From Afar

by Ava March

  Not anymore.

  He swallowed hard and forced himself to get to his feet. Gathering his courage, he looked directly into Aleric’s eyes. There was no point denying it. “Because I’ve seen you walk through the front door of your apartments countless times.”

  Aleric’s nostrils flared with indignation. A scarlet flush rose up from his chest, stained his cheeks. “How bloody long have you been spying on me?”

  Raphael cringed. When put so bluntly, it made him feel like the most depraved of souls. Wicked and dissolute, without a moral bone in his body. Odd, the way his conscience now surged to the surface, reminding him in no uncertain terms how very wrong it had been to intrude on another’s intimate moments.

  Tell him the truth. He deserves to hear it. “Years.” His whisper was weighed down with regret.

  “How many?”

  “Three.”

  “You’ve been watching me since I came to London?”

  At least I got to touch him. To kiss him. To be near him.

  Those memories would indeed need to last an eternity. For he wasn’t losing Aleric. He had lost him the moment the man had walked down that dark alley.

  Raphael nodded.

  It happened in a blink of an eye. Large hands grabbed him around the ribs and then his back impacted with a wall. A loud bang rent the air as the painting next to the door fell to the floor, the corner landing on his shin. By God, Aleric had thrown him across the room. His instincts kicked in and he sprung to his feet to face Aleric as the man advanced on him. An intimidating sight.

  His powerful muscles bulged beneath skin glistening with sweat. His silver-blue eyes were darkened with fury. His handsome face contorted with anger. A sight Raphael recognized. He had seen Katerina’s vampires fight one another, watched the spectacle from afar once. Enraged beyond rational thought, beyond reason, the two had pummeled each other with their fists. Slashed with their fangs, slammed each other into the brick walls of the alley. Vicious and terrible, each punch had seemed to somehow only add fuel to the fury. It had taken Grant and Roman together to put a stop to it.

  But it was just Aleric and Raphael tonight. No one else.

  “You bastard!” Baring his fangs, Aleric let out a bellowing growl. The feral sound filled the room, reverberated off the walls, seeming to shake the very foundation of the house.

  The intensity of his anger pushed Raphael back a step, like a punch to his gut. He could feel Aleric’s rage begin to course through his blood. Thick and dark. Drawing his muscles tight, poised to attack. Beneath it he felt the lust, still frustrated and churning at a fever pitch, and the betrayal that had sliced through Aleric’s heart.

  He clung to the hurt, refused to let the rage consume him, for if he did, they could very well destroy each other. “Aleric, please calm—”

  “You depraved fucking bastard! You did it on purpose. You made me like you—a goddamn sodomite.” He spat out the last word.

  “Don’t you dare throw that accusation at me,” he said, outraged Aleric would sink so low as to turn what they’d shared into something foul and dirty. “I’ve seen you with men before.”

  But Aleric continued on, deaf to his protests, as he came ever nearer. “Because of you, I can’t remain in London, can’t return home. You took away my life!”

  “I saved your damn life!”

  “You turned me into a monster.”

  Raphael gasped, the breath knocked from his lungs. “Is that what you truly believe? I couldn’t let you die. I had no choice.”

  One smack of Aleric’s palms against Raphael’s shoulders and he was shoved roughly against the wall. “Like hell you did,” he snarled.

  “I couldn’t lose you. I’m sorry, Aleric, but I had to save you. I couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing you again. I was so very lonely and being near you alleviated some of the emptiness. Made me feel almost whole again.” Raphael stared into Aleric’s eyes, refused to look at the raised fist, clenched and poised to strike. “Don’t you understand, Aleric? Can’t you feel it?”

  Blast it all to hell, why hadn’t he noticed it before? He wanted to shake his head at his own blindness. How many times had he seen Grant and Roman together? The two always working as a pair. A seamless pair. A stark contrast to all the others. Hell, Aleric had even commented upon it back in the carriage.

  They are nothing like us… Well, except perhaps for those two.

  “You were correct, Aleric. Grant and Roman are like us. Grant turned Roman. They are loyal to Katerina because she demands it. Because Grant is hers. But more importantly, they are fiercely loyal to each other. I’ve never seen them apart.”

