Death Becomes Him - 26

“I feel like we’ve inherited a grandmother, or a maiden aunt,” Trent said, laughing.

“I suppose on one level, we have,” Rory agreed, wrapping his arms around Trent. He instantly dropped them and moved away when Beau growled. “Oh boy, we could have a problem.”

“Beau,” Trent said sternly, pointing to the floor, waiting for the dog to come and sit. “You are to behave. Rory is here to stay so get used to it.”

Beau cocked his head. Trent could almost see him saying ‘Why?’ if he could speak.

“Because I love him, and he loves me, and we’re going to be living together. The three of us.” He petted Beau, beckoning for Rory to come closer.

Beau growled again, but this time it was only a halfhearted one. When Rory cautiously held out his hand, Beau sniffed it, looked at Trent, then back at Rory, and woofed softly.

“Good dog,” Rory said, inching his hand over Beau’s head. Carefully he patted it, smiling with relief when Beau allowed him to. “I wonder, did he growl because he was protecting you, or because he doesn’t like vampires?”

“A bit of both, probably. It took him a while to let Emily get close.”

“Well, Beau,” Rory said, kneeling in front of the dog, “You don’t have to guard him from me. I’d never hurt him.”

Beau stared at him for a moment, then licked his face, turned and bounced to the front door.

“Time for his walk,” Trent told Rory. “Oh boy, I’d better call Jennie to let her know I’m back.” He did so while putting Beau’s leash on him. “Yeah, it was fantastic,” he told her when she asked. “But I’m glad to be home. I’ll see you on Monday. And thanks for taking care of Beau. When my stuff gets here… Yeah I shipped it. I didn’t want to pay for extra baggage. Anyway, when it gets here I have something for you…”—he laughed—“No I’m not telling you what. You’ll just have to wait and see.” He thanked her again and hung up. By then Beau was dancing with impatience.

“You coming with us?” Trent asked Rory.

“You bet.”

The walk to the park was done in fits and starts as always, thanks to Beau’s need to check out things along the way. But eventually they made it there and Trent let Beau off his leash, knowing the dog wouldn’t go far.

As it was dark of the moon, the only light came from the few street lamps beside the benches.

“A fitting night to come back,” Rory said, linking his arm with Trent’s. “There was no moon the night I was attacked. It sort of completes the circle.”

“And begins a new one.”

“Indeed.” Embracing Trent, while keeping a wary eye on Beau, Rory kissed him. “I missed the city. I missed you. I’m so glad to be home.”

  

“You have no idea how happy I am that you are,” Trent replied, feeling a sense of relief at Rory’s words. Not that he’d doubted Rory would regret leaving the chateau to return to what might be considered the real world. But still… He hugged his lover tightly.

Rory chuckled. “You trying to squeeze me to death?”  

“I don’t think that’s possible.” Trent winced a second later, realizing what he’d said.

“Hey,” Rory kissed him quickly, “I am dead, technically. It’s a fact of”—he grinned—“life. So don’t try monitoring your words thinking you might upset me. After four years plus, I’m not too touchy about it.”

“All right. Point made and taken.”

'The Actor and the Thief' has arrived at Wilde City!

'The Actor and the Thief' 

http://www.wildecity.com/books/gay-mainstream/the-actor-the-thief/#.UozSB-LWKog

Blurb:

Once they were a couple. Now—they’re far from it.

Just out of prison, Craig heads to Denver. At the same time Adam, on tour with a Broadway show, arrives there. Also heading to Denver are two men bent on finding Craig for their own nefarious reasons.

When Craig and Adam accidentally meet sparks fly, but not of the good kind. Then Craig finds his mentor murdered and believes he’s the reason why. He calls on Adam, the only man he can trust for help. Can they work together, and possibly re-kindle their love? Or will Adam walk away again?

Excerpt:

You’ve grown older. Craig studied the photo in the newspaper. But then, haven’t we all when it comes down to it? He smiled ruefully while tamping down a seesaw of emotions brought on by the picture.

