First Dates

by Katie May

  “What does that even mean?” I scrunch my nose as Leon continues to babble about the pancake blob his body made.

  “Don’t ask,” Aaron, Talon, and Zade all say in unison.

  “Now that you’re all accounted for…” Kyler strides briskly to the center of the room before extending a hand for me to take. Hesitating only briefly, I step forward and allow him to pull me up onto a raised podium. “Let the painting begin!”

  Have you ever been the sole focus of ten men?

  No?

  It’s pretty fucking unnerving, to say the least.

  I’ve never modeled before in my life, so I have no idea where to put my hands. At first, I settle them awkwardly on my hips and flash my largest smile before realizing that I can’t possibly hold that position for longer than a minute or two. Then, I drop them to my sides and attempt to keep my face neutral and impassive.

  And when the stage begins to spin in a circle?

  I die inside.

  “You’re sexy, babe,” Quinn calls from where he’s biting on his lower lip. One hand holds a half empty beer bottle while the other carries a dripping paint brush. Squinting his eyes, as if attempting to see me in a new light, he tilts his head to the side and begins to make languid lines down his canvas. From this angle, I can’t see any of their paintings.

  Fuck, what if they make me an ugly dog? I would be a hideous dog.

  “Yeah, babe,” Ethan slurs. “You’re so...beautexy.”

  Quinn quite literally facepalms himself, brown paint splattering across his face.

  Beside him, Grant’s eyes are smoldering as his gaze caresses me from head to toe. His tongue touches the edge of his lips, as it always does when he’s in deep thought. Smirking slightly when he notices my attention on him, he brings his wine glass to his lips and takes a slow, sensual sip, his throat bobbing.

  “Are you not going to paint, Aaron?” Criss questions, not unkindly. I follow the wendigo’s stare to see the hellhound facing me completely, no canvas in sight. He crosses his arms over the back of his chair, resting his chin on his forearms. A strand of red hair flutters in front of his eyes, but he doesn’t seem inclined to push it out of the way.

  “I prefer to live in the moment,” he answers casually, refusing to look away from me.

  “And staring like a creeper is living in the moment?” Keller questions, and I can tell his mental voice reaches all of the men when they jump.

  “It’s only creepy if you make it creepy,” Aaron retorts, still not taking his eyes off of me. A sultry smirk plays on his lips, and I suddenly need a fan for my overheated skin. I blame his hellhound genetics.

  “We don’t creep-shame people here,” I reprimand, smoothing back a flyaway lock of hair. “Now, can I ask you guys some questions?”

  “Of course,” Talon says immediately, appearing eager to please. His delicate features soften as he stares up at me. “What would you like to know?”

  “What are your favorite colors?” It’s always better to start easy and move on to harder things. And I’m not just talking about in the bedroom.

  “Pink,” Quinn answers immediately. His eyes rove up and down my body as he dips his brush into a puddle of red paint. “It’s the color of lust and love.”

  “That’s so cheesy.” Zade rolls his eyes, but a wry smirk plays on his lips. “You’re just trying to kiss Ridley’s ass.”

  “Oh, most definitely,” he answers without shame. “She has a perfect one.”

  Okayyyyyyy. Enough of that.

  “Zade? What’s your favorite color?” My voice is slightly high-pitched in my desperate attempt to change the subject. When his smile grows in amusement, I know that he can see right through me.

  “A mixture between green and blue,” Zade answers immediately. “Almost like the water in a lagoon. It’s not quite one particular color, but embodies characteristics of both. And it’s the color of your eyes.”

  The guys immediately boo and splash paint on the grinning zombie.

  “And you say I’m cheesy,” Quinn grumbles.

  “Quit trying to sweet-talk the lady,” Keller adds. “That’s my speciality.”

  “Not everyone has big wallets to lavish her with gifts,” Aaron retorts, earning himself a glare from the banshee. “Some of us have to rely on...other methods.” His eyes flicker seductively down my body, leaving no question to what “methods” he is referring to.

