Ice Man (9 page)

Theron failed to contain the bubble of laughter. “You’re right. I can’t give you that. Why would anyone want to promise fidelity?” He led Rowan into the main living quarters. “At least with you, that part makes sense. I’m not sure I believe Brett will stay faithful. He’s a member of a sex club for a reason.”

“I don’t want to hear this shit.”

“Right now, we’re going to talk. You’re going to listen. Unclench your fists and your ass and have a seat. God, I didn’t realize in the last twenty-four hours you’d had an epiphany.”

“If you’re going to be an asshole, I’d just as soon leave. I’ve beaten myself up enough for both of us.” He touched his neck. “If you left a bruise I hope it looks like a hickey. That’s going to be easier to explain then strangulation marks.”

Theron’s expression sobered. “I’m sorry.”

Rowan shook his head. “I can’t say tonight has been my brightest moment. I knew better than to wake you in my condition. You aren’t yourself until after you feed.”

He nodded. “Thank you, but I don’t think it excuses my reaction. I don’t want you feeding another vampire, not without me.”

“I don’t want to. I couldn’t think of a way to make you understand. This isn’t about you and me. It’s just about me.”

“I believe I’m understanding the emotional place you’ve been. Don’t worry. I’ll heal the bruising.”

Rowan sat next to Theron and let him pull him into the circumference of his arms. He stiffened then relaxed. This was his best friend and, until yesterday, his lover. He sighed and let the intoxicating warmth surround him. If all worked out with Brett—even if it didn’t—this might be the last time they held each other close.

“I want you to sit here and listen to me,” Theron began. “I don’t love, not the way humans do.” He was quiet a moment. “Maybe once, but that was so long ago.” His voice took on a dreamy quality. “Not anymore and never again.” He tensed. “Trust is overrated. I’d rather know when I’m being fucked over.”

“I’m not fucking you over.”

“Shhh,” he whispered near his ear. “You’re listening now.”

Rowan nodded.

“As long as I live, I will sire all vampires in my sect,” he said unyieldingly. “My world. Only those invited in by me are allowed.”

He wasn’t talking about the club. Hairs prickled along Rowan’s arms.

“I hear the thoughts of those I sire.” He paused a moment. “No other, human or vampire, will ever threaten my existence again.” He tightened his hold on Rowan. “Including anyone I hold in fond regard. Regardless of how much it might hurt, I would not hesitate to destroy that which could destroy me.”

Rowan’s audible swallow echoed in the room. “Do you consider me a threat?”

“All humans are threats once they know of our existence.”

“Vampires?”

“Yes.” His breath warmed Rowan’s neck. “I offer you this.” Theron’s voice became thready with emotion. “Keep your promise to Brett.” He kissed his neck. “We will share our last kiss.”

Rowan’s heart pounded, but with Theron’s wicked tongue on his flesh, his cock stirred and blood surged through his veins, desperate to feed his master. “Can’t…fuck…you.”

“But you can still feed me.”

Rowan closed his eyes. His body warmed as Theron absorbed more of his weight. Fangs pricked his neck but didn’t penetrate. Theron waited for consent. “Yes.” He barely breathed the words.

Theron’s teeth sank into his neck. Blood rushed to the surface.
Oh God, feels so good.
Heat sizzled on his flesh. Theron’s hands wrapped around his shoulders and his legs locked around Rowan’s. He held him immobile as he drew hard, sucking, tasting, gorging on his blood.

The fog cleared from his thoughts and Theron was there with him, whispering words of regret. Their connection had been special for both of them and the loss punched Rowan in the gut. Even with the high of feeding, he knew they would never be the same.

I’ll be here waiting when you’re ready for me. When you’re ready to come home
.

