His Vampire Harem_Harem Paranormal Romance [Gay] Page 7

  “You’re getting warmer.” I smiled, enjoying our banter and his easy way.

  “In that case…looking at you now, Darius, you must be a model.” His gaze landed on my watch. “Yes.” He pointed at me. “I’ve seen you on billboards, wearing that Rolex.”

  “Yeah. You probably have.” I rubbed my forearm, above the watch. “Though it’s old now. There’s a new style out.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yeah, I’m doing a shoot for them tomorrow, in Camden. Some antiquated warehouse behind the market.”

  “Very funky.” He nodded and looked impressed.

  “Should be interesting.”

  He stooped and began putting his tools away. The washer was on again, water pumping with no problem.

  “My mother is talking on the phone, to a friend. I’m afraid once they start they can chatter all day.”

  “That’s okay,” he said. “The washing machine is fixed. That was our main aim. Please give her my best.”

  “She’ll be very grateful.”

  “Just remind her to empty her pockets before she puts clothes in there. The pump really doesn’t like small objects.”

  “I will.”

  He stepped closer to me, needing to because of the small room.

  I breathed in his scent again and enjoyed the near proximity of our chests, they were the same height and width.

  Like upstairs, a sudden vision captured me. It was like a story, flash fiction. Us alone in the house, him on his knees taking out my cock, stroking it, sucking it, making me come down his throat.

  “I hope we meet again, Darius,” he said, staring into my eyes.

  “I…me, too.” I swallowed. My balls were tingling, pressure was building in my groin. It was as if he’d seen the vision in my head and liked it.

  He smiled. “I’ll let myself out.”

  He stepped past me, a cool gust of air going with him, and slipped on a pair of shades. I’d been right, they were high-end, Carrera, with a slim red line on the frame.

  A prick of sweat popped on my brow as he disappeared from view. I leaned heavily against the wall and closed my eyes.

  I knew, that night, when back in my own apartment in Chelsea, I’d masturbate again. And now, not only would I have Lloyd and Oscar to think about, I’d also conjure the image of Rhys the sexy plumber. I’d work myself to orgasm and relive all the delicious thoughts I’d had about him…and more.

  Chapter Six

  George

  It had been years since I’d been to Camden Town. It had changed beyond recognition.

  On my last visit it had been a quiet, middle class suburb. I’d gone to a music hall. It was a pleasant evening and I’d met a young man named Toby Gent. He was drunk on sherry, and had flirted shamelessly with me; his spirits high despite Queen Victoria having just passed and the nation supposedly in mourning.

  We’d gone outside, around the back of the hall, found an alley and kissed. I’d made him come, with my hand, then while he was in the throes of orgasm I’d fed on him. His blood had been sweetened by the sherry, and he was clearly fond of red meat because the iron-taste was strong and heady. So delicious in fact I’d only just stopped myself from draining him dry. Temptation had been a loud cry in my head. But I had stopped. I didn’t drain my victims unless they were going to die anyway. None of us did. Killing was something we’d all agreed to abstain from because there was enough murder in the world. We’d long since pledged, in front of Master Benedict’s effigy at the Worshipful Company of the Ancient Order that we’d respect human life.

  After glancing at my pocket watch, I picked my way through the market. The sun was out and the sellers fussed over their wares—slogan t-shirts, London memorabilia, designer knock-offs. The air was full of the scents of street food, and a gull scrabbled on a fence with a half eaten burger bun. I was jostled several times, and always tipped my flat cap in apology, even though it wasn’t my fault.

  The truth was not much could have gotten me down today, even the crowded market street. It was my turn to meet the cambion, Darius Linnet, and I was impatient to do so.

  When Rhys had returned from his guard over Darius late last night, reporting that he’d gone to a swanky apartment in Chelsea, alone, I used his information to make the necessary arrangements for today.

  Darius was likely learning right now that Rolex had pulled from the shoot at the warehouse. Instead his agency now had a gig for him with a popular gin company. I smiled at how easy it had been. A few hacks, a couple of emails, a phone call and the company had changed to one that needed two male models and I, too, had myself a job.

