Excerpt from Last Communion

And suddenly, there he was. Quick like a bird of prey, he flew at my throat. Claws gripped my neck, and teeth flashed. The smell of blood filled my nostrils – the blood of a dozen victims, like a morbid souvenir on his breath. I cried out, paralyzed by the realization that he was a mirror image of me.

And then everything stopped. Black eyes stared at me, shock and confusion warring in their depths. I stared back, all instincts to save myself evaporated. I was caught in his gaze, hypnotized.

“I… apologize.”

The courtesy fell dead to the floor between us. I should have laughed at his formality, but I couldn’t. I was bewitched by his voice. It was dark like cherry velvet and it seemed to vibrate through my body like the single, low note from a cracked cello. I opened my mouth to say something back, and his eyes flitted down to my teeth: to my long, pointy canines. The mark of the monster. The blemish that had my mother so disgusted.

A blemish he shared.

I didn’t breathe. I just took in the sight of him: the strands of unkempt, dark hair framing his bony face. The intensity of his gaze. The two gentle bulges in his top lip… Oh God, that familiar ache. But I’d just met him – I couldn’t. I shouldn’t even be toying with the idea. And yet my eyes raked over him, hungry in a way that I hadn’t had the energy to be hungry for months. And as he gazed back, I knew he could feel it. The magnetism was palpable, a third entity in the room. An animal thing. A trembling, crazy mirage that had nothing to do with me. He wasn’t even my type. I went for the kind-faced blond, and this creature was the exact opposite. He was thin, wiry, dark. Rough around the edges, like somebody who slept on the street. His collar hung loose around his neck, and still I sensed the strength in that lithe body, like a starved panther crouching to attack.

“Please forgive me.” He took a step back, and the pull lessened. I could breathe again. “I should know better.” He seemed shaken. “I don’t understand what happened.”

I gaped, trying to find words, but there was nothing. My mind was a blank. Time passed slowly, as if I was watching a slow motion replay of everything I had missed in my life. The world was brand new and eons-old at once. And that smell… stronger than blood, than hyacinths, than rotting fruit. The smell of a fusion aching to happen.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded. My attempt to sound dominant quivered between us. I half expected him to laugh. But if something stirred in those bottomless tarns, it wasn’t mirth.

“You’re new.” Once again the sound of his voice made the hairs on my neck stand up. It was a rugged, raven-like sound that seemed to pierce my very soul. And his eyes… They slid over my body in a way I would once have interpreted as seductive, but in this strange new world, who knew?

Then he nodded. “Yes, obviously. Very fresh, I would think. Not more than a few days old?”

He stepped closer again, and I choked out a hurried, “What do you mean?”

He looked down at me, sharp and alert. His scent filled me to the brim, like I wanted to fill him. My hands curled into trembling fists at my sides. Don’t touch. Just don’t. You know how straight guys get.

“New,” he repeated, and once again I smelled warm iron on his breath. “Saved.” His gaze dropped to the pulse just below my ear, and a warm shudder travelled through me. Was he going to bite me after all? I should be halfway out the window by now. This man was crazy, and he was too tall, too strong for me. Besides, I could sense his experience. He would overpower me in a second.

Or would he let me overpower him?

Afraid to open my mouth, I breathed through my nose. Get a grip, get a grip, a weak voice inside me kept repeating, but it was fading into the background. How could my old principles serve me now? There were no rules anymore. I was standing in an abandoned university library in a plague-ridden city, aching with desire for an insane stranger, and there was no one left to tell me it was wrong.

I raised a hand, touched his chest. The gesture wasn’t entirely voluntary, but once my palm connected with the steady warmth beneath the cotton, I couldn’t draw back. His shirt shook and trembled with the heart that was beating behind it. The vibrations spread up my arm, and the air rippled as we breathed. My hand trailed lower, over his stomach, only stopping where his jeans marked forbidden territory.

This wasn’t me. It just wasn’t. In my way, I was an old-fashioned, dinner-first kind of guy. I’d never jumped someone I’d just met.

But then I’d never murdered a family member in cold blood before, either.

As if the memory flicked a switch, the blinds were yanked down over my eyes. Our bodies crashed together. I tore at his shirt, searching for skin. Pulled at his belt. God, I wanted to fuck him. I’d never wanted anything more. His buttons strained at the denim and then slipped free. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Pushing his jeans down his hips, I felt the black thatch of hair caress my fingers. One final yank, and the hot silk of his cock brushed my hand.

It was beautiful.

 ______________________________________________________________________________________________

Find Last Communion at Amazon, All Romance Ebooks and Smashwords