Encounters with Evil Pt. 01

It didn't occur to him to try to get away from the man—he had seen how fast he could run. Instead he fought, mostly unsuccessfully, to cover his private parts again with the tatters of his once-tight jeans. He was still shaking so hard he was surprised his teeth weren't rattling. A weight settled around his shoulders and he smelled leather and the tantalizing, musky scent of virile male. The man had wrapped him in the leather jacket he'd been wearing.

"Don't touch anything in the pockets," the man ordered.

Tigger slipped his arms into the huge sleeves and pulled the jacket more tightly around himself. The man was wearing a holster with an odd-looking gun strapped around his chest. His muscle-T lived up to its name, showing off an incredibly impressive sculpted chest and bulging arms.

Tigger's gaze travelled up to take in the stranger's face, seeing him in the light of the streetlamp. His shiny dark hair curled over his forehead but was cut short at the sides. He had high cheekbones and stubble shadowed his jaw. Tigger got the impression that this man would have to shave twice a day to appear clean-shaven. Indeed, the thick dark curls peeking out from around the man's T supported this supposition.

The eyepatch was unnerving, making Tigger wonder what was beneath it. The man's good eye was taking him in with an intensity that would have made Tigger shudder if he hadn't already been shaking like a leaf.

"I'll take you home now." The deep voice was uncompromising. "And I'll be having a discussion with your parents about letting their son wander about at all hours of the night—and a discussion with you about underage drinking."

"Parents...?" Tigger sputtered. "Underage?" His fear vanished, consumed by sudden anger. "You'll have to go a long way to talk to my parents," he said indignantly. "They live in Centralia."

The man looked surprised. "Where do you live? Who's taking care of you?"

"I have my own apartment," Tigger fumed. "And I'm not underage." He was sick of people assuming he was a kid because of his small stature and big eyes. Granted, he didn't have much facial hair and probably never would.

The man's eye looked at him skeptically. "You don't look twenty-one," he stated flatly. He clearly did not believe Tigger.

Tigger had foregone his wallet to go out dancing, simply slipping cash and his driver's license into his pocket. Now he whipped out his ID and presented it to the man with a venomous glare.

The man took the license and squinted at it. "Well, I'll be!" he muttered. "Okay, Melvin, do you still live at this address?" he asked, handing the card back to Tigger.

Tigger groaned inwardly. He hated the name Melvin. It was bad enough that he was small of stature and a geek, but to be saddled with a name that screamed "nerd" was frosting on the cake of shame. "I go by Tigger," he said firmly.

"Tigger?" the man said in disbelief. He could hear his amusement from behind the shiny surface of the helmet that he now wore. "My name's Guy. Nice to meet you Melvin."

Tigger huffed and was about launch into a tirade about calling people what they wished to be called, when he heard a low snarl coming from the alley behind them. Terror streaked through him, and he whimpered, cowering so close to Guy it seemed he was trying to hide himself under the man's skin.

The motorcycle roared to life. "Hang on tight!" Guy ordered unnecessarily—Tigger already had a death grip around his chest. As they started to move, Guy flung something into the mouth of the alley. There was a small explosion and the air filled with blue smoke. The motorcycle picked up speed quickly as they raced off down the street.

Tigger felt the wind on the back of his neck and his bare leg, but otherwise he was in a safe cocoon, snuggled between Guy's broad, warm chest and the heavy leather jacket. He could hear the rumble of Guy's deep voice, but he couldn't hear what he was saying. He got the impression that Guy was carrying on a conversation with someone else. Is he on the phone?

A few minutes later Tigger realized that they had been travelling too long for Guy to be bringing him home. His house was not that far from where he'd had the encounter with the vampire, and the motorcycle was going way too fast to be on city streets. Tigger pulled his face away from the rigid chest and glanced back over the collar of the leather jacket. Sure enough, they were on I-5, heading north.

Panic once again exploded within Tigger. The cynical side of his mind had time to wonder how many times in one night he could tax his heart like this before it gave up on him for good. He felt Guy patting his back reassuringly as the motorcycle dodged around a car. Tigger dove back into his hiding place, face against the steel pecs. There was nothing he could do about his situation—he couldn't even talk to Guy right now—so he might as well calm down so that Guy would put both his hands back on the handlebars.