He had picked up the Denver Post at a newsstand that carried a large selection of national newspapers, intending on checking the classified ads for apartment rentals. Instead, he’d seen the photo in the entertainment section. Adam Murray, its subject, was even handsomer than Craig remembered. Sure, there were a few more lines in his face, but he didn’t look fifty, even though Craig knew he was.

Not a gray hair, except at the temples. Unlike me. He ran a hand through his own graying hair and sighed. Gray hair, gray eyes, prison pallor. Put me against a concrete wall and I’d disappear. The wages of sin, I guess.

He wondered if Adam would even recognize him if they ran into each other on the street. Or remember him, as far as that went. It had been a long time, twenty years to be exact.

Tossing the newspaper on the nightstand, Craig leaned back against the headboard of the bed in the dingy motel where he was staying. He looked around the room, considering his options. At least he had them. He’d served out his sentence rather than take early parole. Thus he didn’t have to report in to a PO and be stuck in the city for the duration.

Next time I make damned good and sure there’s not a secondary alarm system. Six years because I got complacent is six years too many. Still, maybe it’s time to consider something else, like a new career or… something.

The problem was he’d been a burglar, and a good one, for most of his adult life. Thirty years, if he counted his time in prison. Most of it had been spent working for the man who had first brought him into the business.

“It’s easy money, Craig,” Sammy had said way back when. “Easier and safer than what you’re doing now.” At the time, Craig had been working construction.

Outwardly, Sammy was your friendly local pawnbroker. Craig had met him when he brought in an item to pawn. An item that wasn’t really his to get rid of. He’d seen a bag sitting on the seat of a car when he’d stopped to get gas. The owner was inside the station. Craig had taken advantage of the fact and snagged it. It held what turned out to be a very expensive camera. Sammy had taken it, paying Craig the going rate. It had been easy money, so Craig had returned regularly with other ‘found’ items.

As a result, Sammy had become one of Craig’s only real friends. If you can call someone who pulls you into a life of crime a friend.

In time, Sammy told Craig he was more than just a pawnbroker. In actuality, he ran a nice side business obtaining certain items for clients, which of course involved sending someone out to get them. Once Craig got over his qualms about the idea, he decided he’d take Sammy up on his offer to work for him. He’d gotten intensive training on how to break into homes and businesses and soon became one of Sammy’s best people, often traveling out of town for jobs. The only catch to the whole situation was the threat Sammy had made. If Craig was caught and arrested, he had better get out of it if he could, take the fall if he couldn’t, and never, ever give up Sammy’s name or else. Sammy left him to contemplate what the ‘or else’ could mean.

Despite that, Sammy had done right by him for almost a quarter of a century, paying him well for his work. Now Craig had money stashed away. A fair amount of money actually, if he could get to it. That was the reason he’d served his full sentence. The money was in another state, halfway across the country from where he was at the moment. He had plans for it and for his future.

Time to come up with some transportation and blow town.

 

Death Becomes Him - 25

A week later, Trent was beginning to wonder if ‘making it work’ was going to happen. It had nothing to do with their feelings for each other. If anything they were more in love than they ever had been.

The problem came, for him at least, with adjusting both to Rory’s schedule and to his eating habits. It was fine in theory that Rory lived on blood. In reality it was more than strange to watch him empty a bag or two of the red stuff as if he was drinking, well wine, which seemed to be his other choice when it came to liquid refreshment. Rory had suggested he go do something else while he fed if it bothered him so much.

“Not happening,” Trent retorted. “It’s a part of you I’m going to have to live with so I have to start now.”

Rory had smirked, stepping close to Trent. “Bet you won’t want to kiss me right after I finish this,” he said, holding up a second bag.

“No bet. Brush your teeth and then—yeah I’ll kiss you, and maybe do other wicked things with you before I go to sleep.”

“That’ll be soon enough,” Rory replied. He knew because his internal clock, a necessity for a vampire so they’d know when sunrise was near, told him it was getting close to midnight.

