Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 10

lame excuse for his overreaction. The reality was, he didn't want Tim to touch Luke. Never having been a jealous type, his reaction confused him. How had Luke managed to ignite such a possessive streak? He didn't even know the guy.
    The officers had gotten out of their cars and Charlie didn't relish getting stuck talking to them. "Let's get you inside and cleaned up."
    "Okay," Luke said.
    Charlie gestured toward the door, his hand resting on Luke's hairy forearm. His hand looked small, pale against the man's beefy flesh. The warmth of his skin burned into him, electric and wild. Powerless to stop his body from reacting, Charlie knew he was in over his head with that one touch. Nothing short of the Feds could make him abandon Luke now. And not even that would do the trick.
    What the hell is the matter with me?
    "We'll have to talk to the police," Luke said once they were inside. The bar patrons were staring, all whispering excitedly about the events. Tonight would no doubt entertain them for weeks to come. "I don't want any trouble with them."
    "Yeah, we'll need your statement, too," Tim told Charlie.
    He pushed his overwhelming attraction to Luke aside for a moment. Charlie needed the authorities in his life even less than he needed territorial, flea-infested werewolves harassing him on the streets. No way in hell was he talking to the cops.
    Capturing Tim's gaze, he looked deep, allowing the power of his kind to shine from his eyes. He used his mind to push into his thoughts. It didn't take much to breech Tim's barriers.
    Instantly, an intoxicating power— one Charlie could so easily become addicted to— filled his senses. He fought the urge to seize full control of the weaker human. Such lust for power could be the first step into going vampire. Once a nightwalker became addicted to compelling humans, an uncontrollable need for all of their essence could consume them. Then before one knew what happened, they couldn't live without the killing. Charlie may have been kicked out of some decent colonies, but he would be dammed if he joined one of the killing ones. Those people were freaks.
    Pushing his influence into Tim as he spoke, Charlie said, "You will talk to the police. Let them know there was a scuffle but you don't know where the victim went. It was not me. The guy you helped took off and you never got his name. No one was hurt."
    Tim hesitated for a moment then clarity returned to his face. He let out a weary sigh. "Too bad the kid took off and we never got his name. Now we can only claim a disturbance not a hate crime. Sure won't help stop the bashings from going on in this neighborhood. That was the second one this month. At least no one got hurt this time."
    Luke gaped at him like he'd lost his mind. "What rubbish are you goin' on about, mate? He's right here and I got a bloody stab wound!"
    High on the mind-control influence, Charlie looked up into Luke's pretty green eyes, though his nightwalker vision made everything grey, and pushed on him, too. "No, that wasn't me. That was someone else."
    Luke stared back, his expression cloudy. Then, as if shaking cobwebs from his mind, he nodded once. "Alright, mate."
    Charlie smiled. "Now where can I take you to clean up, big guy?"
    "I have a flat upstairs. You all right to talk to the coppers, Tim?" he called out to the bartender.
    "Aye, I got it."
    "Lemme know if they need me to give a statement, eh?" Luke gestured between Charlie and his bleeding side. "I need to get this sorted."
    Luke led the way down a dark hall and up a narrow flight of stairs. Not being the best neighborhood, the building had seen its better days but the loft apartment looked clean and tidy with an open design. A comfy couch and a rumpled bed faced an entertainment center with a modest TV. Bookshelves covered one entire wall, with a ladder on a ceiling track for reaching the volumes on the higher shelves. The place felt warm and welcoming with the scent of Luke permeating the air.
    In the kitchen, the blue glow of a fish tank illuminated the room enough for Charlie to maneuver Luke into one of the chairs around the Formica table. He had gone pale, and Charlie worried he had already lost too much blood.
    Luke allowed him to take charge but the clarity in his green eyes made Charlie wonder if his influence had worn off already. He didn't relish the idea of pushing on Luke's thoughts again. His desire and attraction were already off the charts. He didn't need to crave ultimate control,