A few moments later Tigger felt the motorcycle slow down and they came to a stop. Tigger sat back and looked around, recognizing that they were waiting at the light on the corner of Montlake and Roanoke, not too far from his home. Guy must have gotten onto Hwy 520 and taken the first exit.

The faceplate on the big man's helmet slid up on its own accord and Tigger found himself once more under the scrutiny of that one compelling dark eye. "You still live at the address on your license?" Guy barked.

"Y...yes, sir," Tigger answered, automatically adding the honorific in response to Guy's authoritative tone.

A smile of satisfaction stole over the other man's face. It was too grim to be a happy smile, but it made him look less imposing. The faceplate slid back into place and Tigger found himself staring at a distorted image of himself: his diminutive nose looked huge and he had no chin whatsoever.

The engine revved and they hurtled down the street once more. Tigger resumed his previous position, snuggled up against Guy's chiseled chest, arms around his warm torso. He was feeling much calmer now that he was pretty sure his rescuer was bringing him home. He breathed deeply and Guy's scent invaded senses. It was unmistakably masculine, smelling of sweat, tobacco, and leather, and the last vestiges of a piquant soap. He was suddenly aware of the hardness of the muscles under his hands, the strength of the thighs he was resting on, and the heat of the groin against his own.

He sucked in a harsh breath as heat flooded him. No, no, no! Not now! he begged as his cock began to fill. He and his cock had had a tumultuous relationship ever since he was thirteen. It liked to flaunt its authority frequently and impressively and there didn't seem to be much he could do to stop it. He tried to make his mind go blank, but the fact that he was sitting in the lap of the most gorgeous hunk of man he'd ever met made it impossible.

He started to pull one of his hands away from Guy so he could make sure that his shredded jeans covered his shame when they went around a corner, the cycle leaning sharply. His hand automatically clutched more tightly around Guy's chest, and he couldn't relinquish it. He felt the tip of his fully erect cock butt up against Guy's washboard stomach and he closed his eyes tightly in embarrassment. He didn't think things could get any worse, but when they turned into the alley behind his apartment building, the rutted road caused them to bounce up and down. He was practically humping Guy. He bit his lower lip to keep from crying out as waves of ecstasy washed over him.

Guy did not stop in the alley but pulled the motorcycle around the block and up to the front of the building, gaining a little speed so he could bump up the two steps onto the porch and pulling to a sudden sideways stop in front of the door.

His faceplate slid open with a quiet whir and Tigger found Guy grinning at him, a twinkle in his one eye. The look was so unexpected that Tigger momentarily forgot all about his cock.

"Keys," Guy demanded.

"Uh...." Tigger suddenly realized he wasn't wearing his jacket. He vaguely remembered leaving the club in hurry because that tall guy was trying to pick him up. "I left my jacket at the club," he said in a small voice.

"No keys?" Guy's tone was not accusatory.

"No keys," Tigger admitted. "I can call my roommate and...." He trailed off as Guy reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, which Tigger was still wearing, and pulled out a leather case. Inside the case was an array of small tools. Guy selected one and went to work on the door lock. Tigger's mouth dropped open in shock as fifteen seconds later the door clicked open. Using the front wheel of the bike to keep the door from closing, Guy placed the tool back into the case and slipped it into his back pocket.

"Hang on," Guy said. Not waiting for a response from Tigger, he pulled the motorcycle around so it was fully facing the front door, slammed the door wide open with his hand, and gunned the engine.

Tigger let out a yelp of surprise as the motorcycle bumped over the small step into the apartment building. The engine sounded astonishingly loud as they roared through the hallway and came to quick stop in front of the elevator. The car was already on the ground floor and the door slid open as soon as Guy pushed the button. He killed the motor as he eased the bike through the doorway. He had to pull the bike to a diagonal to get it to fit into the tight space.

"Hey dude! You can't ride that in here," Tigger heard one of his neighbors protest as the doors slid shut. Guy punched the button for the second floor.

"Damn!" Tigger said in awe. "I wasn't expecting that."

"I would have taken the stairs, but I didn't want to give you a heart attack." Guy took off his helmet and stowed it in the compartment behind him.

