Last Chance (2 page)

Aric lowered his lashes, avoiding that probing gaze. He tugged at the end of his braid, flipping the tail back and forth. Jocks made him nervous and jumpy and stupid. He'd been bullied enough in high school. The memories of being pinned against his locker by their large, hard bodies, his body reacting to all that muscle and heated anger, came rushing back to him.

“Yeah, I know who you are,” he replied, his voice tight.

Aric tried to sidestep away, but Stu stepped into his space, effectively blocking his way. He held his breath while staring into those too-blue eyes, willing his heart to slow down. But sparks of tension blew apart all thoughts in his head. This guy was standing too close, his size too imposing. Feeling trapped like an animal, he didn't move a muscle.

“From the tone of your voice, it seems you don't like me. That's funny because we don't even know each other.”

“I know your type,” Aric muttered, looking down at his feet.

“You always stereotype people?” Stu touched his arm before stepping back.

That single touch from the hunky Apollo was just too much. Aric pushed past Stu and rushed across the glade, not daring to look back.

Stu yelled, his powerful voice booming across the lawn. “Hey, your glasses.”

“Trash them.”

Aric broke into a trot, the sunlight hurting his eyes. Hugging his papers to his chest, he hurried toward the lab, his sanctuary. His breath gushed from his lungs, and he shivered. Fear nudged a warning deep in his gut. Not that he'd always had intuition worth heeding. As the months had passed, he'd discovered he had new abilities. Abilities that were a poor reward for what he was about to become. His secret was deadly serious and deadly inconvenient for making friends or, for that matter, ever thinking of taking a lover.

He skipped up the steps to the entrance of the Life Sciences Building and stopped to catch his breath. He rubbed the bump on his forehead, finding it to be larger than he expected. Despite his cloudy head, everything around him seemed brighter, sharper, clearer, and he felt as exhilarated as he did when drinking blood.

Surely this heighted awareness couldn't be because of Stu Hamilton. That encounter couldn't have been why he felt so excited. He'd far more important worries than satisfying his dick with fantasies over that jock. Real problems—problems a hot football player could never imagine.

But then a twinge of regret squeezed his heart, startling him.

It's not like he had a chance with someone like Stu. The guy was straight. Or if he did sleep with guys, then he was bi. Both red flags in Aric's rule book of dating. He'd learned his lesson with his last boyfriend, a straight guy who went back to his girlfriend after months spent fucking Aric silly.

Shaking his head, Aric erased all thoughts of Stu from his mind. What was important was tonight. Thankfully his professors left him alone in the lab, trusting him to seek their opinions when he needed it. His teaching duties took him into the classroom twice a week but left plenty of hours for his research.

The answers were somewhere in the formulas scribbled across the pages he cradled protectively in his hands. He just had to unscramble, rearrange, think outside the box, and see the truth in his mind's eye. All scientists used their power of intuition.

A smile played along his lips. He was so close to a breakthrough. He sensed it in every cell of his body. Tonight he would begin the first test on a subject. Not a rat or guinea pig or any other creature, but a living human being. Himself. All he needed was to get the correct combination of the cell vector and the cell mutation.

Aric looked up at the sky, the faint outline of the ghost moon visible on the fabric of blue expanse. He had one week until he'd be completely transformed. One week to perfect the formula. If he didn't, Aric the Human would cease to exist.

* * *

“Hey, Stu, toss the ball.”

Stu tore his eyes away from the slim figure dashing from the glade. The guy's lithe body glided with the elegance of a gazelle: long, slender legs with sleek muscles meant for grace rather than brawn; his braid flapping behind his back; the sunlight sparking blue-black highlights off his jet-black hair.

Stu sighed, sweeping back his shaggy bangs. He needed a haircut, but football season was over, and he enjoyed the loosening of the rules. He had a few months of freedom until training camp would start. He pitched the football in the air.

Nick Carlotta easily caught the ball and grinned. “Nice throw. Maybe you should try out for
my
position next year.”

Nick approached Stu, his six-feet-three frame coltishly loping across the grass.

“Then what would
you
do?” Stu chuckled. “You're not good at anything else.”

Star quarterback and Stu's best friend, Nick slapped Stu's back a tad harder than usual. “Yeah, and you're such a prize. So that was a dude, right? I couldn't tell.”

Stu smiled at Nick's comment. That dude definitely had to be gay. He was also an obnoxious snob. One of those nerds who thought his smarts gave him permission to be rude. “Yeah, I didn't know at first with that long braid,” he replied with a snicker.

“You thought he was a girl, didn't you?” Nick jabbed his elbow into Stu's side. “You were all set to flirt with him.”

“Shut up. Okay, so I was. But you have to admit, the guy looks girlish. He's one of those brainiacs.”

