Perhaps it was the independence he sensed in him. That he’d left his own party as opposed to being groped by some stranger challenged something inside Alasdair.
Yes…it would be wise to watch him a little longer, discover what made him tick, and then go in for the kill. After all, half the fun was the anticipation. Embracing that craving which would build inside him to the ultimate peak, where all he wanted, all he thought about, was possessing the one he’d been tracking.
Then came the biggest thrill of all—the chase.
THAT WAS THE first night he’d followed him home. And ever since, Alasdair had felt compelled to hunt him with the single-minded determination of a predator stalking its prey.
Repeatedly, he had told himself to disregard the incessant draw, and his lack of control had mocked him. But no matter the duties that called or the recent string of potential yieldings Isadora had paraded by him, nothing had been able to dissuade Alasdair from the occupant in 2B.
And tonight was the night.
Stepping out of the darkness, he crossed the cracked concrete of the walkway and craned his head, narrowing his eyes on the second-floor window. An intoxicating rush flowed through him at the thought of infiltrating the human’s mind for the first time.
Oh yes… He’d been gifted with many things the night he’d been turned, but that particular trait was one of his favorites. The ability to pierce through the relaxed layers of consciousness and delve deeper into the subconscious. He was anticipating that as much as the final feed.
With no more than a flash of thought, he was inside the man’s room and standing at the foot of a large bed.
Locks. Such a useless human defense.
He cocked his head to the side and examined the book splayed open on the man’s naked chest. It looked as though it had fallen there when he’d drifted off to sleep, his fingers still resting against the glossy cover.
Heroes, Gods, and Monsters of the Greek Myths.
Now that is an unlikely coincidence.
A sinister smile morphed Alasdair’s lips, and he touched the tip of his tongue to the fangs elongating from his upper gums. The familiar surge of adrenaline caused his skin to come alive with awareness as his body prepared itself to do what it had been created for.
Raising his hand, he flicked his wrist and the covers whisked back. The man beneath was no more aware of the action than a slight shift in the air as a low sigh escaped him and he stretched his body, turning his head on the pillow.
The sight that greeted Alasdair made the hours he’d spent tracking well worth the time. When the human took a breath, the knotted drawstring tie of his linen lounge pants caught his attention. Fuck, that made him want to indulge his carnal side first.
Maybe this was the root of his current obsession. In fact, that thought was followed by one truer to his perverse nature. How long would it take to have him clutching those covers from lust if I wanted it? And as Alasdair continued to observe the human, he realized just how much he wanted it.
The chest where the book was lying was covered in a light dusting of blond hair. It trailed a path along the center of the man’s sternum to his stomach, which looked as hard as his own. However, unlike his own abdomen, this man’s skin would be warm to the touch.
Perhaps he could take a moment or two and… No, he didn’t have the time, and that really was a shame. A meeting had been called this evening, and he was due at the Assembly Hall soon. The last thing he wanted to do was piss off the Ancients by being late.
So, with the speed and the stealth only his kind possessed, he was on the bed and stretched out above the man, and his mouth hovered over the ear closest to him. He threw the book, which landed with a loud thump on the floor, and couldn’t stop himself from slipping one of his hands beneath those thin pants to curl his fingers around the flaccid cock he found inside. When a soft groan left the human, Alasdair used his other hand to capture his captive’s wrists like iron shackles and pin them above his head. Before the man had a chance to wake, he delved inside his head and projected an image of where this hunt would finally end.
It was somewhere he hadn’t thought of in a long while, but after having spotted that book, he suddenly had an intense urge to revisit there with this fair-haired specimen.
The bathhouses.
Yes, it’s perfect. He had him exactly where he wanted him.
Not a thing on Earth could save the poor soul now, and as his teeth cracked into deadly formation, Alasdair dove inside his mind and goaded, “Run.”
THERE WAS A bright, blinding light, and again, Leo dreamed.
It was an odd sensation to be reliving the same dream sequence over and over, but that’s what had been happening—until tonight. Tonight, something was different. Something was out of place.
Over the last few weeks, he’d been imagining himself alone in front of an altar while clutching something in his hand. The altar had resembled those back in ancient times—an oblong podium constructed from marble—and he’d chalked his imaginings up to the project he and his coworkers had been working on at the museum.
Tonight, however, the light that usually shone so brightly around him had been snuffed out, and he was pulled into the darkness by someone or something.
HE HEARD HIM before he saw him.
A hypnotic voice instructed him to, “Run,” and some inner instinct told him to listen. Leo bolted to the left, recognizing his surroundings as the bathhouses he’d been researching for an upcoming exhibit at work. Several white pillars flanked an enormous rectangular pool, which was carved into the stone ground, and he darted behind one of them.
As he tried to catch his breath, his body started to heat. He felt flushed, as though he were aroused, and when he looked down to his cock, he noticed it was as hard as the pillar he was resting against.
What the hell is going on?
The thought quickly dissipated, though, as a low groan left his lips.
He scanned the area, taking in everything he could about the place. The classic architecture of the Doric columns made it clear where he was, but…
How is this possible?
It felt as though he’d fallen inside one of his textbooks and woken up in Ancient Greece—with a fucking hard on.
A mocking chuckle echoed inside his head like a chain rattling against a steel trap. He shook it, trying to banish the sound, as he squeezed his eyes shut. He was breathing in heavy pants now, the odd sensation of being given one hell of an amazing hand job more obvious than it had been two seconds ago, and his lungs tried to pull in extra oxygen as he waited for…
What? What am I waiting for? He wasn’t even sure.
He moved his hand, about to press it against the erection throbbing between his legs, and that was when he realized he was still dressed in his pajama pants.
So this is definitely some kind of nightmare.
“Almost.”
Leo jerked back against the pillar, quickly moving his hand by his side again, when the stranger belonging to the voice appeared from out of nowhere.
“You’re still in bed. That’s the ‘almost’ part. But this isn’t a nightmare, and you want to know a secret?” the stranger asked.