Blood & Honey: Bk. 1 - MM Dark Romance

“It only has to be one night, Caden.” Roman’s lips curved with a playful suggestion that made Caden’s belly flutter with anticipation. “But, let’s make it count, right?”

How, how had Caden ended up here in this exact situation, staring over the top of his beer mug with drying blood embedded under his fingernails, sitting in a rundown bar staring at the man of his dreams, you may ask?

God only knew.

He hadn’t expected to run into anyone worth a damn in New Hudson.

In fact, Caden had specifically come to this location to make sure no one worthwhile would try to approach him for any reason. He had wanted his solitude and to unwind after a hell of an extermination night.

His body hurt from being thrown against a wall, he was speckled with blood, and despite washing his hands three times, only a shower was going to free him from the encrusted ochre staining all his exposed nooks and crannies.

A nest of five brand new Fledgling vamps wasn’t as intense as some runs he had been on, but when you were alone in the middle of a cemetery, squaring off against three more monsters than you had anticipated waiting to rip your face off, Caden was feeling the burn of his evening.

However, he was at a loss with this one.

It was 2 am, the bar was closing, and he had an hour and a half drive back to Hangar 634. He still had to file his report, debrief with his lead man, Russell, and get slathered with holy blessings from Father Donovan, shower, sleep, only to do a rinse and repeat tomorrow night.

Who knew what that next shit show would be?

Rogue woodland Fae?

Orc thugs wanted for murder?

Maybe another nest of homeless new vamps, or some other creepy crawly intent of ravaging New Hudson’s community at large.

It was all the same once the orders came down from Russell and the higher-ups, and Caden was just a cog in an endless, grinding machine fighting an uphill battle.

He was twenty-five years old, but more and more he felt like he was thinking he’d be game to retire sooner rather than later, especially the way he had been feeling lately.

In fact, that was what he had been thinking about before Roman Rossi had wandered into the rundown bar about two hours prior, while Caden had been trying to hide from his life for a little bit longer.

The man had been an instant standout and caught Caden’s tired eyes with a double take when the door had swung in.

He, too, had been alone, dark hair soaked from the rainstorm that had broken into torrential sheets outside. He looked like he had tousled the rich, waterlogged dark tresses back with impatient fingers before heading inside, but it wasn’t just the man’s face that had caught Caden’s attention, though it was good.

No, it had been some sense of mystique, maybe? Some palpable pull of energy that had chased the air ahead of him as if he moved in his own self-contained bubble of pure charisma. Anyone left in the bar had also glanced over and sort of blinked at him as if they had also felt the same pull of magnetism emanating off the guy.

He was tall, six feet, and well built under his dark leather jacket and gray thermal shirt. His faded blue jeans were poured over his thighs and hips, cinched by a black belt, and his work boots looked newer but still pleasantly worn like he was on the cusp of officially breaking them in.

His features were strong, masculine, with a sweep of high cheekbones and a squared jawline. That last could have geared harsh, but was softened by a naturally curved set of lips, and some exotic elegance of his dark, deep-set eyes that gave “smolder” a whole new meaning.

But it was the color of those long-lashed eyes that snared Caden.

Green. True, jade green with a dark ring of gray that hugged his irises and made the color a knockout. Caden immediately had the desire to look into that rich depth, get lost in their forested perfection, and examine the shade until the man slapped him away in irritation.

It was startling, and Caden hurriedly looked away when he saw the guy glance around, heart thrumming with a lurch of discomfort while he twisted his second glass of Pale Ale anxiously between his hands.

He was beyond hyper aware of the guy when he shook water off his hair and flashed a smile at the bartender before striding for the counter.

“Hey, Mal, what’s going on, man?”

As if the fates were conspiring, Caden braced and swirled his glass harder when the stranger took the stool next to him. To be fair, there were a lot of people still there, and it was that or sit by the cold door.

The bartender was a gruff-looking ogre of a man, maybe even half of that bloodline truly, his squashed face and slightly gray flesh powerfully squared, with a bit of a jowled effect going on. He was big, well over six feet, and otherwise built like a brick with a permanent frown that made him come across as rather unaccommodating.

However, he smiled at the newcomer, smoky gray eyes creasing pleasantly. “Hi, Rome. Haven’t seen you for a while. Regular?”