  Grant, who has been silent throughout this entire conversation, speaks up for the first time. “She’s more than that, though.” His hand tightens imperceptibly around the wooden brush, and he refuses to meet my inquiring gaze. “She’s not just a woman you can seduce and walk away from. Once you know her...she’s...everything.” Finally, he glances up, and the intensity in his eyes leaves me breathless. It’s as if he has undressed me and is now able to see every flaw and mistake I’ve ever made. I ignore the tug in my gut, the craving to surrender, as his heated gaze continues to flood my veins with molten lava.

  “Me thinks he has a story to tell,” Ethan points out, accidentally jabbing Quinn with his paintbrush. “Sorry, buddy,” the vampire murmurs sheepishly as Quinn wipes the blue paint from his skin.

  “My favorite color is lime green,” Criss blurts from across the room, and every eye focuses on him. He hiccups slightly, swirling his wine glass once, before bringing it back to his lips. “If we’re still on that question.”

  I must flash him a relieved smile because he nods once, almost surreptitiously.

  “Mine’s black,” Aaron purrs. “Like my soul.”

  “I think you’re trying too hard to act like a narcissistic asshole because the truth is, you care too much,” Keller responds, ignoring Aaron’s threatening glower.

  “What the fuck are you saying?” The younger man scoffs. “Are you suggesting I have depth?” He covers his chest in mock horror. “Ridley, can you believe the nerve of this guy?”

  Ignoring him, Keller trains his feverish gaze on me. “My favorite color is dark brown.”

  Movement in my peripheral captures my attention, and I turn my head marginally to see Jamie sucking on Criss’s neck, the wendigo’s head thrown back in pleasure. When he sees me, a sly grin appears on the ghost’s face, and he maintains eye contact as he begins to plant tantalizing kisses up and down the other man’s neck.

  “I like blue,” Zade throws in. “I don’t know why. But can anyone honestly say why they prefer a certain color over others?”

  “Yellow is gross,” Aaron snipes. “And green looks like vomit.”

  “I happen to like yellow,” Grant argues immediately, and the shock of him actually engaging in conversation with the other men abates as I watch Jamie’s tongue dart out to lick Criss’s collarbone.

  Holy cum stain.

  Criss’s eyes flutter close as he tangles his fingers in the other man’s hair, holding him closer.

  “Once, my dad put a yellow bullseye on my shirt and made me run around in circles while my brothers shot me with paintball guns,” Leon states evenly. When no one immediately answers, at a loss for words, he continues, “It’s called Pin the Bullet on the Lion.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with your family?” Quinn finally asks, sounding more entranced than horrified.

  “I dunno.” Leon sighs heavily. “My cousin, Rion, is in prison, so obviously nothing good.”

  Still maintaining eye contact with me, Jamie lowers his hand to Criss’s crotch and begins to palm him through his pants. I know my pupils are dilated with lust and my chest is heaving. I’m suddenly overcome with the irresistible urge to race forward and kiss the shit out of both of them.

  As if reading my mind, Jamie tilts Criss’s head towards him and begins to kiss him softly, their tongues tangling together as Criss deepens the kiss. Both men stare at me out of their corner of their eyes as their hands roam each other’s bodies.

  “Anything else you want to know about us?” Aaron drawls sarcastically, and I whip my head to see him lazily staring at me through one
eye. “Our sexual history? Our pants size?”

  “Um…”

  Does no one else see the full-blown make out scene happening across from them? Or are they being polite and pretending it’s not happening? Just me?

  “What’s your dream job?” At my innocent question, Grant winces as if I had physically struck him. Pain darkens his eyes as he ducks his head, black hair obscuring his features from view.

  “I’m sure Quinny over there wants to grow up and be the best manwhore around,” Aaron snipes with a cocksure grin.

  “Ha. Ha. Ha.” The man in question kicks out his legs and takes a slug of his beer. “Again, you’re projecting. I think poor little Aaron just wants someone to love him. Does the hellhound have some mommy issues?”

  When Aaron appears ready to lunge across the room and strangle him, I clear my throat, garnering the room’s attention.

