Chapter 9 Evan
EVAN
Ihate leaving Jericho with the shifters, but what else am I supposed to do? He all but told me to walk away.
Maybe it’s a good thing. I need to catch my breath and fill Mom in on where I am. She knows how stressed I’ve been trying to find Jericho. She even came down to visit me a month ago when I stopped calling her.
I answer the phone as I climb into the van. “Hey, Mom.”
I want to praise myself for sounding so calm after such an insane morning. I mean, the last couple of days have been hell.
“Evan! Hi!” Mom always sounds like talking to me is the best part of her day.
“How are you?”
“Fine, I guess. I had a few minutes, so I thought I’d give you a call.”
“Well, I’m glad. It’s always good to hear from you. Is the agency still treating you okay?”
She chuckles. “Yeah, but it’s hard work in this market. No one wants to buy a house right now, no matter how pretty I make it.”
I chuckle. Mom can make even the ugliest house feel like a home. It’s how she got hired as a professional stager for Spokane’s largest real estate company.
Man, if she could only see this place. She would lose her mind.
“Anyway, what’s new with you?” Mom says. “You sound happier than the last time we talked.”
I smile despite everything. “Yeah. Um, you’ll never believe it, but I found Jericho.”
She gasps. “What?”
“Or he found me really, but yeah. I’m with him right now, actually.”
I can easily picture her with a hand over her heart as she processes the news. Eyes wide and mouth agape. She cares about Jericho just as much as I do, and even helped me look for him when she could. “Well, don’t stop there! Tell me everything! How is he? What happened?”
“Do you remember that interview he went to?”
“The one in Prodigy? Yeah. You went to find him, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. Well,” I hesitate, realizing I should have told her about this a long time ago. She’s going to hate what I’m about to say. “He was turned that night, Mom. That’s why he didn’t come back.”
“Turned? What do you… Wait, as in… oh, God. Jericho’s a vampire?”
“Yeah, but he’s fine, I promise. And that’s why he stayed away, to—”
“And you said you’re with him?”
Shit. I knew this wouldn’t be easy. “Yes, but everything’s under control. He’s fine.” At least, as far as I know. I haven’t actually seen his bloodlust tested yet.
Mom groans. “Oh, Evan. No! That’s not okay!”
I take a deep breath. I had six months to adjust to the idea of Jericho being a vampire, so I can’t blame her for reacting the way she is.
Hell, I struggled with it at first too, wondering if I’d ever feel safe around him again.
In the end, I decided if I could feel safe around Ralph and Pansy, then I could feel safe around my best friend.
Mom doesn’t say anything for a long time. “I’m… well, I don’t know what to say. Are you sure that’s safe?”
“He’s in control, and he’s doing well. Actually, he’s almost exactly the same, aside from like… normal changes of course. But yeah, we’re hanging out again.”
And coming up with a plan to kill his psychotic sire… But I definitely can’t tell Mom that. She’d have a heart attack.
“Are you sure he’s okay, though? Because I’ve known a few vamps who struggled with their thirst for years, Evan. Years! And he only disappeared what, nine or ten months ago? That’s not—”
“Hold up. You know vampires?” I thought Mom only hung out with humans.
Mom hesitates. “One of my closest friends was turned when you were about seven years old.”
My eyes widen. “Who?”
“Do you remember Brandy?”
“Yeah, she had that little beagle that used to chase me around. Peanut, right?”
She hums.
“I loved that dog. I always wondered what happened to her.”
She makes a pained sound. “It was so awful, Evan. The police had to lock her away, and even then, it took a year for her to adjust. She attacked so many people. Killed so many. It was horrible.”
I flinch. Jericho’s turning hadn’t been easy either. He’d killed people… multiple people. I can’t forget that. But it still doesn’t change how I feel around him. Predator or not, I feel safe with him.
“Jericho has worked hard, Mom. I know it’s only been ten months, but he’s good. I promise.”
