He passed under a streetlamp and paused, his gaze targeting the waiting figure on the bench. Malcolm's breath caught in his lungs as he inhaled deeply to capture Hunter's scent, the rich aroma of male hormones and worn denim.
The artificial light played over Hunter's face, highlighting his brow, his full lips, and emphasizing his straight, clean-shaven jaw, making the tantalizing scar under his eye appear luminous.
Like a siren's call, the tiny scar's glistening, ragged line begged Malcolm to touch it, to taste it, to feel the slickness of its shiny surface. His cock soared to full erection. Anger rose along with it as Malcolm was forced to draw his coat over his lap to prevent Hunter from bolting at the sight.
Hunter didn't pause under the light for long, but his carefree expression mutated to cautious interest. His eyes narrowed, but the slight smile didn't leave his face. Hunter's pace slowed, his steps no longer as jaunty as they had been, but he kept his questioning gaze focused on Malcolm's cool stare. He walked toward the bench, hands nervously fingering the camera. He began to hum a tune, his voice low and light, pleasantly on key.
It was a clever ruse, but Malcolm heard the click of the camera shutter all the same. It didn't matter. He could take all he liked. The pictures would never be developed, and if they were, they wouldn't show anything anyway.
Thirty feet away, the sidewalk and park now deserted, Hunter stopped humming. He pulled his dark brown corduroy field coat more tightly around him and the camera housing, leaving the uncapped lens casually exposed.
"This is, like, the third time our paths have crossed in the last few days.” Hunter cocked his head to one side and brushed his hair out of his eyes, keen gaze studying Malcolm. “Should I know you?"
The scar grabbed the light again, and Malcolm's gaze was draw to it, his mouth watering at the prospect of tasting the shining crease of ravaged flesh.
"You should.” He gave Hunter a glance with just enough lustful interest to be intriguing, but not enough to make the young man run for the hills. Malcolm wasn't in the mood to chase down his prey tonight. A few more soft, coat-muffled clicks of the camera touched his hearing. A flash of amusement softened his bold smile. “Get to know me, I mean.” His stare moved down the length of Hunter's body, his intent and interest unmistakable. “We seem destined to meet."
"Does kind of seem that way, doesn't it?” Now twenty feet away, Hunter kept right on walking, slower, more cautiously, but drawn.
Gazes still locked together, Malcolm eased off the bench, letting the full impact of his height and broad frame dwarf his surroundings, the nearby bushes, and Hunter. His level of interest and wonder rose when Hunter didn't blink or slow down. Even the moderate degree of fear Malcolm could smell in the air around the man didn't increase. He was surprised to discover that he was grudgingly impressed. He'd had the pleasure of watching seasoned, monstrous warriors tremble at the full sight of him, yet this small slip of a shutterbug did not. Malcolm found himself vexed, yet undeniably pleased.
From behind him came a screech of tires. Looking over his shoulder, Malcolm watched as the car's headlights suddenly veered and the car shot directly at him. The faces of the two street thugs that had passed earlier registered on him just before a solid mass struck him squarely in the chest.
With a muffled grunt, Malcolm flew off his feet and over the bench and landed hard on the ground. Instinct took over, his arms locking around his attacker, and both bodies rolled down the small sloping lawn to land at the base of a sturdy tree. Malcolm made sure he was the victor on top. Bits and pieces of the shattered bench flew through the air, then rained down and lay scattered in the grass around them.
The car tires screeched again, roaring off into the night, a litany of foul curses and shouted threats in its wake.
Underneath his two hundred and fifty pounds of solid weight, a pair of wide hazel eyes stared up at him, panic evident in them. It took a second before he realized the air had been knocked out of the man under him, his weight preventing Hunter from taking in a much needed breath.
He toyed with the idea of letting the man struggle, but Hunter's distinctive, alluring scent, now laced with relief as well as a larger fear, overwhelmed him. It made Malcolm weak in the knees, slightly disoriented, and hard as steel. Even now he could felt his swollen erection digging into Hunter's thigh, hot, hard, and eager. He knew Hunter could feel it, too.
Instead of rolling off and standing up, Malcolm tumbled onto his back, dragging Hunter along with him, until the human was lying stretched out over his chest, the man's legs splayed on either side of Malcolm's hips. Hunter's startled face hovered inches above his own. For an instant, he almost gave in to the compulsion to flick out his tongue and lick the silvery thread of scar tissue so close to his lips. One hand grasped the swell of Hunter's ass cheek and the other pressed between Hunter's shoulder blades, pinning the man to him.
Several rapid, startled breaths jiggled Hunter up and down, increasing the friction between their two bodies. Malcolm was inordinately pleased to detect a bulge of heat pressed into his lower abdomen as Hunter's erection grew to a mild firmness with each deep, anxious breath and resulting body rub. Then the gasps eased and Hunter tried to slide off Malcolm, but the vampire wordlessly
