The Baritone’s Rival (The Vampire Impresario #2)

14. Trent

Chapter 14

Trent

T rent fought through the haze of afterglow that threatened to envelop him. This sexy man had made him feel incredible, and dammit, he was going to return the favor.

“My turn,” he said. Oscar’s eyebrows furrowed.

“You don’t have to,” Oscar said. “This is new for you.”

“I want to hear it. I want to feel it when you come. I want to taste it.”

Oscar’s eyes went wide as he slid off of Trent, coming to his feet. Trent sat up, reaching up and grabbing his waistband.

This was it. This was the first dick he’d see in this way, the first one that he wouldn’t be ignoring in the locker room or tolerating while he was watching porn. Would he like it? Would he be turned on by it?

He slid off Oscar’s shorts, revealing a tight pair of white briefs and the unmistakably hard silhouette of his cock. He mouthed it through the fabric, loving the quick intake of breath that Oscar took in response.

He wriggled off the underwear slowly, unveiling Oscar’s cock inch by inch, taking it all in as he ultimately let them fall to the floor. Oscar stepped out of them.

God, it was beautiful. Longer than his, but slimmer, with a pair of smooth balls that he was desperate to lick.

Okay, he definitely liked dick. Or at least, he liked this dick.

He bent forward and flicked his tongue against the tempting globes, and Oscar grabbed his shoulders hard, a tremor running through his body as Trent tasted him. A thrill ran through Trent as he saw how he could provoke a reaction, even as inexperienced as he was.

He licked a stripe up Oscar’s cock, finally reaching the head. He swirled his tongue around it, wanting more of the salty sweetness. The taste was quintessentially Oscar, a crisp freshness with a hint of smoke.

He gazed up at the tall, toned vampire standing over him. Oscar’s expression was hungry, eager, animalistic, his long brown hair framing his features in a way that was almost feral.

“I want you to fuck my face.”

Oscar blinked, the intensity of the moment dampened. “What?”

“I’ve never done this,” Trent said. “Show me how you like it. Use me.”

“I don’t want to choke you or?—”

“I want you to choke me.” The words came out of Trent’s mouth without thought, even as he realized that they were one hundred percent true. “I want you to pleasure yourself and empty your balls down my throat.”

Oscar ran his right hand through Trent’s hair, gripping hard. Trent loved it. He was bigger than Oscar, but he wanted to be taken.

“You are so fucking hot like this,” Oscar said, holding Trent’s head in place and just touching the head of his cock to Trent’s thick, pillowy lips.

“I want it. Do it.”

With one swift motion, Oscar thrust his shaft into Trent’s mouth. He gagged as the tip hit the back of his throat, but he didn’t care. He loved it. He liked it more than any straight sex he’d had, which was both amazing and concerning. Was he gay? Was it specifically Oscar?

Soon enough he could no longer think, the constant invasion of Oscar’s cock burning away his questions. He reached up his hands, cupping Oscar’s ass cheeks. He loved the feel of them, soft and muscular at the same time, flexing as Oscar thrust forward, then relaxing as he pulled out. Oscar’s rhythm increased.

“I’m so close,” Oscar said in a raspy whisper. “You’re doing such a good job, baby. Your mouth is so wet, so tight…you’ll swallow my load, won’t you, my sweet hole?”

Trent moaned, choking a little as he did so, but he didn’t care. This was fucking amazing. It turned off his brain in a way that nothing else ever had.

Oscar’s grip on his hair tightened as the pace grew punishing. He could feel Oscar’s long dick pulse and tighten.

“I’m coming. Fuck, Trent, take it. Take my cum.”

As the hot liquid burst out of the cock in his mouth, Oscar pulled Trent’s head in, shoving his shaft down Trent’s throat. Trent couldn’t breathe. Tears sprang to his eyes as he struggled to take in air through his nose, but he didn’t fight it. He wanted it, wanted to be the one that got to swallow Oscar down.

Finally, Oscar loosened his grip and took his cock out of Trent’s mouth. Trent collapsed backwards, relaxing onto the couch and forcing air into his lungs. Oscar pulled his shorts up and sat down next to Trent, but didn’t touch him. Trent ached at the distance between them, even if it was only a few inches.

Oscar’s face was cast with worry, and it took Trent a few moments to understand why.

Instead of saying anything, he reached up and grabbed Oscar by the neck, pulling him in for a deep, searing kiss. When he broke it off, the fear was gone.

