A Vampire for Christmas Page 2

  Kyle hadn’t even seen his back or the swing of his long coat.

  Definitely superhuman. No normal person moved that quickly.

  Kyle took a second look at the clinic. The health center was housed in a one-story, red-brick building. The place was dark. Not a single light appeared to be on inside. It was an older building, maybe a hundred years old, but it didn’t appear to be well cared for. The medical center looked like it was only several months away from being torn down.

  Not the kind of place a man who lived in a luxury high building and wore high-end designer clothing would visit, let alone call his doctor’s office.

  Kyle straightened and pulled out his camera. He snapped a few shots of the clinic, wishing he could walk around and take some pictures from another angle, but he was worried about Mossel coming out and seeing Kyle lurking around.

  Two hours later—and yes, Kyle waited the whole two hours—Mossel stepped out of the clinic. Kyle was immensely thankful he’d brought all the essentials for his expedition—food, his smartphone, a high-resolution camera and a portable charger. He bunched up the plastic wrap from his sandwich, shoved it into the empty plastic bottle from his milk and waited for Mossel to continue on his journey.

  Mossel turned and Kyle’s gaze dropped. The super-soldier held a red and white cooler. A shiver snaked down Kyle’s spine. He pulled his sweatshirt a little tighter across his chest to stave away the winter chill. His actions had nothing to do with the fact that the cooler looked frighteningly close to the kind hospitals carried organs in. It was just missing black bolded words across the sides. “Right. Not creepy at all,” Kyle muttered, reassuring himself. It didn’t work very well. Or at all.

  Eyes sharp, Mossel looked up and down the street. The man wasn’t looking in his direction, but Kyle couldn’t help the heavy ball of unease that settled in his gut at the soldier’s actions.

  “Idiot,” Kyle muttered beneath his breath, just as Mossel started down the street. He froze. The man was headed back up the block. Right toward where Kyle was hiding. Kyle sent an uneasy look over his shoulder to check that the coast was clear, and stepped deeper into the alley.

  He spotted a dumpster. It stood in the middle of the narrow passageway. Holding his nose, he went over to it and threw his refuse into it. Just as the bottle left his fingers on a jump shot, he froze. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew that Mossel had just walked past the mouth of the alley and for one moment he feared he could feel the weight of Mossel’s gaze on his back.

  But that was crazy talk.

  Mossel couldn’t know Kyle was watching since Kyle followed all the teachings in The Beginner’s Guide to Espionage to a tee. He practiced a lot.

  Still, he waited a full minute, counting off the seconds in his head, before leaving the alley. He followed Mossel until the dark man reached a restaurant. Mossel was still holding the not-for-organs cooler.

  This time the building was clearly lit and open. Interestingly, the moment Mossel reached the restaurant, a man stepped out.

  Kyle wasn’t sure why, but he knew he wanted to capture the man’s image. Reluctantly, he stepped out of his hiding spot, another alley. He pulled out his camera and snapped a picture of the suited redhead. With arms held wide, the man greeted the super soldier. “Dieter, my love!” he called as he strode over to the newly identified brunet.

  Dieter Mossel, Kyle mouthed. A powerful name to match a powerful figure.

  The two men embraced and the feeling that surged through Kyle when he realized the auburn-haired man was almost as good-looking as Mossel and that the two men hadn’t pulled apart surprised him. He couldn’t name the feeling, but he knew he didn’t like it. He chalked it up to suspecting that the restaurant worker was another government experiment. He was also way too physically perfect not to be the result of some kind of illegal and immoral government act.

  Mossel stepped back and Kyle immediately moved back into the alley. Uneasy, he watched as tension hardened Mossel’s form. He appeared several inches taller and wider. Larger and more menacing.

  Thoughts escaped Kyle as something changed in Mossel. The feeling Kyle got when he made a mistake but realized a little too late started to settle in his gut. His mind flashed to a robot running in circles screaming, ‘Danger, Kyle Lepiz. Danger’, as the spaceship around him burned.

  He shook his head. That thought totally wasn’t helping.

