Chapter Eleven
Hollen
He couldn’t ever remember being this cold before. His limbs were shaking, his teeth chattering in that painful way that made them clack together. Every muscle ached, pulled taut and twitching as his skin prickled and burned. Feeling a swallowed ice cube slide down his throat was a small taste compared to the absolute frigidness that stuck to every limb.
The worst part was the absolute block of heat he was pressed against. It made the shudders worse, assaulting his flesh until his nerves were nearly on fire. It felt similar to letting an ice water settle against his teeth after a long drink of hot coffee—so excruciating that his eyes watered and his toes curled.
He let out a groan, trying to push away from the furnace he was pressed against. His eyelids were too heavy to open, even when his limbs failed him. There were iron bars of warmth wrapped around him, pressing his arms into his sides with supreme strength.
Letting out a whimper, he winced, trying to break free. It had to be some sort of prison or something like a tanning bed gone wrong where he was trapped beneath the burning lights. Only his last memory was of an alley and a familiar voice.
Hollen curled his hands into fists, the joints in his finger protesting the move. His body was useless, his mind buzzing like he’d just rolled through a heap of garbage, most of it sticking to his skin and coating him in absolute filth.
He remembered the club, the staggering exhaustion, and how George had slipped away in the strange way he did when speaking became too much for him. He seemed to grow tired, the same way Hollen did, almost disappearing altogether some nights as he retreated into Hollen’s chest or mind. The only evidence that he was still there was the steady throb of his presence—a heartbeat that wasn’t his own.
Even now, he could barely feel George’s presence.
“Be still.”
Hollen jerked at the familiar voice, renewing his weak struggles. He wasn’t sure how Munro had gotten into his apartment, but he couldn’t refute the evidence. The vampire was here , in his bed that was much softer than he remembered.
“Get out,” said Hollen, trying to kick the man against him. Did he drug me at the club? He’d been so careful, pouring his own glass of water from the bathroom sink after the bartender had given him a leery look when he’d requested a drink.
His bare feet struck shins that may as well have been stone for how firm they were, his toes instantly aching. “If you bite me, I’ll…I’ll… I don’t know what I’ll do, but you won’t like it.”
He curled his fingers, dragging his short nails over the skin of Munro’s chest. Munro was naked—as shockingly naked as he was. “George!”
“Calm down,” said Munro. Somehow, he became even heavier, pinning Hollen to the soft surface of the bed. His sheets smelled of tea and lavender instead of the usual cheap laundry detergent. Or maybe that was just Munro’s scent from how he was pressed so close to him, his body heat raging against Hollen. I thought vampires were supposed to be cold.
Munro let out a grunt as Hollen scraped him with his nails, capturing his wrist and clamping down tight. “I won’t bite you.”
“You’re thinking about it.” Hollen’s heart pounded so hard it hurt. Maybe he’d been drugged, and he’d come back here for a job, ending up naked and on his way to bloodless instead of employed. “You and all your friends looked like you wanted to eat me, and now I’m naked in bed? I don’t think so, mister.”
Munro’s lack of an answer was proof enough. Hollen kicked and squirmed until his muscles ached, shivering so hard that his teeth clacked together. The thick film of exhaustion swept over him the same way it had in the alley, stifling his movements. His sides heaved as he gasped for air, his eyes still closed tight against the dim light.
Munro had barely moved, his limbs locked over Hollen’s and curated of pure strength. If Hollen hadn’t already known he was a vampire, he would have guessed it then. He was squirmy as hell, and anyone who could hold onto that had to be unnatural.
His breath stuttered as he squinted his eyes open, freezing at the unfamiliar ceiling. This is so much worse than I thought.
Above him was smooth plaster, thin strips of dark wood trimming the perimeter and etched with designs that he’d never seen in any lumber store. Two lamps lit the room that was slightly larger than his own in the apartment, one flickering slightly as he whimpered.
The bed had dark burnished-bronze sheets, the wooden columns of the four-poster stretching nearly to the ceiling. It was close, the air tight and only accentuated by the lack of windows. There were no pictures, no paintings—only the etched designs. Even the doors were made of thick material, looking heavier than the outside door of his apartment.
