Full Moon Dating Isaiah and Jameson

by Julia Talbot

  Please. I’m all yours. Please.

  I know you are. I love that. I love you. He bit at Isaiah’s neck, fangs aching.

  “Jameson!” Isaiah held him close.

  So hot inside. Amazing. He let the sparkle of that life fill him. When I get to your cock…

  Shh…

  Isaiah was willing to ask for it, but maybe a little ashamed of how excited it made him.

  Small steps. Big steps. As long as there were steps.

  He licked the spot he’d bitten, then slid down to scrape his fangs over one nipple. Isaiah panted softly, eyes on him, watching him.

  “That’s it, sweet.” Jameson stroked that flat belly. “So pretty.”

  “I need you. Again.”

  “Good.” He bit that tiny bit of flesh he was so close to.

  Isaiah arched up, hips driving against him, that little nipple so hard. It would ache before he was done with it, before he moved on.

  He wanted something that Isaiah wouldn’t forget. Maybe he’d get his boy pierced.

  Isaiah gasped, going still for a moment.

  Oh, someone had heard him. He pondered where. The nipple he was sucking on? The cock he was going to bite soon? Both?

  He loved the idea of a Prince Albert, a tiny bell dangling off the tip.

  “You are not funny.” Isaiah pushed at him, so of course he bit down, holding on.

  I’m not joking. Can you imagine it? I could run a chain through your nipples too.

  No. No chains. Isaiah held his head, keeping him there, biting and licking.

  A tiny pretty one for every day. A jeweled one for special occasions. A heavy one for punishments?

  “You’re an evil one.”

  “Mmmhmm.” He was always agreeing, it seemed. It was so true, though. Then he pinched hard behind Isaiah’s balls as he bit deeper. Here?

  Oh. The long mental sound was purely sexual.

  Yes. Here. Jameson shivered, so turned on.

  Isaiah just grunted, dancing for him, seeming beyond words at the thought.

  He kept pinching that same spot, over and over, as he moved down, nibbling over and over. Isaiah’s body was like his own secret paradise. Rich and lovely, the pale skin showing his marks, he could feast on Isaiah forever.

  “The things you say.”

  “Did I say anything out loud, boy?”

  “Does that matter? Don’t stop!”

  “Not going to.” He bit one hipbone and pinched again. He intended to wring Isaiah out. Jameson wanted every noise and motion, every reaction.

  All yours. More.

  Pushy boy. We go at my pace.

  Isaiah growled, snapping at the air, and he loved that hint of wildness. His boy made him so damn proud.

  I said no, boy. He scraped his fangs over one hip. Do you want another spanking?

  Stop… Isaiah’s balls drew up, those clever hands tangling in Jameson’s hair.

  “Never.” Now was the time to bite. He struck fast, sinking his canines into the vein he could hear throbbing in that fine dick.

  Isaiah’s scream of pleasure echoed in the room, bouncing off the adobe. That lean body became a live wire, stretched out long, vibrating madly.

  As for him, he was spinning out of control, the flavor of Isaiah’s blood filling him with lightning. His nerves lit up, sparkling like he was a book vampire, and he moaned, not even able to laugh at his thoughts.

  Isaiah’s fingers tangled in his hair, tugging and petting clumsily. He had a feeling Isaiah had come, not once but several times. He’d simply been too wrapped up to know it.

  He climbed up, lapping the seed from that flat, gorgeous belly.

  “Mmmm. I never even imagined.” Isaiah sounded utterly dreamy.

  “Sweet boy.” He was silly for his lover.

  “Not a boy.” Isaiah yawned deep.

  “My boy.” He could insist.

  “Yours,” Isaiah agreed. “God, I’m tired.”

  “You need food.”

  “No. I’m not hungry.”

  “Yes, you are. You don’t want to be, but you are.” Isaiah had this thing about blood. He didn’t understand, but he would. Now, he needed to feed his boy. “Diego? Are you within hearing range?”

  “Always.”

  “Great. Your master is starving.”

  “I’m on my way.” Diego appeared only moments later with a hefty goblet.

  “Thank you. I’ll holler if I need another.” He kept Isaiah close, refusing to act ashamed.

