Wolfgang Bonus Epilogue
Eric
Eric bounced his leg under the bar, jittery with nerves.
His first hunt.
Well, his first real hunt. He’d fed off Wolfe’s selected victims before, allegedly practicing his restraint. Which was honestly always easy enough with Wolfe staring at Eric with feverish eyes, pulling Eric’s beast’s attention away from the feed and back to his mate without even trying.
But this time, Eric would select his prey and run the compulsion himself.
A solo mission. Okay, not solo, seeing as how Wolfe was currently at his side, an arm wrapped possessively around Eric’s middle as they sipped their wine at the bar, his barstool pushed so close to Eric’s they were practically on each other’s laps.
Eric couldn’t even feign surprise. It wasn’t like either of them merited gold stars when it came to relationship independence.
And while Wolfe was usually content enough to feed on the trail hikers or runners that passed by their backyard, he’d insisted on making Eric’s first real hunt more of an occasion, hence the fancy bar.
Gabe had told Eric that he and Soren usually frequented the clubs at the nearby town when hunting, which had honestly sounded kind of fun, but when Eric had suggested a nightclub, Wolfe had given him the most unimpressed look of his life before kissing him soundly and informing him he’d already selected their hunting grounds for the evening.
And now there they were, sipping wine that cost significantly more than the clothes on Eric’s back—the wine also selected by Wolfe—while Wolfe stroked said back absently and vetoed all Eric’s choices.
Every. Single. One.
“Her?”
“Mm. I think not.”
“Him?”
“Try again.”
“Them?” Eric pointed to a ridiculously attractive couple clearly on their own date night (although he’d bet theirs wouldn’t be ending in bloodshed, at least not intentionally).
He thought maybe he had it right with this one; it was possible Wolfe wanted to be included in the hunt, and that was his problem.
This way, they could each have their own. A shared plate.
Wolfe surreptitiously eyed the couple Eric had selected, and Eric eyed him in turn.
He looked good, as usual. A sharp forest-green suit, even sharper cheekbones, his eyes doing their freaky red glint in the bar’s dim lighting.
Wolfe was definitely the hottest thing in here, without a doubt.
Eric wanted to nibble on his neck more than anyone else’s.
But that didn’t count as sustenance, as he’d been told a million times.
Eric really did think maybe he’d finally gotten it right. The couple were hot as hell, to be sure. He could definitely see his past, pre-Wolfe self trying to insert himself between them for a bit of three-way fun.
But Wolfe—the snobby, picky bastard—wrinkled his nose as he looked them over, eventually giving a curt shake of his head. “We can do better.”
Eric stared at him, incredulous. Wolfe met his gaze, the picture of unconcern. But for the briefest moment, something flickered in his eyes while a faint emotion pulsed through the bond, one Eric hadn’t felt from Wolfe before.
Was that…jealousy?
Eric almost brushed the thought away. It would be so completely ridiculous if it were true. But then again, Wolfe wasn’t exactly not ridiculous.
Eric leaned closer. “Wolfe?” he murmured.
“Mm?” Wolfe sipped at his wine, his eyes tracking their bartender now.
“Can you tell me exactly what’s been wrong with my choices so far?”
Wolfe clearly needed no further prompting. “The woman was too trashy. The man has clearly dipped his toes into steroids. And that couple is—” He waved a hand dismissively, acting as if that was enough to finish his statement.
Holy fucking hell. He was jealous. Eric smirked. “You know I’m selecting a meal, not a bedmate, right?”
In a flash, he was rewarded with a sharp tug on his midsection, and Wolfe’s hot breath on his ear, released in a snarl. “As if you would ever.”
Oh yeah. Super jealous. Red-hot, growly, ridiculous jealousy. Jesus, this guy.
Well, that was easy enough to handle. Eric snuggled in closer, as if Wolfe hadn’t just almost bitten his head off. “Wolfe?”
“Yes, darling?” The darling came out like a curse.
“Would you like to choose my meal for me?”
Wolfe tensed at Eric’s side, but Eric could feel his reluctant pleasure at the offer. “That would defeat the purpose of our outing, pet.”
Eric shrugged, his shoulder brushing up against Wolfe’s. “I don’t mind. You choose my outfits. You choose our wine. You choose when I need a hot bath instead of a shower. Why not choose my meals as well? I like when you do things for me.”
