Melbourne Heat (2 page)

When Spencer stood, Charles fluidly rose to his feet. Something in Charles urged him not to let Spencer leave like this. It felt unfinished, and Charles craved getting to know the man better.

“How about I buy you a coffee?” Charles offered. “Or even a bite to eat. It’s the least I can do for ruining your night.”

“Um,” Spencer hedged. He walked through the bushy trees and back out onto the footpath.

Charles followed him, surprised that the sky was now fully dark. Night came quickly once the sun fell below the horizon. The two men faced each other and the only light to see came from a distant lamp post higher up on the hill. Charles could see quite clearly, though, and the indecision upon Spencer’s face was sweet. Charles pivoted on one foot and pointed across the stream in the direction he’d come.

“There’s a small pedestrian-only gate just over there,” he said. “It leads back out onto the road. I know a few good cafés nearby that do toasted sandwiches that really hit the spot.”

“Well, okay.” Spencer nodded. “But what about your friends? Aren’t you in the middle of a game?”

“They’ll live.” Charles grinned.

They hopped over the stones and walked down the footpath. “I’ve won the last two games. It will be worth losing this one and owing everyone a meal and a couple of drinks to apologize to you and make up for my earlier actions.”

“It wasn’t really that bad,” Spencer said. “I’ve been watching too much TV and reading too many thrillers. When my head gets full of that stuff I see monsters lurking around every corner and find it too easy to believe conspiracy theories when there aren’t any.”

Charles looked at him.

The man was flushing, his cheeks stained a delicate pink.

They walked through the tall wrought-iron gates and left the Botanical Gardens. Without a word, they headed down a gravel path, cutting through yet more open, grassy parks. Part of Charles wanted to explain that there
were
monsters out there, but it would be opening a can of worms. He’d learned the hard way many years ago that you don’t open a gentle ‘getting to know you’ coffee with ‘Hi there, I’m a shifter. I can turn into a rabid wolf and rip your throat out when my feral instincts take over. Nice to meet you.’

Few things killed a mood quite as quickly as that.

“Like I said,” Charles said instead, “I think listening to your instincts is a sound option. We all have gut instincts for a reason. Ignoring them is often foolish.”

As they came closer to St. Kilda Road, the hum of cars became more noticeable. Lights shone brightly and the busy sounds of the city made Charles feel as if they were re-entering the world. Charles slid an arm out of the strap of his backpack. He unzipped the bag then put his paintball gun nozzle-down into the bag. Pulling his beanie off, he placed it and his gloves in with the gun and zipped it all back up again.

When he shrugged his arm back into the strap of the backpack, Charles caught Spencer watching him. The man had deep brown eyes Charles could drown happily in. Heart pounding, Charles had to struggle not to imagine those eyes looking up at him, huge, as Charles thrust his cock into Spencer’s mouth. He’d wrap his hand around the back of Spencer’s skull and twine his fingers through those silky strands of hair. After pulling Spencer closer, Charles imagined how he would fuck his mouth hard, thrusting down his throat until his balls exploded and his semen shot into Spencer’s belly.

“Charles?”

Charles saw Spencer’s lips moving and he realized he’d not heard a word the other man had said. He shook his head then forced his mind to pay attention.

“Sorry, I was miles away,” Charles said with a wry grin. “What was that?”

“I asked if you paintball very often.”

“The guys and I get together every month or so,” Charles said as he pressed the button for the pedestrian lights. “We’ve been friends for years, found each other doing our various degrees at university. How about you, what work are you in?”

Charles noticed how Spencer’s eyes glanced up and down the road, tracking the people walking, cyclists and cars without actually paying particular attention to any one person. Spencer seemed a little nervous, but Charles didn’t think it was his presence that was making the young man twitchy.

Maybe he’s just a watcher,
Charles surmised.
He prefers to study people rather than be in the thick of it.

Despite his reassurances to himself, Charles kept an eye out on the people around them. After a minute, he relaxed. They definitely weren’t being followed.

