Unedited Excerpt from The Trouble With Mirrors, Vamp for Me book 5
The gold shorts were maybe too much. Paolo glanced over his shoulder and tried to look down at his ass. It really sucked not to be able to see himself in the mirror. Granted, the shorts would show up. It was just him, and those like him, that had no reflections.
“Definitely the worst thing about being a vamp,” Paolo muttered, giving up on seeing his butt. It was out there; he saw that much, but the overall affect of those shorts on his ass was beyond his ability to observe. He’d just have to hope his butt looked delicious. Or at least distracting—in a good way.
Paolo had very little body hair, just a smattering on his chest right between his nipples. It didn’t even form a trail down to his pubes, just vanished until right below his belly button. His armpits and legs were sparsely covered, too, and his butt had only the lightest dusting of fuzz over it. Most of the time, he liked that he wasn’t a bear; he was, thanks to the fact that he’d been turned on his twentieth birthday, a timeless twink.
Paolo snickered and slapped his butt cheeks. They were firm and round, and if he didn’t have the best ass in existence, he certainly didn’t have the worst, either—and at least his rump was real, honed and shaped by a lifetime of running and climbing mountains and hills in his native country. He’d been in peak shape when he’d been approached by what he’d thought was an ancient god long ago.
Thinking about his past was a waste of time. Paolo ran a hand over his cock, then his balls, both barely covered by the shorts. He could almost make out the slit on top of his dick through the thin material. He grinned and figured he’d do well enough tonight at the club. He didn’t even feel nervous about going, which was good. It’d taken him a few years to get past being attacked by hunters in a dingy club—the same one he was returning to tonight.
Paolo tugged on a gold mesh shirt. He settled it just so that his nipples were sticking out through two of the holes in it.
“Very nice, Paolo.”
“Claude.” Paolo hadn’t heard his coven leader enter the room—no surprise, considering Claude was freaky-sneaky and all-powerful, or just about all-powerful. “This good?” Paolo gestured to his clothes.
Claude looked him over slowly, then frowned. “Abernathy, Radney, your opinions, please?”
“Too much?” Paolo started worrying immediately. He wanted to please his coven leader, but he also wanted to look sexy and maybe, just possibly, get laid. It’d been a while, way too long for a guy like him to go without. “I still have to put my boots on.” He crossed over to his dressing table and sat down. His white and gold ankle boots bordered on gaudy, but he loved the hell out of them. Paolo slipped them on and sighed. They were made of the softest Italian leather, and he would have worn them non-stop had they been practical. Part of the fun of wearing them was how impractical they were, however; the heels were spiked and a solid four inches high. It’d taken him a month to learn to walk in them without face-planting.
Paolo stood and struck a pose, hip jutted, one leg out, other knee bent, head back, nose up, arms out and hands up—almost jazz hands, but not that tacky. “How do I look?”
“Slay,” Radney said.
No one else spoke.
Paolo lowered his head to find Abernathy and Claude looking at Radney like he was nuts.
Radney blushed and shrugged. “What? I thought that’s what the cool kids said now."