"No," Tigger agreed. "I think my heart has had all it can take for one evening." He was relieved to notice that the excitement had caused his erection to wilt. This was first time Tigger had seen Guy in the light. The big man's one eye was a warm rich brown, his hair almost blue-black. Tigger's gaze, sweeping downward, was drawn to an artful tattoo that wound around his right bicep. Done in solid black, it was an intricate design of moons, stars, and circles with ivy winding in between. It looked Celtic or maybe Pagan. It was stunning against Guy's olive skin.

When they reached his floor, Guy backed the bike carefully out of the elevator using only his feet, and to Tigger's relief, he walked it to his front door using the same method.

"Is anyone home?" he asked.

"I don't think so, but you can try." Before the words had even left Tigger's mouth, Guy was pounding on the door.

"Don't break it down!" Tigger admonished.

"It's a solid door," Guy said, "but your lock is worthless. You don't even have a deadbolt." Once again the toolkit came out, and this time Guy had the door open in less than five seconds.

"Holy shit, you're good at that," Tigger said as the cycle nudged into his apartment. As the door clicked shut behind them, his rescuer drew his gun. Tigger's heart rate immediately skyrocketed, but Guy didn't point the gun at him. Instead he stood up, picking Tigger up with one hand around his waist as he dismounted the bike. "Stay here," he ordered as he deposited Tigger on the floor and headed down the hallway, gun still drawn.

Tigger watched in shock. Is there really something dangerous in my apartment? Or is he just psycho?

Suddenly Tigger had to pee really badly. Clutching his shredded jeans around his hips to keep from tripping over them, he followed Guy into the hallway. Chapter Three

Guy made his way quickly down the short hall, his senses on high alert. There were three doors, all open. The first led to a small bathroom. Guy didn't bother entering; glancing through the doorway it was easy to tell there was no one in there. He continued down the hall and looked through the door on the right. The hallway was dim and the room was dark. He couldn't detect the bitter odor that was distinctive to vampires and there were no unusual sounds coming from the room. "C19: Night vision," he said in a low voice. The indistinct objects in the room immediately took on detail: bed, dresser, closet. The room was a disaster—clothes strewn everywhere, books scattered across the bed, and not an inch of free space on the dresser or nightstand. Is this is Melvin's room? he wondered. The place is a sty. That boy needs some discipline.

After ascertaining that there was no one hiding in the closet, he started for the other room. He had just reached the hallway when he heard Melvin's voice, "You can't possibly see anything in the dark." Suddenly he was blinded with brightness as the hallway light came on. He cursed under his breath, quickly switching his night vision off by pressing an invisible sensor on the side of the smooth metal band that he wore on his wrist. He made short work of searching the third room, barely registering that it was neat as a pin. His brain was sizzling. He disobeyed a direct order! Not only that, he would have put both of us in mortal danger if the vampire had been here.

Mel was just heading into the bathroom when he pounced. He grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him around, and pushed him up against the wall, none too gently. "I told you to stay there," he snarled. "Why did you move?"

Huge pale eyes widened. Mel looked up at him in unhappy confusion. Guy could smell his fear, lending a disturbing nuance to the maddening pheromone that emanated from him. Mel's scent had been driving him to distraction since he'd met him. He didn't understand what there was about his specific smell that was so enticing.

"I..." Mel faltered.

Guy's anger vanished in the face of the Melvin's fright. He eased up on his grip, not letting go entirely. His voice was well-modulated when he said, "I told you to stay there for your own safety. You could have put both of us in grave danger by disobeying me."

"D ... danger?" Mel echoed, his eyes darting around anxiously.

Guy sighed and stepped back, relinquishing him. "There's no one here, but there could have been. From now on, if I tell you to do something, you do it immediately and without question. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Mel said quietly, looking at the floor in apparent shame.

A shiver raced down Guy's spine followed by a strange prickly feeling on the back of his neck. He is perfect for me, he thought.

Huh? What the hell?

He responds so easily to my command tone, a natural submissive. Guy's inner alpha male was salivating.

But he's feisty and courageous too—not a wimp. Guy had seen tough guys—police officers, men who were used to dealing with death and ugliness on a daily basis—reduced to sniveling, shaking husks after less of an Encounter than the kid had experienced. Mel had been terrified, as any sane person would be, but he had recovered remarkably quickly.

