Page 2 of Dark Obsession

Demetrius laughed quietly. “I think we may be hitting plateaus.”

“Maybe you are, but I’m not.”

Demetrius glanced at him, then did a double take. Cody had pulled off his shirt and was flexing. His skin glowed in the moonlight, his biceps round and firm, and the hollows of his pits dark and furry. Tight pale lines ran across his chest, scratches Cody had received protecting Oliver from the mummy that had crashed Oliver and Dave’s wedding six weeks ago. Demetrius was glad to see more of the hair reclaiming the space in the center. The chipmunk job that afternoon had been in a young couple’s detached garage, and the heady smell of Cody’s work sweat mixed with his deodorant and their detergent sent blood rushing to Demetrius’s cock. He hoped he never lost that surge of lust for Cody’s scent.

“See? Total beefcake, baby.”

“Why are you so determined to distract me?”

Cody lowered his arms and sagged back against the door, one hand dropping to the bulge in his cargo shorts. The moonlight washed out colors: the blue of Cody’s shirt tossed over the top of the steering wheel; the scuffed and stained work boots; his sun-bronzed arms and legs from a summer spent working outdoors. The night left his eyes more of a suggestion than a detail, but Demetrius had been looking into those warm, brown depths since he was five, and he knew their expression without needing to see. Heavy-lidded and filled with want—no, need.

“We’re out parking on a Tuesday night in a dimly lit spot on a quiet side street.” He pressed against his bulge. “I’m just going with my natural instincts.”

“We’re supposed to be out here watching for a monster.”

“I’ve got a monster you can watch.”

Something shifted down the street. Demetrius caught the movement from the corner of his eye and snapped his head around. Cody turned in his seat, facing forward, gripping the steering wheel through his discarded shirt.

“Did you see that?” Demetrius asked.

“Barely. What was it?”

“Not sure. Could have been a cat or something.”

“Right. But it’s the ‘or something’ that worries me.”

Cody pulled his shirt over his head. Demetrius caught the wince that flashed across his face, and a familiar tug of worry nagged at him. Were either of them in any shape to do this?

A cloud slid in front of the moon, and the night extended its reach, devouring even more of the house they’d been watching as well as the other, better maintained houses along the block. The streetlight at the other corner was doing its job, but the one by them was out.

“What do you think?” Cody stared intently out the windshield, all business, the flirting and sexy talk evaporated. For now.

“We should check it out.”

“I knew you were going to say that.” He gently popped his door open. “Let’s get the stuff.”

They stepped out of the truck and eased the doors shut with quick clicks. Demetrius backed up a few steps, shifting his attention between the street and the house. He heard Cody lift the heavy plastic lid of the toolbox in the bed of the truck followed by the rattle of wood on wood. He told himself it sounded nothing like bones knocking together.

Cody approached and handed him a wooden stake, one end sharpened to a wicked point, as well as a plastic spray bottle and a small LED flashlight. The smell of garlic surrounded them, and Demetrius’s mouth watered as he slipped the flashlight into a pocket.

“This garlic water is making me want pasta and meat sauce at Antonio’s,” Cody said.

“I was just thinking about that.”

“We should go there this week.”

“Deal.” Demetrius glanced at him. “Ready?”

“No, but let’s do this.”

They didn’t need to discuss a plan of approach. They’d known each other nearly all their lives—hell, they’d swapped bodies for a while in the spring—and they’d been through enough monster cases to instinctively know the plan. Cody followed the curb on the opposite side of the street from the house, and Demetrius walked beside him. The wind picked up again, singing in the power lines overhead and shaking the leafy canopies of scrub trees huddled in the overgrown backyard. The bare limbs of a dead tree at the far back corner of the place clicked and groaned.

“This place is giving off some damn good Halloween vibes,” Cody muttered. “Only eighty times more humid than usual.”

At a spot directly across, they stopped and took stock. The front storm door, completely barren of glass or screen, hung open. It swung in the wind without much force. Paint curled and flaked off the wooden front door behind it, whatever color it had once been long ago lost to neglect. The cracked and crumbling concrete driveway stopped halfway up the left side of the house, just past a side door, as if it finally just gave up. Everything beyond the driveway was lost in shadows.

“Busted to shit driveway or scary overgrown bushes?” Cody asked.