  “Anything you need.” Diego nodded and left them.

  “Drink, baby.”

  “But.”

  “Drink, baby.” He tilted the glass, forcing the issue, and Isaiah groaned and drank deep.

  That’s it, my love. You need to stay strong.

  Your love. The words rang out filling their bond.

  He nodded, watching his boy eat. Isaiah needed the blood. Just because there was no one in the family Jameson thought could make a coup didn’t mean there wasn’t someone who would try.

  Isaiah groaned, cock filling with the food, with need.

  “There you are. Oh my gorgeous boy.”

  Isaiah offered him the goblet, and he took a long drag, but he’d fed from his boy. He was buzzing.

  Jameson pressed the cup back to Isaiah’s lips, wanting him to finish the draught. This was his to care for now.

  Finish it, sweet boy, and I’ll make you shoot again.

  Isaiah’s whole body yearned toward him, undulating. “Promise?”

  “You have my word.”

  Isaiah took the goblet and drank deep. Now he knew exactly the incentive his boy needed to feed.

  His boy craved sensation. Craved him. That he could work with. Hopefully for the rest of his long life.

  Our life.

  “What?”

  Our long life.

  Oh. Oh yes. He rewarded his lover for that with a deep kiss, one that fed his soul.

  Isaiah melted under his touch, heat pouring into him. Heat and wonder. Could this be real? It had to be.

  Jameson simply wouldn’t accept anything else.

  “Congratulations, cousin.” Damian drawled the words out, reminding Isaiah why he never left his wing. “Your new consort is toothsome indeed.”

  He blinked slowly, refusing to respond. “Your point?”

  What are you doing here, cousin?

  “I might have a bite.”

  “No, you might not. Did you need anything?”

  “Just to make sure you were well. I imagine his, your consort’s, appetites exceed yours.”

  “His appetites are none of your affair.”

  “They are if they make you ill.” Damian opened his eyes very wide. “I worry about you.”

  Isaiah growled softly. “Lying doesn’t become you, cousin.”

  “Leadership doesn’t become you.” Sneering, Damian waved a hand around “You don’t deserve all this.”

  Isaiah hated this nonsense, but they were no better than animals, down at their core. None of them.

  His hand flashed out, connecting with Damian’s jaw. No one talked to the head of the family that way. His father had taught him that.

  “You can go.” He didn’t bother to hide his sneer.

  Damian stroked his jaw. “You’ll pay for that cousin.”

  “Now.” He refused to look away, to give Damian the satisfaction.

  “Fine. But this isn’t over.” Damian flounced away.

  Diego appeared from the shadows. “He’s trouble.”

  “He is. He always has been.” Ever since he could remember. Whereas Isaiah always been the small one, the lean one, the quiet one.

  “You should tell your consort about his ambitions.” Diego said it without inflection, but he knew it was more than a suggestion.

  “Perhaps. I’m not helpless. I managed for centuries before…”

  “Yes. But he can’t help you if he doesn’t know. Jameson being here has suddenly made Damian bold.”

  “He needs to po
p his cork somewhere not under my roof.”

  “Of course. I’m just trying to help.” Diego smiled. “I like your Jameson.”

  “I do too. He’s a good man, a solid friend, and—” Sexual. Sensual. Stunning.

  “Mmm. He seems pretty canny.” Diego knew the score. Such a smart man.

  “He does. Very. I care for him, very much.”

  “Good. Do you need anything? I might get a drink.” His family all thought Jamie was too familiar, but he’d been Isaiah’s only friend for a long time.

  “Can I join you? I’ve missed you.” It wasn’t a lie, either.

  “As I have you.” That pleased smile spoke volumes about how long it had been.

  “Come then. We’ll have a sip and a sit.”

  “Sounds amazing.” Diego moved with him, matching him step for step, and he pushed Damian out of his mind.

  “It does. Should we play cribbage?”

  “I love that idea. I’ll get the drinks if you set up the board.”

  “Fair enough.” He let all the nonsense—good and bad—go. Time to relax.

  6

  Jameson woke earlier than anyone else in the house, including Jamie. Maybe it was a made vamp thing.

