“I’m fine.” Paul straightened up and took a deep breath. “Look, I mean it—get out of here. I might not be able to keep them off you again.”
“I will go then. But…I do not even know your name.” Laurent looked at him appealingly. “Please…”
“Skulls. The pack calls me Skulls.”
“And is that your true name?” Those pale green eyes seemed to pierce right through him.
“Paul.” He didn’t know why he was saying it, why he was giving this bloodsucker any kind of personal information but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “Paul Kraskowski.” The vampire inclined his head gracefully. “Laurent Montcrieve. Aside from what has passed between us tonight, I want you to know how grateful I am for your intervention. They would have killed me.”
“Yeah, they would’ve. And they still will if you don’t fucking leave.” Paul frowned, his shoulders hunched. Already he was itching to reach for Laurent again, despite knowing how wrong it was. Please go. Go while I can still let you.
Maybe the vampire heard his unspoken plea. At any rate, he took a step back as though preparing to leave. But then he turned his head, looking Paul in the eye. “If you have need of me, if there is anything I can do to repay your kindness, or if…if you just want to see me again as I am already longing to see you, please come and find me. I am staying in the carriage house of 1536 Bougainvillea Drive in Coconut Grove.”
Paul stared at him. “You’re giving me your daytime resting place? Do you know how stupid that is?”
Laurent gave him another piercing look. “If you come to kill me, at least I will see you again before I die. Farewell, Paul Kraskowski.” He turned and became a blur of motion, the white shirt and tan pants and dark hair running together in the moonlight until suddenly, he was gone.
Paul shook his head, feeling dazed. It was like someone had hit him over the head with a fucking bat—only getting knocked in the head didn’t usually give him a massive hard-on.
What the fuck just happened? He didn’t know but he wasn’t going to stick around here to try to find out. In the distance he heard a wolf’s howl, full of disappointment and anger. Great. Chulo, that fucking idiot, had finally decided to give up the search for the imaginary coven. I can’t let them see me like this. Can’t let them know. Know what? Paul still wasn’t sure himself. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that if the other wolves saw him they would know what he had been doing. Hell, the smell of the damn vamp was probably all over him. That sharp, clean fragrance with a hint of warmth underneath.
He was warm in my arms, Paul thought as he loped for the edge of the park. Never thought a vamp would be warm. Aren’t they supposed to be cold and dead? But Laurent had felt alive in his arms—very much alive.
It was all very confusing.
The trip home didn’t clear his head though Paul had hoped the wind rushing over his face as he rode his motorcycle home would help him. He only felt more troubled as he let himself into the side entrance of the Chop Shop’s garage to park his bike. He’d moved out of his dad’s house and into the apartment over the garage a couple years back after he’d started taking custom jobs of his own. It kept him close enough to the business to help out and far enough from home not to have a knock-down-drag-out with the old man every other day.
“You’re home early.” The voice startled him so much he jumped and almost dumped the cycle on the grease-stained concrete. “Dios, Lucia, warn a guy before you fucking sneak up on him.” He turned to face his stepmother who was frowning, one hand on her hip.
“Language, Paul. What have I told you?” She took a step toward him and her expression changed from irritation to worry. “Hey, are you all right, Paulito? You’re as white as a sheet.”
“Whiter than normal, you mean?” He tried to laugh and couldn’t. It was an old joke with them—despite his tan Lucia had the dark golden Latina skin that managed to make him look pasty. Laurent’s skin was whiter than mine—he was pale enough to make me look dark. Paul pushed the thought away hastily, worried that his stepmother would somehow see it in his face.
“What’s wrong?” She came forward and cupped his cheek. “Tell me what happened. Did someone get hurt?”
Paul shrugged uneasily. “You know—nothing out of the ordinary. Angel had me take point tonight because he had family business and Chulo was giving me shit about it. Sorry—you know what I mean.”
Lucia frowned. “Angel again, huh? Paul…” She paused, as though searching for the right words. “You know he’s never going to feel for you what you feel for him, right?