food. He could really use a distraction right about now.
Stu crossed his arms on the table. “I want to teach at a university.”
“Professor Hamilton.”
Aric smirked, imagining female students flocking to Stu's class, fluttering their eyelashes at his every word, being drawn to the power of his light manner and openness—much like himself right about now. Stu's attractiveness was like a drug, and just like a drug, a dangerous addiction.
Stu held his cup near his lips, a provocative mouth that was tempting Aric to lean over and kiss it.
“You have a very nice smile,” Stu said. “You'd be more approachable if you showed it more often.”
A wave of heat washed over Aric's cheeks. This guy was causing his temperature to soar to triple digits. Better to ignore the compliment before I make a total fool of myself.
“Who are your favorite poets?”
“That's a hard one. I guess Byron, Keats, Browning.” Stu leaned back and recited,
“But be not that dull slave, who only looks
On Reason, 'through the spectacles of books!'
Rather by Truth determine what is true.”
Brows arched sharply over those inquisitive eyes, and then Stu said, “Elizabeth Barrett Browning.”
Was Stu implying he was too dull, getting his knowledge from books and not from life experiences? He sucked in his annoyance. “I believe reason is the best way of determining the truth.”
“Spoken like a scientist.” Stu studied him intently. “But you must agree, experience teaches far more than something learned from a book.”
Aric poured more hot coffee into his cup, not sure how to answer. He spent most of his life hiding behind books and test tubes. His life experiences had been limited to spending time at home and going to school. Then he'd met Devon. A brief moment in which his world opened up to the possibility of sharing his life with someone.
There was a brief silence. Then Stu ventured a guess. “Hey, are you part Asian? You have an interesting face.”
Aric didn't want to talk about his heritage; it reminded him of his mother. An ache twisted his heart, and he grabbed for the water glass and took several sips.
“Hey, I'm sorry. Did I hit a nerve?”
Aric set down the glass. He wiped away the condensation with his finger. “My mother was Japanese. I take after her.”
“Was?”
“She died last year in a car accident.” The pain was still fresh, the ache swelling in every part of his body. He tried to suppress the image of her smashed car, a head-on collision flinging her body through the windshield, dead on impact. A drunk driver, but wasn't it always?
“I'm sorry,” Stu said. “My dad died, so I know how awful it can feel. When you least expect it, a memory or a smell, and you're back to when life felt safe and secure and sure. What really threw me was how life could change so quickly.”
Aric shrugged away the lump in his throat, nodding in agreement. He missed his mother at odd moments and when he needed a safe haven.
“What about your dad? Brothers or sisters?” Stu asked.
“My father left us when I was young. I don't have any siblings. What about you?”
“My mom lives in San Diego, and I have an older brother in San Francisco.”
An odd look flittered in Stu's eyes at the mention of his brother. Was it guilt, or some other emotion Aric saw in that brief second? From what Aric could tell, given Stu's open posture and ready smile, Stu was the kind of guy who didn't hide his feelings very well.
To Aric's relief, the waitress chose that moment to serve their meals and place the bill in the center of the table. Any more time spent in this jock's company, and he'd be talking too much about his personal life. He didn't want this. After being cursed by the bite of a vampire, his hunger for blood was followed by the need for sexual release. More and more, with each passing minute, he was seeing Stu as someone who could satisfy those needs. There was no denying the magnetic pull he felt. Stu was a stunning young man. But having a fuck buddy would be irresponsible. Aric couldn't live with himself if someone he slept with was hurt because of him.
They ate in silence. Stu attacked his eggs while Aric pushed his around with a fork and crunched down his toast. Every so often he'd look across the table and study the blond god. The guy was easy on the eyes, but that wasn't all. He sensed something deeper, something provocative about him. Stu challenged his preconception of the type of guy who plays football. Aric always thought of them as brutes. Although he didn't really know Stu, he was coming to know what the guy was not—a dumb jock or an intolerant bigot. How could he be when here he was, sitting across the table from a gay man and sharing a meal with him in front of his friends?
Aric finished half his eggs and pushed away his plate. “That'll do it for me.”
“No wonder you're skinny. You hardly ate a thing.”
“No matter how much I eat, I don't gain weight.”
“Do you work out?”
“Don't have much time. Once in a while I'll go for a run, but I'm usually in the lab, teaching a class, or at home studying.”
Stu frowned, rubbing his finger around the rim of the cup. “That's cool, but you don't have much of a life, do you?”
