Full Moon Dating Isaiah and Jameson

by Julia Talbot

  “Should we sit? Do you have time?” He hoped to encourage Isaiah to let them get to know one another.

  “I do. Please, have a seat. We’ll start the fire.” Isaiah went to the mantle, clicked a button, and the fire blazed. Then he went toward the overstuffed loveseat by the fireplace.

  Jameson ignored the chairs and perched himself next to Isaiah, facing him a little. “Thank you.”

  “More wine?”

  “Please. I didn’t have time to dine.”

  “Diego, a glass of sang for Senor McMann and bring the bottle of wine and another glass, please.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Thank you.”

  Sang. Catalan. How interesting. He was intrigued.

  Isaiah perched so carefully, leaned back into the corner of the love seat. He didn’t radiate get close to me vibes, but Jameson sat right on the other cushion.

  “Why did you hire Full Moon Dating?” Isaiah asked.

  “Because of Harve. He’s a friend, and he told me they don’t miss.”

  “Yes, he’s a good man. He has earned his wings.”

  “Oh, I hear he’s being naughty with the boss.” Jameson had to grin. Harve was over the moon.

  “Good for him! I’m so pleased!”

  Now, there was the reaction of a good friend. “Yes. He’s been mooning for years.” Mooning. God he cracked himself up.

  Isaiah started giggling, the sound filling the air. How lovely. Someone needed to laugh more. It was a fine thing. Soft and happy and somehow wild.

  Maybe untamed was a better word. He had no desire to tame Isaiah, either, only temper him.

  Mmm…temper. He wondered what Isaiah was like in a temper tantrum. The man had to have them. He was the new ruler of an aristocratic family. It had to be hotter than the hinges of hell.

  He wasn’t going to provoke it now, though, but soon.

  Jameson clinked their glasses together.

  “Welcome to the family, Jameson. I hope you find what you seek.”

  “So do I. I’m confident I can be what you need.”

  “I appreciate it. So, tell me about yourself. What do I need to know?”

  “Mmm. Well, I’m a made vampire, not a born one. I imagine Harve told you?” At Isaiah’s nod, he went on. “I’ve done all sorts of work to keep me afloat, not all completely honest.” He didn’t want that to come back and bite his ass, so better to say it now.

  “Did you ask to be turned, or was someone evil to you?” Isaiah pinked, and the look was surprising and charming. “I’m terribly curious, I know, but how else do you learn?”

  “I don’t mind. I asked to be turned. I was terribly young and romantic, but it did me no good. He didn’t stay a whole night.” Just as well. His maker had wanted a little bottom boy. Jameson didn’t fit there.

  “Oh. How awful for you. Diego was made and lost his family, so Father brought him to us. We care for one another.”

  “Are you… Forgive me if I overstep, but are you intimate?” Did he have a starting deficit? Competition?

  “With Diego?” Isaiah’s eyes went wide. “He is my…my friend. My guard. I couldn’t. He held me when I was a baby!”

  “Sorry.” He held up his free hand. “I didn’t mean to offend but that’s just the kind of information I need to do this well.” Whew.

  “If I had a lover, I wouldn’t need to fake it, Jameson.”

  “People hide things for a lot of reasons, Isaiah.” He gentled the words with a smile, then dared to touch Isaiah’s hand.

  The jolt of electricity was sharp, sudden, going straight to the base of his brain.

  Isaiah’s eyes widened, and he drew back, stilling. Seeming to pull deep within himself. “Eat. Please. You must be starving.”

  “Thank you.” He drank deep, if not sloppily. He did want to make a good first impression.

  Isaiah stole glances at him, watching him feed with a fierce, active interest that the man tried hard to hide. Did he not eat? The smell of wine was far stronger from Isaiah’s glass…

  God, he wanted to know…everything. He wanted to dig in and see what made this lean, hungry man tick.

  He wanted to feed the deep, awful need he could feel in Isaiah’s presence. His fangs tingled.

  “Is it pleasing?” Isaiah licked his lips.

  “Very. Would you like some?” He offered his cup when he wanted to offer a kiss.

  “Oh, I couldn’t.” Isaiah went bright pink and he shook his head. “It’s yours.”