“Idiot,” Trent said. “Of course I don’t regret it.”

“How did you?—”

“You have an expressive face.” Trent pulled Oscar into his side, the taller man shrinking down to fit himself in. Trent kissed the top of his head. “That was…that was the best sex I’ve ever had. By far. I don’t have any plans to go back. Not after that.”

Oscar sighed, burying himself in Trent’s strong chest. “I was just worried. I didn’t want you to feel?—”

“I know.”

They sat there in silence for what might have been a few minutes, or maybe an hour. By now, the sun had almost set, and the cabin was bathed in a warm amber. Trent soaked in the comfort of having someone next to him. Not just anyone. Who knows what this was, but Oscar kindled a fire and a rawness in him that was completely new. He wasn’t giving that up.

Eventually, he realized that Oscar’s breaths had slowed and evened out. He was asleep, tucked into Trent’s side like the final piece in a long-unfinished puzzle. For the first time in many years, Trent was able to relax. He floated off into sleep.

It was the loud crack of wood breaking apart that woke him up. Oscar sprang into action, claws and fangs out, but it took Trent a minute to understand what was happening.

The cabin was under attack.

The front door had split most of the way down, and a second later, another blow demolished it entirely, sending splinters raining down onto the hardwood floor. Trent couldn’t see much beyond a pale, hulking figure standing in the doorway, the moonlight silhouetting them from behind, making it impossible to pick out their features.

Oscar, though, could see just fine, and he did the one thing Trent didn’t expect. He stumbled backward in fear, retreating from whoever it was.

“Elliott.”

“My mate.” Trent still couldn’t make out a face, not really, but he could tell that the vampire was big. He filled the whole door frame, an intimidating mountain of muscle and presence. His voice was low and powerful and dripping with possessive contempt. There was something about it that felt familiar to him.

“I’m not your mate. I have never been your mate.” The terror in Oscar’s voice struck a deep chord in Trent’s chest. It frightened him, but more than that, it filled him with rage. No one should speak to Oscar like that. No one should get to scare him.

Elliott stepped into the room, revealing himself as the dim lamplight hit him. His broad, square face was an intimidating sight. With his jawline and his just-kinda-there haircut, he had the looks and demeanor of an overgrown frat boy. He might have been handsome if his expression wasn’t so nakedly greedy. Again, Trent felt a spark of memory. Did he know this man?

In his outstretched arms, Elliott carried a limp mass of black fur, marked with a few bloodstained streaks of white. It took Trent a moment to realize that it was Rhonda, the alpha of the nearby pack. He flinched as Elliott dumped the body unceremoniously onto the hardwood floor with a thud.

“Found her skulking in the woods around the cabin. You really shouldn’t trust wolves.”

Trent’s chest tightened with guilt at his words. She had only been trying to help them. She didn’t deserve death for that.

As Elliott stepped forward, two vampires filled in behind him. These two were not the ragged, desperate vamps that had attacked Oscar in Brooklyn. They were well-fed, their muscles flexing ridiculously as they took fighting stances, like American Gladiators getting ready to compete. A man and a woman, they looked surprisingly similar, as if they might be siblings. Both were short and solid, with narrow noses and small eyes.

“You’re coming with me now,” Elliott said, closing the distance to Oscar. Trent took a quick inventory around him. He was far from any stashed weapons, and there were no immediate substitutes nearby. Maybe the long, low cedar coffee table in front of him…he would have to move, but the eyes of the two henchvamps were trained on him. They weren’t fucking around.

“No…I’m not.” Oscar’s voice trembled as he defied his ex-boyfriend. “Justin?” he called out to his friend’s closed bedroom door. “We could use your help!”

Elliott sneered. “Oh, I don’t think he’ll be helping you. He’s busy.”

Trent tried to parse the meaning behind the man’s arrogant tone. Had they done something to Justin? Broken in through the bedroom window? He and Oscar really needed him. Three vampires against a vampire and a human weren’t good odds.

When it was clear that Justin wasn’t coming out to fight, Oscar turned back to his ex. He had recovered from the initial shock, and now there was fire in his voice.

“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you dead?”

Elliott laughed, the sound like gravel grinding in a cement mixer. “You think any of those weak-willed vampires in our old coven could kill me ?”

Elliott stepped in farther toward Oscar, who was now backed up against the turquoise shellac of the propane refrigerator. Oscar’s eyes darted back and forth, searching for some way out.

