Now Comes the Night (6 page)

Just as well, he supposed. Living forever was difficult enough without the need to be battling multiple addictions added to it. Still, it would be nice, every now and again, to be able to relax his guard and set grim reality aside. There was very little that could give him that longed-for respite. Vampire venom, if it were strong enough, or supplied in large enough quantities might do so, but given his current living situation and the choices he and Conrad had both made, his chances of scoring a sizable hit in the foreseeable future were slim to none.

This was not the time to indulge in useless self-pity, so he pushed the melancholy thoughts away and continued his search. Usually, and especially at events like these, he liked to linger over his meals, to play the field, sample what more than a few generous “donors” had to offer. In short, to make a night of it. Tonight, however, he was not hunting for himself. The children were hungry. Pickings had been slim the past few nights and they needed to be fed. It was his job to find a suitable source of sustenance and bring it home to them as soon as could be.

Just then, his gaze landed on exactly what he was looking for. A young man, isolated from the crowd, was dancing by himself at the edge of the lawn, conveniently close to the boxwood hedge that separated the concert grounds from the parking lot beyond.

A shining mop of sun-streaked brown hair gleamed gold and bronze as the dancer moved and swayed to the music. Damian cocked his head to the side and studied his potential prey more closely. The boy, for surely he was no more than eighteen or twenty, looked to be in good health, young and strong and of a decent size for Damian’s purposes. The fact that he moved with an athletic, sensual grace that couldn’t help but catch Damian’s attention and whet his appetite for more than just blood, was entirely beside the point.

If circumstances were different, Damian would have taken great pleasure in joining him in his dance, maneuvering the boy even farther from the crowd, taking him back behind the row of trees and experiencing for himself how that lithe, muscular body would feel as it moved against his own. Sadly, he had no time to waste on such things right now.

Still pondering life’s many injustices, Damian began his approach. The boy had shut his eyes as he danced. He was spinning ‘round in circles now with his arms extended outward as though he were flying. Clearly, he was lost in his own private world. A very good thing from Damian’s perspective.

Most people could be disarmed with no more than a glance and a softly worded suggestion. If he could get within biting range before his prey was even aware of his approach it would make his job even easier. One venomous bite would relax the boy’s muscles, breach his emotional defenses and leave him open to suggestion. Two would silence whatever feeble protests he might still have felt like making. Three, on the other hand, would likely be too much. It could render him unconscious—a last resort obviously, since that would unnecessarily complicate the matter of getting him discreetly into the parking lot where Damian’s van was waiting.

Easiest of all, and by far the most pleasurable option, would be if the boy were to leave willingly, to accompany Damian for reasons that had nothing at all to do with threats or coercion or the kind of encouragement that could only be found at the tip of an exposed fang. The odds of that happening might be slim, but they were far from impossible. And, with instincts honed by over four hundred years of dealing with men like himself, men whose blood burned hot for other men, Damian was not without hope in this case.

The dancer’s eyes opened when Damian was still a few feet away. Heat flared in their sea-blue depths as he came to a complete stop and simply stared. A slight flush mounted the boy’s cheeks and Damian’s sensitive hearing had no trouble picking up the increase in his heart rate. Encouraged, he moved closer, making no attempt to disguise his own interest.

As Damian’s gaze swept boldly over the boy’s lanky frame he found further confirmation that his initial suspicions were correct. The young man’s narrow chest, clearly visible beneath the sheer, white, Indian cotton shirt he wore, heaved quickly. The jeans he wore were faded and snug—and growing more snug by the second.

“Hi.” The boy’s first attempt at speech was a breathy squeak. “I mean…” He cleared his throat and tried again, tossing his hair back and adding a somewhat lopsided smile to his greeting. “Hey, man. Like, what’s happening?”

Damian bit back a laugh at the young man’s flustered attempts at sounding “cool”. His smile turned carnal. “Hello. I couldn’t help noticing you, all by yourself over here, and I was wondering if, perhaps, you might be interested in going somewhere a little more private?”