  “Don’t do that. Don’t turn on each other in an attempt to prove yourselves to me...or whatever it is you’re doing.” I blush slightly as I shift from foot to foot. “What’s the saying? Bros before hos?”

  “You’re not a ho,” Talon points out, and I’m surprised by the venom in his tone. “I hate that fucking word.”

  “Honestly? So do I.”

  Because why should some women be shamed because they like sex? If it’s a man, they’re celebrated and congratulated. If it’s a woman, they’re called a slut or a ho. The double standards make me sick.

  “Alright.” Ethan nods his head seriously. “Next person who uses the word ‘ho’ will become well-acquainted with my fangs. Is that understood?”

  “Dude, you passed out when that bartender sliced his thumb on a bottle opener,” Quinn points out.

  “And you needed to be blindfolded when you fed earlier today,” adds Grant.

  When Ethan blushes, eyes flickering repeatedly in my direction, I realize that this is information that he didn’t want me to know. I’ve never heard of a vampire being afraid of blood, but it’s on par with the rest of the season.

  “Alright!” I clap my hands together. “Dream job! Go!”

  “A firefighter,” Quinn answers immediately, throwing a pointed look in Aaron’s direction as if daring him to say anything. The hellhound throws his hands up placatingly. “I want to be able to help people.”

  “That’s very noble of you…” I trail off as I turn once more towards Criss and Jamie. During our conversation, they had pulled their pants down slightly, just enough to free their cocks. Jamie has his hand wrapped around both of them as he touches them together, the tips dripping with pre-cum.

  Oh my cock.

  “I always wanted to be a dancer,” Zade admits, and he pauses, as if waiting for someone to scoff or laugh at his dream. When no one does, he continues with a self-deprecating snort, “But obviously, that was before I died.”

  “Just because you’re dead doesn’t mean you can’t live your dream,” Talon points out. “It worked out for me.”

  Jamie begins to stroke their joined cocks in earnest as Criss watches me through half-lidded eyes.

  “What do you mean?” Zade queries.

  Criss’s cock jerks first, cum squirting from the tip and across the canvas. Jamie is quick to follow, a low, sultry groan escaping before he can contain it.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Talon says quickly as I work to control my erratic breathing. “All I mean is, you can do anything you set your mind to. Fuck society.”

  “Preach!” Aaron holds his beer bottle in a salute.

  “So…” Quinn clears his throat, shifting on the wooden stool. “Is no one going to talk about the live porno we just witnessed?”

  When Kyler struts from the back room and announces that the date is over, I can’t help but feel slightly disappointed. I actually enjoyed the back and forth banter of the guys, more than I care to admit.

  “You may show Ridley your paintings,” Kyler says simply.

  My eyes instinctively latch onto Grant’s first, a chuckle escaping before I can reel it in. Good lord. The man can’t paint to save his life.

  It’s nothing but a stick figure standing in a garden.

  “I like the colors,” I compliment as flames enter his cheeks.

  “Shut up,” he murmurs, embarrassed. This time, I don’t bother to contain my bark of laughter. Some things will never change, like his inability to draw straight lines.

  Zade’s is...interesting, to say the least. I suppose since he was such a phenomenal dancer, I expected him to be good at art as well, but you know what they say about assumptions.

  “I think her head is bigger than her body,” Aaron deadpans as he surveys the still wet piece.

  “That’s supposed to be a bouquet of flowers,” Zade argues.

  “Her head’s made up of flowers?” Quinn clarifies.

  “No! She’s holding flowers.” Abruptly, Zade turns the canvas so it’s once more facing the wall. “I think I’m a little too drunk for this.”

  “You want drunk…” Ethan slurs, whipping his painting across the room. “Look at my painting!” Of course, it breaks as soon as it hits the wall, tiny pieces of plaster cascading to the floor like snow. “Oops.”

  “It was lines,” Quinn tells us. “Lots and lots of lines. But mine, on the other hand…”

  “Holy crap, Quinn!” My mouth drops open as I stare at the piece in pure amazement. It looks so incredibly lifelike, as if instead of painting, it’s a photograph. Is this how he sees me?

