Chapter 16
Boaz
“What’s his deal?” Hansel grumbled as he stared at Alexander. The vampire sat at a table across from theirs. And as always, Lyla was right there next to him. “He’s been staring at us ever since he got here.”
Boaz followed his gaze and regretted it the moment his eyes met Alexander’s. Before, he’d only been aware of the vampire when he got too close. But now… it didn’t matter how far away he was.
Boaz could feel him. An innocent glance felt like a caress, the slightest movement had Boaz snapping to attention and holding his breath.
It was maddening.
As if the vampire secretly held a remote that could turn his body from cold to instantly hot in seconds.
Boaz dropped his gaze to his plate, cussing the vampire as a tingling sensation slowly crawled down his spine, making him shift in his seat.
He forced himself to eat, shoving food into his mouth so he could get out of here.
Within minutes, he was done.
He grabbed his plate and pushed to his feet.
“Are you done?” Hansel asked, glancing up at him.
“Yeah,” Boaz said quickly, already turning away but Hansel reached out to grasp his arm.
“Can you take some food to old Larson?” he asked. “He’s not feeling great tonight.” His eyes flicked back toward Alexander, narrowing slightly. “I was going to do it, but I think I should stay here… keep an eye on things.”
“Yeah, sure,” he said eagerly, relief washing over him.
He needed an excuse to delay going to his cabin. He wasn’t ready to meet Alexander for his feeding. Tonight he felt raw, hypersensitive. He needed a minute to steel himself. Build walls. Keep his desires in check.
Boaz made his way to the back and put together a plate for the old werewolf. As he worked, he felt like he was being watched. Again.
Boaz shifted nervously, resisting the urge to turn around. He didn’t need to look to know who it was. He felt him.
The second he was done, Boaz headed for the exit.
He let out a slow breath as he stepped out into the night and crossed the fields toward the row of pack houses a distance away.
Just as he stepped onto the paved path that led up to the first house, he felt the heavy sensation along his back return.
Boaz glanced over his shoulder, expecting he’d see Alexander standing there.
But the path behind him was empty.
He shook off the feeling and turned back to the house, stepping up to the door. He knocked and waited, shifting the plate slightly in his hands.
A few minutes went by. Nothing happened. Boaz lifted his hand to knock again when a slow shuffling from inside and a long, weary sigh broke the silence.
“I’m coming in,” Boaz called, pushing the door open before the old man could take another step.
“I was almost there,” Old Larson grumbled, leaning heavily on his cane.
The thin, silver strands of his hair stuck out in every direction. His cheeks were flushed a deep ruby red, puffed slightly with irritation, making him resemble a grumbling old cartoon character brought to life.
He shuffled toward his chair, each step slow, the dull thud of his cane against the wooden floor echoing through the quiet room.
“Damn rascal has no patience whatsoever,” he muttered under his breath.
Boaz bit back a smile as he closed the door behind him.
“I brought your food,” he said, stepping further inside. “Should I bring it over?”
“What do you think?” Larson shot back without looking at him. “I can’t eat it from all the way over here.”
“Right.”
Boaz crossed the room and set the plate down, dragging the small coffee table closer so the old man could reach it easily.
When he straightened, his hands pressed briefly against his lower back as he took in the space around him.
The cabin was warm and lived-in. A bookshelf lined one wall, stacked with old, weathered books. A few chairs sat near the now cold fireplace.
Boaz took a step toward the bookshelf, curiosity tugging at him.
A throat cleared behind him.
He turned to find Old Larson staring at him expectantly, one brow raised.
“Aren’t you going to leave?” Larson asked.
“Uh… yeah,” Boaz said sheepishly. “I should probably… get out of your hair. Enjoy your food.”
“I will. Thank you,” the old man said, already turning his attention to the plate.
Boaz gave a small nod and slipped out of the house, pulling the door closed quietly behind him.
Instead of heading back toward his cabin, his feet carried him to the lake.
He stepped onto the soft sand at the water’s edge and toed off his shoes, while he pulled his shirt over his head and shucked off his pants, leaving only his boxers.
A quiet sigh slipped from his lips as wadded into the water.
The water lapped gently against his skin, soothing the tension that had been coiled tight in his body all night. He floated to his back, letting the lake carry him slowly around.
When he was on the other side of the lake, he felt that familiar sense of being watched again.
Boaz turned upright, his body going tense as he lifted his head, scanning the shoreline.
And there, standing beneath the moonlight was Alexander. His eyes glowed red as they locked on him.
Fuck, Boaz cursed under his breath. He wasn’t ready to face the vampire. Not yet.
Not caring how it might look, he flipped onto his stomach and swam away. Behind him something hit the water with a loud splash. And suddenly he was being pulled under.
Boaz sucked in air just as cold water closed over his head. He twisted, kicking out blindly until his foot connected with something solid. The grip loosened, and he surged upward, breaking the surface with a gasp.
Only to be shoved under again.
Water rushed into his ears, muffling everything except the unmistakable sound of laughter.
Boaz fought his way back up, shoving wet hair out of his face, chest heaving as he scanned the water.
A few paces away, Alexander floated effortlessly, barely disturbed by the chaos he’d just caused. His dark hair clung to his head and shoulders, dripping, his skin slick and gleaming under the moonlight.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Boaz coughed as he glared at him. “Are you trying to kill me?”
Alexander didn’t answer. His gaze drifted lazily over the lake as if Boaz hadn’t just nearly drowned.
“The water is amazing,” he said running his right hand over his chest. Despite himself, Boaz’s eyes followed the hand, saliva pooling in his mouth.
He tore his gaze away.
“If you wanted to feed, you could’ve just said so,” Boaz bit out. “You didn’t have to try and kill me.”
He turned and swam for the shore, determined to get away from the vampire. Before he could pick up his clothes, a hand closed around his ankle and yanked him down. Boaz’s back hit the soft sand. A second later, Alexander was on him, pinning him there.
The vampire hovered over him, caging him in, his hands braced on either side as the water shifted around them.
Boaz jolting as he looked up into Alexander’s eyes.
Look away, Boaz told himself, but his body refused to listen. His gaze stayed locked on Alexander’s face, on the droplets of water clinging to his skin, on the way his lips were parted just so.
As if caught in a dream, Boaz felt his body move. He pushed up onto his elbows and pressed his lips to Alexander’s. Time slowed and the world around them disappeared. All that remained was the feel of the vampire skin against his and the firm press of his lips.
The vampire went completely still above him.
And just like that reality came crashing back.
Fuck.
Boaz squeezed his eyes shut. What the hell had he just done?
His lips parted as he dragged in a shaky breath. “You should… feed now.”
He tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck, giving Alexander access.
Nothing happened.
What was he waiting for?
“Alex…” he whined. Literally whined.
A beat later, Alexander moved on top of him. His lips came to Boaz’s neck, followed by the sting of his fangs.
“Oh fuck,” Boaz moaned before he could stop himself. He arched into the vampire, rolling his hips against his stomach as desire thrummed through his veins. Alexander sucked harder, turning him inside out.
Boaz dug his hands into the sand as he fought the urge to drag Alexander closer.
He closed his eyes and let him drink his fill.
When he was done, Boaz pushed Alexander off him and got to his feet.
He turned around quickly to hide the huge tent in his boxers.
Though it was useless. Alexander had probably felt how hard he was.
As for fucking kissing him.
What the hell was wrong with him?
Boaz snatched his clothes from the ground and ran.