Chapter 1

Sunlight—Erin Meyers loved it. He rolled onto his stomach and tugged his ball-snugglers up so his tan line wouldn’t show when he went to the beach wearing his bathing suit that made a Speedo look like a Puritan’s modest dress. He had a nice ass, and when he was out prowling for men on the beach, he liked to go as close to naked as possible.

Erin sighed and drifted a little, letting himself completely and utterly relax. It’d been a bad week at the office. As a psychiatrist, he saw all sorts of people, but for the most part he managed their medications after meeting with the person one time. After that, he had them start therapy with a psychologist or licensed therapist. Sure, he saw those patients monthly for check-ins, but… Well, he made a shit-ton of money, but lately that just didn’t seem to matter.

Kind of like getting laid wasn’t the priority it’d once been.

God, he was closing in on middle age, depending on the average male life span in America. He wasn’t going to look it up—he didn’t need that kind of depressing info. He was going to be forty soon, though, and like the typical, clichéd guy in the throes of a mid-life crisis, Erin was finding himself dissatisfied with everything.

And having to work so much harder not to have parts droop or go to fat.

And he had gray hair at his temples, which he dyed religiously.

And he was getting ear hair. What the hell is up with that? Like anyone needs the additional intrusion against being able to hear? Is that why so many elderly people are almost deaf? Overwhelming ear hair?

Then there were the latest results of his physical and bloodwork. High cholesterol, plus some other questionable results that needed further research.

“No.” Erin was going to relax, enjoy the sun, and not let anything ruin his day. He took half a Xanax, needing to bank the anxiety threatening to build rapidly. He picked up the Beats headphones he’d set by his lounge chair, connected them to his iPod, and put on his favorite playlist as loud as he could get it. Then he carefully blanked his mind, and after a while, dozed off under the hot Nevada sun.

* * * *

It’s a damn good thing I’m burn-proof. Erin sat up, awakened, he guessed, by his playlist ending, or his Beats dying…or the iPod dying. When had he last charged either of those, anyway? Erin shrugged and stretched. He was drenched in sweat, warm through and through, and he felt great. That nap had been just what he needed before a night out.

His twin brother Andrew had long ago settled down with one man… Okay, one vampire. Erin had stopped being freaked out about the existence of vampires way back in his early twenties. Even then, when Andrew had stumbled upon their existence, Erin had been less surprised than he should have been, probably. Well, he’d always been the cynic out of the two of them, so it just hadn’t blown his mind to discover human beings weren’t the be-all and end-all of intelligent life forms.

He’d also been the shallower of the two. Andrew was the introvert, the loyal lover and mate. Erin was the bitchy playboy, although he kept the bitchy to an as-needed basis more often now.

Erin shook off his wandering thoughts. Andrew had always been a homebody and Erin had not, that was the gist of the whole thing, anyway. Erin was also aging, and Andrew was not—a benefit of being a vampire’s mate.

Erin didn’t really want to think about that. He gathered up his iPod and Beats, stood then strolled into his house. He missed the one he and Andrew had grown up in, but after the last vampire and Dark Slayers battle over a decade ago, with the blood and gore and just entirely horrible experiences back then, Erin and Andrew had decided to sell the old home.

The cute little place on the edge of the desert suited him. He wasn’t too far from Vegas and he wasn’t too far from his brother, either. No one would have ever suspected that a bunch of vampires and their human mates lived in a damned mansion in the desert.

It was probably best that no one suspected such a thing. Claude, the coven leader, would dispense with anyone who was a threat to those under his protection. Erin understood that, but he was against killing and really wished it wasn’t something that was so much more a part of his world now that he knew about vampires.

Although… He’d seen zombies before. Those were okay to kill. He shuddered. Enough thinking about the supernatural shit. Time to have fun in the real world.

Erin showered, cleaning himself intimately. He didn’t get fucked often but he was in the mood tonight. It was so much easier to plow into another man’s ass than to give up his own, to be that vulnerable. However, with his thoughts being so chaotic and fear chewing at his brain, forcing himself to bottom would definitely keep him preoccupied from his own worries.

He ran a hand down his waxed chest. He’d have preferred to leave the hair there, but it had started sprouting the occasional gray, so out it went. He checked his pubes, trimmed them shorter with the small clippers he kept in the shower stall, then rinsed himself down again before turning the spigot off.

His bathroom was small but well designed, making the best use of the space. The cabinet had been built into the corner beside the door, so the door opened toward it. A tidy hamper was at the bottom of it. Erin loved the organized shelves there, and the peaceful, pale green paint he’d chosen. The bathroom walls were a softer shade of green, almost white but with a slight green tint.

Erin shook his head. He was still feeling somewhat mellow from the medication he’d taken earlier. He was careful with all drugs he took, and he hadn’t prescribed any for himself, ever—his doctor had done that. Lately, though, Erin found himself needing it just a little more often.

But no more tonight, he reminded himself. He wanted to go out and have a drink, and he was smart enough not to mix the drugs and alcohol. In fact, it’d be best if he skipped the booze, period, even though the anxiety medication he’d taken should be out of his system in another hour or so.

Erin took more time dressing and primping than usual. It was taking him more time, every time, because he wasn’t the cute little thing he used to be. He still could get laid. It seemed that the older he got, the younger the guys were that were interested in him.

God, he was becoming a new generation’s Daddy Kink. Erin shuddered. He didn’t like guys that looked substantially younger than him, and now that he thought about it, that was part of why he’d quit hitting the clubs.

Well, tonight was going to be different. He was going to go out, and get laid, and he would damn well find a guy at least over the age of thirty to make him stop thinking about his own mortality.