Hollen looked to the side, craning his neck away from Munro. He couldn’t look at him, even if it put his neck on wide display. “Did I get drunk?”
He swallowed hard, curling his fingers into his palm when he realized that his hand was still pressed to Munro’s naked chest. His fingers ached as he moved them, so cold that the tips tingled.
When he moved his foot, twitching his knee, he realized he was completely naked like he’d thought, the usual elastic of his boxers not digging into his skin and his socks gone from his naked toes. He couldn’t tell if Munro was in the same state completely, but everywhere they touched, there was molten heat lancing into him. “Oh, God.”
He closed his eyes, taking an inventory of his body, even as he felt Munro’s gaze on him. He couldn’t meet that ice-blue stare that had only looked at him with interest once.
His ass wasn’t sore, which was a good sign, but that wouldn’t happen if he’d topped, or if Munro had been really, really gentle.
In fact, nothing but the cold seemed off, unless he wanted to count his own half-hard cock that was taking an interest to how intimately Munro was pinning him with his thigh. He wet his lips, stifling a groan when his whole body twitched.
“Rhys…invited you over,” said Munro, his deep voice rumbling against Hollen’s ear. It was softer than Hollen remembered, filled with something like wonder. No one had ever sounded like that when talking to him—not even Adair.
Munro let out a huff. “I don’t know how willingly you came, but I found you before he could kill you.” He stroked one hand down Hollen’s back, coming to rest just above the curve of his ass.
His hand was like a stamp of absolute possession, branding Hollen in a way that made his toes curl. He’s hot, but this is so not appropriate.
“What a relief,” said Hollen, rolling his eyes. “You saved me so you could eat me yourself. My hero.” He spared Munro a glance, flushing as he quickly averted his gaze. Munro was staring at him, his chin resting on his hand and his other hand still wrapped around Hollen’s wrist, pressing it softly to the bed.
Munro chuckled, the sound vibrating through him. It was beautiful and melodic, hanging in the air long after he’d stopped.
Hollen paused at the sound, the fight draining out of him as another bout of shivering took over. At the very least, Munro was warm. I can let myself like it…this time.
“I wonder what my son has told you if you detest vampires this much.” Munro tightened his grip on Hollen’s wrist, pressing their chests together. It pushed Hollen’s groin harder into his thigh, forcing a gasp through his lips. “I sent him into the world to bring us together, not to split us apart.”
What? “Who—? Oh yeah…the one George told me about.” His mind was obviously still frozen if he’d forgotten about his story that got him hired in the first place. “I mean—the one I met on the mountain.” He cleared his throat, ducking his head. Heat flushed over his cheeks as Munro shifted again, sending a spark straight to his gut.
When Munro moved his leg, his thigh pressed hard between Hollen’s. Munro had to feel him and the one part of his body that was so much warmer than the rest.
“Which mountain was that?” asked Munro softly, his lips so close to Hollen’s cheek that he could feel his breath. “It’s been so long since I tasked him that I’ve forgotten.”
Hollen let out a soft groan, his head going fuzzy. Vampire or not, Munro smelled fantastic, with spices imprinted into his very skin. And the way he moved—rocking in the smallest way that couldn’t have been completely accidental. It was driving him out of his mind already.
“The big one. Everest.” His lip caught against his teeth as he bit back a groan, Munro’s hands like fire on his skin. Sweat broke over his brow as he was suddenly too hot, a vicious fire settling over him as every hair seemed to stand on end. He’d always been sensitive, but there was something about Munro that made the touch so different.
“Hmm.” Munro nodded, his chin brushing against Hollen’s cheek. “Are you feeling better? Warmer?”
“Yeah.” Hollen twisted as his wrist was released and Munro leaned back, the warmth of his skin disappearing in an instant. Before he could think, he wrapped his hands around Munro’s waist, gripping at his back and digging in his nails until he went still.
“Not yet. I’m still cold.” The sweat prickling over his skin begged to differ. He shivered for an entirely different reason, hopefully fooling Munro. The pressure between his legs returned in a moment as if it had never left, Munro easing back into place.
