Copyright 2016
Bailey Bradford
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."