Chapter Six

Brett clicked keys on the keyboard but his eyes kept drifting to the clock hanging above the fireplace. He’d managed to get a few hours sleep between bouts of online information gathering. Most of the groundwork on the Chinese deal had been done months ago. But last-minute details could undermine the entire project and he wasn’t about to let a two-million-dollar commission slip away. He didn’t fail. He persevered, fought through fatigue and got the damn job done. Just like he would tonight. He adjusted his reading glasses, took a sip of coffee and returned to his spreadsheet. He plugged in numbers, recalculated costs and made notations for contingency expenses. Monotonous, but numbers he understood.

Sexy, secretive bartenders had created the chaos in his life. Secretive because, although Rowan said he wouldn’t be fucking anyone else, he couldn’t help picturing him wrapped around Tac. Yesterday he’d found the image arousing. Tonight, it pissed him off.

He stood, arched and stretched. Rolling his shoulders, he eased the stiffness from his neck. Normally, he could work for hours, but normally he wasn’t sore as hell from fucking all night long.

Sometime tonight he needed to think about dinner. An unstoppable smile curved his mouth. He could imagine something hot and smooth sliding between his lips. He’d nearly come when he’d seen Rowan’s hairless crotch.

The house was always quiet. He rarely watched television. Online sources were better for financial news. He enjoyed turning on the stereo but not while he worked. He didn’t like distractions. Yet in the quiet house, alone, without TV, stereo, kids or a wife, he couldn’t get shit done. He growled and ran his fingers through his hair.

Last night he’d scolded Rowan to get Tac out of his head. He hadn’t realized just how hard that could be. He sighed, giving up the effort of work, and went to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator door at the same time the phone rang. His heart jumped and his pulse raced. Over a phone call! And it might not be Rowan. He glanced at the clock again. At this hour it had to be. He reached for the cordless and, feeling breathless, answered.

“Hard at work?” He smiled at the sound of Rowan’s voice. “Or just hard?” Brett chuckled. Obviously Rowan was in a good mood.

“I wish.” He returned to the living room and plopped onto the couch. “I can’t focus.” He glanced at the clock. “My meeting is in about two hours and if I don’t figure out how to get you out of my head so I can concentrate, I’m going to be winging this one.”

What would it take to get Rowan out of his head? Damn if he knew. He’d never been ruled by his sex drive. Fuck, he had stayed in a marriage for nearly twenty years. If that didn’t prove his commitment to work, what did? He’d never put his personal life first. The kids yes, but with Karen running the house, all he had were power deals, jacking off to porn and a very rare, casual hook-up.

“Where are you?” Earlier he’d said he’d be behind the bar tonight but the line was too quiet for him to be in the club. “I thought you had to work.”

“I did. Falcon is filling in for me.”

So they could see each other if he didn’t have this meeting. Maybe after, but that would mean opening himself up for complications. He hadn’t wanted to have men coming to his home. Not just because the doorman might make the assumption—the accurate assumption—that he was bringing home a lover, but he wanted his privacy, needed his space.

Indecision faded. This was different. Rowan was different. Brett didn’t want to imagine Rowan tied to his bed, he wanted him here.

“I have the conference call.”

“So we’ll have phone sex later.”

“I’d rather see you.”

“So invite me over.”

Brett chuckled. “Would you come?”

“Now you’re teasing. We’d both come.”

His stomach swooped. “Do you wonder if we’re moving too fast?” He rested his head against the backrest of the couch. One-night encounters weren’t relationships. But then, he wasn’t the expert on relationships and it didn’t appear Rowan was either, considering yesterday he was involved with Tac. Hell, for all Brett knew, he still could be.

“Maybe, but I don’t want to think about what’s right or wrong. What did you expect to happen when you ordered a mojito and batted your sexy bedroom eyes? I certainly wasn’t planning on meeting anyone in the club, then fucking him in a private room and the biggest surprise…” There was silence on the line. “I didn’t expect to break with Tac but I have.”

Brett lifted his head. “Fuck. Are you okay?” Maybe he called because he didn’t want to be alone. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t. It’s okay. We talked and I’m fine. He’s fine but Tac didn’t want me in the club tonight.”

“He fired you? He can’t, you know. You could slap a lawsuit on his ass—”

“No, stop. This isn’t about Tac or my job. I want to tell you everything but not now. I just want to hear your voice. I need to see you.”

