Ice Man (8 page)

He dressed for work. Most of his fetishes didn’t require props. He’d rather have a man, Brett, naked with a hard cock. Rowan wanted to be restrained. Ropes, leather or with a strong verbal command promising pleasure. But at the club, he was part of the fantasy. Tonight he wore a black leather, studded codpiece and red chaps with black fringe. Later, just before he stepped behind the bar, he’d slick back his hair, oil his chest and go shirtless—once he’d fed and
not
fucked Theron. He closed his eyes, flared his nostrils and inhaled. He’d pushed Theron. Tonight he’d find out if he’d gone too far.

He shrugged on a long trench coat and left the apartment. Outside, the sun was setting. The crisp winter air didn’t cool the heat surging though his system. He was about to test the mettle of his own desire and test the authority of the one person who had given him so much. He climbed into his vehicle and turned the ignition with trembling fingers. The Mini Cooper had been a gift from Theron two years ago. Everything he had, his job, his car, even his confidence came from his association with Theron.

Tamping down his reservations, he sped toward the club. He’d made the decision and as the hours passed, had to recall the way he’d felt in Brett’s arms. He held to that in the moments when his resolve nearly faltered.

Several minutes later he parked, entered the nearly empty club, hung his coat in the coat-check room and strode to the bar. In a few hours, members would be drinking, fucking, flogging or just watching others enjoy their encounters. Rowan’s mouth went dry. He swallowed hard. If he couldn’t break with Theron, would he ever see Brett again? He needed Theron to release him. He needed to be free to pursue Brett and still be welcome in the club even if he was banned from the rooms beneath.

He reached into the assortment of bottles behind him and plucked out a fifth of Jack Daniel’s. He spun around and slammed it onto the counter. He took a shot glass from the stack and poured. The sight of the black label and the caramel color had adrenaline flooding through his veins.

He hadn’t had a sip of alcohol in seven years. He didn’t smoke, didn’t drink and ate a healthy diet void of heavy spices. He exercised, got plenty of sleep—he grinned—except last night. All because of Theron. The vampire had a taste for pure, untainted blood.

Rowan lifted the shot glass to the light. His chest ached. Tingles crawled over his flesh, knowing he was about to make a choice that couldn’t be undone. His breath came fast. Nausea churned in his stomach. He swallowed the excess saliva in his mouth. Fear of the unknown skittered down his spine.

“This is crazy.” He trusted Theron, served him. He should just go below and ask to be released. He sighed, knowing that reality would be much different. Theron would kiss him, use his mental manipulation and play on Rowan’s desires. Clothes and inhibitions would fade, along with his intentions.

No, this was the only way. With a heavy heart and guilt eating at him, he tipped his head and drank.

It was done. He followed that shot with three more in quick succession. His throat burned, the fire chased into his gut, roiling with his betrayal of the ancient vampire. His tongue thickened and numbed.

A rush of heat radiated out of his stomach as the whisky blazed through his body. He tipped the glass upside down on the counter and stared. Drips pooled around the edge, reflecting light, a glaring truth that he’d made the choice. His choice.

Thirty minutes later, alcohol buzzed in his brain but his thoughts were clear. He descended the stairs, only slightly unsteady on his feet.

How should he approach Theron? He opened the door as he’d done thousands of times and entered the darkened room. Familiar scents nearly knocked him to his knees. “Light low.” Dim illumination lit his way as he stealthily moved to Theron’s sleeping chamber. Theron rested beneath a shimmering black sheet. He lay unmoving. Calmness and regret meshed, choking the breath from Rowan’s lungs.

He jerked his shirt over his head, determined to undress and climb into bed with Theron.

And Rowan, don’t ever again come to my bed dressed.
The words weaved through his thoughts. Their last encounter had been rife with tension. He hated to think how Theron would react to his defiance tonight. He wouldn’t have long to wait. Theron stirred beneath the sheet.

He quickly shed his clothing and climbed onto the bed.

“I can smell him on you.”