  It was my turn to keep an eye on our handsome key holder today, and I intended to keep him very close, as close as possible.

  I located the warehouse tucked behind the market and found its discreet front door. It was no longer in use for storage and was for sale. The agency Darius was contracted with had sought permission for today’s shoot from the current owner. I liked it, it had a nice feel. Reminded me of how the area used to be.

  I pressed the buzzer.

  A tinny reply came almost immediately. “Hello.”

  “It’s George Bartlett, from the agency. You’re expecting me for the gin shoot.”

  “Ah yes, of course. Come in.”

  The door clicked open and I stepped into the musty hallway.

  After securing it closed again, I glanced around. This section appeared to be offices.

  “George.”

  I glanced upward. A woman stood there, the same one who’d buzzed me in, I presumed. “Hi.” I touched the tip of my cap.

  “Come on up, we’ll be starting soon.”

  “Certainly.”

  I took the steps two at a time.

  When I came level with her she was studying me. “I think you’ll go very nicely with our other male model, I can see why the agency sent you.”

  “You do?” I smiled and my gaze drifted to a vein in her temple. It stood a little proud and was kinked upward.

  “Yes, you both have that sharp, pale look. Still very handsome of course.” She smiled and pushed her hair over her shoulders.

  “I’m glad you’re pleased.” I’d been told I was handsome for centuries. This was not news, but I still liked to hear it. And if I complimented Darius, then all the better.

  “Make-up is through here,” she said. “Everyone else is on set, so don’t dawdle, get the costume on and join us ASAP.”

  “Certainly ma’am.”

  “Oh, call me Jane.” She grinned and scooped up a clipboard. “I’m representing Loyalty and Deceit, by the way.”

  I didn’t reply, even though I knew full well what she was talking about.

  “The gin. The two brands we’re getting shots for today.” She raised her eyebrows.

  “Of course.” I gestured forward. “I’ll go and get ready.”

  Twenty-five minutes later, I’d had my face made-up, my dark hair scraped back and off my face, and I was wearing a white toga over my white underwear.

  I’d worn a toga before, in Rome, not long after I’d turned. It had felt right then. Donning one in Camden was strange.

  I spotted the set surrounded by lights and foil reflectors. It was a bed laden with silvery silk sheets and piled high with white velvet pillows. Several people milled around; the photographer, Jane, assistants, and a willowy female model also in a toga, but hers was a very tight body-hugging one.

  My attention didn’t linger on her. It homed in on the man I’d really come to see.

  Darius Linnet.

  Like me he wore a toga and his hair had been styled the same as mine. He was beautiful, his face the stuff of fantasies, his body one of dreams. I paused as a wave of awe washed through me.

  He’s the one.

  I knew it. Without a doubt. The others had been right. This was the cambion we’d been searching the globe for. This was the half man, half demon who would save our souls.

  Hopefully.

  Suddenly he turned to me
, as if sensing me staring at him.

  His eyes widened and his mouth fell open then he closed it again.

  I managed to unglue myself from the floor and walked up to him, ignoring the photographer who was barking at his assistant in a gruff voice.

  “Good day,” I said, holding out my hand to Darius. “I’m George Bartlett. It appears we’re working together.”

  “Darius Linnet, pleasure to meet you.”

  He was scanning my face, drinking me in. What was he seeing? And did he like it?

  His pupils were wide, and I could make out a pulse in his neck fluttering beneath the surface of his skin.

  “Thought I was doing a Rolex shoot today,” he said, giving my hand a brief shake. “But it got changed. Unusual to be so last minute.”

  I slid my fingers over my palm, the spot he’d just held. “It was a sudden call up for me. Luckily I don’t live too far away.”

  “No? Where have you come from?”

  “Only Highgate.” Truth was, our flat was south of the Thames, but Darius didn’t need to know that. Not yet anyway.