  Mossel turned and the hardness in his gaze and the stoicism of his face sent Kyle’s heart racing. Cutting through traffic, sending cars honking hard and skidding to a stop, Mossel walked across the street. Not one vehicle came even close to hitting him as though they were as frightened of him as Kyle was. Kyle watched, frozen, as Mossel stopped in front of him.

  “Why are you following me?” Mossel rumbled, his voice a deep bass that sent chills that had nothing to do with fear down Kyle’s spine.

  Right, body, don’t get a hard-on for the guy who wants to kill you, he thought as he looked up into Mossel’s face. Impossibly, Mossel was even more handsome this close, and Kyle was right. He did have light-colored eyes. They were a lovely shade of gray so light they were almost silver.

  “Hey! I asked you a question. Why are you following me?”

  Kyle almost moaned out loud at the second sound of Mossel’s voice. He’d been a little too preoccupied with his eyes to really hear him the first time he’d spoken. Mossel had a western European accent and Kyle had always had a thing for European accents, especially something that reminded him of that part of the continent. Mossel didn’t sound French or English, so Kyle guessed German.

  “Are you German?” he asked before his mind could process the question. He almost cursed himself out.

  What was wrong with him?

  Mossel blinked at him in surprise and for one moment his face went slack with shock before it tightened in anger. He took a menacing step toward him and Kyle lifted his hands in the universal sign of surrender. Mossel didn’t stop and Kyle found himself backed up against the wall of one of the buildings. Mossel’s long length was pressed against his. “I’m not going to ask again,” he drawled out slowly. Kyle prayed Mossel couldn’t feel his growing erection, but he doubted his prayers would be answered considering just how close they were.

  He really, really should have stayed home tonight. Maybe watched a movie—even a sappy romantic comedy was better than this frightening, and admittedly arousing, fuck-up.

  “I am seriously considering calling the police.”

  That was bad, all kinds of bad. His current job sucked. It was boring as hell and his boss was a Bitch with a capital B. He made a good living, great actually, as a manager in the IT department, but every eight-hour shift seemed to suck the life out of him. He was in the process of looking for another job and there was no way ‘arrested for harassment’ would look good.

  “Uh,” Kyle answered intelligently then closed his eyes so he couldn’t see the look of incredulity on that gorgeous face. He tried again. “I know what you are.”

  Mossel didn’t reply.

  Eyes closed, Kyle quickly found himself immersed in the feel of the hard body against his.

  Mossel towered over Kyle. The thick wool of his coat didn’t allow Kyle to feel his body heat, but this close, the rich scent of his sandalwood and musk cologne was almost overwhelming. Kyle could feel the rise and fall of his every breath. The friction from Mossel’s coat and the soldier’s palms against Kyle’s body filled his senses. He couldn’t seem to feel anything that wasn’t intimately associated with Dieter’s body.

  Mossel took a half step back. Kyle swallowed a shortened breath. He could breathe without taking in a lungful of the other man’s cologne. What a letdown!

  “Do you?”

  “What?” Kyle’s eyes popped open in surprise. He looked at the handsome brunet, trying to figure out what he was talking about. His confusion must have been clear on his face because Mossel sighed and folded his arms across his chest. “You said you knew what I was. Just what am I?”


  Embarrassment flushed through him and Kyle parted his lips twice before the words would come out. “You’re a genetic experiment by the government.”

  Mossel stilled and his jaw dropped. For a few seconds he was frozen in time like a perfect picture. He didn’t move and his expression didn’t change. Then he lowered his arms and threw his head back. Ringing laughter filled the alley and Kyle could easily feel his flush deepening.

  “You can deny it, but I know it’s true,” he blustered, angry and humiliated.

  Mossel shook his head in clear exasperation. “Right.” He sighed and turned, giving Kyle his broad back. “Hungry?” he called over one wide shoulder.

  “What?”

  “I asked if you were hungry. I’m starving and I refuse to allow you to throw me off my meal. Come along, little human. Angelino’s has the best carbonara outside of Italy.”