It had been long enough since he’d fooled around with Adair and longer still since he’d taken care of himself. It was hard to get in the mood when George was constantly giving him pointers, talking about technique and a few of his escapades. He did not want to hear about that when he had a hand wrapped around himself.
“Take as long as you need,” said Munro. “My body is at your disposal.”
Hollen shuddered. He can’t mean that. Munro was all hard edges, but that thigh— Fuck. He was soft, thick, and with George silent, it was the most action his dick had seen in months.
He nudged his hips ahead ever so slightly, tilting his head to look at Munro. Munro was staring back, his pupils wide and his lips shiny and dark. There was that hunger in his gaze again, but it was muted beneath something else.
This time, Hollen couldn’t look away, even as his breath caught and his mouth went dry. His first thought of Munro had been that he was extremely handsome, the scowl the only thing taking away from that. But he could have never imagined how beautiful he was with his hair mussed and his eyes so intense.
It didn’t make any sense. Munro was dangerous. George had warned him of as much. A few minutes ago, he’d been terrified for his life and ready to kick Munro in the balls and run. But now?
He flicked his gaze between his eyes, the blue color so pale against his dark pupils that it seemed to cool the heat of his skin. Munro’s hair was only half in its tie, thrown over his shoulder and some falling to tickle Hollen’s chest. With his dark lips, it looked as if he’d just finished taking someone to the peak of intimacy.
“I’m good now,” said Hollen, licking his lips as he flushed hotter. He’d never lied so terribly in his life before. He was anything but good, longing and absolute need coursing through him.
Munro didn’t move, his gaze flickering to Hollen’s lips, then back up. He seemed hungry, but Hollen wasn’t exactly sure what for. “I’m—.”
Munro snapped his mouth shut, staring at Hollen. He dashed his tongue out, licking over the lower one and leaving a trail of wetness behind. Behind those lips were sharp teeth and a promise of pain.
But Hollen had always been a risk taker.
Arching his back, Hollen rocked his hips. It was way too easy to wrap his arms around Munro’s neck, tentatively touching some of the hair that had slipped free. The strands were smooth and soft—thinner and more delicate than he’d expected. For some reason he’d assumed the strands would be created from pure titanium, like the rest of Munro seemed to be.
Munro closed his eyes into slits as he took a deep breath. His jaw twitched, the muscle in his cheek jumping.
“Why do you want to bite me?” asked Hollen, keeping his voice low. He could touch the column of his own throat and feel the thudding pulse there, but it had no appeal. His skin was thin and sensitive, his flush making the sensation sharper.
“I don’t. Not right now.” Munro took in another heaving breath, leaning into Hollen’s touch. “That’s not what I want anymore.” He opened his eyes, his gaze narrowed on Hollen’s lips.
Liquid heat dripped through him, squirming in his chest and soaking his extremities. He fidgeted, bringing his hips forward to press himself more insistently to Munro. There was nothing half-hard anymore between them, every bit of Hollen’s focus on that rigid piece of flesh.
Munro parted his lips in a pant. “I can feel you.” He reached down, pulling Hollen’s ass hard and forcing him into his thigh. He seemed to lose himself, that wonder taking hold of him. “And I want to watch you unravel, your body out of your control as you succumb to the pleasure. I could show you things that you’ve never heard of—things that you wouldn’t think to ask for—things that haven’t been done in centuries.”
Words like that were probably supposed to turn him on and make his cock harder. But jealousy streaked through his gut instead, his arousal wilting.
“I’m not looking to be another notch on your bedpost,” said Hollen. In reality, that post was made of solid wood that was completely unblemished, but guys kept track in strange ways sometimes. Hollen had once dated a guy who kept a few strands of hair from every lay. That was serial killer material.
Munro furrowed his forehead, his face suddenly serious. “You won’t be.” He cupped Hollen’s chin, tilting until their gazes met. He seemed to hesitate for a moment. “I’ve never kissed anyone before I’ve bitten them.”
Munro leaned in, closing the few inches of space and bringing their lips together. The touch was soft, butterflies breaking out from the point of contact. Hollen let out a gasp, his heart pounding as Munro took the invitation.
His back was pressed into the bed as Munro settled over him more firmly, shifting until their lips were level. He was heavier than he looked, holding Hollen so decisively and insistently as he slipped his tongue into Hollen’s mouth.