“Wi-with you?” The boy’s eyes grew even wider. His Adam’s apple bobbed rapidly as he swallowed several times in quick succession. “I-I sure! Did you mean, like…like, now? Yeah, I could…I could do that. Definitely. Where…um I mean, where did you want to go?”

“Not far.” Damian chuckled softly, amused by the way the boy continued to stare at him as though he were a dream come true, the answer to every prayer he’d ever made. It was endearing. He nodded toward a gap in the hedge that led to the parking lot. “Come with me.”

The boy practically jumped into motion. Hurrying across the grass in Damian’s wake, then more carefully picking his way over the loose rocks and exposed roots that lined the shortcut. “I, uh, I’m Paul, by the way.”

Damian’s steps slowed to a stop. He’d expected this to be an anonymous encounter. Most casual pick-ups were, after all. At least in his experience. And he’d assumed Paul’s understanding of this would be in line with his own.

Damian turned and eyed the boy more carefully. Up close, he looked even younger than Damian had originally guessed. Doubts assailed him. Even vampires had standards, after all. “How old are you, Paul?”

“What? Why?” Paul’s initial expression of wary alarm morphed suddenly into a giddy laugh as he attempted to brush away Damian’s concerns. “Oh! Oh, that. Nah, chill out, dude. It’s cool. I’m legal—really. I’m older than I look.”

Damian sighed. Maybe he was and maybe he was just telling Damian what he thought he wanted to hear. Not that it actually mattered. In the strictest sense of the word, nothing Damian had planned for tonight fell into anyone’s definition of legal in the first place. “That’s not an answer.”

Paul shrugged. His tongue swiped nervously at his lips. “Nineteen, okay? I mean, like, I will be. You know, like…in another couple of months? It’s okay, though, really. I…I want this.”

Damian nodded. He was still not completely convinced. Old enough to know his own mind, yet young enough to lack experience? Yes, it was possible. Still, Damian could sense so much trepidation mixed in with the boy’s eagerness that he had to wonder if this wasn’t, perhaps, the very first time young Paul had ever been picked up by a stranger…or even, perhaps, the first time he’d ever been approached by another man? If that were true, if he were that young, that untried, that innocent… Then no, he was not at all what Damian was looking for.

He’d come here tonight seeking prey that would be relaxed, laid back, already at ease. At the moment, Paul was none of those things. He was worked up and nervous and appeared about ready to jump out of his skin with excitement. That would not do at all.

An excess of nerves could easily lead to an excess of adrenaline in the bloodstream. Which would lead to two very fussy children. Conrad certainly wouldn’t thank him for bringing home food that would only further agitate the already overactive twins. Perhaps, all things considered, it would be better to cut this one loose and resume his search.

While Damian pondered his decision, Paul fidgeted. His tongue edged his lips again as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, his nervousness increasing with every beat of his heart. A quick breath. An even quicker glance around. Then he leaned in fast to plant a swift, unexpectedly hopeful kiss on Damian’s mouth. “C’mon, man,” he whispered in pleading tones. “Don’t freak out on me now, ‘kay? Please.”

When he kissed him again, Damian responded automatically. Before either of them had a chance to consider their actions, he kissed Paul back, parting his lips to allow the boy’s tongue to slide inside. A small doubt nagged at the back of Damian’s mind. Ordinarily, this was the point where he’d have allowed a bit of venom to mix with his saliva, drugging the boy and ensuring his compliance. That’s not what he wanted tonight. Beneath the bitter flavors of beer and weed, Damian could taste an enticing sweetness, the irresistible essence of aroused male. He wanted more of it, pure and undiluted. He wanted Paul completely cognizant of the choices he was making.

A shudder worked its way up Paul’s spine. He straightened, as if to pull away, but Damian would have none of it. He quickly speared a hand through the boy’s hair, keeping him right where he was. He’d started this kiss, he could damn well finish it.

Paul moaned faintly. He lifted a shaky hand and lightly framed Damian’s face. Then he shuffled a half-step closer and deepened the kiss. Meanwhile, Damian had tightened his grasp on the boy’s head. He let his other hand find Paul’s hip, urging him closer still. Paul moaned again, sliding his free hand around Damian’s waist as he did, pulling their bodies flush.