Something inside Charles insisted that Spencer was a submissive lover. Charles couldn’t put his finger on anything specific, it was more the overall feeling the young man gave off. Spencer was interested in those around him rather than focused on himself, plus there was the easy way with which he’d come along when Charles suggested they get something to eat.

“Oh, I’m an accountant,” Spencer said. “I’m just one of many in a large-ish firm, but I enjoy the work. I get satisfaction when everything balances just so. We’re a bit farther down on St. Kilda Road.”

He spoke quite well, no shyness or hesitation, but without arrogance either. Charles kept glancing at the man, hoping he wasn’t misreading the signals. In no way did he invite Charles sexually, but there was a hum of energy between them, a curiosity and interest Charles was certain he wasn’t making up.

“You must be doing well then, or the firm should be at least,” Charles said warmly. “Rent alone this close to the central business district, in such a well-to-do area, must be huge.”

Spencer smiled and his whole face lit up.

Charles almost stumbled, not looking where he was going, ensnared in Spencer’s gaze.

“I wish I could say I pull down a huge wage.” Spencer chuckled. “But the ordinary pay is certainly offset by the fact I can catch a tram—or on nice days like today, walk—to work each morning. And the fact the city is full of cafés, restaurants, museums and culture means that there is always something different and interesting going on. It never gets boring.”

“Well, maybe you should be taking the lead on where we eat,” Charles said. He leaned closer to Spencer and nudged him with his shoulder.

Spencer looked up at him.

Charles raised an eyebrow and smiled. While curious as to how the man would respond to his wording, he also wanted to reassure Spencer. He was teasing, but open-minded.

Spencer huffed out a short laugh and shook his head. “Finding new places is always good. I’m willing to trust you.”

“How far are you willing to trust me?” Charles asked. He had deepened his tone, putting weight on the words to indicate that there was more than platonic meaning to his statement.

Spencer swallowed.

He seemed to pause and think for a moment, hopefully understanding the sexual interest Charles was indicating. Charles pointed at an upcoming alleyway, showing this was where they’d turn in.

“I’ll let you know when you reach my limits,” Spencer said.

They were walking close now, the alley barely wide enough for three people to stand abreast. Charles’ boots clomped on the cobblestones, the sound echoing. Much of the usual noises of the busy city fell away. The area was insulated by the tall buildings and the fact that they wound a twisting path away from the main streets.

When another couple—a man and woman holding hands—passed them, heading in the opposite direction, Charles stepped behind Spencer. They both continued walking, single file, for a few paces. When Charles breathed in, he caught Spencer’s scent.

For a moment, he was lost in the dizzying smell of the younger man.

Spencer smelled spicy with a faint hint of smoky musk. An exotic, very masculine scent. There was something else there, an extra part to the elixir that niggled on the edge of Charles’ brain. Something he instinctively recognized but couldn’t describe coherently. It was like having a song lyric just on the edge of his tongue, but elusive. Charles thought hard as he quickened a step and walked beside Spencer again.

Then it hit him, right in the crotch.

Spencer was a viable mate for him.

Charles was not some mindless animal—he could—and regularly did—have sex with anyone who grabbed his fancy. But a viable mate—that was something different. Something Charles hadn’t yet stumbled across in his thirty-five years. Until now.

Until Spencer.

“You tempt me,” Charles admitted, meaning the words on many levels now he knew just how special Spencer was to him. “I’d like to test them one day.”

“Let’s see how the meal goes first,” Spencer said in a small voice.

Part of Charles wanted to stop them both and press Spencer up against the brick wall. He longed to dip his head and really sniff Spencer properly, draw his scent deep into his senses. The wolf in him, the part that was far more animal than man, craved to know if Spencer truly could complete him unlike almost any other. Charles loved sex, and found it deeply satisfying. But the stories he’d heard whispered about having a proper mate—and not just a regular partner—were that these people could accept the real person Charles was. His animal as well as his human side.

Many years ago Charles had asked an older shifter—the man who’d helped mentor him—how he’d recognize his mate.

“You’ll just know, you’ll be able to sense it,”
he’d been told. When asked for details—“
What scent will it be?”—
Roger had just said it was different for everyone. But his instinct would tell him so.

