Til Darkness Falls, page 3
Too bad she sounded like a screeching crow when she was pissed. Her insults ringing in his ears like nails on a blackboard, the last of the ice dissolved on Brian’s tongue. He glanced at the bartender’s back, thinking that maybe just one more drink wasn’t such a bad idea after all. “Forgive me for bothering you, but please tell me exactly who has put such a disagreeable expression on your face so that I may kill them.”
The unexpected words, spoken in a mild yet outrageously sexy accent, made Brian lift his head sharply. He blinked in astonishment at the man who had presumptuously taken the stool next to him. Resentment at having his solitude disturbed by some guy on the make bubbled up but died a swift death as he got a good look at the other man. The stranger’s features were finely sculpted, his close-cropped hair a shade so blond as to be almost white. Ice-blue eyes were somehow warm as they gazed at him, instantly tempering Brian’s glare into a helpless stare. The man was undeniably gorgeous, but it was the shock of recognition that shot through Brian that caused him to clutch desperately at the empty glass in his hand.
I know him. It was as though, somehow, he’d known this man his entire life. Shaking his head to rid it of the ridiculous notion, Brian scowled, more unnerved than annoyed. The man quirked an eyebrow at him curiously, but his unwavering gaze was expectant, as though confident that he wouldn’t be rejected. His expression was open and inviting, but behind the man’s calm, glacier-hued regard, Brian could sense a hidden intensity, a keen focus that was determined to miss nothing. Brian was nearly convinced that the man sensed the slight change in his breathing and the quickening of his pulse when his attention suddenly sharpened. The man’s gaze shifted downward almost before Brian realized that the warmth in his cheeks was an aberrant flush. Humiliated at the revealing streaks of color, Brian turned away and lifted his glass to his lips distractedly before remembering that he had already drained it dry.
Brian blinked at the empty glass, his discomfiture rapidly turning to self-disgust before mellowing into amusement at a seduction well played. Lifting his glass in acknowledgement, Brian smirked and glanced at the other man from the corner of his eye. “That’s a creative line. Are you always so inventive?” His stomach fluttered when the stranger chuckled. Brian wondered when he’d suddenly become a randy teenager with his first crush.
“Well, not to dash your expectations, but let me follow with this: may I buy you another drink?”
Brian laughed in spite of himself as he turned to look at the blond full on. That unsettling focus was gone, but he hadn’t been imagining how handsome the other man was. His gaze drifted surreptitiously over the man’s fair, shapely brows, strong cheekbones, and thin yet sensuous lips. A prominent, slightly crooked nose kept his face from being too perfect, but even that flaw wasn’t enough to relieve the noticeable tightness in Brian’s pants.
“Sure, why not?” he answered, ignoring the voice in the back of his mind telling him this was a bad idea. Brian had a feeling this wouldn’t end with just drinks, but after the day he’d had, he deserved a little selfishness. The stranger smiled at him, fueling the growing hardness between his legs and quieting the lingering guilt that niggled at his conscience. Brian found himself staring at the man’s finger as he lifted it to gain the bartender’s attention. Wondering how he could possibly find an index finger sexy, Brian forcibly looked away as the blond ordered a martini for himself and a refill of whatever Brian was having.
“This is a beautiful song, ja?”
Brian blinked at the non sequitur. He glanced distractedly at the bartender as the man set a newly filled glass in front of him before looking back toward his companion. The soothing music was nice enough, but he couldn’t say that he knew a concerto from concrete. “Um, I can’t say that I’ve heard it before.” For a moment, Brian was tempted to pretend he was more sophisticated than he really was, but he knew his cheap suit practically screamed “middle-class peon.”
“Beethoven’s Appasionata,” the man elaborated. “The third movement. Do you hear the strings as they strive through the arpeggios, almost as though they’re fighting gravity?” His hand moved in graceful counterpoint as he spoke expressively about a clearly beloved topic. Brian understood only one word in ten, but the blond’s deep voice, supremely suited for the gutturalness of his accent, only added to his fascination. Brian quickly realized he would have been just as entranced if the stranger were reading from an actuarial table.
“I have occasionally heard this piece attempted with a full orchestra in this way, but the maestro intended it for the piano. No other instrument is truly capable of capturing the essence of his intent. The ebb and flow of emotions, like winds ripping through the trees of the Black Forest during a storm. Such powerful imagery created with the mere touch of hammers to strings.”
After the second helping of alcohol, Brian was feeling pleasantly warm and decidedly less cautious than he had been a minute ago. He stared as the man paused to sip his martini, mesmerized by the sight of his lips as they glistened with droplets of gin. The stranger picked up the speared olives from the glass and took one of them between his teeth to slide it free, and Brian shifted uncomfortably on his stool. Sensing a lull in the conversation and eager for it to continue, Brian hazarded a guess as to the blond’s nationality.
“You’re European?”
The flash of straight, white teeth made Brian realized he’d said something embarrassingly gauche. He wanted to be angry, but there was no hint of condescension in the man’s demeanor, only amusement at Brian’s obvious gambit. “I am German. And you are American, ja?”