Rome’s? — mouth curved when he nodded. That sensual set of lips was so distracting that Caden realized he was staring precisely at the same moment those green eyes flicked over to him curiously.

He blushed and swiftly looked forward, belly fluttering nervously over being caught so red-handed, but holy damn, the man was just a libido killer.

Caden missed the small smile that curved up a little higher over his duck and roll maneuver, before he hurriedly scooped up his phone and opened his texts.

He had a few loitering in wait: Sage asking if he had made it out of the cemetery alive, he opened his thread with Jared and found his powerhouse of a brother beaming with a severed Vamp head in a fist, and a caption that read, -We got four, how’d you do?-

Jared was out with their other brother, Danny, and to Caden, that was cheating plain and simple.

Caden had to stifle a laugh, flick a brow, and reply back swiftly: -funny how you’re both bigger than me, and I still kicked both your asses. Five, Kitten. I win-

He hit send and put it down just in time for Mal to heave his giant self over with, of all the things, a delicate wineglass in his beefy hand. Within it seemed to be a beautifully frosted-looking white Zin swirling in the crystalline depth.

Mal put it down in front of the butch masterpiece beside him, and Caden couldn’t keep the look of bemused humor off his face when Dude plucked it up with long fingers and said, “Open a tab for me, would you?”

Mal nodded, and not a second later, the guy turned his face fully to Caden, eyes creasing with good humor. “Don’t judge me.”

Caden pulled his lower lip under, flushing pink in the cheeks over the call out, but sort of playfully glanced at the glass and back to his face. “You struck me as, like, a bourbon on the rocks kind of man, I guess.”

He chuckled, and the sound was rich, deep, and purred from his chest like the hum from a cello while he held up the long-stemmed glass as if in deep contemplation. “I like the cheap lie of it. It makes me look refined; meanwhile, it’s three bucks a gallon.”

Caden laughed brightly before he could curb himself, and for the first time in a long time, discovered a stranger who didn’t make him want to bolt for dear life.

It wasn’t personal, just sort of… necessary. He didn’t get the chance to make friends easily, and his line of work and lifestyle weren’t really conducive to frivolous affairs or even long-term relationships of any sort.

It was easier to just avoid it all, stick with what he knew—no matter how inwardly bitter that had been making him lately.

Still, this guy was kind of singing his name tonight, and he couldn’t really have said why.

“Um, well, I like the look for you.” He beamed happily when those green eyes creased at him. “It’s dignified and we don’t get a lot of dignified in New Hudson that often, right?”

“Sure.” He turned on the stool and offered a large hand. “Roman Rossi.”

“I’m Caden Smith. Italian?” Caden smiled and could actually see it in that strong nose, the heavy lids of his eyes, and slightly dark coloring. Sicilian maybe?

“Something like that.” Roman waved a hand before knocking back half his glass and then offered a warm smile when he took his hand back. “Nice to meet you. You seem like someone with a good story.”

Caden blinked at him and then burst out laughing over that bizarre little comment. He was grinning and flushed when he threw a hand out in bemusement. “Me? Why would you think that?”

Roman bit his inner cheek and glanced over him with a sudden crush of critical examination. It made Caden squirm and want to giggle nervously like he was fourteen again or something. “Well, you have blood on your hands, a concealed carry under your coat, and your boots are covered in mud to the ankle.”

Caden looked down at his beat boots almost guiltily and rubbed the back of his neck, sucking his lips in while he tried to cull a sheepish laugh.

“But, you don’t look like you’re on the run, seeing as you’re sitting here idly at the bar and all, so,” Roman shrugged, but his eyes were bright with good humor. “I sense a man with an interesting life story to share.”

Caden laughed in helpless resignation and threw a hand out. “I mean, I could be on the run. Maybe that’s why I’m down in Brunswicky, right?” He glanced around the run-down bar scene they were both occupying pointedly. “This seems like a perfect place to hide out.”

“Too obvious.” Roman leaned forward conspiratorily, and the move made every hair on Caden’s entire body contract with heady awareness. “Besides, this is the first place I’d look for a criminal. You’d be better off going to the Hilton in Tinsy.”

Caden almost had to press his glass to his cheek to cool down.

The guy’s proximity alone was almost fiery. Clearly, Roman was trying to smoke him out of his foxhole.

