Ijumped back to my feet and whirled around, but thankfully, no one had heard that. Pulse racing, I closed the door, remained inside, and peeked around the wall of the entryway just like I had this morning. The space immediately after had four chairs, a large desk, and a computer on top, yet it was empty. Walking in, I found it curious that his room was preceded by an office.
D’s scent tried to filter into my nose, but it was diluted as everyone else’s scent also floated around the space, telling me they usually gathered here.
A large picture on the wall caught my attention then. It was more like a painting of a couple, but it was nothing like the pictures humans took. Instead of appearing to look at the camera or the painter, the couple faced the other, their foreheads pressed together somberly while they held each other closely.
It was a beautiful piece where shadows and light played a big role, presumably on purpose, although it only let me see the hard edges and planes of their faces. I could tell their eyes were closed, and the lady’s hand rested over the man’s heart while both his hands curved around her lower back. Their clothesseem elegant and expensive, but what struck me most about it was the emotion the simple image conveyed.
I wasn’t exactly sure what it was, yet my eyes glistened as I stared at it, stirring feelings inside me. Sorrow flowed freely from the image in waves, as though they’d suffered the kind of pain that nothing could ever heal. For a moment, I wondered if they were D and Vanessa’s family.
Forcing my eyes away from it, I glanced toward the archway that surely led to D’s actual room and stopped by the double doors. Complete silence greeted me from the other side. A normal person would have assumed he was sleeping and left, right? Wrong.
Before I could stop myself, I turned the knob and glanced inside it. Immediately, the enticing aroma of pine, wild orchid, and smoked vetiver rushed into me, almost making my eyes roll back in pleasure. This was D’s domain.
The room was dimly lit, revealing a wall with colorful street drawings like the ones I’d seen in the city—graffiti, I thought it was called. That was the only place with color though, the rest was filled with muted greys, whites, and blacks.
My feet moved without consent, taking me farther into the space, and I wondered where D had gone. A new picture rested over his night table, urging me to pick it up. It was much smaller than the one outside, and far more colorful. In it, a full family smiled at the camera, strings with multicolored beads wrapped around their necks while two women dressed in colorful feathers and shimmery sequence—both in their body and tall headpieces—stood at either side of them.
Younger versions of Vanessa and D were nestled between the couple, their arms wrapped around their father and mother who were honestly an older replica of them. Vanessa looked just like her mother, down to the curly brown hair with naturalgold strokes, while D had the same strong jaw, penetrating, crystalline hazel eyes, and tall muscular body as his father.
Even the frame was colorful and filled with life. The bottom read,“Rio de Janeiro Carnaval, 2014.”
Once more, emotion filtered into my being, because as filled with joy and love as the picture was, something told me it was also filled with sorrow. The family looking back at me seemed so happy, that I was certain D and Vanessa would have never left if their parents were still alive.
I knew I wouldn’t have.
Glancing back at the half-illuminated graffiti that covered the entire back wall, I realized it was a depiction of that Carnaval, something he surely held close to his heart, just as he did the picture next to his bed.
When I placed it down, the sound of rushing water finally reached my awareness, and I spun to notice what I hadn’t until now—the bathroom door was open, and D was in there. A normal person would have low-key begun to have anxiety and left the room before being caught, right?
Well, panic I did. Yet, it seemed I was a glutton for punishment because leave, I did not. Instead, I walked into the bathroom slowly, stopping by the door, my gaze immediately finding D in the shower across from me. The space was huge, just like my bathroom and Dante’s, with two glass panels forming the shower stall by the corner and giving me a full view of him.
Both his hands rested above his head on the wall before him, bearing his weight as the water rushed down his body. The droplets rolled off his bowed head, along his neck, his strong back and shoulders, over his spine to the deliciously firm glutes facing me, and down his powerful thighs to the floor. I couldn’t pull my eyes from it.
Fascinated, I pressed my back to the doorframe and just admired him. I’d seen men naked around me my entire life, but until Dante and now D, I realized I’d never really seen a true man at all.
Not like them.Nothinglike them.
My wolf stretched lazily inside me, shamelessly happy as we watched him.
His head tilted toward his shoulder in the slightest way, and I held my breath, fearing he’d heard me. When he reached for the bottle on the wall shelf, I relaxed. He had no idea I was there.
The gel swirled onto his palm before he began lathering his body, forming bubbles everywhere.Everywhere.His large hands roamed over his shoulders and lower back, his glutes, and thighs thoroughly—his muscles tensing and relaxing as he did, making my mouth dry.
After washing it all away, D turned to face me, his gaze holding mine as he squeezed more shower gel onto his palm. I stopped breathing, but there was no reproach in his eyes for me being there, no anger, no surprise even… He’d felt me here before I even realized it.
His gaze lowered as he began to lather his arms, and chest, then his abs, and lower… I knew now what a glorious sight a man’s body was when hardened, and as I relaxed again, watching his hands roam his inner thighs and then grab himself, my wolf and I both wished we could see him hard too.
Unfortunately, bubbles popped up everywhere, blocking my view while he soaped up, but soon his hands lifted to his head, rubbing the shampoo over his hair as the water cleansed away the soap.
Entranced, I watched the rushing water caress his form on the way down, over the hard planes of his abs and hips, to the tempting length between his legs. Water dripped from it in a perfect stream, making me want to drink from him.
It took a few seconds to realize the water had stopped running from the shower, and I lifted my gaze to see D sliding the glass door open and stepping outside. His eyes once more bored into mine, and instead of grabbing a towel to dry himself, he walked up to me slowly, maddeningly so, like a wolf on the prowl—which was ironic since he was a…
“Vampire,” I whispered, glancing up at him when he stopped a couple of feet away.
A troubling emotion fleeted through his eyes, but he nodded. “I am.”
His voice was soft, not insulted, or ashamed, just factual.
