Page 25 of The Baritone's Rival

Chapter 8

Oscar

Not in the tree, but rather tucked away on the roof of a nearby three-flat, Oscar and Justin peered down into Trent’s second-floor apartment, which was illuminated only by the artificial glow of a red digital clock on his oven.

“What is he doing?” Justin asked.

Oscar shook his head. He didn’t know. Trent had barricaded himself in his home, and he was sitting alone with the lights out, his weapons laid out on the surrounding rug. His eyes were closed and his fists were clenched as they rested on the arms of a ratty chair. A determined protectiveness stirred in Oscar’s chest.

Why was he alone in the dark? It made Oscar’s heart hurt to watch.

He brushed off the sense that he should be the one taking care of Trent. Trent might be his mate, but neither of them wanted each other. That was obvious. Trent was disgusted by the idea of mates, and Oscar would never tie himself to someone again, especially a straight rival who could barely tolerate him.

Still, he couldn’t help his instinct to protect the man.

“Pay attention.” Justin craned his neck, peering down the street, scanning the shadows cast by the lamplight filteringthrough the evenly spaced trees. “You’re the one that insisted we stake out Trent’s apartment.”

“Freddie agreed it was a good idea.” Oscar throttled the indignant tone that snuck through. He hated how worked up and out-of-control Trent made him feel.

“It didn’t have to be us.”

Oscar didn’t respond. Any reasonable person would have let another vampire take the first watch. Oscar had been attacked earlier in the day, after all. But he was restless, and he couldn’t tamp down his protective instincts when it came to Trent.

He didn’t know why Justin was so worked up, though.

“Why are you so annoyed?” Oscar asked. “If you weren’t here with me, you’d be out patrolling around the covenhouse.”

Oscar couldn’t read the expression that sprang to Justin’s face. Was it guilt? It was quickly gone.

“I hate Brooklyn. It’s so ten years ago,” Justin replied with fake hipster disdain.

“What are you talking about? You love everything. You can’t convince me you’ve suddenly turned into a snob.”

Justin giggled, shrugging impishly. “I was trying something new.”

Oscar brought his attention back to the window and Trent’s seated figure. With his enhanced hearing, the pulse of Trent’s low, even breaths reached his ears like the rumble of an encroaching storm. Oscar found it soothing.

Was Trent meditating?

Justin’s hand gripped his forearm, breaking his focus. As Oscar’s head snapped to Justin, he raised a finger to his lips and gestured further down the street.

Oscar couldn’t see anything. Except, was that a flicker of movement down at the postage stamp-sized city park at the end of the block? It could have been a shadow, or a piece of trash tossed by the breeze, but he wasn’t certain.

“You stay here and keep an eye on him.” Justin swung his legs over the side of the roof. “I’ll check it out.”

He was gone in a blur of movement. Oscar settled in with Trent at the center of his field of vision. The whole neighborhood was quiet. Most of the dog-owners had taken their last walk more than an hour ago. Oscar encouraged his eyes to go into soft focus as he monitored the area.

His sight was drawn to a flicker in Trent’s apartment. The man was still sitting there, but he had yanked his shirt out of his pants and pulled it up past his…fuck, up to his neck. Trent was running one hand over his treasure trail, lightly scratching the sparse blonde hair, and the other was pinching his right nipple.

Trent’s head was relaxed backward and his eyes were at half-mast. His mouth opened just a slit, enough to let out the moan that Oscar imagined he was making.

Damn. Even vampire hearing didn’t detect sound from that far away, through glass and brick. Oscar was left to the noises that his mind conjured. They were sexy as hell.

The blood rushed to his face, and Oscar looked both directions down the empty street. All was still.

This was wrong. He shouldn’t be watching. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the now-shirtless Trent, with his floppy blonde hair and beautiful smooth skin, stretched over that linebacker build. So sturdy and strong.

Oscar knew he should look away. This was a private moment. Typical human sight wouldn’t have been able to pierce the darkness. But Oscar couldn’t stop looking.

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