“Honey, just be careful,” she says. “You know I love him, but this… it scares me, baby.”
“I know, but if it makes you feel better, we’re not alone.”
She perks up. “Oh? Who are you with?”
“We’re staying with some… friends. Near Prodigy.” I hope she doesn’t catch how I paused on the word friends. I wouldn’t call the pack that, not after how they tried to kill Jericho. But they did come to our rescue when Bronson showed up, and they have listened to us so far.
“You aren’t with his coven, are you?” Mom asks.
“No. Um, we’re actually with some shifters. Jer doesn’t belong to a coven.”
“Shifters?” she says incredulously. “I didn’t know you knew any shifters?”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t know you knew any vamps, so I guess we’re even,” I say, keeping my tone light.
To my relief, she laughs. “Do I know them?” It’s a fair question, since Mom has met several of my friends back in Comstead.
“No, but they’re good people.” I hope. “Anyway, what have you been up to?”
While she talks, I look out the window, but the yard is empty. Where are you, Jer? I want him back. Every moment he’s away is thick with dread.
I see his sketchbook still lying on the mattress and immediately reach for it, using his art to calm me.
I flip through it, half-listening to Mom go on about her latest sales.
Each page is breathtaking, reminding me of when he’d fill entire notebooks with “doodles,” as he called them.
Except these are not doodles. They’ve never been doodles. His talent is incredible.
Does Jericho even know how good he is?
As I shift back on the bed, I knock aside a stack of clothes, revealing a small notebook with a bright red cover underneath. Curious. It matches the other sketchbooks, yet it’s not with them. Maybe it’s his most recent work?
I pull it out, still listening to Mom rattle on about the latest house she’s fallen in love with. But when I flip the cover, my mouth falls open and a curse slips from my lips before I can stop it. “Holy shit.”
“Pardon?” Mom says, stopping abruptly.
“Um, sorry. Not you. I just… saw something is all.” A very big something.
The man in the drawing is lying on a bed, completely nude, with a hand around his dick. One leg is bent at the knee, and his mouth is parted in ecstasy. He looks like he’s about two seconds away from blowing his load. Jericho drew this?
I turn the page, and nearly drop the phone at yet another graphic image, only this one is of a man giving a blowjob.
The receiving man’s body is cropped so only his abs and pelvis are showing, but his long, thick erection is full and hard as it enters the other man’s mouth.
The details are like nothing I’ve ever witnessed before.
So unbelievably realistic, like I’m seeing it happen right before my eyes.
I can see the vein on the side of the cock, as well as a dribble of spit on the man’s puffy lips.
I can’t look away, and my cheeks heat, caught off guard by something so… well, undeniably sexy. I’m not even attracted to men, but the raw emotions in these sketches make it difficult to form words. I feel like I’m right there with them.
I turn another page to find a guy on his back, legs spread wide as another man fucks him. The detail is just as stunning, right down to the sweat glistening on their skin. I can almost feel their desire radiating off the page.
My eyes are drawn to the bigger man, driving into his lover. He has thick dark hair, and looks a little like Jericho. The way his hair partially hides his face, and the veins in his neck. Is this what Jericho looks like overcome with passion?
“Evan, are you still listening?”
I startle and slam the notebook closed, my heart running wild. “Sorry. What?”
“I asked if you were coming here for Christmas.”
“Oh. Um, I don’t know what my plans are. I lost my job a couple of days ago. I’m kind of taking it one day at a time right now.”
“You lost your job? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It happened right before Jericho came back.” I fill her in on the details while trailing my hand along the cover of the red notebook. I’m probably not making any sense, distracted as I am by his drawings. “Hey, Mom. Can we talk later? I’m just kinda… I need to go.”
“Okay, fine. I love you!”
“You too.”
We hang up and I set the phone aside. My mind is still spinning.
I want to find Jericho, but I also want to look at more of his sketches.