Strawberries, tea, and spices rolled over his senses, soaking into him and pulling a groan from his throat. It was good—better than he imagined, stripping any sense of self-preservation from his mind. He could lose himself in a kiss like this, aching for more but longing for those lips on his at the same time.
He gripped Munro’s hair, tugging him until he had no choice but to settle all his weight on top. As he shifted, it brought his thigh harder against Hollen, pushing a whimper through his lips as the pressure overwhelmed him.
Munro was so hard—all muscle and strength wherever Hollen put his hands, but his lips were the exact opposite. Even as he deepened the kiss, Munro’s was still soft, his tongue stroking but not taking more than Hollen was willing to give.
“Jesus.” Hollen further deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue along Munro’s. Delving farther, he traced inside Munro’s mouth, pausing at the sharp bite of his teeth. Munro stilled, all his focus seemingly on that touch.
When he’d first thought about kissing Munro, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected. The way he moved and moaned was so normal and natural that he was honestly startled when the tip of his tongue first glanced against the sharp points in his mouth.
In comparison to his own, they were massive, long and so sharp that the edge threatened to break skin, even with the slight glance of his tongue.
But he couldn’t help himself, reaching for one side, then the other, to tease each point with his tongue. They must’ve been sensitive from the way Munro’s breathing picked up, his heart pounding where Hollen had a hand on his chest.
It made him bold—bold enough to press just a little too hard, a sharp sting zipping against the side of his tongue. He drew back with a gasp, searching for any hint of copper in the mingled taste of them.
Munro’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes still closed with his lashes heavy on his cheeks when Hollen drew back. He seemed so innocent like that, the weight of the world hidden behind the thin sheets of his eyelids. He certainly wasn’t the dangerous beast that George had warned him about repeatedly.
There was nothing about Munro that he’d expected, not even after the gruff demeanor of his first day. This was the man who had stopped a room of vampires from eating him and who had apparently rescued him from Rhys, who was a bad guy if Hollen had ever met one.
“How do you drink?” asked Hollen, brushing his thumb along Munro’s lower lip. He fluttered his eyelashes at the touch, only opening for a second before those icy eyes were hidden again. “Are your teeth hollow like straws or do you use them to gouge a hole, then just sip?”
Munro’s lips curled into a smile, a chuckle shaking his body. Suddenly those eyes were open, ice blue filled with dark arousal pinning him as he grinned at Hollen.
With his flushed cheeks and eyes that were now sparkling, he looked like perfect normal boyfriend material. There was a kindness there that he could take home to Adair and not get a rant about how they weren’t compatible or how Hollen could find someone better who could treat him right.
“ Sip?” asked Munro, lifting the corner of his lip to show off the largest of his teeth. The long canine tooth was bigger than any Hollen could remember seeing, appearing even stranger next to the rest of Munro’s teeth that appeared almost normal. “Tea is for sipping. Blood is an indulgence.”
He licked over that fang, a dark red drop springing from his tongue. It was so unlike an animal’s or a predator’s that had the clear purpose of grasping prey and holding on.
Hollen was mesmerized as that drop rolled over Munro’s tongue, so dark that it was nearly black. There seemed to be a thickness to it almost like syrup, promising a sugary sweetness that didn’t make sense.
“What does it taste like?” Hollen leaned in, his eyes nearly crossed as he stared at the drop that was slowly melting against Munro’s tongue. It spread like a web, seeping between his tastebuds until Munro finally closed his mouth and swallowed it down.
It couldn’t just taste like copper with that hint of death that always made his stomach curl when he cut himself on accident. Usually, the sight of blood would have sent him to the floor. The only change now was the pounding of his own blood through his veins, so much of it gathering south.
He closed the distance, curling his tongue around Munro’s and swiping right over the spot that had been tinged with vermillion. There must have been more than one drop because it tasted so strong, the metallic notes slapping over his tastebuds. But there was something else there—something that made the same spots tingle and ache.