Trent had tried going to bed later than he was used to so that he could spend as much time as possible with his lover. It was working to some small degree but he still found he was exhausted when two or two-thirty in the morning rolled around. He also realized that when they returned to New Orleans even staying up that late was going to be a problem unless he could come up with a legitimate way to change his working hours to accommodate it.

As Trent’s second week at the chateau came to a close, a third problem cropped up. It involved getting Rory from there back to New Orleans.

“How did you get here?” Trent asked after a long and fruitless search for a flight from Nantes or Paris or even Madrid that wasn’t so long it involved daylight hours.

Rory grimaced. “By Air Emily.”

“Oh boy. Do you suppose she’d be willing to bring you back to New Orleans? She could leave you at my house and I’d meet you there.”

“All we can do is ask.”

Emily not only agreed to take Rory, she suggested she transport Trent as well. “Not at the same time of course. That’s beyond even my abilities.”

Both men sighed with relief and then spent the next day packing everything Rory would be taking back with him. They also packed most of what clothes Trent had brought with him to the chateau.  Then they took a night trip, using Emily’s large van, to transport the bags and boxes to Trent’s hotel in Tournon. While Rory slept, Trent took everything including his suitcase to a shipping firm, telling them when he’d be back in New Orleans so they could be delivered. Then he joined Rory in bed, and when they both were awake they enjoyed a rousing bout of hot sex before piling into the van for the return trip to the chateau.

Two days later, with only a small backpack for his few remaining clothes, Trent experienced the strange thrill of being ‘flown’ from the chateau to his home.

When they arrived there, Emily insisted on meeting Beau. It was—interesting. Beau seemed very uncertain what she was. He treated her warily, the way he did the neighbors cats when they came into the backyard. It took him a good fifteen minutes before he allowed her to come close, and another ten until she was allowed to pet him.

“At least he’ll be sort of broken in for when Rory arrives,” Emily chuckled as she got ready to leave. Placing her hands on Trent’s shoulders, she said, “Take care of Rory. He’s very special to me.”

“I will, I promise,” Trent said in reply.

Then, standing on tiptoe, she kissed his cheeks and vanished.

Two hours later, because as she’d explained earlier she needed some recuperation time, she reappeared with Rory. He dropped his backpack on the sofa and took the cooler bag he was carrying into the kitchen, depositing it on a shelf in the refrigerator before returning to the living room.

After cautioning him to ‘behave’, Emily hugged him tightly, told both the men she’d be back to visit from time to time, and then did her disappearing act.

Death Becomes Him - 24

“I know I want to be with you. I missed you every day while we were apart. If I hadn’t been so afraid of how you’d react, I’d have come back as soon as Emily thought I was ready to face”—Rory chuckled low—“life so to speak, on my own.”

“Then let’s figure out how to make it work. I have almost three weeks until I have to be back. We can spend it coming up with a plan.”

Rory cocked an eyebrow. “Just planning?”

“Well,” Trent grinned. “We could take moonlight hikes and watch movies and read to each other and…”

“Screw each other’s brains out? We used to be real good at doing that.”

Trent pretended to think about it. “That’s another option if we get bored.”

“Then I intend to be bored a lot.” Rory put one hand at the nape of Trent’s neck, leaned in and kissed him passionately.

Trent gave back as good as he was getting, urging Rory to open to him. Not that that was hard to do. He savaged Rory’s mouth hungrily until his tongue touched one of Rory’s eyeteeth. Pulling back in surprise, although he figured he shouldn’t have been, he said, “They’re sharp.”

“Yeah, well.” Rory looked distraught. “They need to be.”

“But… you feed from bags.”

Rory nodded. “They aren’t exactly paper-thin. Besides which, I think it’s, well hereditary isn’t quite the right word.”

“Genetic? Not sure that is either but I get what you mean. Way back before blood came in bags you’d have needed them sharp to feed from”—Trent shuddered a bit—“live donors.”

