For the Bite of It (3 page)

Vince ran his gaze over Angelo’s outfit and hoped John didn’t choose this moment to walk into his bakery. How would he explain this peacock to the detective? “This is summer in Arizona, you know?”

“
Non
. You know I don’t feel temperatures. I tell my body it is not hot and it is so. I am as cool as a cucumber.”

While he had a special place in his heart for his best friend, there were many, many days when he could have strangled him. With no regrets afterward. Vince turned his ire on Greg who had come back out of the kitchen to gawk at Angelo, delivery forgotten.

“Shouldn’t you be loading the van?” he snapped, his tone harsh.

“Yes, sir.” The young man swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and turned to go.

“Greg!
Au voleur
!” Angelo called out, fluttering his scarf in his hand.

Vince frowned. “Stop thief? What the hell has he stolen?”

Greg turned away from Vince to Angelo his brows puckered in confusion.

“My heart,” Angelo pressed his hand to his chest and jutted his hip, posing.

Vince bit back a growl, having had enough of Angelo’s nonsense. He wasn’t in the mood. Not today. Not when John Reeder prowled somewhere outside his half-a-goddamn-bakery. And his hankering for John’s ass and his bloodlust ate at him in equal measure.

“You,” he stabbed a finger in Greg’s direction. “Load up the van. Lock up and make the delivery. Angelo, you come with me.”

Vince only had one use for Angelo today—to feed his hunger for the food that sustained his kind. He untied his apron, flung it in a box behind the counter, and practically dragged Angelo out the door.

“Such a—”

“Get in the car. We’re going to my house.”

He slammed the door shut on his convertible and reversed, not bothering to see if Angelo had settled in. Turning right, he drove home, barely managing to slow down in the school zone. At the next light, he glanced at his friend, who was humming a tune and still playing with his scarf.

“
Santo cielo, Angelo.
What are you doing dropping in wearing that? There are cops outside the store.”

“Tsk tsk, you need blood, no?”

“I don’t…all right, I do. But it’s no reason for you to come looking like a—like a—.” Words failed him.

“Oh lighten up, Vinny boy.” Angelo pushed a button and his seat moved back with a quietly expensive swish. He stretched out his jean-clad legs. “So what else has you in such a tizzy?”

“I am not in a
tizzy
,” ground out Vince.

Vince swung the car into his driveway and stabbed the garage door opener with his finger. Knowing his feeding was seconds away, he could barely contain his bloodlust.

He strode into his bedroom, tugging off his t-shirt. Sweat drenched his skin, his heart thudded in his chest as his fangs dropped. He loathed needing blood but not having the vampire powers of his past. They went hand-in-hand, and he had never had a problem with it before. Now, exiled from his people and his home for a crime he didn’t commit, his powers reduced to a meager almost-none state, the bloodlust was simply a detail he didn’t need.

Angelo strode in, dropped his folded jacket over a chair-back, and rolled up his sleeve as he sat on the edge of the bed. He held out his arm, palm side up, and smiled, two fangs protruding from his curved lips.

“Vinny, come and feed.”

Vince dropped to his knees and grabbed the deceptively delicate wrist. Angelo had a vampire’s strength and could crush him if he chose to, so Vince didn’t hold back.

He sank his fangs into the soft flesh. Vince bucked as the first taste of blood hit his tongue. The viscous liquid dribbled down his throat as he sucked greedily. He was vaguely aware of Angelo stroking his hair, murmuring soothing words in the old language.

Il mio bello, fratello stupido.

Fond and affectionate scolding between two men who were as close as brothers.

He was so hungry, his body starved for nourishment. He sucked harder, his fangs digging deep, taking more and more blood from his friend. More than he normally would but Angelo could handle it.

Heat soared through his body, lust clawing at his groin. His cock reacted as it always did when feeding. Hard and hungry just like his need for blood. He kept drinking, even after he glanced up and saw how pale Angelo looked, his wavy hair looking blacker in contrast to his white skin.

At last, his hunger sated and his heartbeat slowed. He lifted his head, swiping at his mouth, pushing back on his heels.

Angelo ran a caressing hand over Vince’s shoulders. “So why did you wait to so long? Even now, you didn’t call me. I came because I knew.”