Looked like his mentor had been right, after all. Charles hadn’t thought about having a mate in years, convinced since he’d chosen to be solely with men that no one who fit the bill would ever cross his path. He ignored the fact that his dick twitched in interest now within his pants.

Charles paused outside a small shop. A narrow door led into a single open room. There were tables for two and four scattered around and more private booths along the far wall. A long counter with a glassed showcase section had premade rolls and focaccia sandwiches. Chalkboards on the wall listed what foods were available.

The air of the café was very inner-city Melbourne, slightly retro, a little urban, cozy and relaxed.

“There’s a dumpling house farther down the alley,” Spencer said. “I’ve been there a lot. I must have walked past this place dozens of times and never thought to look in.”

“They do some good soups, and their burgers aren’t too bad, but their specialty is handmade toasted focaccia sandwiches,” Charles said.

Spencer nodded, focused on the ingredients listed on one of the boards. They each ordered, paid and sat in a booth. The place was half empty. It was after the early dinner crowd and families, but not yet late enough for the theatergoers, clubbers and real nightlife.

“So are you going to wine and dine me before making a proposition?” Spencer asked.

Charles had been in the process of pouring a glass of water. Shocked by the blatant presentation of Spencer’s words, he tipped the bottle up before he could spill it. He cast a hot look at the man then finished pouring first Spencer, then himself a glass.

“Actually, I was hoping we’d both be perfectly sober to enjoy every lick and inch,” he replied saucily. “So no wining. But yes, eating and getting to know about each other was my plan. Complaints?”

“Not in the least,” Spencer replied, then grinned. “You have this air about you, like you’re comfortable but completely in control. Maybe my view is tainted a bit by your outfit and having seen you wielding that weapon, but there’s something about you that I find…enticing.”

Charles had the impression that Spencer had either censored himself, or picked a different word than he’d originally intended. Regardless, he found himself drawn to this man. There was more to him than met the eye initially. He’d not thought Spencer was shy, but neither had he expected the self-confidence that the man was showing now.

“I have a feeling that the better acquainted we get the more that mouth of yours might surprise me,” Charles said. “You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?”

“Handful or mouthful?” Spencer asked, then raised his eyebrow naughtily. “Actually, I don’t usually warm up to people this quickly. Like I said, there’s something about you that’s different. Something about this evening that’s, hmm, dreamlike, I suppose.”

The waitress came bearing two plates.

“Toasted meat lovers with spinach and feta?” she recited, then glanced between the two men.

Spencer lifted a hand silently. She placed the plate in front of him.

“And a toasted ham with roast capsicum and salad focaccia,” she finished, placing the other plate in front of Charles. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Seconds later the waitress had moved away and they were left alone again. Charles raised his water and gazed at Spencer. The other man quickly lifted his as well.

“To long summer nights,” Charles toasted.

“I’ll drink to that,” Spencer said.

They clinked glasses and drank.

Chapter Two

Spencer bit into his toasted sandwich and flavor immediately exploded over his tongue and into his mouth. He had to consciously stop himself from moaning, it tasted so good. Salami, ham and chorizo sausage blended together with the melted cheese and barbecue sauce. The token healthy aspect of some spinach leaves added crispness to the whole. It was perfect.

“Good?” Charles mumbled with a hand covering his mouth.

Spencer couldn’t reply, so he nodded and took another huge bite. He was starving. Frequently admonished by his mum for being too skinny, Spencer had tried putting on weight, but he was just one of those people with a rampant metabolism. He knew he was tall and thin, but when he remembered to eat he had a voracious appetite and didn’t stick to carrot sticks or any semblance of a diet. He loved food, he just frequently got bogged down in whatever he was doing and forgot to eat.

The sandwich was half gone in three more bites. Only then did Spencer realize he’d been so busy eating silence had fallen between them. Feeling a little embarrassed at his single-mindedness, he swallowed hastily.

“This is delicious,” he complimented Charles. “I’ll have to remember this place, maybe force myself to go on a walk during some of my lunches and come out here to eat.”