But those needy, desperate sounds from men as their cocks thickened and throbbed for release had his dick begging for attention every time. It shouldn’t be like this. He’d thought that when he died as a human and was reborn a vampire that maybe his appetites would change as well.
No, he’d been born a gay man, and he’d been reborn a gay vampire.
Of course, times and the social climate had changed. Being a homosexual wasn’t the death sentence it had once been in society. His brother Rafe certainly embraced both genders and over the past few decades had suffered no qualms about advertising his love for any and all creatures. Marcus’s only problem with Rafe was that he showed no discretion.
But when it came to his own needs and desires, too many old voices rang through his head, shaming him. Life had been hell as a human, and a part of him had hoped that he wouldn’t survive the conversion. That he’d finally be free of his shame.
No. Those same desires followed him into his new form, creating an eternal hell as the voices continued to scold him.
The mugger shivered and swore softly as Marcus ran his tongue over the holes he’d placed in the man’s neck, wiping up the blood and spreading the healing agent in his saliva. The site of the wound would be tender for a bit, but there was no evidence of the attack.
Turning the attacker again, Marcus released his hold, allowing him to slide down the wall to sit on the dirty ground. He blinked slowly a couple of times and then kept his eyes closed, seeming to drift into a light slumber.
Marcus stared at him as he touched his mouth, checking to make sure there was no smear of blood around his lips. With everything set to rights again, Marcus walked out of the alley and continued down the street with his hands in his pockets.
There was a renewed energy to his step, and the angry hunger in the pit of his stomach was satisfied. With any luck, he wouldn’t have to hunt again for another week. Maybe longer, if things stayed quiet.
Those early nights as a vampire had been annoying, with the need to feed each and every night. But then, those nights had been a little less lonely. Those first nights, he and Winter had hunted together as a way of watching out for each other as they learned more about their new selves and their powers. There had also been a feeling of Aiden being close by, as if he were watching over his new children, giving them space but still wanting to see that they were safe.
But after a few years, they started going their separate ways, hunting alone. At first, Marcus had appreciated the distance. He no longer had to worry about his little brother’s eagle eyes catching his dick hardening as his victim moaned with pleasure. He was sure his shame stayed private.
As the decades passed, he found he missed those old days and that indescribable closeness. There was even a small thread of jealousy that wove through him when he saw the unshakeable bond between Beltran and Rafe. The twins were always close, from birth and even through their death. Two men couldn’t be more different, but that didn’t seem to have any impact on them.
At the corner, Marcus paused and looked around, getting his bearings again. Hunting always made him too damn pensive. It was better when he remained home with his books and his work. Spending too much time thinking about the past was dangerous.
With his mind clear and hunger placated, Marcus turned and continued down an older residential street. There was a mix of two-story homes with wood siding and cracked sidewalks. The trees stretched above the roofs and pushed up against the sidewalk, breaking through in spots.
Cars lined either side of the street as there were few private driveways. The houses were mostly dark, but some dim lights glowed in the windows at that late hour.
Glenpark was clearly not the safest area, particularly since his mugger was not the first one to follow him since he’d started walking through the neighborhood. But for some reason, the would-be attacker disappeared after a block. Marcus briefly wondered if maybe they had sensed that Marcus was not the weak and helpless victim he looked to be. The mugger that ended up being his meal either lacked the sense of self-preservation or was simply too desperate to heed it.
As he reached his destination, Marcus knew he was being followed again. But this time there was a familiar itching sensation right between his shoulder blades. It was an annoying, biting sensation that had him fighting the impulse to shift his shoulders, because he knew it would do no good. There was no itch. There was only Rafe.