A quick glance outside tells me Jericho is no where to be seen.
The lights are on inside the house, but I don’t want to go in there. I want to see more of his art.
Giving in, I flip through the pages again, becoming immediately overwhelmed by not only the detail but the raw lust in every sketch.
A strange knot twists in my stomach as questions fill my mind.
Who are these men, and how can Jericho draw them with such vivid detail?
Jericho said he’d only slept with Foxx, but was that a lie?
Was he too embarrassed or ashamed to tell me the truth?
A thin, red ribbon hangs out from the bottom, bookmarking a page in the middle. I gently tug it open and reveal the contents. My heart lurches.
“Oh my God.”
It’s me.
Jericho drew me.
I’m lying on my back, one arm tucked under my head.
My jeans are open at the fly, shirt pulled up, and one hand is hidden under my boxer briefs.
The tip of my cock is pressing against the fabric, and my eyes are hooded.
I’m biting my lip, head thrown back in desire.
It’s a position I’ve been in so many times, when I’m too horny to even remove my clothes.
I turn the page, my breath hitching when I see another sketch.
This time I’m on my stomach, ass exposed as I peer over my shoulder.
I’m looking right at him, at Jericho and I seem happy, the corners of my lips turned up in a private smile.
He’d not only gotten my messy evening hair right, but he’d gotten the birthmark on my left thigh perfect. More oval than circle.
When had Jericho drawn this? He must have seen me naked at one point without me knowing.
I mean, I guess it’s possible, with as many times Jericho stayed the night at my house.
And he’s definitely seen me with my hand down my shorts.
It’s just what guys do. But this? I don’t remember Jericho ever seeing me like this.
I turn the page again and am taken aback by a raw, unfinished sketch of two men in bed, their long muscled legs wrapped around each other. One looks like the beginning of me, the other… is that Jericho? It has to be. I recognize that mole on his arm. Was he drawing us together?
I flip the page, and swallow hard. Instinctively, I look around to be sure no one is seeing this because it feels way too personal. Too intimate.
Jericho is behind me, one arm wrapped around my stomach while his hand is curled around my cock.
My head lays limp on his shoulder, throat exposed, veins pulsing.
And I’m aroused. So fucking aroused, leaking precum from the slit.
I’m completely at his mercy, and from the looks of it, I’m loving every second.
That’s when it finally hits me.
This is why he left.
This is why Jericho abandoned me all those months ago. Because he had feelings for me. Or maybe not feelings, but he was definitely having some highly erotic thoughts about me. He’d wanted me, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it, or if he could tell me.
Or maybe he did try to tell me, and I was too oblivious to hear him. My skin gets tight as shame chokes me. Is that it? Did Jericho try to tell me he was attracted to me and I’d missed it? If he had… fuck, I wouldn’t blame him for leaving.
I’m such a shitty friend.
I close the notebook and slide it back under the pile of clothes, having no idea what to do. He wouldn’t like me invading his personal thoughts like this. He probably would have hidden it, if he’d had the time. Things have been so hectic, so chaotic, he probably forgot all about it.
But dammit. I won’t be able to unsee those drawings. Not for a long, long time. The way he’d touched me, the way he’d held me.
The way I’d completely given in to his pleasure.
It leaves me with a strange sense of want. But what do I want, exactly? Sex? Or Jericho?
Do I want Jericho? Or am I simply reacting to his erotic drawings? Fuck, I don’t know.
What I do know is I’ve never looked at my friend that way before. I’ve never even considered it. I like women. I like their breasts and soft curves. It’s all I’ve ever known or wanted.
But now, I’m curious.
What would it be like to have Jericho hold me like that, with his hand around my dick and his fangs on my throat? What would it be like to have him suck me off? Or just to simply kiss him? The idea doesn’t immediately turn me off. In fact, I’m kind of interested…
“Fuck,” I mutter, palming my hardening dick. I am definitely interested. What am I gonna do now?