Paul’s fingers skimmed lightly over the muscles of Damian’s back, testing, exploring, learning every inch. His touch, tentative at first, grew increasingly bold. His hand dipped lower. When Damian made no move to stop him, it dipped lower still.

Having hit upon such an excellent method of calming the boy’s nerves, stopping him was the last thing Damian intended. As the boy continued to grope him, taking his ass in a surprisingly confident grip, Damian couldn’t help but smile. It had been a long time since he’d been handled like this—with so little restraint, such unabashed fervor, such obvious appreciation. He’d missed it. And he had no problem at all with being used as the object of Paul’s fevered explorations. In fact, he’d have been happy to endure it for a good deal longer, if the sound of approaching footsteps hadn’t reached his ears.

Reluctantly, he pulled away. He was just about to take hold of Paul’s hand when his gaze fell on the boy’s bare feet. “Wait. Where are your shoes?”

Paul glanced down at the ground, brow furrowing in an attempt at concentration. “I, uh…I don’t know,” he stammered, even as his eyes betrayed him. His gaze cut involuntarily back toward the field. “I can’t remember.”

Damian nodded back the way they’d come. “I’m sure you do. Now, hurry up. Go and get them.”

“No! I mean, that’s not—” Paul shook his head. “Look, it’s okay. I don’t need them right now. Really. I just want to be with you.”

Damian rolled his eyes. What did the boy think? Did he imagine Damian would disappear the minute his back was turned? That he’d changed his mind and was planning on going off in search of someone else? That option was no longer on the table. “It’s fine, Paul. I’m not going anywhere. Just be quick about it. I’m happy to wait.”

“Please.” Paul reached for Damian’s hand, interlocking fingers with him. “Forget about my shoes, okay? Let’s just do this. Now. All right?”

Or, on the other hand, maybe the boy was just impatient. “Very well.” Damian sighed. “But I won’t take the blame when you hurt yourself.”

Paul shook his head. “I wouldn’t— I mean, I
won’t
blame you.
Whatever
happens. I promise.”

“We’ll see about that.” Damian slipped his hand free of Paul’s grasp and pointed in the direction of his van. “I’m parked over there.” As he led the way across the cracked, glass- and rock-strewn macadam, he winced with every muffled curse that fell from Paul’s lips. Such a stubborn young man. But that, it appeared, was Damian’s lot in life. Stubborn young men, stubborn older men, stubborn men in general, he was clearly fated to deal with every variation of the breed.

By the time Damian unlocked the van’s front passenger door, Paul’s nervousness had returned. “Wait, are we… Are we going somewhere?” He shot Damian a worried glance and then gestured at the back of the van. “I thought… I mean, can’t we just…you know. In there?”

“Ordinarily we could,” Damian said as he held the door open and motioned for Paul to climb inside. “But I’m looking for something more leisurely tonight. I’m taking you back to my place. That is…unless you’ve changed your mind already?”

“N-no. It’s just…”

“Just what?” Damian took a step closer and smiled encouragingly at the boy. He did not like to compel people unless it was absolutely necessary. But a gentle nudge, every now and again, never hurt anyone. “Having second thoughts about going off with a stranger? Listen to me, Paul. Everything will be all right. Understand? It will all be much more enjoyable this way. Now get into the van.”

It
would
be all right—that part was true enough. It just wouldn’t be anything at all like Paul was expecting. Damian hoped the boy would not be too disappointed when he realized that was the case.

“Okay.” Paul nodded his head several times. “Okay. Let’s do this. Let’s go.” Then he took a deep breath and climbed into the van, just as Damian had asked. They were pulling out of the parking lot before he spoke again. He turned to Damian, a small frown once more furrowing his brow. “I still don’t… That is… Aren’t you even going to tell me your name?”

Damian took his time answering. His first instinct was to make something up, as a precaution in the unlikely event Paul was tempted later to try and find him. His second thought was to explain to the boy that names were not all that important in situations such as these. And, after all, if Paul was going to allow himself to be picked up so easily, he should probably get used to the idea of not learning the names of his partners. Oddly, he did neither of these things.