He tried to draw back as he scrunched his nose, not sure if he loved or hated it. It could only be one of those things with no option of a gray zone in between. As he swallowed, it sank deeper, the sensation traveling all the way down his throat. His head went fuzzy as he swallowed again, his throat aching at the fierceness of the sensation. I don’t know if I can—
Munro grabbed the back of his neck, holding him tight as he slid his tongue over his own teeth again, teasing along the length of Hollen’s.
Blood filled Hollen’s mouth in an instant, flowing straight down his throat when he failed to turn his head to the side. He couldn’t breathe, copper choking every one of his senses until he was strangled with it. I’m going to drown like this—in a few drops of vampire blood.
Something in him made him swallow, even as every practical part of his mind told him that he could simply turn his head to the side and spit it out on the bed. A few drops turned into more, saturating every part of him.
He swallowed again, fire sinking down his throat and straight into his gut where it radiated out to his limbs. The taste sharpened, then morphed into something else, the bitterness and acidity fading until there was only sweetness. It wasn’t the sweetness of candy, instead much more satisfying, spreading and sating every bit of his body. Even his toes tingled, and he curled them into the sheets, trying to hold on as he nearly lost himself.
Munro finally released him, and Hollen turned his head away, his vision swimming as he gasped in huge lungfuls of air. “I—”
His breath was swept away, rendering him silent as he licked his lips, trying to find any trace of blood left behind. His gut ached for it, needing to be filled until he was brimming with the dark liquid. Deep pools of exhaustion were swept away as his muscles tingled with energy, his entire body throbbing with it.
Munro breathed against Hollen’s cheek, sending a shiver along his skin. His hands were so still, one resting against Hollen’s neck and his other still at his hip, holding him firm to the mattress.
“How does it taste?” asked Munro, licking the bit of darkness from the red of his lips. Hollen longed to drag him closer and lick it up for himself, the power of that desire bringing him back to life.
“I don’t know.” Hollen gasped, reaching for his belly. It was so hot that he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to drink again or ever fit a morsel past his lips. He could fit more blood, but nothing else. Shaking his head, he tried to break through the thrall it had on him. “Not terrible. ”
He swallowed again, wincing as the aftertaste hit him. There was the taste he’d expected, like old pennies had been sitting in his mouth all day. It stuck there, even as he tried to swallow it down. “Not really good, though.”
“ What are you doing? ” George’s voice in his head shattered the fuzziness of his mind, drawing back the comfortable curtain and plunging him straight into ice again.
“I—” Hollen blinked, shaking his head as Munro chuckled, apparently completely unaware of George’s presence.
George shifted in Hollen’s chest, smothering the rosy ache of the blood and drawing every bit of Hollen’s attention.
“ I try to have a rest ,” said George, “ the first real rest I’ve taken all week .” His voice pitched low as he grumbled. “ I wake up to find you naked and in bed with the enemy and drinking his blood . What the hell did I miss? ”
Hollen trembled, a headache cracking his skull at the seams. “I’m—uh—getting my job back.” Hollen kept his voice low, but he could tell Munro still heard him from the way he paused, his smile faltering. “Sorry,” said Hollen, much louder so Munro could easily hear him. He pulled away, slowly standing from the bed on wobbly feet. His gut rolled as George seemed to settle there, the blood cold and curdling in his gut. “I’m feeling a lot better now. Any chance you could take me home?”
Munro narrowed his eyes, unashamedly staring at Hollen’s naked body. “Did I do something to upset you?”
Hollen clasped his hands in front of him, glancing around for his clothes. “I think I overstayed my welcome.” He put a hand to his head as it throbbed. “Thank you for helping me. I don’t want to intrude any longer.”
On the far side of the room, he spotted his clothes crumpled in the corner, his shirt from the club still sparkling with bits of glitter that would probably never come off. The warmth of the air had sweat trickling down his back, the long black pants looking way too heavy to pull on.
Hollen averted his eyes as Munro stood, his boxers leaving nothing to the imagination. There was a deep pang of disappointment when he realized that Munro hadn’t been naked at all the entire time.
“Of course.” Munro closed the distance, brushing his fingers over Hollen’s cheek. “But will you promise to come back to me tomorrow?” Munro bit his lip, one vicious tooth on display.
When George grumbled in his head, Hollen did his best to ignore him. “I’ll be here. I promise.”