  Little human. Kyle shivered and looked sharply at Mossel’s departing form. He wanted answers and he had set out on this journey to discover Mossel’s secrets. He owed Eduardo that much. Kyle knew Mossel’s first and last name and was talented enough that he could hack a few government agencies’ networks and discover a little more about the European.

  But there was nothing like hearing the words from the source.

  “At least I’m wearing clean underwear,” he muttered, thinking that if worst came to worst he wouldn’t shame himself with dirty undergarments. His mother would be so mortified if she had to identify his body when he was wearing dirty drawers. After taking a mood-fortifying, chest-expanding breath, he followed Mossel.

  The maître d’, a pale blond with dark eyes, sent him a shark’s grin before stepping from behind his perch. “Lazio, I’m going to show Dieter’s date to his table,” he called out just before he stopped in front of Kyle. To his dying day, Kyle would deny that he released a little yelp at the sharp smile.

  Uncomfortable as hell, Kyle followed the blond man through the restaurant. Gaze darting around the place, it quickly became apparent to Kyle that the bistro was out of his price range and that he wasn’t dressed well enough to dine there.

  It also hadn’t escaped his notice that he wasn’t nearly pretty enough to even work there. Beautiful men and women were everywhere he looked, inhumanely gorgeous people of every color and size. Kyle almost kissed the table in thanks when they finally reached it. He was that glad he was no longer walking among the beautiful people. It was a little like strolling through a living, breathing designer jeans advertisement.

  “Freaky,” he muttered.

  “Pardon me?”

  He snapped to attention with all the subtlety of a slap to the face. “What?” he asked the blond who’d spoken.

  Warm brown eyes looked at him in consideration for several harrowing seconds before the blond shook his head. “Sorry, I thought you were speaking to me.” He held out his arm.

  Kyle’s gaze followed the straight line his limb made to the occupied table. Dieter Mossel. Gorgeous super-soldier. This dinner was going to be so awkward.

  Hands shaking, Kyle pulled out the chair across from Mossel and took a seat. Almost the moment his butt touched the chair, he grabbed the glass of water in front of him and downed half the cup. He would have preferred tequila, but stalkers couldn’t be choosers.

  Brain like a kicked-over beehive, his thoughts flew swiftly and angrily through his mind. He barely noticed the maître d’ hand them menus or when Mossel ordered. For the both of them.

  Was this a date? It was starting to feel like the most awkward date ever.

  Mossel grabbed his glass and took a sip. Belatedly, Kyle realized he’d never released his own goblet. Carefully, he lowered it to the red-clothed table.

  “You’ve been watching me for a long time.”

  Kyle didn’t reply. He couldn’t. His tongue was frozen and swollen and his mouth was dry and really what did a man say to that?

  “I thought it was infatuation. I believed you had a crush on me, but it’s been, what, five weeks now? Every night.” He sent Kyle a considering look. “That takes devotion. Crushes do not result in devotion. Obsession does.”

  “I’m not obsessed with you.” The words came hot and quickly. It seemed his tongue worked perfectly fine when it wanted. He lifted his head and stared at the other man. “I am just determined. I know what you are and I fully intend to expose the government’s horrendous actions. Soldiers give this country everything and yet the government wants even more from them.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “As an old man with a heart attack,” he replied.

  Mossel simply looked him over for several long seconds. Gaze shuttered, he sat back. “Let me get this straight. You’re sure I’m the result of the government experimenting on its armed forces in an attempt to create the perfect super-soldier.”

  “Yes.”

  “Right, but what about me being a citizen of Germany, rather than America?” he asked. He lifted his glass to his luscious mouth.

  As he took a sip, Kyle tried to formulate an answer. It was damned hard to do when he couldn’t stop staring at the long column of Mossel’s throat and imagining him swallowing something a little more potent than red wine. He squirmed in his seat. “Uh, Germany is an ally of the US and I suspect that they’ve shared the data with your country.”

  Mossel lowered the glass. “What’s the point of having a super-soldier if you’re going to give all your hard-earned research and information away? Even if you are giving it to an ally?”