When Guy had heard the bloodcurdling scream coming from the alley, he knew what was happening: his target had found his next victim. He had gone in without a second thought. His superiors were angry with him for blowing his cover—the vampire now knew he had a stalker and would probably disappear on a wisp of wind—but the thought of finding another mutilated body had been too much for Guy. And now that he'd met that next victim, he thanked God that he'd been in time to save him.

His first sight of Mel had shifted something in his soul. The youth had been huddled in the alley, his frightened eyes so large they seemed to consume his entire face, but the pureness of the spirit that had shone out of those amazing eyes had touched a tender place deep inside of him. An ache had formed in his chest, a craving so strong and instinctual that it enslaved him.

He wasn't just rescuing the next victim, he was rescuing a unusual, precious creature, whose very existence on earth was a miracle. In that first moment that he laid eyes on the pale youth, Guy had realized that his life was forfeit. Whatever it took to ensure the young man's survival, to ensure his happiness even, Guy would spend his last breath to purchase it.

He looked down at Mel now and couldn't deny that he was breathtaking: porcelain skin, pale aqua eyes, white-blonde hair, and an air of innocence that was truly rare. His body was exactly what Guy desired—small enough to fully enclose in his arms and protect, but well-proportioned and toned, not skinny. A fire erupted in his groin and he drew in a sharp breath.

Just then Melvin's lower lip started to quiver and he blinked rapidly. As quickly as it had flared up, Guy's anger was extinguished, washed away by shame. Oh, dear god, I've made him cry!

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he said softly.

"It's ... it's not that," Mel said. "It's...." He closed his eyes and swallowed. "My chest hurts." A tear leaked out and ran down his cheek.

Guy's eyes immediately swept down his torso which was still bare. He had noted the injury before, but it hadn't looked serious and he had focused instead on getting his charge out of immediate danger. The long scratch wasn't deep, but it was already starting to fester, the skin around it turning red and angry.

Damn! Vampire acid.

He grabbed Mel's arm and ushered him into the bathroom, settling him on the toilet seat lid. "Sit here. Don't move," he commanded. On his way out of the bathroom he flipped the light on. Going quickly to his bike, which was now taking up most of the main room in the tiny apartment, he opened the compartment on the back. His fingers flew as he rummaged through the contents. The longer the acid was on Mel's skin, the deeper it would bite and the more likely it would be to leave a scar. He couldn't stand the thought of that perfect creamy skin marred forever with an ugly gash.

*****

Tigger gritted his teeth against the gnawing pain in his chest. He wanted to claw at it with his fingers. It was getting worse by the minute; it felt like his blood was boiling and bubbling all along the cut.

He stood up suddenly, trying to get his mind off the pain. As soon as he was on his feet, he remembered he needed to pee. Taking Guy's jacket off, he laid it on the counter. Then he kicked off the shreds of his pants and underwear, barely remembering to retrieve his ID and cash from the pockets before dropping the discarded clothes into the wastebasket. They were followed by the tatters of his favorite shirt. Once he was naked, he had a brief panic attack, afraid that Guy would appear in the doorway any second. He grabbed his robe off the hook and quickly donned it, then he breathed a sigh of relief as he finally relieved his bladder.

"You don't follow orders very well."

Tigger jumped at the stern voice behind him. "I had to pee," he replied, trying to sound irritated. He wasn't sure why going against Guy's commands made him feel guilty. He doesn't own me. But the big man's resonant voice struck a chord deep within him, making him want to obey. He finished up quickly, wrapped the bathrobe tightly about himself again, and sat down on the toilet seat lid.

Guy's face was grim. "The longer that stuff is on your skin, the worse it's going to get," he said. He knelt in front of him and began taking things out of his first aid kit, laying them out on the counter.

"Wh ... what's making it feel like this?" Tigger asked, his fear flaring brightly as he remembered the blade slicing through his skin.

"It's acid," Guy replied. "A particularly strong, nasty acid. Don't worry," he continued when he saw Tigger's concerned expression, "I've got a cleanser that will neutralize it." He selected a bottle from the array of things he'd laid out, shook it for a few seconds, and held it up to the light, examining the contents.