  Panting heavily, Aleric clenched and unclenched his fist, the muscles and tendons in his arm working with the motion. But he didn’t strike.

  “You have my blood in your veins, just as I have yours in mine. But it’s more than that.” He grimaced, struggling to find the words. He had needed Aleric before he’d even stolen his blood. For the first time, he wished he hadn’t lived on the outside for so long. There was a lot he still didn’t understand about being a vampire. Something inside him told him that there was so much more to his connection with Aleric. Something significant, a missing element he couldn’t quite grasp. “I can’t explain it. I just know being apart from you hurts. The thought of not being with you is painful. And when I am with you, I feel whole. Complete.”

  He reached out, laid a hand on Aleric’s bare chest. Felt his heart slamming against his ribs. Felt the tremor shake the man’s powerful body.

  “You feel it, too. I know you do, Aleric. Because I can feel you.”

  Aleric’s eyes flared. He stared at Raphael for a long moment. Just when Raphael was certain that fist would slice through the air, smack into him, Aleric’s arm slowly dropped to his side. Aleric gave his head a sharp shake and backed up a step and out of reach, causing Raphael’s hand to slip off his chest. For a split second anger flared anew, flickering across his face, and then it was replaced with an odd mixture of confusion and comprehension. A wince tightened his brow, his attention shifting to the painting that had fallen to the floor, the one that featured the lush grassy field that resembled the fields near Raphael’s childhood country home.

  “It’s gone.” Aleric’s voice was low, a mere panting murmur, as though he was speaking more to himself than to Raphael. “That itch for…something. I used to believe the country was too staid, that I needed some excitement. So I went to London. But that itch remained…until I laid eyes on you.” He looked to Raphael. “But why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “And I can feel you. That was you at the warehouse. The tension, it came from you. Earlier tonight, I knew you weren’t in the house, even before I found your note. And when I’m with you… It’s like I belong with you, and only you.”

  “Because you do, just as I belong with you.”

  “But why?”

  Raphael shrugged. He was just as mystified as Aleric, but he’d learned long ago to just accept things as they were, to stop the stream of questions lest they drive him to Bedlam. “I don’t know. It just is.”

  Aleric let out a snort of frustration. “Ballocks. There has to be an explanation. You seem convinced we’re the same as Grant and Roman. We’ll ask them.”

  “No, we mustn’t.” Instinct warned him never to approach that warehouse again. “Roman knew you were mine. He knows about us. Somehow recognized it. Which means Grant’s aware of it by now.” The two men had never been overtly hostile toward Raphael, had always left him in peace, yet still… The unknown held more risk than he was willing to take. And what if they’d informed Katerina?

  A chill of foreboding swept up his spine.

  He glanced desperately about the room, half expecting her men to converge on the townhouse. To hunt them down. To tear them apart.

  “I won’t let them hurt you.” Aleric’s growl was a vow, a solemn pledge.

  With his chin up and shoulders back, fierce protectiveness radiated from Aleric. I
t left Raphael in awe. To have someone by his side, someone who cared enough to protect him…

  Wait—

  “You will stay with me?”

  “Of course. How can you doubt?”

  Raphael stared at Aleric in utter disbelief. How could he doubt? “You threw me across the room. Twice.”

  Aleric had the good sense to look at least a bit contrite. “Well, yes… I-I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  You almost ripped my heart in two. But Raphael kept silent. There was no need to burden Aleric with the truth. He didn’t need to know that his words spoken in anger had caused far more pain than the slight discomfort of being slammed against a wall. “No.” He threw Aleric a smirk. “My body can take far more abuse than a couple paltry shoves. You didn’t hurt me.”

  Aleric cupped his jaw. His dark brows lowered, his eyes brimming with remorse. “Yes, I did. I’m sorry, Raphael. I shouldn’t have said those things. I didn’t mean them. Hell, I…I almost hit you. I don’t know what came over me. But it won’t happen again. You have my word.”

  He laid his hand over Aleric’s, held him tight. “You had every right to be angry with me. I certainly would have been if our positions were reversed. I should have told you, been more forthright. How, though…” His lips quirked. He could not think of any way he could have subtly broached the topic to Aleric, eased him into the notion that Raphael had been watching him for years. Oh, and by the way, Aleric, if you’d like, I can procure one of those glass plugs you seem to favor.