  “I don’t mind sharing at all. Please, people will expect us to be in each other’s pockets. I promise, I’m not contagious.”

  “Right. I’m sorry. Yes.” Isaiah lifted his chin, firming his lips. “You’re too kind. Thank you.”

  “I’ve upset you.” He took Isaiah’s hand in his, then wrapped it around his other hand and the glass. “Just a sip?”

  That electricity burned bright between them, Isaiah’s fangs dropping, teeth sharp and long.

  Oh, look at those. More like polished glass than ivory. Gorgeous. Jameson brought the cup up to Isaiah’s mouth.

  Isaiah whimpered, the sound tiny, soft as a bird’s. Such hunger, such beautiful need.

  Jameson slid closer urging Isaiah to drink with his whole body and demeanor. He wanted to see this man high on blood, on the rush of pleasure feeding brought.

  Isaiah drank, eyes rolling back in his head, the lean cheeks flushed, just from the single deep sip.

  “Oh.” Jameson hummed. “You’re lovely.”

  “I…” Isaiah leaned back, licking his lips. Such adorable confusion.

  “Shhh.” He raised the glass to his own lips, then tipped back the rest. His cheeks heated with the flush of energy.

  “Did—did you need more?”

  “Would that be greedy? It’s been awhile.” And made vamps needed to feed more…

  “Of course not. You need to be healthy. Strong.”

  “Thank you. I would love some more, then.” He was just… starving suddenly.

  “Diego, please.”

  Another glass appeared like magic.

  “Thank you.” Jameson would work through this one far more slowly. He needed to pace himself.

  Isaiah watched him now, staring at his mouth.

  Touching his tongue to his lower lip, he teased a bit, letting Isaiah see it flick back and forth.

  Isaiah flushed, looking away. Honestly, his boy was going to have to practice being the Alpha vamp if he wanted to pretend to be a man of the world dominant. He was far too innocent.

  Part of him wanted to snarl at the thought, though, of forcing his boy into an ill-made mold. Surely someone else could step up, but then what did he know of clan politics? Maybe Isaiah was the only choice, but it was clear he hated the job.

  Isaiah blinked at him. “Are you all right?”

  “What? Yes, of course.”

  “Your eyes became… they glowed for a moment.”

  “Ah, sorry.” Jameson chuckled. Right. No more anger. Isaiah would think it was directed at him.

  “Did I offend?” Isaiah asked. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “No, no. I was just thinking how this had to be terribly hard for you.” He stroked Isaiah’s wrist, the skin smooth, almost poreless. “I feel oddly protective of you already.”

  “Do you?” Isaiah’s eyelids went heavy, the pale eyelashes surprisingly long and thick against the pale cheeks.

  “Mmmm. I am. You inspire me, sweet.” Did he dare a kiss? Jameson knew he was the daring type.

  “Th-thank you. I should let you enjoy your meal.”

  “You’re helping me enjoy it. Unless you have something pressing?” Please don’t leave me. Don’t have anything you need to do.

  Isaiah tilted his head. “No. I cleared my week for you.”

  “Do you want to go to somewhere less formal? I would love to talk with you some more. The fire is lovely, but we’re just perching here. It feels so stiff.”

  “Would you like to see your quarters? They�
��re in my personal part of the house, if not my wing.”

  “I would like that, yes.” Now they progressed. Jameson wanted to cheer.

  “Bring your glass, and I’ll show you.” Isaiah stood and took his own wine, holding one hand out to Jameson.

  He took that hand, feeling the same jolt of awareness sizzle down his spine. This was going to be so much fun!

  3

  Isaiah spoke very firmly to himself. He wasn’t allowed to indulge—not too much in anything—and he knew it. If he lost control…

  He sighed, drawing into himself. Ice. He was made of ice. He was born from ice. Not just moderation. He had to deny the animal inside him.

  Everything was distant and slow.

  “Are you all right?” Jameson seemed attuned to him in a way he hadn’t expected. The tiniest shift of his mood and Jameson seemed to notice. Sometimes Harve was too good at his job, perhaps. He was meant to get Isaiah a front, not an actual lover.

