Soul Moon

Hunger

Erick quietly closes the door, mindful to turn the knob so the latch doesn't click. His heart feels like it's turned into a hummingbird. It must be a result of whatever drug he was given because he's never felt it beat this fast before. With a shake of his head, the fog shrouding his memories begins to lift as the events of last night play out inside his mind.

As soon as the stranger had walked into The Pleasure Den last night, Erick's attention was nowhere else but him. How could it not be? The gorgeous man towered over everyone else in the club. The newcomer's well-groomed thick silver blonde hair with a slight undercut made Erick's fingers flex involuntarily. The man's massive biceps and broad chest sent his heart racing. When the man lifted his head to follow a customer entering the bar, a soft moan that sounded more like a growl rose out of Erick's chest. Cobalt blue eyes sharpened with a hint of danger flashed with a preternatural intensity.

Without warning, an irrational need to know this man intimately spread through Erick's body. His mouth watered wondering what that smooth, pale skin would taste like on his tongue. His hands ached from wanting to feel those muscles shifting under them. And his hardened cock pressed against the zipper of his tight pants begged to be stroked by the man's large hand currently wrapped around a bourbon glass.

When it came to relationships, Erick had always had an open mind. It didn't matter whether his partner was male or female as long as they could keep up with his adventurous side and were honest with him. However, up until now, he had consistently dated women. There had been a few men who caught his attention in the past but there were never any sparks, never a desire to pursue a relationship beyond a heated makeout session.

That is, until this beautiful stranger walked into his life.

As soon as Erick saw him, he felt a physical pull on his body. Tiny sparks of desire coursed through his body and his skin flushed with want. He remembered how he couldn't stop staring at the man. When he approached to take the stranger's order, the man's eyes raked over his body with such ferocious hunger that Erick was left gasping for air.

In an effort to maintain whatever dignity he had left, Erick began flirting with the captivating man. Considering how well dressed and perfectly groomed the stranger was, he thought their conversation would be a playful duel of pick up lines. Instead, it turned into something unexpectedly adorable.

When he asked what the stranger wanted to drink, the poor man stumbled over his words like a shy schoolboy. His ears even blushed bright red at Erick's tease of taking his whiskey straight. However, the stranger quickly recovered and ordered a dirty martini in the deepest voice that was foreplay for Erick's ears. It was rough and sexy as fuck and his resolve to deny this man anything vanished like smoke on the wind.

The silver-haired god was the perfect example of masculinity. Yet there was a vulnerableness to him that Erick felt driven to protect. The duality of the man staring up at him was a mystery he wanted to solve in the worst way.

His coworker, Sarah, teased Erick about how she could practically see him drooling over the handsome customer. She whispered in his ear, telling him she was all stocked up on booze if he wanted alone time in the storeroom with that "hot as fuck" guy.

Erick gasped playfully but the idea was extremely tempting. However, just as he was about to take Mr. Sexy's drink to him, a man grabbed his arm and demanded that Erick do a shot with him. He graciously declined the offer but the rude customer was unrelenting. All Erick wanted to do was get back to the man still staring at him with those sparkling blue eyes. So, he did the shot, relieved when the customer walked away satisfied.

After that, his memories get fuzzy. He remembers feeling sick to his stomach and sweating like he was going to pass out. Somehow he made it to the back door. But everything that happened after that, Erick has no memory of.

Maybe the mysterious man sitting patiently in the kitchen has the answers he's looking for. A single deep breath has him turning the knob again. This time, he sticks his head part way out of the door and checks the hallway to assess what dangers might be waiting for him. When his eyes glance back down the short hallway towards the kitchen, he finds the stranger's concentrated gaze locked onto him like it was last night.

"Are you hungry?" the man asks. "I made you breakfast."

Damn. He has a sexy accent, too. Erick can't quite place it though. The man is clearly not Asian in any way nor Native American which are the two most common ethnicities in Seattle. So where does that melodic hint of a foreign lineage come from? He's never heard it before. But he wants to listen to it for the rest of his life.

He hesitates in the doorway, his hands holding onto the frame. There's a push and pull going on inside him he can't seem to reconcile. He's torn between accepting Caden's offer and graciously declining and heading straight for the front door, wherever the hell that is.

However, it's the voice inside Erick's head that wins out. It tells him to trust the stranger. And, considering he doesn't have much of a choice right now, he listens to it. He leaves the safety of the bedroom and makes his way down the short hallway into the sunlit kitchen.

His stomach growls as the smell of coffee and eggs fills his flaring nostrils. He moves cautiously, all of his senses on high alert. However, when the man's eyes return to the mug in his hands with a disinterested expression, Erick's body automatically relaxes. It doesn't seem like this man wants to kill him. At least, not right now. 

He takes the seat where the food has been placed and watches the man take a few sips of his coffee. Erick's eyes are naturally drawn to the stranger's large Adam's apple as it bobs up and down his exposed neck. It's a temptation that has Erick struggling to not leap across the table and bite the sexy protrusion.

Deciding that eating will be a good distraction from the enticing view, he takes a drink of his own coffee. Tiny moans leave his throat between swallows at the exquisite flavor sliding over his tongue. The coffee is clearly not from an ordinary coffee machine. This man has used expensive beans, ground them to perfection, and prepared them expertly. Erick thinks again how this stranger is not here to hurt him. Not if he's offering him coffee as magnificent as this.

Hungrily, he turns his attention to the food and gobbles down everything in front of him. He starts with the eggs because cold eggs are simply gross. It turns out to be a good choice because they are already teetering on the edge of being inedible. Once his plate is cleaned, he turns his attention to the small bowl of canned peaches. Their sweetness is the perfect follow-up to the saltiness of the eggs. Finally, he devours the granola bar like a starving bear.

The conversation that follows starts out easy enough with small talk. Unfortunately, it quickly shifts to frustration for both men. Erick realizes that Caden had nothing to do with his attempted kidnapping which should be a relief. But it only leads to more questions without answers. When he points out that he's an orphan, Caden grows quiet, his gaze drifting somewhere far away.

Erick uses those silent seconds to look around the apartment even though he knows he won't find any answers here. From where he's sitting, he's struck with how neat and clean everything is. There isn't much in the way of decor either. No family pictures sitting above the fireplace or artwork hanging on the white walls. The furniture, floors, and countertops are pristine. He can't find a speck dust or fallen food crumbs anywhere.

A fragment of a memory from last night's attack suddenly flashes through his mind.

"Hey, Cade."

"Yes?"

"Where's your dog?"