  “This should be interesting, though,” he said. “This gin company seems inventive.”

  “Loyalty and Deceit.” I nodded at his toga and took the opportunity to admire his wide shoulders, perfect skin and the gentle bulge of his biceps. “Interesting combination.”

  “Hi, you must be our third.” The female model shoved herself in front of Darius and gripped my hand. “I’m Amy.”

  “Hi, Amy.” I kept the irritation from my face. After so long looking for Darius, I didn’t take kindly to our first conversation being interrupted.

  “Oh, you’re cold,” she said, snapping her hand back.

  “Togas are not known for their warmth.”

  “That’s true. But usually I get hot under these lights.” She turned to Darius, then leaned close and whispered something in his ear.

  “Shut up,” Darius said to her with a frown.

  She giggled and shrugged. “Just saying.”

  “Amy, come here please,” Jane called.

  “What was that about?” I asked, even though I already knew. My hearing was acute, very little could be said within a hundred yards without me catching it. She’d told Darius I was just his type, that he should make a move.

  “Nothing, come on, let’s get on with this.” Darius scowled.

  This was interesting. From what he’d told Oscar on the plane, Darius was only just admitting his attraction to guys. Yet this model was teasing him about it, so she obviously knew.

  Is he close to her?

  “Good, we’re ready,” Jane said. She nodded at the photographer—a hugely obese man with a gray beard, and hair pulled back into a low ponytail. He wore a tracksuit that could have been bought in the eighties. “This is Mario, he’s the shoot photographer today. He’s worked with all the big brands, Nike, L’Oreal, Cartier, to name a few and we’re thrilled to have him working for Bernard Gin.” She paused. “So, our main aim is to get two completely different shots for two completely different gins. Loyalty is a refreshing, simple flavor that can always be relied upon. We’re going for the angel image. Thanks to the power of Photoshop you’ll all have halos and wings added into the final shots.” She pointed at the bed. “You two guys are both in love with Amy. She’s the perfect woman, your day and night, your moon, your stars, your everything. You’d die for her. We need lots of adoring looks, wistful eyes, longing caresses for the Loyalty ad.”

  I looked at Amy. She was examining her nails. I wondered how good of a model she was. She didn’t seem interested.

  “And for Deceit we want dark, seductive, danger,” Jane went on. “This drink is rich and heavy, with notes of spice and chocolate. We’ll have different outfits, devilish horns added by Photoshop. Amy and Darius will be on the bed, George at the front not seeing them together behind his back. I’ll want you touching, kissing, looking as close as a couple can be.”

  “Let’s concentrate on the first picture.” The photographer lifted his camera. “Come on, models, all on the bed.”

  As I wandered to the bed and sat on the soft mattress, I glanced around. I had to remember my main role here was to protect Darius. His father was dangerous, and if my past conversations with Master Concorde were anything to go by, he was likely getting ready to make a move on his son.

  But the room was full of humans getting on with their day jobs, so I relaxed and adopted a pose beside Amy, my arm wrapped around her and gazing at her face as though I worshipped her.

  Darius did the same, our hands brushing.

  I wished Amy wasn’t there. I wished no one was there so I could get to know Darius better, learn everything there was to know about him. I wanted to kiss him, hold him, protect him for all of time.

  He cleared his throat and shot me a funny look.

  I was stroking my thumb against the delicate inside of his wrist. I stopped. Damn it. He was irresistible. I was drawn to him. My body craved his.

  “Guys, you’re doing great, don’t move.” The photographer pointed at Amy. “But come on, girl, you’re with your two adoring lovers. You’d trust them with your life. They’re faithful little puppies who do anything you ask.”

  She rolled her shoulders, cupped Darius’s chin and rested her hand on my arm.

  “Better.” The photographer took a few shots. “Now relax your jaw, Amy, you know these men love you, no need for clenching, dear.”

  I held my position, struggling to keep my gaze on Amy’s face when all I really wanted to do was stare at Darius.

  I could look at his face forever.