Because Europe isn’t a country. Brian could almost hear the gentle correction spoken in the man’s deep voice. Fighting off yet another blush, he answered with a crooked smile that was more than a little sheepish. “Yeah, I was raised right here in the city. I’ve never been to Germany, or even out of the country for that matter.” Brian felt a little better when the blond’s expression remained free of any hint that he felt sorry for Brian’s limited sphere of worldly experience.
“Um, the Black Forest, is that where you’re from? Is it nice?” He would have winced at the banality of their exchange if he’d been a little more sober and the man gazing at him almost fondly had been a little less hot. As it was, he was willing to talk about the time he’d gotten sick on the teacup ride at Disney World when he was six if it would keep the other man talking. Thinking about why he was so unwilling to end this interlude made him uneasy, but the whiskey dulled the edge of his concern. It also made him miss the stranger’s slight hesitation and the sharp glance that was suddenly aimed in his direction.
“No, I grew up in Potsdam, when it was still in East Germany. But when I was a child, I loved to read about the forest and its nearby mountains. I finally got a chance to visit when I was in college, and yes, it is very nice. Would you come to my hotel room with me?”
The question was so straightforward and without preliminaries that it took Brian a moment to decipher it. But when he did, his body was quick to answer before his mind could interfere. Swelling to full hardness, Brian resisted the urge to press his legs together to appease the sudden ache. The man watched him closely, his brilliant blue gaze taking note of the uncertainty that flitted over Brian’s features.
This is ridiculous. Rolling his eyes, Brian shook his head as his shoulders moved in a silent, humorless chuckle. He was a grown man, far beyond the stage of trolling for pick-ups in bars, and all he could think about was following some stranger to his hotel? No way. He didn’t have time for this, and he especially had no interest in hooking up with some guy from out-of-town who was just looking for some local color to enliven his evening. It was past time he did the responsible thing and went home to sleep off his impending hangover so he’d be ready for another day of the job he’d increasingly come to hate.
Bracing his hands against the edge of the counter, Brian lowered his feet to the floor so he could push his stool away from the bar. He turned to make some excuse that was hopefully not overly lame when a warm hand fell atop his own.
“Please say yes. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”
Shit. Brian glared at the blond and cursed him silently, wondering how in the hell he’d guessed the real reason Brian was planning to flee as fast as he could. A challenge darkened his gaze, daring the other man to force the issue and give him an excuse to walk away. But the stranger merely stared at him with an emotion that Brian did not dare to try and identify but which caused his stomach to knot with something akin to anticipation. The other man’s gaze was direct and intense, filling him with need. The weight of the hand against his was disturbingly familiar, and a jolt of electric heat threatened to scorch him where they touched. Brian started to jerk his hand away and tell him to go fuck himself, but the other man squeezed his hand ever so slightly.
The invitation wasn’t repeated, but the blue eyes examining his face for the tiniest reaction spoke loudly. As Brian returned the blond’s steady gaze, a voice whispered an unknown word into his ear.
Mery.
“Yes.”
Brian didn’t even realize he’d spoken until he saw the pleased smile spread slowly across the stranger’s face.
THE walk from the bar to the man’s hotel was short, but Brian barely remembered a second of it. He wanted to blame the whiskey for the shameful quickness with which he’d accepted the man’s offer, but as a cop, he’d learned that lying to oneself was futile at best. This was lust, pure and simple. A beautiful, exotic stranger had invited him back to his room for a one-night stand. Hell, he was living every man’s dream. Surely it was high time he allowed his libido to drown out his common sense.
Absorbed with trying to convince himself that he wasn’t being unforgivably stupid, Brian was grateful that the other man kept up an innocuous flow of conversation that required little response.
“I’m a free-lance writer for a small music publication out of Frankfurt,” the blond said, responding to the question Brian guessed he’d asked.
“Music? Like what, bands?” Brian groaned silently as the man’s laugh reached straight into his shorts.
“Nein, not exactly. The magazine focuses mostly on classical music. I travel around going to various performances, listening to different orchestras, chamber groups, and the like, and critique them for the magazine.”
That explained how the man was able to speak so fluently about the music playing in the bar. The Appasionata. Brian remembered how the word had rolled off of his companion’s tongue.
“I enjoy it because it gives me an excuse to see the world.” The man chuckled again, and Brian feared he could easily become addicted to the sound. They stopped before the front entrance of a posh hotel. Brian reassessed his assumptions about how much a freelance writer must make as he followed the blond through the hotel’s sliding glass doors.
The lobby shouted elegance and money, neither of which Brian was used to. Compared to the long camelhair coat that hung so casually from the other man’s broad shoulders, he keenly felt the statement his own off-the-rack trench coat made as they crossed the well-appointed lobby. Several people glanced toward them, and the desk clerk peered curiously in their direction as they passed by reception. Self-consciousness made his shoulders tense, the obvious difference in his and his companion’s financial status making Brian feel like he’d been bought for the evening.
