Blood Claim by Laura Mykles (free e books to read .txt) 📕

revisited the sites where he'd gotten what seemed to be the best information on vampires, but they told him nothing new. For each “fact” he saw, he could find other places on the ‘Net that refuted it. He had no better way now of telling what was real and what was fiction than he'd had in the first few months after he'd seen the vampire that had killed Daniel.

Matt stood at the window in his living room, sipping coffee and watching sunlight fade into night. He wore what he considered to be his frumpiest clothing. Clean, but all of it was baggy. Oversized flannel shirt, the tails of which hung almost to his knees, a pair of faded blue sweatpants, and socks. His hair was pulled back in a tail at the nape of his neck. He had shaved, but other than that and the shower, that was about all he'd done for appearance.

As the streetlights flickered on, fear started to creep into his bones. Oddly enough, it was tempered by a simmering lust that made his skin tingle. The man who'd brought him more pleasure than any other person in Matt's lifetime might also be a ruthless monster that could kill him. The image just didn't seem right. He knew there were tales of vampires being sensuous, seductive predators, and he knew many of the sexual tales that surrounded the myth, but the sexual side of vampires was just as suspect as the others.

And he'd invited Wolfe in. His heart twisting, he remembered that clearly. Through a haze of lust and longing, he'd invited a monster into his home. He'd let a monster fuck him.

No. He didn't know Wolfe was a monster. Did he? There could be another explanation. Although he had yet to come up with one.

Frustrated, he clutched his coffee mug, willing the night to come faster.

When the knock came, Matt took three steps toward the door before he even realized it. He had to force himself to stop. “Wolfe?"

"It's me."

Swallowing, Matt set his mug down on his desk and turned on the lamp. Comforting white light pushed back the inky blue of early night. Then he stepped up to the door, placing his palm on the panel.

Did he really hear Wolfe's sigh before he spoke? “I know you're mad at me. Open up. We need to talk."

"What if I don't let you in?"

Pause. Another sigh? “You've already invited me in once, Matt. That's all it takes."

Fear ratcheted up in Matt's chest. “Are-are you...?"

"Yes. I am. I promise not to hurt you. I promise not to touch you if you don't say it's okay. Just let me come in and explain."

Matt watched his hand tremble and wondered at the detached way he felt the fear icing his veins.

"Please, Matt. It's time you got an explanation on what happened and heard my apology about Daniel."

"Daniel?” That jump-started him. His hand dropped to the doorknob, quickly unlocking it and twisting it open. He glared at the vision of wonder standing before him. “What do you know about Daniel?"

Wolfe stepped toward him, and Matt instinctively backed away. He continued to back up as Wolfe entered his apartment, and didn't stop until the backs of his thighs hit the arm of the couch, although Wolfe had stopped just inside, turning halfway to quietly close the door.

Black and white. Tonight Wolfe looked more traditionally like the popular image of a vampire. If he had a tail jacket and a cloak, he'd be perfect. Actually, he was perfect. Black slacks tapered down his long legs to the tips of his boots. A crisp, blinding white dress shirt draped his shoulders, open at the collar to reveal a chest not too many shades darker than the shirt. He was definitely paler tonight, which made his hair and eyebrows darker, his green eyes more luminous, and his red, red lips far more tempting. This man was the main subject of Matt's fantasies, not to mention the only person to have touched him in so very long. Monster or not, this was the only person Matt had talked to—really talked to—since the night of Daniel's death. Here was the only friend Matt had in the world and might very well be the thing he most feared.

Matt crushed his hands into fists and crossed them over the small of his back to keep from reaching as Wolfe turned back to face him.

Those magnificent eyes were filled with sorrow, enough to tug at Matt's heart and nearly bring tears to his own eyes.

"The vampire who killed your lover was my fledgling."

Matt's body froze as his mind whirled. Not only had Wolfe said the word vampire himself, he'd admitted a link to the monster who'd ruined Matt's life.

Wolfe paused, watching his face, then continued, voice low and steady. “Shawn was very young and wasn't the man I thought him to be. I made him mostly because of loss and loneliness. Not the best of excuses, but it's the only one I have."

"You made him?"

"Yes. And I lost control of him. He escaped me. By the time I tracked him down, he had already killed Daniel."

"He would have killed anyway. He's a v-vampire.” You're a vampire!

"No. Not necessarily. We don't have to kill. We don't usually kill. Those who do are considered dangerous and are hunted and destroyed. As I destroyed Shawn."

"Destroyed?"

"Yes. Shawn is gone. For good. I took care of him the night after he killed your lover."

The couch cushioned Matt's collapse onto it. He kept his eyes on Wolfe, trying to process what was being told to him. The vampire was gone. Had been gone. Matt had kept to himself for no reason. No, there was reason. There were other vampires. One stood before him. He swallowed, shaking his head, not at all sure what to think. “You're a vampire.” He whispered the words, hoping against hope that he was hearing wrong.

"Yes."

"But I've talked to you during the day!"

"I don't sleep the entire day."

Matt stared wide-eyed at the