...When they broke their kiss, Nick, a little breathless, said, “It’s the same as it was then, isn’t it? The heat, the need. I wanted to see you again. To get to know you. That’s why I gave you my number, but you never called, and I had no way of finding you. Until my vacation was over, I even hung around some of the old cemeteries at night, but you were never there. I didn’t see a single vampire or a demon. Not even the ghost of Marie Laveau, the queen of voodoo.”

Laveau’s crypt was in the same burial grounds where the Louisiana undead held their business meetings in another crypt. Malcolm withdrew his hand and shuddered. “Don’t ever try that again. If you’d encountered one of my kind, you wouldn’t be here to find me now. You’d be drained of your blood and fish bait in the Mississippi River.”

Nick slowly unbuttoned Malcolm’s shirt. “But I didn’t and I’m here, wanting to know why you didn’t call. I’ve thought maybe it was something I said or did. Or maybe you didn’t like my junk.”

“Oh, I liked your junk very much,” Malcolm said, as he felt a weakening of his knees at the memory of the weight of Nick’s balls in his hands and the hot, velvety skin of his cock.

But Nick had reached the buttons over his stomach, and Malcolm stopped the clever fingers. He couldn’t hide the faint silvering at his temples, but he wanted to keep the paunch declaring his age covered, and his thirst was rising as he smelled the pulsing blood in Nick’s neck, in his throbbing cock. He remembered the same insatiable need with Nick at the ball and how hard he’d fought not to use his fangs and sip. Despite his age and the control he’d developed over the years, he’d been terrified he might not be able to stop.

He said, “I wanted to see you again, but you were too young. I’m old, and something you are not.”

“I’m older now,” Nick replied. “And you’re the same. I know your friend’s friend is human, and I’d lay money on what they’re doing right now in the next cabin.”

Giving up on Malcolm’s shirt, he shrugged off his jacket and pulled his shirt out from his waistband, then his deft fingers pushed buttons through holes. Standing, he drew his shirt off, letting it drop to the floor on top of his jacket.

The pain in Malcolm’s heavy cock grew unbearable as he watched Nick undo his belt and zipper, then push down his pants and briefs.

Nick stood there, exposed from neck to calves. “Well, do you like what you see?”

Malcolm was speechless. He’d never seen him naked. It had been dark in that corner of the ball almost four years ago where they’d fucked so furtively, climaxed so fast and deliciously. Now memories of what they’d shared that night coupled with the sight of what he was offering flooded Malcolm’s vision.

Nick’s hand closed on his thick cock and pumped. His voice was rough and husky. “Want what you see?”

For the tiniest of moments, Malcolm hesitated. He was on the job, working. This wasn’t something he should be doing. Then he thought of Alexandros and Dante together in the suite next door and all his inhibition fled. With his gaze fastened on Nick’s blue eyes, he walked to him and knelt. As he closed his hands on the smooth, firm buttocks, Nick guided his wet cock to Malcolm’s waiting mouth.

Malcolm looked at the engorged organ offered. Its coursing blood hammered his eardrums like a timpani being struck. The aroma of copper, mingled with the particular sweetness that was Nick, flared his nostrils and made his blood sing. The desire to clamp down, to suck and suck until his roaring thirst had been satisfied was overwhelming.

Oh, God, I’ll drain him. He choked out, “No!” as he stood and backed away.

Humiliation wracked Nick’s face. His erection began to waver and he bent to retrieve his briefs.

Malcolm understood immediately. Nick had exposed himself, made himself vulnerable, and Malcolm was rejecting him.

More than anything he wanted to reassure him. Most of all, he could not lose him. “We…I…it’s your blood. It’s strong and draws me to it in a quite savage way, I’m afraid. I don’t want to hurt you. I need to get used to its scent so I don’t lose control.”

To his relief, Nick’s face relaxed, as he said, “It was only hands in New Orleans, wasn’t it?”