Page 13 of Vampire Claus
Paul scanned the building as he looked for a way in. Eventually, he said quietly, “I know what it’s like to get kicked out for being gay. To wake up alone on Christmas with nothing to eat or look forward to.” He turned his gaze to Taviano briefly. “Sometimes people surprise you in a bad way.”
“Do you mean your family?”
“Partly. I had a boyfriend too. Tim. We went to Boston College together and started hooking up in freshman year. He was all activist on campus and he kept pushing me to come out to my folks. I knew it was a bad idea. They’re old-school Italians. Hell, Mom still goes to Mass every day. Anyway, I thought Tim and I weretogether-together, you know? Not fuck buddies. I wanted to make him happy so I told my folks at Thanksgiving.” Paul shook his head regretfully. “It was a shit show. Epic drama. Crying and begging in Italian, the works. Dad said if I didn’t renounce my evil lifestyle they would no longer support me. Mom agreed with him. Said it was for my own good.
“I told Tim what had happened and asked if I could stay with him. Move into his dorm room for a while. He made some lame-ass excuse about studying. That’s when I figured out I didn’t mean as much to him as he meant to me.”
Taviano had to stamp down his growing rage at the injustices done to Paul, before he riled up his demon. He kept quiet, though, to let Paul talk.
“So, no more home, no more college, no more boyfriend. I went to a shelter for a few weeks but I started flipping burgers and making breakfast at a little diner. It let me scrape enough together to rent my apartment. I moved in on Christmas Eve and when I woke Christmas morning, I had, like, one apple in the fridge.” He was silent for a long while before saying quietly, “That was a bad day.”
Taviano hated anything that made the exuberant and shining young man sad. He reached for Paul and drew him close. “It sounds very lonely. You strike me as a man who thrives in a crowd.”
Paul nodded, and his voice was thick with emotion when he spoke again. “I guess that’s true, but I didn’t know it until I was on my own. Family was super important growing up. Every Sunday there was a big dinner at my nonna’s. Every birthday or little milestone was an excuse for tons of cousins to get together and hang out. Sometimes I just wanted to be by myself, but as soon as a party started up, I’d be right there in the middle. Then my parents tried to cut me off from all that because I was different and it embarrassed the fuckers.” A glint appeared in his eye. “Funny thing, though. The cousins still invite me to shit, and my nonna sends me a little money when she can.”
“Does this have anything to do with the tattoo on your back? The tree with the missing branch?”
“Yeah, I was salty at them kicking me out, so the tat was a big ol’ fuck-you. See, I realized I’m still part of the bigger family, no matter what the parents want. They cut themselves out of my life, but I’m in the story with all these other great people anyway.”
After a pause, Taviano asked, “What happened to Tim?”
“He stayed in college after he canceled me. Went on to law school. I never unfriended him on Facebook. If I want to make myself miserable I look at pictures of his life and his perfect new boyfriend.”
“Would you like me to eat him?”
Paul shot him an astonished look and Taviano returned a grin. After making sure it was a joke, Paul finally laughed too. Some of the tension that had crept into his bones seemed to ease. “Could you maybe give him some bad dreams?”
“Of course. We’ll have him chased by a vampire while he’s completely naked.”
Satisfied that he’d restored a little of Paul’s smile, Taviano extended his senses. He listened for movement inside the shelter, evidence that someone was awake who they could draw to the door. No good, though. Everyone seemed to be asleep. The street also remained unoccupied by people or passing cars.
Paul sighed. “I guess I can come back in the morning and bring the gifts then. No, shit, I have to work the breakfast rush so it’ll be afternoon before I can swing by.”
Taviano resolved to take away the rest of Paul’s unhappiness if he could. “Give me your sweatshirt,” he said as he began to undo the buttons down the front of his own black shirt.
“What? Whoa. Are you, like, stripping for me?”
“Not exactly. You’ll be warm enough in this and I should wear red. It’s the way of the Christmas ninja,” Taviano said with a grin. As Paul pulled the sweatshirt over his head, Taviano unbuttoned his cuffs, slipped the shirt off his shoulders, and offered it.
When he stood bare-chested, Paul looked at him with mouth hanging open as his desire perfumed the bubble of warm air. “Oh mygod,” he sighed as his eyes moved over Taviano’s body like a caress. “You are just…I mean, I know how you felt through your clothes, but I’ve never seen someone this cut and defined and fucking perfect.”
Taviano looked down at his own chest. Whorls of dark hair covered the slabs of his pectorals, lead to his navel and disappeared into his pants. He rarely thought about his own body as anything more than a vessel for the bloodbeast. He couldn’t deny a thrill of pleasure that Paul liked it, though he just shrugged, embarrassed. “Like I said, one of the perquisites.”
“That’s a major-ass perk.” Paul shook his head. “I could kill myself at the gym every day for ten years and never get abs like these.” He reached out boldly to run his hand over Taviano’s tautly rippled belly and to splay over his chest. He rested his palm right in the sharp cleft in the middle and murmured, “Oh shit. I feel it, like you said.” He paused and squinted. “It’s different than a heartbeat. More…forceful?”
The warm hand on Taviano’s chest stirred something in his carefully regulated core. Softly, he said, “It has to be strong to move the ichor through my body and keep it functioning. Ichor is thicker than human blood.” He waited for Paul to show fear or draw away at the reminder of what he touched. The fog of pheromones tinged with rosemary just grew stronger.
Taviano donned Paul’s sweatshirt, which was tight on his bigger frame and strained at the shoulders and across his chest. Paul shook his head slowly. “So unfair, but you should always go tight shirt for the win.”
“I won’t even ask.”
“You rock my clothes is what I’m saying.” Paul ran his palm to Taviano’s shoulder, curled it around his neck and pulled him into another kiss.
Maybe it was the ensorcelled bubble of air around them, but Taviano’s lips tingled as shivers raced down his spine. The kiss left him full of wonder. “Hold that thought,” he said as he reluctantly broke away.
While Paul put on his black shirt, Taviano hoisted the bags of gifts and measured the three-story façade with his eyes. “Step back,” he cautioned, aware that he was showing off but telling himself it was just to make Paul happy.
Coiling his legs like a cat, he released a daring burst of his demon’s magic and exploded upward. As he hurtled at the roof, he worried briefly that it was too high, that he would fall back to Earth and shame himself. But then a tremendous updraft roared from below. It pushed him the last few feet, wind whistling past his ears, until his toes cleared the edge. He landed neatly on the roof.