  Because I don’t even see myself like that.

  My eyes are glowing with happiness, the smile on my face both haunted and jovial, as if I’m aware of a secret the rest of the world can only begin to guess. My hair is luscious, cascading down my back in vibrant waves. I look...beautiful. Ethereal.

  “Dude, that’s incredible,” Grant breathes.

  “Did you really paint that?” Criss queries.

  “I’m a man of many skills.” Quinn smiles smugly before dipping his brush into black painting and signing his name on the bottom. “For you, my lady.”

  “Quinn… it’s gorgeous.”

  “It’s only as beautiful as the model herself,” he replies, his face for once devoid of humor. I instantly flush, goosebumps rippling up and down my flesh.

  “Oh! Oh! Look at mine!” Leon waves his hand erratically in the air. “Look at mine next!” Without waiting for me to respond, he flips his canvas so I’m staring at a surprisingly detailed picture of me. And him. And a… a baby?

  “For fuck’s sake, Leon,” Quinn gripes.

  “What?” The lion shifter scoffs indignantly. “As if the rest of you don’t want her to be your baby momma.” He eagerly points to the corner of the painting. “See? That’s our wedding cake.”

  “I’ll go next!” Talon interrupts before I can say anything. I turn towards him, relieved, and I can’t help but notice that Leon pouts. “I know it’s nothing compared to Quinn’s, but I’m pretty proud of it.”

  I can’t help but break into laughter when I catch sight of his painting. It’s a caricature of me wearing a detective trench coat with a magnifying glass in my hand. My head is comically large with wide bug-eyes and a lopsided grin.

  “I love it!” I say immediately, smiling from ear to ear. “It’s perfect.”

  “Don’t forget about the wonder couple’s painting,” Aaron points out, and while Jamie’s expression remains apathetic, Criss smiles bashfully.

  “I didn’t really paint anything,” he admits. “I started to, but alcohol…”

  “Makes you a horny fucker?” Quinn asks with a cocked brow.

  When the two men turn their canvases towards me, I can’t help but feel a little weak in the knees at the sight of their cum darkening the surface.

  Have mercy.

  “Seriously, babe, you need to get a handle on your lust,” Quinn grits out. “Or else I’m going to blow a load right here and now.”

  All ten men stare at me with heated eyes, and I feel myself blush from head to toe. It suddenly occurs to
me that they’re the apex predator in this situation, and I’m nothing but the tasty morsel they’re desperate to devour.

  “Keller!” I screech, my voice abnormally high-pitched. “LET ME SEE YOUR PAINTING!”

  Totally played it cool.

  The banshee’s eyebrows are creased together as he stares from me to the painting and back to me.

  “I don’t think—”

  “Just show the damn painting.” Aaron grabs the canvas before Keller can stop him and spins it around to face us.

  My breath leaves me in a whooshing exhale as I stare at the wet splotches. Grant stands immediately, hands tightening on the tabletop.

  The image displays me standing barefoot in a cemetery. A white dress billows around my feet, and my hair is loose and disheveled. Dozens and dozens of graves are sprouting from the ground, each one depicting the name of a different contestant.

  In my hands is a bloody dagger.

  “What the fuck?” Aaron narrows his eyes accusingly at the picture as if he expects my painted self to come to life and attack him.

  Keller shakes his head vehemently, holding his hands up in the air as if to fend off a mob. “I have no idea what this means.”

  But I do.

  Nibbling on my lip, I exchange an anxious glance with Grant.

  If this isn’t just a painting, if this is actually a death prediction, then no one is safe.

  Death will be coming to us all.

  Chapter 7

  I’m told by Kyler to dress casual. I’ll be the first to admit I’m thrumming with nervous energy at the prospect of my solo date with Ren. He’s by far the most intimidating of all the men, and I have no idea what the fuck I’m even supposed to talk to him about. Squirrels?

  Loosening out my balled fists, I survey my reflection in the mirror. I’m wearing a flannel shirt that hangs loose over a simple gray tank top. The outfit is completed with a pair of tight skinny jeans that makes my ass look ten times better than it actually is.