Vince rubbed his palms along his thighs, now fighting a completely different need. His crotch burned hotter than the blood coursing through him. He couldn’t look Angelo in the eyes, not like this.

He shrugged. “No reason, just busy. My bakery’s become a second-home for the police, you know?”

Angelo shook his head. “You were testing how long you could go without, weren’t you?” Angelo spoke in his normal voice, all trace of the teasing accent gone. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I am not your problem.”

Angelo, as usual, had called it. Vince had been eating bloodied meat and seeing how long he could go without feeding. If he had to live in exile for the rest of his life, maybe he could give up the bloodlust too. The damn
Jurisdictio
ruled his world with cast-iron rules, and they would never allow him to regain his full powers.

Angelo sighed. “You
are
my problem.”

Vince rose to his feet, body heavy and weary. He stumbled, his back coming into sudden contact with the stucco wall behind him. Leaning against its coolness, he rubbed his neck trying to ease the taut muscles. “Why? You helped me resettle here. I’ve followed all the damn rules.” He checked them off on his fingers. “No contact with family. No contact with other vampires. No returning to the city. No mating with a human. What more does anyone want from me?”

“It’s not that simple anymore, Vin, and you know it.”

“I am not discussing any offers from the
J,
” he declared, the arrogance of a hundred years of being heir-apparent to the Vampire Council, bleeding into his voice.

“Still the prince.” Angelo shook his head. “Between the stupidity of the
J
members and your pig-headedness…our country, our ways might get lost while you’re all defending your backyards.”

“It was their choice to condemn me.”

“For a bloody crime against your race.”

“One I did not commit.”

“But they thought you did. You admitted guilt.” Angelo slammed a fist into the palm of his other hand. “One of these days, I am going to run a stake through you, then strangle you. Gladly. And have no regrets.”

Vince chuckled as he remembered thinking just that. “Funny, I’ve thought the same. In fact, I’ll make it something my grandchildren aspire to.”

“You’re not having children. You need to consider this offer. The
J
does not make their offer lightly. They—we need someone in the human world to take charge of the vamps living here.”

“And they can find another patsy.” Vince was firm in this. His own sister hadn’t stood up for him, hadn’t believed in him. Enough discussion. “I’m going to take a shower.”

Angelo knew Vince well. He knew when to stop pushing. “Want me to join you?” Angelo asked, wagging his eyebrows.

“
Cazzo
, no.”

“Okay, I’ll stick around.”

“Don’t.” Vince shuffled to the bathroom and leaned on the doorjamb. “Angelo, thank you.”

“Anytime, loverboy.”

The teasing words and grin on his best friend’s face brought a reluctant smile to his own. For all of Angelo’s flirting there had never been anything but friendship between them.

He shucked his jeans, waited a moment for the water to heat up and stepped into the shower. The river-stone floor massaged his feet. He flinched as the warmth seeped into him, but his cock remained at full mast. Squishing shower gel into his palm, he stroked himself. His hand pumped slow and steady to relieve his need.

Stepping back from the sting of the hot water, his head fell back against the cool tiles. The handsome face of John Reeder filled his sight, blue eyes all lazy and warm, not suspicious and hard as they had been. His traitorous mind took it even further. The sexy detective spread-eagled on Vince’s king-sized bed, a hard cock poking out from damp brown curls. Crimson silk sheets pooled around John’s ankles as Vince straddled his body.

He shot off with more force than he could remember doing in a long time.

Dressed in jeans and a grey t-shirt, he wandered into the kitchen where Angelo sat eating an orange. His face ruddy once more with no sign he had given Vince so much of his blood. Vince quelled the stab of envy at how fast Angelo healed.

“I thought you were leaving.”

“Yeah, well your oranges were going to waste, and I needed a diversion after what you did in the shower.”

Vince stuck his head in the fridge to cool the blush warming his cheeks, pretending to look for a drink. He hadn’t realized Angelo was still in the house. Had he realized he would have waited knowing Angelo would sense the lust he had eased in the shower.

He grabbed a bottle of Perrier and shut the fridge with a slam. “I have to get back to the bakery.”

“Why the hurry?” Angelo spoke through a mouth full of orange.