“And I’m here, my little mouse, because after you killed Rick, I knew you’d grown into a rat. One with a bite.”

“ I killed that motherfucker.” The words were out before Trent could stop them. It was a terrible idea for him to draw attention to himself at that moment, but he couldn’t keep quiet. Elliott shouldn’t get to threaten Oscar. He wasn’t even good enough to wash Oscar’s boxer briefs.

“The human. How quaint.” Elliott didn’t bother to look at Trent as he spoke. “You’ll be dead soon enough, and I’ll have my mate back with me. You can’t tear asunder what fate has joined.”

With the flick of a hand, Elliott slashed across Oscar’s chest with his claw, cutting through his shirt and opening an angry-looking cut that immediately started to bleed. Oscar clutched at it, but the pain of it broke him out of his decision paralysis. His eyes flashed in defiance as he stood up to his ex.

“I don’t belong to you.”

“You need me. I can give you a sense of purpose. Your precocious little powers will keep the humans and vampires under my control. Build the new coven with me. Our empire. You’d make such a pretty coven master’s mate.”

“I’m not your mate,” Oscar said, pushing back against Elliott’s chest. The man was immoveable. “I found my mate.”

Elliott’s face transformed into a rageful mask. “Who is it?” he snarled.

Oscar shook his head. “He’s not for you. He only belongs to me. And I belong to him. You have no claim on me.”

Trent felt a pang of hurt at Oscar’s words. Why would Oscar have sex with him if he already had a mate? He hated the idea of predestination and vampire mates, but he hadn’t thought Oscar would be the type to toy with people. Maybe his initial impression of Oscar had been correct all along.

But fuck the pity party. He had to do something here. Oscar couldn’t take on his ex one-on-one, never mind when Elliott had backup.

Elliott lunged for Oscar, and Trent took his opportunity. He grabbed the coffee table and, in one fell swoop, broke the leg off from the rest of the wooden structure.

The vampires sprang into action, growling and hissing as their fangs dropped. Trent glanced down. It would take some strength, but the makeshift weapon looked sharp enough to pierce flesh. It was all he had, anyway.

The woman reached him first, swiping at him with her left claw. He managed to catch her wrist before she cut him, but only for a second. She was strong.

That was a terrible idea.

He knocked her hand to the side as the next one attacked, slashing him across the face. There was sharp pain and shock as the air met his exposed flesh.

He twisted away in reaction, which ran him right into the male vampire. He struggled, but the asshole had his claws clamped down around Trent’s arms. Not good. The vampire flashed his fangs. The lamplight glinted off them.

“Stay back.” Trent pulled his arms back as hard as he could, but he was stuck. He was strong, but he was still human.

Being trapped triggered a raging torrent of memories, running through Trent’s head one after the other like an out-of-control film projector. The night he arrived at his stepfather’s coven at fourteen. Being locked in the basement by one of the punk vampires. The two days he waited for his mother to realize he was missing. Waking in the middle of the night to the cold hand of that same asshole holding him down by the shoulder. Unable to move. Unable to move.

His breathing got heavy as the images flashed through his mind’s eye. Only the growl of his captor broke the hold of the vise that squeezed in his chest.

“Maybe I’ll bring you back to the covenhouse,” the vampire said, his high cheekbones and hollow cheeks making him look more ghoul than anything else. “I’ve never had a thrall. I can put a cage in my bedroom for you.”

“Fuck you.” Trent spit in the vamp’s face, wishing that his saliva was filled with deadly venom.

“You’ll wish you didn’t.” The vampire pulled back like a cobra and struck , pain shooting through Trent’s neck as his fangs pierced the skin. Trent’s struggle melted away as the monster drank.

His vision was clouding when he heard a high-pitched screech, followed by a roar, loud and piercing, the sound of a lion defending its young. Without a warning, the vampire was thrown from him, crashing into the nearby wall, and warm blood was trickling down his collarbone. His blood.

Oscar was moving fast. His face was a mask of fury. Trent had never seen him like that, never even imagined it was possible. His claws were fully extended, like sets of razor-sharp knives, and his movement was smooth and deadly.

Trent had lost too much blood. Consciousness was slipping away, but before he was completely gone, a final image burned into his brain.

Oscar, covered in the blood of the vampire who had attacked him, a mindless figure of rage and death. His eyes were glowing red.