Rowan paused then inched closer. “You usually like the smell of men.”

“Not on you.” He turned over and touched Rowan’s cheek, holding his face. “I know you enjoyed him.”

Of course he would. For part of the night, they had shared Brett—mentally. Never again. As possessive as Theron was over him, he felt the same over Brett.

“Yes, I did enjoy him.” He lowered his head, unable to stare into the drowning depths of Theron’s amber eyes.

“Then it’s done.” Theron threaded his fingers around the nape of Rowan’s neck and pulled him close.

He inhaled, drinking in his scent. Fangs dropped from his gums, glinting like enamel knives. Rowan gulped. If he bit him all would be lost. Theron should have sensed the alcohol poisoning his blood. His eyes slid closed, as much anticipating the high and fearing the euphoric pleasure that came from hosting. He waited, poised to accept Theron’s wrath once he entered his thoughts, discovered his deception. He’d not come to his bed to feed him but to drive a wedge through their relationship like a stake through the heart.

But the sting of the bite didn’t come. His eyes opened and panic seized his thoughts. Theron’s gaze narrowed, focused intently on Rowan’s face. His lips pulled back in a snarl and brows furrowed. The beauty of Theron’s face morphed into a mask of rage. His eyes turned crimson and a low, menacing growl unfurled from his chest.

Rowan scrambled back but Theron moved like lightning, straddling his torso. Unbelievable strength pinned him to the bed. Theron’s long, strong fingers closed around his throat. “Why?” he seethed.

The one word sent a shiver over his flesh. He hadn’t expected violence but Rowan realized with perfect clarity that there was a side to Theron he’d never seen.

“Do you think my charity has no bounds? That I would let you betray me, my breed?”

Rowan shoved his palms against Theron’s chest but the vampire was as immoveable as steel. “I haven’t betrayed you.”

Theron stretched his neck and his fangs dropped farther. He roared—a deafening thunder that shook the walls. Rowan clawed at Theron’s arms but his strength was waning. “Please,” he rasped, but couldn’t push the words from his throat. “I’m sorry.” He nearly blacked out from the pressure on his neck. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t focus. Darkness closed in. He was passing out, perhaps dying. What had he done?

* * * * *

Pressure squeezed his head in a vise. Pain sliced through his throat as he swallowed. He groaned and struggled to turn onto his side. Where was he? He hurt too much to be dead. He lifted his head and blinked the room into focus. He lay naked on the floor in Theron’s sleeping chamber.

How much time had passed? Not nearly enough. “Oh God.” He held his head, still buzzing from the effects of the alcohol.

His vision adjusted to the dim light. He rose to his hands and knees. His head slumped between his shoulders. Slowly he lifted his gaze.

“Oh shit!” He jerked, scrambling back several feet. Theron sat in the chair in the corner of the room. He was shirtless and wearing jeans, leaning forward, his elbows braced just above his knees and his hands pressed together, steepled under his chin. His eyes focused with steely intent, drilling into Rowan.

“I want an explanation.”

Rowan rubbed his throat, stood and paused. A man lay naked and unconscious on the bed. “Who is that?”

“Do you care?”

He snapped his gaze to Theron. “No.”
Yes
, and he hated the surge of jealousy. “Is he dead?” The body was pale and unmoving. He picked up his chaps from the floor.

“He’ll recover. You might not.” Theron leapt from the chair, snatched the chaps and flung them across the room. His nose wrinkled as he sniffed. “I assumed the scent of alcohol was from your lover, not you.” He spun away. “Who do you intend to feed tonight?” he demanded.

Rowan would have to feed a vampire with a thirst for alcohol-laced blood. Theron was a purist. Rowan did the only thing he could. “I just want you to release me.”

“You are
my
slave. Mine!” He growled and paced across the floor. “When did the thought of feeding me become so unsettling to you?”

“No, it’s not about the feeding.”

Theron sighed and his shoulders dropped. “You can’t tell me you don’t want to fuck me. I know better.”

“Maybe you don’t know me so well.”

