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already healing. Taking in deep breaths, he allowed his muscles to relax. He kept his arms securely around Aric's waist and willed his mind into a quiet state. Once he stopped trembling, he became aware that he was still holding Aric. The awkwardness was lessened by how much he liked this position. Holding the slender body against his—the warmth it generated, Aric's scent—Stu was swaying dangerously toward wanting him.

    Reminding himself that Aric was a man did nothing to dampen the newly inflamed attraction. Something about this guy made him want more. More touch, more skin, more taste. It went beyond the need to protect Aric and into another realm he wasn't sure he understood. It was as if his body separated from his mind. Each warred against the other, but his physical self was winning the battle.

    “Let go of me.” Aric arched his back and raised himself by his hands, pushing Stu off.

    Stu scrambled to his feet and walked away. He needed to cool down and give Aric some breathing room. He looked up at the inky blackness of the sky. Nothing stirred except a few faintly twinkling stars and the blinking lights of landing jets. The strix must have left for his lair. Stu ignored the chills creeping his up spine. A vampire slayer lived for these moments.

    He walked over to Aric, who sat leaning back against the truck's passenger door, arms curled around his bent legs. His stubborn chin lifted, and he glared at Stu. Strands of hair stuck out from his braid. Mussed up and vulnerable, he looked as fragile as spun glass.

    Aric's sullen expression screamed out to leave him alone, but Stu wanted answers. He leaned on the truck with his hand on its roof, casting a shadow over Aric. “That strix was after you,” he said. “Now will you tell me what's going on?”

    Aric looked up. “You have no idea what deep crap I'm in.”

    “I think I do. Come to my place. I live alone. You'll be safe there.”

    “You don't seem surprised or even shocked by what just happened.”

    Aric had every right to question him, but he had to get Aric to safety first. “I'll explain later.” He held out his hand. Aric hesitated but then reached for it, using Stu's strength to stand.

    They faced each other, neither one moving away. Aric remained rigid, arms crossed over his chest, dirt smeared on his clothes, his bedraggled backpack dangling off his arm. He looked stubborn and angry and beautiful.

    “Please trust me, Aric. I'll help you. I promise.”

    “What can you possibly do?”

    “Let's go home.”

    Stu walked away and hoped Aric would follow. His soul whispered a curious longing for something that was missing in his life. Fate had interfered with his plans for living a normal existence. No matter how deadly, no matter how dangerous, he had no choice but to protect Aric. He was now compelled to follow his true calling.

    Lord Byron understood the darkness of the soul. He knew all about dangerous emotions creeping in the dark.

    I had a dream, which was not all a dream.

    The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars

    Did wander darkling in the eternal space,

    Rayless and pathless, and the icy earth

    Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air.

    If Stu refused to help his new friend, Aric could expect a life of eternal darkness. Darkness more damning than a sin against a mortal's soul.

Chapter Four

     

    Aric looked around the loft, amazed at the spartan decor. It was unlike a typical jock's apartment, which was messy and rank. Despite the austerity, the room welcomed those within its four walls with open arms. The loft sported a bay window that overlooked a courtyard fountain, away from the buzz of traffic off the ever-busy Mill Avenue. Across from the window, a pale oak desk was pushed against a wall, a laptop humming alongside a stack of thick books and papers.

    Curious, Aric picked up the top book on the mile-high stack. The Portable Romantic Poets: Blake to Poe . Scanning the other titles, he found more of the