“Then come over.”

He blew a harsh breath. “About time you asked.”

“I live downtown.”

“Brett, I know where you live. I’m freezing my ass outside your building. I didn’t want to come over without calling first.”

Brett laughed. He’d never met a man more like himself than Rowan. First the phone number and now the address. He’d come after Brett the same way Brett went after his work. Nothing stood in his way and nothing was going to stand in Rowan’s.
Thank God.
He stood and went to the window overlooking the street. Peeling back the curtain, he glanced at the line of cars parked along the curb. “I’ll buzz the doorman. Come on up. I’m on the sixth floor, apartment 618.”

He hung up and immediately dialed the doorman who also filled the role of night guard. His building consisted of both owners and renters. Upscale, secure and near the heart of the city. “I have a guest arriving.” He watched out the window as Rowan stepped from a stylish Mini Cooper. “He’s coming to the door. Don’t question him, just let him up.”

A flicker of guilt niggled his conscience. Brett didn’t have company. He’d moved to Denver, purchased his condo and stayed to himself. He didn’t strike up conversations with the neighbors or the doorman. And until tonight he’d never buzzed a man up.

Glancing around, he made sure his home was presentable. Hell, his place was almost sterile it was so clean. He had a woman come in twice a week, but living alone, he didn’t create much work for her. He hadn’t lived in the place long enough to amass clutter. And when he’d moved out of the family house in Texas, he hadn’t taken much with him.

Brett hurried upstairs to the bathroom and ran a comb through his hair. No time. Rowan would be at the door any minute. He quickly gargled mouthwash, glided deodorant under his arms and checked his clothing. Casual beach pants and a tank. He chuckled, not the usual wear, but at home he liked to be comfortable. The doorbell buzzed.

Holy shit!
Adrenaline fired through his veins. His heart pounded and his hands trembled. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. He’d seen the man this morning and yet he couldn’t get back downstairs and the door open fast enough.

He flipped the dead bolt and opened the door. Before he could utter a word, Rowan was in his arms. He slammed his lips onto Brett’s, thrust his tongue into his mouth and moaned.

Brett kissed him back, shifting them into the room. He kicked the door closed and pushed Rowan against it. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss. Soft warm lips and a hard body. He slowly parted, dragging oxygen into his lungs.

He rested his forehead against Rowan’s. He smelled as he remembered. Hot flesh, spicy. “This is crazy,” he whispered.

“Do you want me to go?” Rowan’s fingertips trekked over the ribbed material of his tank, tracing the contours of his torso.

What did he have to lose? This feeling in his chest, the pounding heart, warmth in his gut and need pooling in his balls, was real. “Come in.” He took a step back.

Rowan shrugged off his coat and Brett took it from him. “Nice place.”

Brett glanced around, seeing his condo through Rowan’s eyes. Yes, it was nice but looked infinitely better with Rowan in it.

“May I get you a drink?” He hung the coat in the closet. “Beer?”

“Water.” Rowan faced Brett. “Or juice if you’ve got it.”

Brett chuckled. “Are you one of those health-food junkies?”

“Yeah, it’s a curse.” He walked around the perimeter of the room, paused at the window, then glanced at the photos on the desk. “Your kids?”

“Yes,” Brett came from the kitchen. Rowan held a small photo. “That’s Daniel’s graduation.” Hopefully Rowan liked orange juice. He handed him the glass then sipped the beer he’d grabbed for himself. “Jennifer’s senior prom.” She wore a seafoam green dress. The color matched her eyes. Diamonds sparkled in her ears and her date had brought her roses.

“I never went to a school dance.” Rowan spoke with awe and reverence in his voice. “I didn’t go to high school.”

Brett’s stomach soured. He hated that Rowan had struggled in his youth. That he’d become a skilled flair bartender and successful man gave testament to his fortitude. Brett found his strength of character a turn-on as much as his ripped body and big cock.

Rowan lifted the drink. “Thank you.”