  He had fallen asleep in his own bed this morning. Isaiah had been awake late with Diego, playing cards, and he’d wanted his boy to spend some time with his friend. He’d kept an ear out for them, metaphorically, but he hadn’t cut in. Now he was… bored, really.

  He headed toward Isaiah’s rooms wearing nothing more than a towel, surprised as hell to find one of Isaiah’s family—a handsome, spoiled-looking young man—wandering around.

  He had a name. What the hell had Isaiah called him so dismissively? Danny? Devon?

  “Ah, the consort. How enticing you look.”

  He snorted. “Thanks. You waiting for Isaiah? I came out for breakfast.”

  “No, I was hoping to see you, actually.” Damian sort of started… circling him.

  “Me?” He shook his head. “What on earth for?”

  “Because I think you and I could have a great deal of fun together.”

  “Seriously?” Asshole.

  “Oh, come on. We all know Isaiah is a milquetoast.”

  “Do we now?” Okay, he needed to know what this one’s agenda was. Jameson had assumed he was harmless, but maybe there was more than met the eye.

  “Come on. We can tear each other up. Isaiah is good for reading, not fucking.”

  “Mmm. I think he might notice though.” God, he wanted to rip this one’s throat out.

  “If he ever looked up, maybe. Let’s have a drink. I’m parched. I ended up sleeping in my van.”

  “You don’t live at the compound?” Or had he been out prowling and gotten locked out with the sun? Diego shut everything down in the day to keep Isaiah safe.

  “I do, but my place is on the far side. I was hoping Diego would agree to let me sleep here in one of the guest rooms, but I couldn’t find him.”

  “Ah.” What was he trying to machinate? Jameson had to admit, he did love an incompetent villain. “Well, a drink I can manage.”

  “There’s precious little more fun than the first drink with a new friend, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, certainly.” He led the way, tightening his towel as soon as the asshole’s back was turned. Jameson was starting to feel… oily.

  Still, the blood smelled like life—necessary. Vital. Rich. He breathed deep, ready to eat, his fangs pushing his lower lip.

  “Mmm…you’re pretty when you’re hungry. Should we go sit in the foyer, wait for Isaiah?”

  “Sure.” That actually sounded like a safe, sensible plan, which made him suspicious.

  “Excellent. It’s so early still. Usually I’m not awake at this hour.” Damian gave him a patently innocent glance, the evil palpable. “It must be your vicinity.”

  “Or maybe your body was more attuned to the sun,” he deadpanned. “Since you were in your car.”

  “Logic. I love that in a man.” Damian sat on one of the seats and lifted his glass. “Cheers.”

  “Ditto.” He lifted his, then drank fast, wanting to get this over with.

  Damian watched him, drinking slower, eyes glittering.

  Shit. Oh, shit. He lifted the glass again, sniffing.

  Damian blinked. “Now don’t be rude. That’s just tacky.”

  “What did you give me?” Made vampires were far more susceptible to poisons and drugs, their metabolisms slower than born vamps. Jameson swayed, his vision blurring.

  “Are you sleepy, baby?” The damn vamp came closer.

  “No.” He stumbled back, his damn towel slipping. This was what he got for underestimating someone.

  “Easy. Easy baby.” Strong hands eased him back on the loveseat.

  “Not your baby.” The words came out slurred, and he searched for Isaiah with his mind.

  “Shh…He’s asleep. You need a real man.”

  “No. Don’t fucking touch me.” Touch came out toushh. Goddammit, he was supposed to be protecting his mate.

  “You’ll like it. I prom—” The words cut off as a line of red appeared on Damian’s throat, the blood seeping out.

  Suddenly Isaiah’s face was there, sprayed with crimson, eyes glowing in the darkness. “Call his mother and tell her he’s outside. If she doesn’t get him by morning? Let him burn.”

  “Yes, sir.” Diego’s voice echoed weirdly in his head but it was Isaiah he saw.

  “Sorry…”

  “I’ll put him to bed. He’ll sleep it off.” Isaiah reached down and lifted Jameson like he weighed nothing. “Lock the house down. No one is welcome until I say.”

  “Mate…” Jameson tried to talk, but nothing wanted to come out.