“That requires more finesse than I’ve ever had.” He glanced down and couldn’t help but be a little surprised when he saw the flash of a grip under the man’s coat. It was so startling to see that he instantly flicked his eyes back up to him and asked, “You a cop?”

Those green eyes creased almost wickedly. “No. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

Caden was almost lightheaded, suddenly intrigued with Tall, Dark, and Handsomely-armed-to-the-teeth. More than he even had been five seconds ago.

He usually never, ever told anyone what he was about. It wasn’t because it was a crime, or even some huge secret or anything, but usually it freaked normal people out.

It was a very new thing in his life to meet anyone and compulsively want to answer questions. Something just told him that Roman might not be that shocked about it. “Um, I’m a Hunter for the New Mission Church of God.”

He braced and held his breath against the expected derision, the once-over a lot of people who found that out got when they realized what it was he was doing with his life.

It wasn’t the job so much as the man who made them give him a high brow and smirk like he was being a cute child living in a fantasy land of unreality.

Caden even knew why it happened. Simply, he was not, at a glance, the type of man you’d expect to be able to do the job requested of him.

For one, he was pretty petite, five nine, slim, with angelic boy-next-door features. He had big blue eyes that looked like he should have been batting them at a club while fishing for a Sugar Daddy. He had been described as “pretty,” “cute,” “lovely,” “feminine,” and a myriad of other adjectives that did not inspire confidence that he could go out in the field with the best killers on the market and make much of a difference.

He, however, was a perfect candidate for it. Caden had motive, he had the skillset, and more importantly, he had natural immunity to Vamps and other preternatural creepies that dabbled in the same flavor of magic.

True, he was shit when it came to Fae or any naturally born supernatural thing. He didn’t have the brute power to hunt Orc, or Trolls, or go on crusades to take on Dragons and shit — though rare few did — but Vamps, spectres, rogue witches and sorcerers on a power trip were Caden’s speciality, and he owed it all to his blood line.

Golden Blood, or RH-null Type One, and Caden was one of only five documented individuals in the whole of the United States who had it.

Not as fun as it sounded.

He didn’t mention that to Roman, though. God knew the Golden Blooded were coveted enough for some monsters in the world that advertising that was just dumb. Never to strangers, and especially never a stranger he met at a sleazy bar.

However, he was really startled to see that Roman didn’t sneer or look him over with shock. Instead, his brow flicked like that was intriguing before he looked him over with new assessment and then pointed off his glass toward Caden’s hand. “Blood?”

“Vamps.” Caden was suddenly nervous, but not in a bad way. More like he was a little infatuated with that surprising response, and more, just this man’s energy. He was suddenly really intrigued with Roman Rossi as well, and deep down, he was grateful for the lack of snickering disbelief.

“Pesky things, right?” Roman chuckled and sipped his drink before flexing a smile. “I’m a private hire. Merc work, PI stuff. A lot of times, the people in high places will contract me for hits on, let’s say—” He waved a hand, but his eyes were focused, direct on Caden’s and intense like he knew Caden would know what he was about. “Problematic individuals.”

Caden did understand.

Back home, he lived with about twenty people just like Roman, his brothers and singular sister excluded. Technically, the elite hunters of the church were called New Mission Crusaders. In real life, they were killers and Spec-Ops, same as him, minus the super blood advantage, and apparently, just the same as this free lancer on the bar stool beside him.

“I get it.” Caden swallowed down his hammering heart and looked at Roman’s gun. “What do you use?”

Roman smirked just a touch, and Caden was a little surprised when the man pulled his weapon into sight without batting a lash. Caden glanced around the bar, but sure to hell not a man in there bothered to look concerned over yet another guy with a gun in this part of town.

Had to love Brunswicky.

Roman extended it out, and Caden went a little wide-eyed with appreciation when he took the big ass weapon from him.

It was beautiful, copper-plated with an ambidextrous black grip. Caden almost felt a little sweaty and fluttery in the chest when he found the inscribed brand name Sand Viper in elegant slanted font along its barrel. The SRO sight was a beauty, modified for night vision to boot. It was a weapon that could take someone’s head off from five to fifty yards, as smoothly as butter sliding off a plate.

