“Then the opening riffs of Velveteen Slumber’s “Hunter’s Kiss” ripped through the darkness, and a pool of bloody light spilled over the stage. Jared wondered idly if Haven stood watching in the wings, or if she’d gotten herself a spot within the pit in front of the stage. Sadly, promoters rarely graced Pulse Media with front row or pit tickets; however, Jared found all regret banished from his mind once Dorian began to sing.
‘He comes unbidden, swallows your breath, rapture forbidden, over the edge, it’s a hunter’s kiss..,’ he sang.
Wire-mounted cameras suspended from the ceiling, projected images of the singer and the band onto the screens on either side of the stage, as they had for the opening act. Dorian looked into the camera, and it looked like he was looking right at Jared, and only him, from the screens. He could almost feel the weight of the other man’s gaze settle over him, like a palpable caress, teasing through his shirt to coast over the skin so visible through the sheer, black material.
Before he’d reached legal drinking age, Jared had visited his share of gay bars with a fake ID. His pretty-boy face and muscular build had scored him more than his share of free drinks. He’d certainly been looked over enough back then, even fielded a few sleazy pick-up lines. None of that had prepared him for the force of Dorian’s onstage presence and the intense intimacy his performance created.
Dorian was, indeed, pretty gorgeous, as Cecilia had noted. Jared was secure enough in his masculinity to admit to himself that, yes, aesthetically, the man possessed appeal. He wore a leather trench coat that pooled and swooped when he moved, offering up enticing glimpses of the bare torso that lay beneath. Chiseled six-pack abs led the eye downward, toward the low-riding black jeans that hung below his hip bones, showing off his prominent Adonis belt musculature.
‘Lips at your throat, the hangman’s rope, it’s a hunter’s kiss…’ Dorian sang, and it was almost as though Jared could feel Dorian’s mouth against his neck, his tongue lapping at the thrust of Jared’s Adam’s apple, traveling down to the suprasternal notch.
As though he’d plucked the thought from Jared’s mind, Dorian’s tongue swept over the fullness of the singer’s lower lip. He threw a wink out to the crowd, and Jared actually felt himself flush like a shy teenager. What the ever-loving hell? He was desperate to meet Dorian up close and personal. As much as he loved the music, the show couldn’t end soon enough. And he still had to make it through Empress’s Daughter’s set!
On the other hand, another part of Jared argued in favor of getting the hell out of there immediately. Feelings of this intensity were dangerous. His breakup with Kora and the ensuing mental collapse had taught him that. He still felt every little reminder of her like a jagged piece of glass in his chest, twisting.
Then again, Dorian was no Kora, and Jared certainly didn’t consider himself gay or bisexual. Whatever these feelings were, they probably wouldn’t go anywhere at all, right?
He promptly shoved his balled fists into his pockets, gritted his teeth, and narrowed his eyes, determined to look anywhere but at Dorian. This was a work thing, after all. He could be professional.
But then Dorian laughed into the mic, a sound like whisky and black velvet, rippling over the crowd. The hairs at the nape of Jared’s neck prickled. “You think you can escape me, do you? You’re mine tonight,” he said, as the crowd roared its appreciation back at him. At that moment, Jared knew whatever else he might believe to be true about himself, he was absolutely in deep shit. The entire audience seemed to be up on their feet, Jared included. He nearly had a heart attack when Lenore, to his left, shouted into his ear.
“You okay, dude? You look a little stiff.”
Excerpt above from part of Chapter One of Wishful Sinful.
Free for Kindle, for the duration of Friday, March 13th, and also offered for Kindle Unlimited (along with the other works in the series).
Dorian Volker, frontman for Velveteen Slumber, is a reinterpretation of David from The Lost Boys. Polyamorous, out and proud, a bit more buff (because hey, why not?). Every bit as moody. Incredibly seductive. Maybe not quite so prone to degrading his intended partners. But he does have his moments.
Entertainment reporter Jared Winter is the Michael to his David.
And Haven is their Star.
Jared’s female wingman, Lenore, began as a roleplaying character I made for Monster of the Week. This iteration is older than the one I briefly played, but every bit as street savvy.
Check out Book One in Rock is Undead for free, and see what you think.
Maybe like Jared Winter, you’ll feel compelled to hit the road with the band.
All the Bright and Sparkly Things 
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