“You’re the one who got me into this business. Now I have to run it.” He gulped down the mineral water, and slung the glass bottle into the recycle bin, wincing at the clang. “Are you staying here?”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Sure you don’t want something cooler to wear? I could give you a t-shirt.”

Angelo pouted as he followed Vince to the car. “Your t-shirts are grey and dark grey. I’d never be caught dead in one. Stop worrying about my clothes. One would think you’re embarrassed to be seen with me.”

The observation hit a little too close to home. Usually Vince tolerated Angelo’s bizarre sense of style. But today, the thought of John seeing his flamboyant gay friend did not sit well with him.
Dio,
why did the detective’s opinion matter so much? Or at all?

On the drive back to the bakery, Angelo fell silent for once. Vince gave in to a rare moment of reflection. A year had passed since his exile for the crime committed by his brother. As the oldest, Vince had always looked out for Carlo. The vampire Carlo murdered deserved to die—that much Vince believed with all his heart. And with a baby on the way, Carlo needed to be with his family. The choice had not been all that tough in the end. Vince claimed the crime. Exiled for the cardinal sin, killing another vampire, Angelo was his only lifeline to the world of his vampire past.

He’d done fine till now. No regrets, no recriminations. He had chosen to protect his brother, shielding him by claiming the crime as his own.

But today, he couldn’t dispel his anger. Loneliness, raw and painful scraped at his insides.
Dio,
he missed them. His family, his friends, his powers.
His
people. That picturesque town tucked on the side of the Italian Alps. That world where he didn’t have to hide who he was. If he still had his power to teleport then he was mere seconds away. Living in human form, he was a plane ride away. And yet he may as well be on Mars for all the access he had to them.

Regret wrapped him in its seductive fog. How easy it would be give in to it, confess to the
Jurisdictio
what he’d done—taken the blame for his brother’s crime.

What was wrong with him? He decision had been made. It could not, should not be undone.

He tried to shake off the tension building in his head, signaling the onset of a migraine that would knock him off his feet if not contained. The anniversary of his exile was in a couple of days. That would explain his dark mood, black thoughts and itinerant resolve. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass of his car window, the chill easing some of the tautness in his neck muscles.

The welcome sight of his bakery beckoned. He would go bake a hundred cupcakes. Get his mind off his past, the cop, his hard-on. Vince turned off the motor and turned to Angelo. “What are you planning to do? I have baking to do. ” He eased himself out to stand beside the convertible.

Angelo grinned at Vince. “I’m going to get a massage from the lovely Trudi next door.” He got out of the car and walked around it toward Vince. “You should make an appointment. You’re ready to explode. Or find yourself a good fuck.”

Vince shook his head, half in admiration at Angelo’s ability to live in the moment, and half in envy at the enjoyment Angelo got from uncomplicated sex. Casual flings weren’t Vince’s style.

“Bye, lover. Next time don’t wait so long.” Angelo kissed one cheek, then the other.

Vince turned to walk into the bakery and his heart leap-frogged into his throat. His eyes clashed with Detective John Reeder’s contemptuous gaze.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!

Was that the kind of guy Vincent went for—a flaming, leopard-wearing pretty boy? Mentally he categorized the man—medium height, slim, black hair waving past his neck, no visible identifying marks except the mole beneath the left eye. Dark eyes—he was too far away to tell the color, shiny white teeth, and was that gloss on his lips?

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” the man blew him a kiss before slipping into the massage parlor.

John rubbed the back of his neck. Vincent’s warm rich laugh wrapped him from behind. He pushed at the bakery door and met resistance.

“Godammit.” He jiggled the handle, waiting for Vincent to unlock the door.

Vincent stopped beside him and John stepped away. The guy gave off enough heat to compete with a furnace. That’s why he didn’t like being too close to him. It had nothing to do with the way his brown wavy hair curled at the ends, inviting a man’s touch and zero to do with his rich, olive skin, inviting a man’s mouth. What the hell, it’s not like he’d go out with the guy. Vincent was too openly gay. And what about his number one rule—never go out with someone in town. Hell. He shouldn’t be even thinking of Vincent as a potential date. And it wasn’t lost on him how quickly he thought of the man as Vincent instead of a generic suspect.