  He shook his head. “Of course I am.”

  “Hmmm.” Jameson crowded him when they stepped into the rooms Isaiah had picked for his “consort”. Close to his, but not connected. Luxurious but not tacky. Despite his auntie’s attempts to redecorate.

  He’d never met a made vampire, and the inherent sexuality stunned him. Jameson was a force of nature, free with touches and smiles and blood feeding. Nothing at all like a born vampire from an ancient line.

  He needed to remember that his kind never lost themselves. Their control kept them from being animals. Savages. They could destroy things without blinking, because their strength was fifty times that of a human’s.

  A hot hand slid down his back. “You’re tense.”

  His eyes rolled at the utterly desirable touch. Ice. You’re ice. “Am I?”

  “You are. Is it me? I don’t want to upset you.” Jameson rubbed at the tight muscles around his spine.

  “I’ve never known anyone so warm.” The heat from that contact made him burn.

  “Not even after they fed?” That had Jameson sounding surprised.

  “No.” He didn’t remember it if he’d felt anyway. “We’re not very…demonstrative. And I don’t live feed.”

  “That’s a shame. Physical contact can be like a good drug.” Jameson hugged him, arms sliding around him from behind and pressing against his back.

  He arched, his eyes going wide, sensation flooding him. No one had ever touched him so unreservedly. Ever. There were air kisses and people who tried to control him, but no one who was so sexual.

  “Breathe. Breathe, now. I have you.”

  Breathe? How? He couldn’t. Jameson had him rather well, in fact. So well that he was breathless.

  “Have you never been held?”

  He shook his head. Why would anyone hold him? Maybe when he’d been a small child.

  “It feels good, Isaiah. Provides comfort. Calms the central nervous system. People crave hugs at least thirteen times a day.”

  Isaiah had the feeling Jameson was laughing, but not at him. More offering to let him join in.

  “Calms? You have odd ideas.” Wonderful perhaps, but odd. He wasn’t really a person, though, was he? He was a vampire of lofty origin. It wasn’t his place to crave contact.

  “Do I?” Jameson stroked his belly, that touch fiery even through his clothes.

  “Oh.” He sucked in a deep breath, a wild need bubbling inside him.

  Jameson pressed a cheek between his shoulder blades, leaning hard. “See? It feels good.”

  “We shouldn’t.” He knew better. He knew he shouldn’t be tempted to let go and feel things.

  “Why? If you don’t want to, I’ll let go, but if it’s just because you think you shouldn’t due to clan rules, then come sit with me. Snuggle.”

  What an odd word, snuggle. He supposed it was one of those words that matched sound to action.

  “Let’s sit.” There were two armchairs and he chose one, letting the huge arms surround him. “Do you like your new space?”

  Jameson looked around, fangs touching his lower lip. “I do. It’s very well put together.” Instead of taking the other chair, Jameson came around behind him, hands landing on his shoulders, warm through the cloth covering them.

  Okay, that didn’t work out the way he’d intended. Not even a bit.

  Especially when Jameson rubbed, spreading heat all through Isaiah’s body. “I should look at the bedchamber too. You can show me.”

  “Yes. Yes, you should make sure it’s to your liking.” That would give him room to breathe.

  “Come with me then.”

  He opened his mouth to protest, but found himself rising instead. Danger. Deep danger. “It’s through that door.”

  He shouldn’t go in.

  “Come.” Jameson walked about, fingers trailing down his arm, hand taking his to tug him along.

  He should stay at the door. “Do you like red? I chose it for you.”

  “I do. Especially the deep tones I can see from here.” Jameson took his hand more firmly, urging him up and through into the bedchamber.

  The bed was huge and decadent, piled high with pillows and blankets, the canopy around it heavy and thick. Somehow it had suited his consort in his mind.

  “Ohhh.” Jameson squeezed his hand. “Oh, sweet, this is perfect and wonderful.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad you like it. Honestly. I want you to be comfortable.”

  “I will be.” Jameson laughed out loud, then dragged him to the bed. Before he could blink, they were both on it, flopping on the pillows.