Theron was on him in a flash, hands roaming over his bare flesh, caressing his cock as his tongue lashed his lips and speared into his mouth. Rowan groaned, already missing what was once between them. Blood rushed into his shaft. His erection swelled between them. He stepped back, wrenching his mouth from Theron’s.

“No.” He shook his head. “I can’t do this.”

“Why? He can’t possibly pleasure you the way I can.”

Theron was right. Brett was nothing like the vampire. But perhaps that was what made him so damn appealing. “I don’t want this anymore.”

“Bullshit.” Theron chuckled. “I can see for myself how much you
don’t
want me.”

That his body responded didn’t change his intentions. “My dick isn’t making the decision. I am.”

Theron sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back on his elbows. “And what if you’re making a mistake?”

“It’s mine to make.” Fuck, this man had seen to his every need for seven years. Rowan couldn’t look at his masculine perfection and not recall the intensely erotic sensations he’d rained over his flesh. This might be the biggest mistake he’d made in his life. But he’d considered the possible consequences for hours. The moment was here. Stay with Theron, continue to exist and never know if there was someone else for him, a partner. Or take a chance with Brett. Maybe they wouldn’t last. But maybe they would. One point was crystal clear—Theron had never been that man. Not for him.

Theron flopped to his back and rubbed his palms into his eyes. “Rowan, baby, it’s not that easy.”

Rowan couldn’t have a conversation with Theron without wearing clothes. He picked up the codpiece, bent his softening dick to fit in the pouch and tugged them on. “I never said it would be easy.” He crossed to the chaps. “Until Brett, I never imagined wanting anything beyond this room.” He shrugged. “I do now.”

“And what if he doesn’t?”

“He does. I don’t know for how long. I don’t care.”

“You certainly know how to make a guy feel like shit.” Theron sat up. “But how I feel is irrelevant. It’s impossible.”

Rowan arched a brow. “I can fuck who I want.” He stepped into his chaps and adjusted the leg closures. “It’s none of your business.” He lifted his gaze to Theron, almost daring him to respond.

“That’s where you’re wrong. You are my business.” He slid off the bed. “Do you know how old I am?”

“I couldn’t even begin to guess.”

“I stopped counting because the years blended, centuries passed. Centuries, Rowan, and in all that time I have never let anyone close to me.” His jaw flexed and he bit down. “Except you.” He stared at the man on his bed. “I’ve fed from millions of men, sired thousands of vampires and I hear every one of their voices in my head.” He faced Rowan. “Your thoughts are special to me. I won’t give that up. We’ve shared too much. The memories we’ve made— You’d throw it all away to be with him? After just meeting him?”

“I can’t explain because it doesn’t make sense to me either.”

“You’re a fool if you throw away what we have together.”

Rowan leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. “You know me better than anyone.” He glanced at Theron again, aching because of the hurt shimmering in his eyes.

Theron took a step closer. “Yes, and that happens to be the problem. You know me too well.” He rested his hands on Rowan’s hips. “I won’t let you go.”

“You have to.” He swallowed the bile in his throat.

“You don’t understand. You don’t have a choice.” He softly kissed his lips.

Rowan turned his face away. “I always have a choice.”

“Not in this. Releasing you is a risk I’m unwilling to take.”

Rowan mentally laughed. And did Theron think his risk was any less unimaginable? All he had in the world was in this room. Damn it! Damn him! He had a right to want for more than an addictive connection.

“You took the risk in sharing your secrets with me. If you now feel that was a mistake, then that’s your problem. I’ve never professed to be anything more than what I am.” He pushed away from the wall. “And if now you think I’m untrustworthy, then fuck you.” He stalked toward the door.

“Don’t go.”

The simple request struck a chord. Softly spoken, full of regret. He turned. “How can I stay?”

Theron crossed the room and took his hand. “What did you promise him?”

“How do you know I promised him anything?” Theron waited and Rowan smiled. He couldn’t hide from Theron. “I promised not to fuck you. He’s not going to see anyone else either.”