  No, definitely no easy way around it.

  He pulled Aleric’s hand off his jaw, laced their fingers together. “You know we cannot stay in London. We need to leave. Tomorrow night at the absolute latest.”

  Aleric shrugged. “It matters not where we are as long as I am with you. But can we at least go someplace warm? I detest winter.”

  He detested winter? Three years, and he hadn’t heard Aleric complain once about the cold. What else didn’t he know about him? Likely enough to fill an ocean. But now was not the time for questions—there would be plenty of time for those later. “Yes, of course. The choice is yours. Any suggestions?”

  “How about Rome? I heard the nights are relatively warm or at least not quite so frigid this time of year.”

  “Rome it is then.” Perhaps there was still time before dawn broke to secure a carriage for tomorrow night. Not from the same livery, though. He doubted the driver would ever appear at his doorstep again, regardless of the size of the stack of pound notes. And a ship. He needed to secure passage to the continent. Once they reached France, it would be a simple matter of hiring another carriage. The townhouse he’d leave vacant. No reason to sell it; they might have use for it later. There were enough trunks in the attic to hold their wardrobes and—

  Arousal spiked his senses a split second before Aleric pressed full against him. Bare skin against bare skin. One long, continual line. Aleric’s legs bracketing his, chest to chest, the hard arch of his arousal pushing against his lower belly.

  The logistics of a journey to Rome flew out of his head.

  Aleric’s gaze was fixed on his lips. His thumb lightly brushed the surface in a silent request.

  “You want to kiss me.” His whisper was a statement, not a question. But at Aleric’s nod, he asked, “Do I want you to?”

  Those beautiful silver-blue eyes slid up to meet his. A slow, wicked smile spread across Aleric’s mouth, revealing the tips of his fangs. “Yes. And then some.”

  “Then what are you waiting for?”

  The challenging arch of Aleric’s dark brow made Raphael revise his plans for the night. No stop at a livery. He wouldn’t be leaving this room until dusk fell.

  Aleric slowly leaned down. Touched his lips to Raphael’s in a sweet, slow meld that quickly flared as passion yanked hold of them. He slanted his mouth over Aleric’s, needing more. His heart lurched, seemed to fill his entire being as he wrapped his arms around his lover, held him tight. And to think he used to miss the sun. He would never miss the sun again, for he now had Aleric.

  About the Author

  Ava March is an author of regency-set m/m historical erotic romances. She loves writing in the regency time period, where proper decorum is of the utmost importance, but where anything can happen behind closed doors.

  To learn more about Ava, please visit www.AvaMarch.com or www.AvaMarch.blogspot.com. Send an email to Ava at Ava@AvaMarch.com

  Look for these titles from Ava March

  Now Available:

  Object of His Desire

  He thinks he’s just a wallflower. Little does he know he’s the guest of honor…

  Object of His Desire

  © 2009 Ava March

  It’s the last night of a week-long house party in remote northern England. Every sensual delight imaginable is right at Henry Shaw’s fingertips. Yet all he wants is to be with his host, the deliciously handsome and enigmatic Arsen Grey. Henry’s certain it’s love, not mere infatuation. He’s also sure it’s hopeless. After all, the party’s purpose is to find Arsen a new mistress.

  Arsen longs to leave the glittering, jaded world of the ton behind and find someone who will value him for himself, not his wealth and his title. He suspects that someone could be the strapping country gentleman he’s caught staring at him. Henry is loyal and dependable, nothing like his other acquaintances. Arsen sets a plan into motion, one designed to get Henry into his bed. One that includes a test of devotion.

  Arsen never expected that in winning Henry, he risks losing his heart.

  Warning: This title contains a m/m romance between an obscenely wealthy marquis and a strong, silent country gentleman.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Object of His Desire:

  His reservation must have shown itself, for Arsen asked, “Something the matter, Shaw?”

  “But you don’t like men.” There it was. The truth. Lord Somerville had mistresses, frequented the best brothels in London and had a keen appreciation for breasts. Not once had Henry picked up a hint Arsen was open to male partners. And God help him, Henry had looked for that hint. Desperately.

  Resting his hands on his hips, Arsen tilted his head. His brow furrowed. “I don’t?”