  His eyes went wide, shock just flooding him. Oh dear. How? He didn’t—

  “Thank you.” Jameson hugged him. “I’ve dreamed of a bed like this.”

  “You’re welcome.” How was he in Jameson’s bed?

  “You smell very nice.” Jameson nuzzled against his neck, making his nerves prickle.

  “You shouldn’t smell me.” He didn’t move away, though, did he?

  “Why not? I should know your scent, shouldn’t I?” So reasonable.

  Should he? Isaiah wasn’t sure. He’d never heard that. “Is that important?”

  “It is. If you’re going to hook up with another vampire…” Jameson laughed. “Oh, who am I kidding. I know more about werewolf mating habits than vampire ones. I had a friend who kissed and told.”

  “Oh.” Of course. He chuckled softly, reminding himself that this was all make believe and the buzz between them was his nerves and his extra sip of blood. Nothing more. “Was he a werewolf?”

  “He was. He had a thing for getting all hairy on the full moon and—well. He got wild. Not with me.” Jameson echoed his chuckle. “Not my type.”

  What is your type? “That sounds less than hygienic.”

  “Well, he’s a wolf half his life. You have dogs. You’ve seen what they eat.” Nose touching his cheek, Jameson breathed deeply. “Mmmm.”

  “I do have dogs. They liked you.” Dios, he needed to breathe, to focus.

  “They did. I want you too, as well. I know we’re… well, I know what you need me to be, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy each other’s company.”

  “It will be nice to have a friend.” Truth be told he was incredibly bored most of the time. No one left him alone anymore, and all the tiny details of the clan made him crazy.

  “I hope to be that, for sure.” Jameson pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and he was almost disappointed when Jameson let go. “Thank you for giving me a place.”

  “Of course. I hope you’re happy here. You’re doing me a huge favor.” Now he would seem to be someone to be respected instead of the final son.

  “Let’s do that favor for each other.” Jameson touched his cheek one last time before sitting up. “Dawn is coming.”

  “Is it?” That was so quick. He sat up, embarrassed. He would stay in his quarters tomorrow, he thought, and read. “Of course. I’ll give you your privacy. If you need anything, please let Diego know.”

  “Thank you.” That smile warm
ed him, made him feel less awkward. “I’m still early to bed, embarrassing as it is.”

  “Rest well. Good night.” He slid from the bed, taking his glass of wine with him as he escaped.

  He would have to rest, remember his control, remember who he was.

  If he wasn’t careful, Jameson could become a dangerous addiction, and he didn’t need that at all. Not with his crazy family around.

  4

  Jameson woke the next evening with a smile on his face. That had gone incredibly well, he thought. He’d struck just the right balance between vulnerability and command. Isaiah wouldn’t think of it as such, but he’d managed a kiss, a hug, and a bed hop.

  Not bad for an hour or so…

  He grinned and slipped out of bed. The bathroom was gorgeous, the Jacuzzi tub and shower vast. He owed Harve big for this. The bed. He hadn’t lied. He couldn’t wait to tie Isaiah to the posts and spank him.

  He wondered what Isaiah’s bed looked like? Was it as decadent as his? Did Isaiah jack off for hours?

  Probably not, huh? His new sweet boy seemed very hands off. Really a shame because he’d love to forbid it, see how Isaiah did with that.

  He stretched. Shower? Did he have anything scheduled today? Hell, how did he even check that?

  He wasn’t even sure where to find Isaiah. Dammit.

  His phone yielded nothing but a “Have fun” from Harve.

  He showered and dressed, and when he came out he found a bottle of breakfast, a linen napkin, and a note.

  Dear friend,

  Please feel free to explore. The house is yours, except the north wing. Diego is available for you. Just call.

  I.

  No north wing eh? That would change. Jameson wasn’t accustomed to being told no.

  He didn’t intend to let his boy hide away, not now. Not when they were having such fun. He got dressed, then headed out to explore. If he made enough noise, he would make Isaiah a little nuts.

  The place was lovely—he found a library, a theater, a ballroom, a music room. It was impeccably decorated and oddly sterile. Especially for an adobe who wore its age like a cloak. The main section of the house, for instance had these super low doors and windows, which would have kept in warmth in winter and cool in the summer.