“Not everyone believes getting drunk and screwing around constitutes an interesting life.”
Stu stopped all his motion, his eyes narrowing. “I don't drink all that much or fuck around. You should stop making snap judgments about people.”
With that, Aric picked up the tab, wanting out of the restaurant and away from Stu, who was reading him a little too well.
Aric did judge people. Finding fault in others kept them at a safe distance. He'd lost his father, Devon, and then his mother. Too many losses. Getting too close to anyone now would be insane. Not with his present condition lying in the balance.
Aric scooted out of his seat and headed toward the register.
Stu followed close on his heels. “Hey, I'm paying. My treat for hitting you with my football.” He came up from behind and stood a breath away, so close his whisper tickled Aric's ear. “You're a pain in the ass, but I'll buy.”
Aric ignored his offer and paid the cashier, then turned to face him. “Stop pestering me.” Even as he said it, desire spread across his stomach and left him with an uncomfortable tightness in his jeans. The guy was too damn handsome. The whole package somehow made him weak and wanting and incredibly horny. It had to be his bloodlust kicking in. It couldn't be that he really wanted anything to do with Stu Hamilton. His head and his dick were at war with each other. He turned to leave, but a heavy hand on his shoulder stopped him.
Stu held him in place. “You beat me to the register, but next time it's on me.”
Not likely. No way would there be a next time.<
br />
Aric shoved Stu's hand away. “I said stop pestering me.” He pushed open the glass door and stormed out to the parking lot, into a gush of warm, suffocating Arizona air.
Stu sidled next to him. “Do you live far from here?”
Aric pressed his hands to his head. “You're not going to leave me alone, are you?”
Stu grinned. “Nope, I'm not. So I'll walk you home.”
Not only was he unsure if he wanted Stu to know where he lived, he was unsure he wouldn't try to bite Stu's neck and then jump his bones. He'd already spent too much time with him. “All I want is to go home and sleep.”
“It's Friday.” Stu looked at his wristwatch. “Well, Saturday, and you need to chill out, relax. You have the weekend to catch up on your beauty sleep.”
What's with this guy?
Like a stray puppy, Stu glommed onto him. Yet he longed for a warm body in his bed. Just one night of giving in and letting go. A connection would remind him that he was still human. He wavered. “Don't you ever let up?”
“Not when I'm right.”
Aric sighed and turned away. Though his attraction to Stu was growing by the second, he didn't want a friendship with a football jock. They had nothing in common that he could see, and even if they did, nothing would come of it. “Just leave me alone.”
He'd gone too long without blood—and without sex. Stu was too open, too friendly, and had no idea how dangerous it'd be to strike up a friendship with him.
Aric could suck Stu dry.
Chapter Three
Aric and Stu hadn't made it out of the parking lot before Stu made his decision. Aric needed his help. Help of what kind, he wasn't sure, but there was something in the way he held his shoulders rigid, his facial expression emotionless. The scent of his fear couldn't be disguised. Stu's finely honed sense of smell had picked it up. His intuition never failed him when he played football. He'd easily sprint across the field—leap above the cornerback if necessary—for the perfect catch, the ball sailing into his reliable hands.
His father had taught him to trust his instincts. For now, he would ignore his promise to his mother. It wasn't as if he were going to take an oath and walk alongside his brother. He suspected Aric had been followed by one of the undead. He'd sensed it. He would find out the truth, and if it was so, he would call on Corbin and step aside.
Stu was aware of the irritation behind those enigmatic hazel eyes. They glowed eerily under the streetlight, reminding him of a night owl, able to see beyond human sight. He shook off the image. Aric looked nothing like an owl. Not with that slender body and pretty face. He supposed Aric would take offense to the word “pretty,” but everything about him seemed almost delicate.
“Look. I'd rather go it alone,” Aric growled, his mouth set rigid and his jaw tense.
Delicate except for his negative attitude. Stu bit back a laugh, keeping his voice casual. “You don't want me to find out where you live?”
“Why won't you leave me alone?”
“Since my football hit you, I'm responsible for you.” He knew that would get a rise out of Aric—as Aric had gotten a rise out of him. Stu had been more than surprised when he realized he'd gotten a hard-on after he'd grabbed Aric out of the way of the cyclist. It was holding that wiry, slim body in his arms that'd caused it. Crazy that a guy would affect him like that, but throughout the evening he'd become aware of a growing interest in this nerd.
Sure enough, Aric bit the hook. “That's asinine. Don't worry; I'm not going to sue you for damages.”