  “No.” Feeling distinctly uneasy, Henry glanced about the luxurious yet at the same time understated bedchamber. He could not believe he was arguing with Arsen, over this of all things. The man stood before him, the embodiment of all his fantasies, and fool that Henry was, he questioned him.

  “Then I wonder why I went to such lengths to ensure that whore did not seek me out tonight?”

  Henry’s attention snapped to the other man.

  Arsen ran a hand over the bulge in his trousers, fingers tightening around the prominent head. “And I wonder why I have this pressing desire to fuck you?”

  A moan escaped Henry’s lips. He squeezed his eyes closed tight against a bolt of purest lust. It ripped through his body. Lit every nerve. Wracked his muscles.

  “Come here, Shaw.” Thick and rich, Arsen’s voice dripped with sexual promise.

  The hell with it. Arsen’s motives didn’t matter. Tomorrow didn’t matter. The reasons why a relationship with Lord Somerville could not work didn’t matter. All that mattered was the man was here, and he wanted Henry. One night with Arsen was more than he dreamed he could ever have.

  He crossed the room in four quick strides, reached out and grabbed Arsen by the back of the neck. Pulling him close, he slanted his mouth over Arsen’s. Swept his tongue boldly inside. He groaned, deep and low in absolute gratitude, as Arsen’s tongue met his. Frantic, Henry caressed every inch of Arsen’s body he could reach. His hands everywhere, soaking up every detail. The velvety texture of the man’s skin. The hardness of his muscles. Heat radiated from his body, searing Henry’s palms.

  Arsen’s hands slipped between their bodies to work the buttons on Henry’s coat and waistcoat. All the while Henry devoured Arsen’s mouth.

  Arsen shoved Henry’s coat and waistcoat off
his shoulders, momentarily trapping his arms at his sides. With a hard tug, he jerked his arms from the sleeves and reached for Arsen again.

  Twisting his head, Arsen broke the kiss and took a step back. “Wait.”

  “No.” Henry leaned forward, intent on capturing Arsen’s mouth.

  Arsen laid his fingers over Henry’s lips, effortlessly holding him back. His green eyes blazed with desire. “Your shirt. Cravat.”

  Drawing Arsen’s fingers into his mouth, Henry sucked on the tips. Arsen shuddered. Christ, he could make Arsen shudder.

  Henry tore at the knot on his cravat. Tugged the long length of linen from his neck. Yanked at his shirt collar. Buttons popped. Fabric ripped. Flicking the ruined shirt to the floor, he glared at Arsen. “Done. Now kiss me.”

  A slow smile spread across Arsen’s wet lips. “Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I should make you wait.”

  “Arrogant bastard,” Henry shot back the instant before he kissed Arsen full on the mouth.

  The chuckle rumbling Arsen’s chest turned into a groan as Henry dragged his lips down the man’s neck. The scent of Arsen’s cologne saturated his skin, teasing Henry’s tongue. And Arsen’s touch…God, the feel of Arsen’s hands on his bare skin made his cock throb painfully. Fluid leaked from the tip, wetting his drawers. Grabbing Arsen’s hips, he jerked his lover closer, pressing bare chest to bare chest. The light smattering of hair on Arsen’s chest teased his nipples. Henry ground his hips as he mouthed Arsen’s neck, rubbing their hard pricks together.

  Henry didn’t know if the hoarse moan echoing in his ears was his or Arsen’s, for need raged out of control. Swamped his senses. Left him gasping for air.

  More. He needed more of Arsen.

  Kissing and nipping the warm velvety skin, he worked his way down Arsen’s broad chest. Dropped to his knees. Paid homage to the sculpted abdomen. Flicked his tongue over the crease of Arsen’s navel. Followed the thin trail of fair hair until he encountered soft wool. Then he quickly undid the buttons on Arsen’s falls and pushed his trousers and drawers down his long legs, freeing his cock. The hard length jutted eagerly from a thatch of dark blond hair. For a moment, Henry was struck motionless. It was a sight he only dreamed of beholding. Arsen’s cock was perfect, just like the rest of him. Golden skin stretched taut over the thick length. The shaft straight and true. The head flushed with need and only inches from his mouth.