  Eventually, and with a sigh, the photographer declared the first image captured.

  As he showed Jane the screen of his camera, I stood and stretched out my back. I was glad this wasn’t my day job; one experience of being a model would likely be enough.

  “We should get changed,” Darius said, linking his fingers, then turning his palms to me and stretching out his arms and shoulders. I got a flash of his dark brown underarm hair.

  “Yeah, come on.” I led the way to the make-up room where I’d seen a rail of clothing.

  Two make-up ladies were chatting about babies and pregnancy when we arrived.

  “Got the next outfit, Gina?” Darius asked.

  “Sure, hon, here you go.” She passed him a pair of black silk boxers with a red stripe around the waistband. “And one for you, George.”

  “Er, thanks.” I studied the garment. I was more of a traditional type of guy when it came to clothing. A nice tweed jacket, a pair of pipe-pants, and a waistcoat suited me very well.

  “Not as substantial as the toga,” Darius said, slipping off his white fold of material.

  “Er, no, it isn’t.”

  The make-up lady reached for his toga, then turned back to her friend.

  Darius shoved at his underwear. Just like that. Bold as brass he pushed his white boxers to his ankles.

  It took a lot to render me speechless. After three centuries I figured I’d just about seen it all. But the sight of Darius’s naked body was like a punch to the gut. It stole my breath and made my usually cold skin prickle.

  From a patch of trimmed pubic hair his cock hung flaccid. But even so I could tell it was thick and would be long when erect.

  I clenched my ass and my balls tightened.

  His legs were lean but strong, a little hairy on his calves but not so much on his thighs. He straightened and I got a full frontal view as he pulled the boxers up, covering his cock and setting the waistband over his bricked abdominal muscles. Knowing I was staring, but unable to help myself, I took in his smooth, broad chest, his small dark nipples and the column of his neck.

  When I got to his face, I found him staring straight back at me.

  “I’m…I’m…” I started.

  He glanced at the make-up artists who were taking no notice of us as we changed. “You’re gay,” he said quietly.

  I nodded. “Yes, but please accept my apologies fo
r staring. It was out of order.”

  “So why did you?”

  I swallowed. Normally I was the epitome of control. But now… “You’re…” I hesitated. “You’re perfect, Darius.”

  He smiled, and something I couldn’t put my finger on flashed in his eyes. “We look similar. Doesn’t that mean you’re perfect too?”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that, which unnerved me as I always knew what to say.

  “For the record,” he said, leaning closer. “I’m gay too.” I’d felt his warm breath wash over my cheek as he’d spoken. I wanted him closer, his lips on me, his hands.

  I also wanted to ask if I was his type, the way Amy had suggested, but I didn’t. If Darius really was only just coming out, I didn’t want to scare him away.

  “We should get back to the shoot.” He nodded at my toga. “They’ll be waiting.”

  “Yes. I’ll get changed.” I loosened the material at my waist.

  “I’ll see you in there.” He walked away.

  For a moment I watched him, mesmerized by the shape of his back and the gentle orbs of his buttocks, then I dragged at my underwear and switched it for the black silk boxers. It was only then I removed the toga.

  “Here, I’ll take that,” the make-up artist said. She peered at my face. “You haven’t sweated, your make-up will do.”

  “Thanks.”

  Wearing only the silky boxers, and feeling decidedly underdressed in a room full of people, I went back to the set.

  Darius and Amy were on the bed, Jane fussing about their positions; Darius flat on his back, Amy hovering over him. Jane spotted me. “On the stool please, George. You’re going to have to look neutral, as if you have no idea what’s going on behind you, and grab that drink to hold.”

  I glanced at Darius.

  He was staring straight at me.

  I’d sell my soul to be on the bed with him right now, in Amy’s place.

  It would have taken very little effort to clear the room. One show of my fangs, a few super-human moves throwing furniture around and I’d have Darius alone. But that would terrify him, and as Lloyd had said, there was a possibility he’d turn skittish, disappear and we’d be back at square one.