  “Right.” Kyle leaned on the table and chewed his left thumbnail. It was a habit he couldn’t kick when he really started thinking or was frustrated as hell.

  “Dinner is served.”

  He sat up when the waiter, a different man, returned with their food. Neither man talked while the food was distributed and for several minutes after. Mossel’s attention was consumed by his meal and Kyle was picking at his food as his thoughts volleyed between wondering how in the world he’d got himself in this situation and why his ‘super-soldier’ was a citizen of Germany.

  “Why don’t you just ask me what I am?”

  He lifted his gaze swiftly at the question. He hadn’t really considered it could be so simple. People didn’t give information, especially the kind he wanted, if they had another option. “Are you human?” he dared.

  “No.”

  He stilled even as his heart jumped. Mossel was answering his questions. “Are you an alien?”

  “Nope,” Mossel replied, popping the last syllable as he twirled his fork through this spaghetti.

  He wasn’t human and he wasn’t an alien. “And you’re not a superhuman?”

  Mossel took a bite, chewed slowly, savoring the food—and Kyle was not jealous of the little strings of pasta—and swallowed. “I am, but I’m not a government experiment. I’m naturally superior.”

  Naturally superior. “Mutant?” Kyle asked, sure that was the answer.

  “Of a sort.”

  Officially stumped, Kyle asked the question he should have voiced originally. “What are you?”

  Mossel grinned wickedly. “Me, I’m a vampire.”

  It took him a moment to process Mossel’s words, because like a computer with bad data, his mind just couldn’t compute. Then he laughed for so long and so hard, he almost knocked over his barely touched plate. Tears in his eyes, he sat straight and looked at the handsome brunet. “Vampires aren’t real.”

  Mossel’s grin widened. “Aren’t we?”

  “No, they are not,” Kyle replied. He stabbed his fork angrily into his lasagna. “Fine. I get it, you don’t want to tell me what you are, but can you at least confirm some things for me?” He cut off a small slice of his food and shoved it into his mouth.

  Mossel eyed him, understanding bright in his gray gaze. “And allow you to reach the proper conclusions on your own?” he purred.

  Swallowing his food before answering, Kye replied. “Yes.”

  “What will you give me in response? You stil
l haven’t provided me with a reason not to have you arrested for harassment.”

  Great! He’d kind of hoped Mossel had forgotten all about that. Voice whisper-thin, he asked, “What do you want?”

  “What are you offering?” Mossel countered almost immediately.

  Kyle considered playing hardball, but he didn’t have it in him and he wasn’t so stupid that he didn’t know Mossel had him at a distinct disadvantage. He didn’t have a record and he wasn’t about to gain one tonight.

  “Anything,” he replied. He wanted to prove Eduardo hadn’t just snapped and killed himself, but that the government pushed the reservist a little too hard, drugged him a little too much, and that was what had finally sent his cousin over the edge. “But I don’t have much money,” he qualified. “I have my 401k and some emergency savings. I suppose I could clear those out, depending on what you are willing to tell me.”

  “I have funds, plenty of funds.”

  Right. Luxury apartment. Designer clothes. Restaurant so expensive it didn’t even list the prices on the menu.

  “What if I said I wanted you?”

  “Wait. Wait! Do you want to suck my blood?” Kyle chuckled, thinking about Mossel’s claim that he was a vampire.

  The guy had to be joking. Why would he want anything from Kyle but his money? A guy like him, who looked like that, could pick any man or woman on the street and easily get them into his bed. He had to be joking. Or crazy. “Is that what you’re after? An easy meal?”

  “I’m not hungry for food.” Mossel lifted up his laden fork. “I’m not opposed if you’re offering, but I was hoping to suck something else.”

  Kyle flushed and his cock jerked in his running pants. Thank goodness he was wearing something loose or he might be embarrassing himself quite a lot today.

  “Better yet, how about you get to sucking,” Mossel purred.

  Kyle swallowed thickly, grabbed his glass of wine and downed it in one while trying not to picture himself dropping to his knees, undoing the closure on Mossel’s thousand-dollar pants and taking that big cock into his mouth. He failed. Spectacularly.