Oh yeah. That was doing it for Wolfe. Majorly doing it. Eric hid his smirk behind one hand. It was kind of adorable, actually. The type of adorable that had Eric wanting to fall onto his knees and take Wolfe’s cock into his mouth.
All in due time, as Wolfe would say.
“I suppose…” Wolfe swirled his wine, clearly trying to hide his own pleased smile. “I could find the appropriate selection for you.”
He released Eric from his hold, sitting straight up on his barstool, and immediately set his eyes on someone, as if he’d only been waiting for this opportunity. “That one.”
Eric looked where he was indicating: Sitting alone at a high table was a businessman with sad eyes and the distinct tan line from a missing wedding ring. Looks-wise, he was someone Eric wouldn’t necessarily have kicked out of bed in the past, but not someone he would have sought out either.
While Eric studied his future meal, Wolfe beckoned the bartender over. “We’ll be using your back office,” he instructed, the force of compulsion in his voice. “No interruptions.”
Eric raised a brow at him. “I thought I was doing the compulsion tonight.”
“Go get your dinner, pet. I’ll meet you in back.”
It was quick work getting the guy—Martin, he told Eric his name was—to follow him into the back.
Eric had already practiced compulsion under Wolfe’s guidance.
And true, it was kind of freaky, but it was easy enough once he’d gotten the hang of it.
It helped when he was pushing someone toward something they already wanted, and this guy seemed lonely as hell, eager to have some company, even for a minute.
When they got to the back office, Wolfe was already inside, standing in the corner with his arms crossed, like some sort of stern head teacher.
Eric shot him a serene smile, leaning Martin against the wall as he met the human’s eyes and let his beast come to the surface.
It rose easily, enraptured by the whole situation: their mate so close; Wolfe’s uncharacteristically
complex emotions pushing at the bond; and the prey right in front of them, ready to be devoured.
“I’m going to bite you, Martin,” Eric said, lacing compulsion into his voice. “It’s going to feel fantastic. You’re not going to be afraid at all. When I’m done, you’ll only remember a nice kiss with a stranger.”
“No kiss.” Wolfe’s voice rang out, harsh in the quiet of the office.
Eric shot Wolfe an incredulous look. “I’m not going to actually kiss him.”
“No. Kiss.”
“Oh my God. Fine.” He turned back to Martin, trying not to giggle at the continued ridiculousness of a jealous Wolfe. “You’ll remember a nice conversation with a stranger.” He glanced at Wolfe. “Better?”
Wolfe waved a hand.
Eric picked up their new friend’s wrist—no way was he going for a neck bite with how testy Wolfe was being—and bit in.
It was fucking delicious. No surprise, considering human blood always was.
That coppery warmth never failed to hit Eric with a jolt of fresh energy.
Still, he finished quickly, gulping down his meal, closing the bite with a swift lick, and then unceremoniously pushing the guy out and closing the door behind him.
Poor dude. Maybe he’d make a friend tonight.
Someone without an incredibly possessive eternal lover lurking in the shadows.
Then Eric turned to Wolfe, licking the last of the blood off his lips. “Jealous,” he accused, delighted to finally say it out loud.
“Of a human?” Wolfe scoffed at the suggestion, but it was cut off by a sharp intake of breath as Eric sank to his knees in front of him.
“So jealous,” Eric repeated. He nuzzled his head against Wolfe’s stomach, unbuckling his belt at the same time.
“And you wish to reward me for it?”
“I wish,” Eric teased, “to bite you.”
Wolfe cocked a brow, staring down at him, his expression stern as ever. “You realize, pet, that you bite me after every feed?”
“You taste better,” Eric said simply, smiling as he felt Wolfe begin to harden under his hand. “My beast thinks so too.” He glanced up as he slid Wolfe’s zipper down. “I don’t mind, you know.”
“My taste?”
“I don’t mind if you pick every one of my feeds,” Eric clarified.
“I don’t care what they look like, or sound like.
I don’t give a shit.” He lowered Wolfe’s slacks, ignoring the hard cock in his face and biting into his favorite spot: the femoral artery, right at the junction of Wolfe’s groin and thigh.
The hot coppery liquid filled his mouth, and Eric groaned as he drank it in, listening to Wolfe’s breath stutter.
Wolfe wasn’t fooling Eric one bit with his impassive act. Eric knew how much Wolfe loved that he drank from him after every human feed. The possessive bastard reveled in it.