Beautiful, it was engraved with a very custom-looking filigree decorating the top of the barrel, and would have been an expensive piece of hardware even without the extra bells and whistles.

Caden blew out an impressed breath and couldn’t help but flip it down between his thighs to peer through that sweet scope. “This is beautiful.”

Roman nodded, but was looking at Caden’s downswept, thick lashes when he agreed. “It is.”

At the oddly intimate-sounding tone, Caden glanced up under his brows and found those eyes distractedly looking over his face before Roman blinked and offered a more neutral smile. Caden sure as hell hadn’t missed that heavy-lidded look of consideration, though.

Still, Roman glanced at the gun and moved it along. “Titanium hammer strut, about a two pound trigger pull, extended slide and mag release.” He looked fond as hell when Caden handed it back and slid it home back under his arm. “It does the job, but, I’m also vain enough that I wanted it pretty, too.”

Caden giggled, and the abrupt sound out of his own mouth visibly shocked him, enough that Roman grinned brightly over the sound and expression both.

Caden immediately coughed to curb it back, cleared his throat, but couldn’t keep his building enjoyment from his eyes. “It’s gorgeous. I prefer smaller models.” He pointedly held up his far smaller, but lovely, slender fingers and hand. “I can’t do a Desert Eagle or anything like that easily, two-handed grip be damned. I like a Hellcat Pro, or if I want to be discreet, I’ll go with a modified P365.”

Caden perked up on that thought, glanced back around, and removed his own pistol, indeed a sleeker mid-sized Hellcat model, popped the clip free, and reholstered it before he slipped a bullet free from the magazine.

He passed it over to Roman’s curious self and smiled a little coyly. “Notice anything about it?”

Roman made him crack up when he sighed, put on imaginary glasses with a squint, and made a show of putting the bullet up to the light. Caden also didn’t miss the tiny smile playing around his lips, and he had the revelation that this was kind of fun, right?

“Hollow point, looks like a Federal Punch?” Roman glanced up at Caden’s bright blue eyes and couldn’t keep his smile down when he saw the man squirm happily on the stool. “Hundred and twenty-four grain?”

Caden nodded but leaned in while he looked the little beauty over. “Yes, but what do you see?”

Roman looked at him but inspected it with more discerning eyes, and had to laugh when he realized there, in the hollow divot of the bullet itself, was a tiny stamped cross. “Vamp killers?”

“Vamp killers.” Caden confirmed and was so enthused that it made Roman chuckle. He accepted the round back and beamed. “Church Special, each blessed by our good Father himself, and the cross, I mean, it’s just for show, but it helps us when we’re selecting ammo to figure out what’s been pre-blessed or not.”

“New Mission Church, huh?” Roman gave him a bemused smile and saw Caden’s eyes drop shyly before the man popped his bullet home in the mag and pocketed it. What a wild turn of events indeed. “You don’t strike me as the soldier type.”

Caden glanced up at him, and his hesitation was visible before he laughed softly and shook his head in a sway of wavy, tousled blonde hair. “I mean, kinda?” He slid back and plucked his beer back up. “I’ve been in the community since I was a kid, so I guess it’s more like a calling than a career choice, maybe?”

Roman’s eyes were almost sharp on him, as if he was trying to read between the lines there. That was a little concerning, considering there were a lot of lines to read between.

Caden waved it off, though, and motioned to the man’s nearly empty glass. “Can I buy you another?”

Roman straightened, and after a moment, nodded. “I’d love that.”

So would Caden.

He wasn’t sure why, but those intense green eyes were just eating him alive, the pull in them almost magnamic. Everything about Roman was, and the fact that he was shockingly kinda in the same line of work Caden was in, was close to a miracle in and of itself.

Caden tried to quell his suddenly queasy nerves, hoped he wasn’t misreading this sudden vibe of chemistry, and tried not to think about any potential consequences while he flagged Mal back down.

Outside, the rain picked up its vengeance, the wind slapped the sides of the building, and the lights flickered through the dim bar. It was like a whisper of warning from the world, reminding Caden that his life was always one big dreary downpour. That this was not supposed to happen for him, and under no circumstances was anything ever sunshine and rainbows in his life.

Funny thing, he looked over and smiled at Roman Rossi, and suddenly couldn’t really give a damn about what the world was trying to tell him.