Ignoring the looks, Brian stared at the back of the man walking in front of him, distracting himself by applying his professional judgment to the blond’s physique. Six-two, 190 pounds, he guessed. Four inches taller than himself, ten pounds heavier, and if the man’s supremely balanced gait was anything to go by, all of it muscle. So much for the image of some pudgy, effete desk jockey. The only thing that pegged the man as a writer was his pale skin, but that was as likely a product of genetics as anything. He certainly displayed no other hallmarks of someone who made their living sitting on his ass. And what an ass it was.
“Sir, may I help you?”
Brian turned to look at the man addressing him, his shiny, buffed name tag identifying him as Charles, the hotel manager. His weak chin was thrust forward, and lines of disapproval etched the skin around his prissy mouth. Brian realized that he wasn’t the only one who thought he didn’t belong there.
Well, fuck me.
Brian surmised that he was about to be politely ejected from this fine establishment and resisted the urge to flash his badge, punch the man in the face, or maybe both. Let’s see how he likes it next time he needs to call the police for something. Not bothering to glance toward the stranger’s retreating back, Brian decided that it was high time he put an end to this stupid scene. But just as he was about to say something that would surely prompt the manager to call for security, a hand fell heavily atop his shoulder.
“Is there a problem here?” The German held the key card to his room discretely at his side, fingering it absently and telegraphing the fact that he was a patron of the hotel. The manager blanched beneath the taller man’s hooded, icy-blue gaze.
“Ah, no, sir. Well, I was just asking this gentleman what his business was.”
“He is my guest. Do you require anything else?” The blond’s clipped tone brooked no further opposition.
Brian fumed silently as the manager made some stumbling excuse and assured his customer that there was no problem whatsoever. The urge to just make some excuse or other and head for the door was strong, but it died a humiliatingly quick death when the German gestured for him to go ahead of him, the killer smile aimed in his direction blinding Brian into obedience. Trying to ignore the way his heart skipped in response, Brian did as requested. They reached the elevator bank without further incident, but Brian felt that his control over the situation was rapidly disappearing as the elevator came immediately at the other man’s call.
Although they were alone in the conveyance, the ride up was uneventful. Brian shook his head mentally, wondering what, exactly, he’d been expecting. That the man would just throw him against the wall for a quick fuck? He’d been watching too much porn. Brian glanced at the man out of the corner of his eye, but the blond was silent as he gazed up at the progression of lighted numbers on the display panel above the door.
The stranger was the epitome of that certain brand of European sophistication that American men, no matter how urbane, never quite managed to copy. It was more than the cut of his clothes or the glint of the gold chain at his throat. It wasn’t simply the breadth of the shoulders that stretched the expensive material of his coat or the impressive chest that pressed against his fine woolen sweater. The neat cut of his fair hair and the precisely trimmed sideburns, the endless stretch of his legs in those tailored slacks, they merely added to the overall impression.
Brian drew himself up when he realized he was staring. It was then that he noted the firmer set of the man’s jaw and the way he held his hands clasped before him, clenched almost into fists. The man was clearly annoyed at something, but Brian decided not to worry about what it might be. Instead, he joined him in watching the floor numbers as he struggled to suppress the growing erection that was becoming more and more permanent the longer he was around the blond.
The man swiped his key card in the electronic lock of room 1201. Brian knew that he was paying close attention to meaningless details to avoid thinking about the fact that he was acting so out of character. The room was as elegant and understated as everything else in the hotel. A couch upholstered in dark, chocolate leather sat in the middle of the room, flanked by a tall lamp on one side and a matching arm chair on the other. The couch faced a set of picture windows that stretched from wall to wall and showed the city in all of its night-time glory. Brian walked over to the windows and looked out at the sea of pinpoint lights. If only he could be fooled that the beauty wasn’t hiding so much dirt.
“Please allow me to apologize for the manager’s rude behavior.”
Brian was surprised. Why should he care that the hotel manager had been a pretentious jerk? “Don’t worry about it. I’ve heard worse.”
“That’s a pity. I can’t imagine that anyone would be intentionally rude to you.”
Brian bit back a snort, thinking of all the crude things perps had said to him over the years. He didn’t bother telling the man that he was a cop. They hadn’t even exchanged names, and that was information he didn’t feel the need to share just then.
“Would you like a drink?”
Brian turned to see the man standing next to a bar inset into the wall beside the door. A flick of a switch illuminated a bank of tastefully recessed lighting above the bar. Other than that, the room remained in shadow.
“Look. You don’t have to entertain me like we’re on a date or something. If you want to fuck, let’s fuck.”
The man’s self-assured smile faltered for the first time that evening. “It’s true that I want us to have sex, but there is no need to be uncivil. I did not ask you here merely for a fuck.”
Brian felt ashamed of himself even as he shivered at the way the man’s accent turned the already provocative word into something downright sinful. He turned back toward the window to hide his discomfort.
“Sorry.” He could barely hear his own mumbled apology, but the other man’s ears must have been better than his own.
“Please, have a seat and let me pour you a drink. I have enjoyed our conversation. There is no reason to hurry.”
Brian begged to differ, as he was suddenly gripped with an inexplicable case of nerves. He wasn’t some trembling virgin. He’d taken his share of cock in his day. But something about this man warned him that it would be dangerous to stick around any longer than it took to satisfy his libido. Brian ignored the little voice in his head that called him a coward.