Eric allowed himself a few greedy gulps of Wolfe’s blood, his beast absolutely purring in delight.
“It’s bullshit,” he mused once he finished, licking a long, bloody stripe up Wolfe’s bobbing cock.
Wolfe’s fingers came to land on his head. “What is, my pet?”
“They’re not sustenance. You’re sustenance. They’re just food.”
Eric glanced up just in time to see Wolfe’s eyes flare with heat, and he felt a familiar warmth pulse through the bond: Wolfe’s love for him.
It often swelled up at the strangest times: when Eric was extra sullen or pouty; when he opted to skip a family dinner and stay home with Wolfe instead; or, obviously, when he said things like this—that Wolfe was what he wanted above all others.
Eric couldn’t help his small grin as he chased Wolfe’s cock with his mouth, sucking him down as Wolfe’s fingers tightened in his hair.
He was hard too. Had been since the moment Wolfe’s blood had filled his mouth.
He briefly considered fishing himself out of his jeans, but just then Wolfe moved his leg forward, pressing his calf against Eric’s clothed cock.
“Don’t touch yourself,” Wolfe ordered, his voice raspy with lust. “Come just like this.”
Eric groaned around the length in his mouth.
Jesus. Ridiculous, that was what Wolfe was.
But it wasn’t like what he was asking for was impossible—that was the humiliating part.
Eric was keyed up beyond belief, him and his beast both: from feeding, from Wolfe’s blood, from the fierce, desperate look on Wolfe’s face as Eric sucked him down.
So Eric pushed himself against Wolfe’s calf, moaning once again around the hard cock pressing against his tongue. He rocked his hips and sucked like his life depended on it—he’d long since learned Wolfe could handle a surprisingly rough touch.
And it wasn’t long before his hips were stuttering against Wolfe’s leg, Eric making a mess of himself while Wolfe growled his approval.
Fucking hell.
It should have been embarrassing that he came before Wolfe, if not for the fierce satisfaction that flooded the bond, and Wolfe’s murmured, “My perfect pet,” as he stroked Eric’s hair.
Eric let himself bask in the praise for a moment. It didn’t seem to ever matter what the fuck he did—everything was perfect in Wolfe’s eyes. It might have been insane, but it was the most cared for Eric could ever imagine feeling.
“May I fuck your mouth now, beloved?”
Eric nodded, letting his jaw fall slack, giving in to the sated, soft feeling of his beast’s contentedness. To his gratification, it was only a few sharp thrusts and harsh gags before Wolfe was groaning through his own release, filling Eric’s throat.
Eric kept him in his mouth long after he’d gone soft, leaning his head against Wolfe’s solid thigh.
They did this sometimes at home, a connection Eric had learned to cherish.
He had a lot of free time now without the hospital, and he liked to spend most of it touching Wolfe in some way.
Codependent? Definitely. But it was hard to care when he was this happy.
Eric didn’t know how much time had passed when he finally let Wolfe drop from his mouth. It didn’t matter. Wolfe pulled him up, kissing him long and deep. “My perfect darling,” he crooned.
Eric grumbled a protest, just because. “I’m a mess.”
All he got in return was that catlike smile. “You are. You’ll need a bath, I think. Come.”
Eric laughed lazily. “You just wanted an excuse to soap me up, didn’t you?”
“I don’t need an excuse.” Wolfe pressed a smug kiss to his lips. “As if you’d deny me.”
It wasn’t even a boast, not when he was exactly right. Wolfe’s baths were relaxing as hell, and it was always easy enough to coax him into sexing Eric up either during or after. It was a win-win, really. Eric’s spent cock stirred at the thought. “Yeah, let’s head home.”
He had his hand on the doorknob when Wolfe stopped him with a tight grip on his wrist. “Say it first.”
“I love you. You and your tasty blood.”
Wolfe hummed in satisfaction, releasing his hold. “You did wonderfully on your hunt, beloved. The most perfect vampire in Hyde Park.”
It took everything in Eric not to laugh, considering how Wolfe had deliberately sabotaged his attempts from the beginning. He probably had been perfect in Wolfe’s eyes. After all, what was more perfect to Wolfe than catering to his every whim? “I think you might be a little biased.”
Wolfe scoffed. “I’m correct. As always.”
Eric let it lie. If Wolfe wanted to call him perfect every day for the rest of his extended life, who was he to argue? It sounded like heaven to him. “Come on, psycho. Take me home.”