He frowned, looking past Nick toward the path where the nerd had disappeared. From the gibberish scrawled across the sheets of papers, the dude must be a science major. He hadn't even thanked him for saving his precious work.

“Let's go grab a beer,” Nick said, tossing the ball between his large hands.

“Maybe later.
I have a report to finish for lit class. I better get on it.”

“Hey, dude, it's Friday night. You have the weekend to write your paper. Party at Jason's.”

“Yeah, yeah.
Text me the address. I'll be there.”

“Amy's been asking about you. She broke up with her slacker boyfriend.”

Stu half listened, not caring about Amy or any other girl. He waved off Nick's attempt at hooking him up with a date. “I'm not interested in getting serious. Why give up my freedom?”

Nick looked at him, tapping his finger to his lower lip, a habit when he wanted a different answer. “Since I've known you, you've never dated a girl more than a month.”

“Not everyone finds their soul mate before the age of twenty.”

Nick shrugged. “I've known Gina forever.”

“Hey, you two are great together. Don't get me wrong; it's just not for me. Not now, anyway.”

Nick let out a gush of air as if to say he'd had enough. “Too busy studying dead poets. No one is going to live up to your romantic nonsense.”

Stu picked up his satchel and slung the strap across his chest, signaling that the conversation was over. He waved good-bye to Nick and headed for the library. The encounter with the nerd-boy left him restless, and he wanted time alone to cool his head. And the surprising heat between his thighs.

But what a vision that brainiac was. A small mole beneath his left eye drew attention to his dark-lashed hazel eyes. A straight nose accentuated a generous, pouty mouth.

A beautiful face and…sweet.

I never saw so sweet a face

As that I stood before.

My heart has left its dwelling place

And can return no more.

Although John Clare's poem didn't account for the guy's vicious tongue.
When they had stood under the palm tree, Stu had the urge to smother the will-o'-the-wisp body, overpower that cool aloofness, and break it apart. But there was something else. He had a niggling feeling that something wasn't quite right with the guy. He sensed the fiery anger in those deep golden green eyes, but also fear.

Why am I obsessing over some snobby nerd-boy?

Standing so close to him, he'd caught a whiff of cinnamon, musk, and citrus, his sense of smell always keener than that of his friends. The exotic fragrance reminded him of dark secrets. Nick was right; he'd been studying the Romantics far too long. If his teammates could read his thoughts, they'd laugh him out of the locker room. But he'd never been struck by such a beautiful face—a beautiful face that seemed to be in trouble.

Just thinking about those exotic, almond-shaped eyes, that thick ebony braid, the slender waist and slim hips, made him hot. From what he could tell, the guy's body was all sharp angles that matched his sharp tongue, and from what was scribbled on those papers, he had a seriously sharp mind too.

Intriguing.
Sexy.

Nah.
Bad news.

Stu brushed back his bangs, now irritated as well as horny. Horny over a guy! He didn't want to go there. He had too many other things to sort out right now.

His role in life had been mapped out since his father had died, and he
had
made that solemn promise to his mother. Then there was his brother, Corbin, taking care of him, watching over him, smothering him. Sweeping aside all thoughts of his family, he didn't want to think about his obligations. He had a paper to write.

Stu reached the library steps and slipped off his satchel. He looked up at the dark clouds momentarily covering the sun. He sensed that whatever it was about this nerd, it was shrouded in darkness. His inner knowing never failed him. What surprised him was the powerful urge he felt to find out more. He fisted his hands, then sighed and grabbed his satchel, shaking off the warning that this stranger needed his protection.

He jumped down the steps two at a time and sprinted across the courtyard, then passed through the library doors. Tossing his satchel on an empty table, he sat away from the other students, glad to immerse himself in the world of poetry. Yet in the quiet solitude of poetic prose, he heard his dead father's voice telling him fate couldn't be ignored.

Aric stumbled out into the night air. He paused on the steps, clutching the banister. Once he steadied his legs, he'd go back inside and figure out what went wrong. The injection left him sick to his stomach. His white-blood-cell count dipped; his genetic markers continued to morph. He remained a bloodsucking parasite. If he couldn't stop it soon, the transition would be complete.

He pumped a fist in the air, angry at the world, angry at the creature who cursed him. Massaging his forehead, he winced at the tender spot and then grimaced, not wanting to be reminded of this afternoon and his encounter with Golden Boy and his football.

He slowly unclenched his fingers from the rail. What did he expect? It took years to find a cure for a disease. Breakthroughs came few and far between, sometimes never. He had no choice but to swallow his disappointment, go back inside the lab, and try again.

But he'd do it tomorrow.

Having settled on that decision, Aric retrieved his backpack from the lab and left for home. It had been a balmy eighty-five degrees all day, so he'd walked to the university instead of riding his bike. It being a Friday night, few students loitered on campus, turning it into a desolate, shadowy place.