“Yeah.” Rory ran his tongue over one tooth. “I guess it is pretty sharp. I never really thought about that until now. Well except just after I was turned.” He chuckled. “And even then, there were more important things to worry about, like accepting what I am and learning to live with it.”

“You do—now?”

Rory nodded. “Not as if I’ve got much choice you know. Can you accept it?”

Trent traced a finger over Rory’s lips. “I can. I have. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here. Right?”

“Right.”

“So, where were we?”

“Making out?”

Trent laughed. “Yep, just like in high school.”

“You seem to be fixated on that time,” Rory replied with a grin.

“I am, because it was when I realized we loved each other. Not that we didn’t blow that out of the water when we went off to college.”

“True, but we made up for it later.” Rory kissed him lightly. “And now, we can make up for it again.”

“If something else doesn’t separate us. Fate seems to be having fun with that.”

“We both want this, I think, so she can go take a flying fuck.”

Trent broke into laughter. “Presuming she is a ‘she’, I totally agree.” He gazed at Rory, nodding. “Yeah, we both want it. And this time, damn it, we’re going to make it work the way it should.”

Death Becomes Him - 23

“Another question. Are you stuck here?” Trent asked.

“Meaning?”

“I guess, are you here because you want to be, or because you have to be?”

Rory shrugged. “I’m not being held against my will. I like it here. I’d like it better back in New Orleans but too many people might wonder where I’d gone off to and why it took so long to come back. Besides which, even if I went back, could I come up with a good excuse for why I never do anything during the day? And in a few more years it’s going to be pretty obvious I’m not getting any older.”

“So then we move somewhere else.”

Rory looked at Trent in surprise. “We?”

“Just a thought.” He smiled, stroking Rory’s shoulder with his thumb. “I could make you the night manager at the hotel. That way you’d have an excuse to sleep in during the day.”

“Like I know anything about that. Besides which, if I was going to work nights I’d start up my tour company again. That is something I know how to do.”

“Good point. Do you sleep all day, or just stay inside where there’s no sunlight?”

“I sleep a lot during the day, like ten hours, but Emily says that will change as time goes on. And not, in case you were wondering, on my native soil in a coffin.”

Trent clutched his chest. “Another myth blow to pieces. Next you’ll be telling me you don’t have to hunt… Okay, never mind that. You already said you use bagged blood. You’d have to find out where the local vampire blood bank is.”

Rory grinned. “In Jacques St. Germaine’s house.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Yeah, I am.” He pulled away to look at Trent. “You’re serious about my coming back with you, aren’t you?”

“I think so. Yeah I know, that’s probably not the most definitive answer, but we could make it work, if we both were willing to try. It’s would take my getting used to the idea that there are a lot of things we can’t do that we did before. But hell, I’m not doing them now. I really haven’t since the first time you vanished.”

“That’s stupid.”

“That’s me and you know it. I never was the ‘let’s go out and paint the town red’ type of guy. You’re the one who pushed me into doing things. When you disappeared”—Trent shrugged—“I had no reason to.”

“Four, almost five years, of spending your days busting your ass then going home to an empty house…”

“Not empty,” Trent put in. “I have Beau.”

Rory chuckled. “Somehow I don’t see you taking him to a club, or a movie, or even out to dinner.”

“True. He’s a lousy dancer.” Trent grinned, then sobered. “I miss the fun we had, the life we were starting to put together for ourselves. I want that again.” He cupped Rory’s face with his hands so that he could kiss him. “I want you again.”

“Are you sure?” Rory’s gaze seemed to search for some confirmation that Trent truly meant what he’d said. “It wouldn’t be easy.”

Trent smiled. “I think we’ve already established that. Hell, we made it through high school despite the fact we’re gay and had to hide our feelings for each other from everyone we knew there. I think we’re old enough, and smart enough, to pull this off if we want to.”

“Perhaps you’re right.”

“You sound as if you’re not certain.”