  “I have you. I’ll put you to bed, and you’ll be safe.” Isaiah held him gently, carefully, like he was precious.

  “With…” His tongue was numb. With you.

  “Shh…I’m sorry. I thought I heard you calling for me.”

  He was laid out onto his bed, the covers carefully drawn around him.

  You did. Please. Stay. He tried to grab Isaiah’s hand. God, he felt like a human with the fucking plague.

  “You’re safe. I swear. I have you.” Isaiah’s touch was like a balm.

  Oh, better. He closed his eyes, the world narrowing to a pencil eraser sized point of light. Love.

  Sleep. You’re safe. Home.

  Thank you. That was all he could manage before the drug took him. He would sleep it off. He had no choice.

  Isaiah locked himself in his rooms, washed, and went to his library. There he could hide and read and forget that he’d almost killed his lover.

  Gods.

  What the fuck was wrong with him?

  He was becoming… well. What he feared, really. An animal.

  He hadn’t even thought when he saw Damian, had felt the pure panic in his lover’s mind. He’d attacked. He hadn’t hesitated.

  No, he’d just slashed. What if he had turned that on Jameson too?

  He needed to recuse himself, stay as far away from Jameson as possible. Hide. Repent. Control was the born vampire’s only hope. Otherwise they were just killers.

  He had his day, his memory. His party.

  Now it was over.

  He would have to call Harve and thank him. Maybe ask his opinion on how to let Jameson go easily. Gently.

  That was it. Harve would help. He’d call.

  Later.

  7

  Love? Please. Let me in.

  Jameson sat with his back to the door of Isaiah’s rooms, sending in waves of love. Need. He’d tried breaking the door down.

  Isaiah had held it against him. Him!

  Isaiah refused to answer him, refused to let him in, refused everyone but Diego, and even he came and went silent and sad. Isaiah was hiding. Running scared. Jameson scratched at the door behind him, hoping it made Isaiah a little crazy.

  Diego brought him a mug, offering him a drink.

&
nbsp; “Thank you.” He blinked, his eyes gritty. “I need to get in there.”

  “He scared himself badly, defending you. The boy has been banished.”

  “Good. I would have killed him.” Little fuck. Jameson hadn’t been so sick once since he’d been turned. It had taken him two days to recover since his mate wouldn’t feed him. Letting me suffer!

  Protecting you!

  Oh, that was his mate.

  Ignoring me. Making me hurt! His head ached from the separation.

  I did not! Isaiah was close. So close.

  You did. I was so sick, love. I need you. I still feel weak.

  I’ll-I’ll come to your rooms…

  All he needed was for Isaiah to open that door.

  Yes. Oh, yes, please. He wasn’t above dirty pool. This was his life, and he couldn’t spend it separated from his mate out of some fear of being a vampire.

  He felt it as Isaiah moved closer, and Diego pushed the drink into his hand. “I assume you need this, Jameson.”

  “I need to feed, yes.” He said it louder than normal so Isaiah would have a wee bit of guilt. Please feed me, mate.

  “You’re bad. Make sure he eats, please?” Diego whispered.

  He nodded, then shooed Diego off with a hand motion. No ruining his whine.

  Soft steps sounded before the big door unlocked, and Isaiah’s presence surrounded him.

  Jameson almost fell over, but he caught himself, then Isaiah lifted him.

  “Shh…To bed with you. You need rest.”

  Please. Can we go to your rooms? He swung his weight, which turned Isaiah in a half circle. He wanted to go to that big, lush bed, not his lonely one.

  “Spoiled. You can’t. I need to keep you safe.” They were moving deeper into Isaiah’s quarters.

  Oh, I’m safest with you. Jameson had all this guilt/rage/fear about being so stupid as to let himself get drugged and not protecting his lover.

  “You can sleep here until you’re stronger, okay? Just until then.”

  “Thank you, love. Oh, thank you.” By then he would be ready to take Isaiah in hand again, impose his will. For now he still felt ravaged.

  The bed smelled right, and better was Isaiah’s touch, soothing him. He sighed, relaxing back, only grabbing Isaiah’s wrist when he moved away. “Stay.”