“Then shut up and let me walk you home.”
“You're impossible!”
“It's what makes me a great player.”
“Yeah, I'll bet you're a player.” Aric squinted and looked past Stu's shoulder, his body poised for flight.
Stu placed his hand on Aric's forearm. “I meant a football player.”
“I couldn't care less what you meant.”
And that was a lie. Aric did care, or maybe Stu was only hoping he did. Which puzzled him. He never thought of himself as gay—not like his brother—but he never felt overly attracted to girls. Or guys, for that matter. Well, maybe one or two, but he always kept a tight rein on his sexuality. He'd always been driven to be the best in football, and it left him no time for relationships. Or that's what he'd been telling himself all these years.
For appearance's sake, he dated girls—easygoing girls with no baggage and no interest in a serious relationship. Aric appeared weighted down with a hundred-pound pack of trouble. But why did that matter, anyway? Unless… Oh fuck! Was he actually attracted to Aric? As in relationship attracted? No! It had to be his duty to his father's legacy that made him so curious about this nerd.
Stu leaned in, taking in Aric's spicy cologne, and his heart did a funny dance in his chest. His urge overtook his common sense; without a thought to how Aric would react, he tucked a loose strand of Aric's hair behind his ear, letting his fingers linger at the nape. Two pinprick scars marred the otherwise-unblemished neck.
Aric snapped his head to the side and stepped away. “Don't touch me.”
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you.” Those two scars were enough for Stu to be certain.
“Then leave me alone.”
“You need a friend.” He meant protector, but he kept that to himself. Aric was too skittish for Stu to confront him about vampires or explain how he knew what the marks signified.
Aric's eyes darkened. “You don't qualify.”
“You don't have a choice.” And for that matter, neither did Stu.
It was remarkable how his life was changing in just one day. A heavy weight fell from his heart. The inner calling of his ancestors was luring him into breaking the promise he'd made to his mother—to never follow his father's path.
The shadow following Aric was most likely one of the unworldly creatures roaming the earth in obscurity. People didn't believe in such myths, but these creatures were real and alive and preyed on human blood.
Aric backed away. “Don't mess with me.”
“I can't let you fight this alone.”
“How do you know—”
A rash of goose bumps raced down Stu's arms. He dropped his satchel and then shoved Aric between two parked cars. Aric's backpack flew beneath the trunk as Stu pushed him onto his knees and shielded him with his body. Aric shook against him, if not from fear, then from anger at being pushed down and trapped beneath him.
Aric jerked wildly. “Get off me, you id—”
A shrill hoot cut off his words. Stu looked up at the night sky, and a spasm of dread pierced his heart. An impossibly huge bird fluttered dark wings as it swooped above his head. The silhouette of its enormous wings and curved talons was terrifying. He'd seen that image before in a textbook he'd studied when he was child.
“Hold still,” he ordered. “That strix is after you.” His father had trained him on the varieties of the undead. Recognizing it as a vampire-strix flying above them, and knowing he had no means to kill it, made him feel powerless.
The strix flew overhead, circling and shrieking its baritone call.
Twit twoo. Twit twoo. Twit twoo.
As it swooped lower, closing in on them, chills swept through Stu. He concentrated on camouflaging them, and their clothing shimmered into the color of the pavement. He could hold the illusion for only a few minutes, but that was enough time for him to summon his totem before the bird caught their scent.
The creature shrieked as it paused in midair. Flapping wings sent a breeze through Stu's hair, and he looked up as its sharp gaze surveyed the parking lot. He closed his eyes and brought forth his spirit animal. When he opened them again, the majestic lynx he visualized appeared before him in physical form. The tuft-eared cat leaped lightning quick into the night sky. The strix squawked and swerved as the lynx lunged toward it.
The strix clawed the lynx's cheek with a sharp talon.
Stu cried out; the deep cut stung.
Aric twisted beneath him. “
What's going on? What's that noise? I can't see a thing with you on top of me.”
“Stay put.”
The battle between bird and cat played out, each taking vicious swipes at the other. Wind ruffled Stu's hair, and his body shook from exhaustion. Sweat broke out across his forehead. It had been too long since he'd invoked his totem. He couldn't hold on to the image for long. His breathing became labored, every breath fire in his lungs.
The lynx's final leap shimmered into sparkling dust. But it had been enough. The strix cried out, streaked across the sky, and disappeared.
His presence had saved Aric. For now.