A Bump in the Night

by

K.M. Mahoney

To Nick Travers, the night before Halloween is the creepiest of the year. An accident victim bleeding at

his feet may not be creepy, but it definitely puts a crimp in his evening. Nick drags the man home for a

little first aid – and that’s when the night really takes an unexpected turn.

A Bump in the Night

Copyright 2010, K.M. Mahoney

Cover Art: K.M. Mahoney

This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the

writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are no construed to be real. Any

resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely

incidental.

All Rights are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner

whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief excerpts or quotations

embodied in critical articles and reviews.

The atmosphere was getting to him. Nick cursed his overactive imagination even as he hunched

deeper into the warm embrace of his bomber jacket. Really, he was too old to be unnerved by spooky

tales, ghost stories, and things that went bump in the night.

His bracing pep talk didn’t keep the shiver from rippling up his spine. Of all the nights to walk

home from class, he had to pick tonight. The night before Halloween. Tomorrow the campus would be

crowded, people in ridiculous costumes wandering the streets and the students jovial from the liberal

application of alcohol.

But October thirtieth? That was the one that bothered him. Always had. So what did he do?

Something bold, completely unlike him, and utterly at odds with the geek label still tenaciously clinging

to his reputation.

Nick turned the corner, steps quickening as the new brick buildings of the college gave way to

older architecture. It wasn’t far now. He lived in an old, elegantly aging restored Victorian that he

absolutely loved. At least during the summer. He would love it during the rest of the year, too, if it didn’t

happen to be right next door to the biggest fraternity at the university. He kept hoping one day the

students would finally blow up the fraternity house. Then he could get a night of uninterrupted sleep.

Last time he’d walked home, Nick had nearly been smacked in the head with a football, so he was

being particularly observant as he rounded the last corner. Otherwise, he would have missed it.

Something dark and quick flitted across his peripheral vision. Nick turned his head to look as a

shadowy form darted around a parked car and into the street. The man’s movements were fluid, his run

more like a glide. Nick was admiring the smooth grace – he was told he looked like a flailing chicken

when he ran – when he saw the flash of headlights.

“Holy shit!” Nick barely had time to utter the loud, heartfelt curse before car and man collided

with a loud bump. The car kept going. The man didn’t.

Nick ran into the street, panic making his heart pound faster. He slid to his knees on the

pavement.

“Oh. Oh.” He was fluttering a bit, hands waving helplessly in the air. Blood, there was so much

blood. He was a history geek. What the heck did he know about first aid?

The still figure stirred and let out a loud, pained groan. Nick nearly sobbed in relief. Okay, so he

hadn’t just witnessed a death. That was great.

It would be even greater if someone would call an ambulance.

Nick looked up from the prone body, surveying the empty street. The fraternity house was dark

and still. And wasn’t that just his luck? There was always someone home.

Except tonight, apparently.

With another long, pain-filled sound, the man sat up.

“I don’t think you should move,” Nick admonished, putting his hand on the guy’s shoulder and

trying to shove him back down. It was like trying to push a brick out of a wall. “You might have…heck, I

don’t know, neck injuries or something.”

“I’m fine.” The man’s voice was dark and raspy and sent shivers of delight up Nick’s spine.

So not the time, Nick.

“Seriously, dude. You were hit by a car.” He emphasized the last four words, wanting to make

sure the guy understood the seriousness of the situation. Just in case he might have missed it.

Instead of the sarcastic reply Nick expected – and probably deserved – the man sighed.

“That’s the third time this month,” he said with wry resignation.

“Third –“ Nick worked his jaw, trying to think of something to say to that particular

announcement. He drew a blank.

With a somewhat helpless shrug, Nick went back to his examination. He knew he was being an

ass, but he couldn’t stop prodding the poor guy. Not that he knew what he was looking for – first aid

wasn’t exactly part of the curriculum for history doctorates.

Nick’s hands were pushed away, albeit politely. “Please try to keep your hands off my cracked

ribs,” the man said in an equally polite tone.

Nick winced. “Shit. Sorry. I’ve got –“ Nick broke off, patting his pockets in a vain search for his

cell phone. He had a sudden flash of memory, an image of the phone sitting forlornly on the corner of his

desk. Back at his office. Six blocks away. “Dang. Let me run up to the house and I’ll call an ambulance.”

“I don’t need an ambulance. Just give me a moment and I’ll be fine.”

Nick shot a dubious glance at the scrapes and streaks of blood soaking through clothing. The man

wore what had at one point been a nice pair of khakis and a polo shirt. The shirt was now ripped in more

than a few places, the pants had holes in the knees, and was that a tire mark?

Nick suppressed a shudder. “You really need medical attention.”

He wasn’t surprised when his advice was completely ignored.

“Gee, Nick, why even bother?” he muttered to himself. “He didn’t agree the first three times,

what makes number four any different?”

Deep, fathomless eyes bored into him and Nick grimaced. Okay, he really needed to break that

whole talking-to-himself habit. Again.

The man started to stand up and Nick rushed to help, shoving his shoulder under one leanly

muscled arm. The man was quite a bit taller than Nick’s own six foot. He staggered a bit on standing,

nearly taking them both back to the ground.

“I’m okay,” the man rasped, gaining his footing with a pained wince. “But if you live nearby, I

wouldn’t turn down a cup of tea.”

Tea? Damn. How did a person check for a concussion again?

They made slow but steady progress down the street and up the creaky front steps to Nick’s door.

Nick propped the man against the side of the house while he dug out his keys. It took three tries to get the

stubborn door open. He flicked on the hall light and turned back to his self-appointed charge.

The man resisted his tugs, seemingly content to stay on the porch. Nick huffed in annoyance.

“Come inside,” he ordered. “I can’t fix you up out here.”

Nick wasn’t exactly known for his commanding presence, but something in his tone was enough

to get the man moving again.

The kitchen was at the back of the sprawling home and Nick was panting with exertion by the

time they entered the cheerful room. With a huge wave of relief, Nick deposited his accident victim in one

of his straight-backed kitchen chairs.

“Tea?” The man asked hopefully.

Nick turned with a retort and got his first good look at the guy in the harsh lighting. Sweet saints

above. He barely kept his mouth from dropping open.

Dark hair and eyes, a face that could have belonged to an angel – or more likely, a really

successful devil. Something about the faint lines around the man’s eyes spoke of mischief and a hint of

wickedness.

However, the handsome features were marred by his recent lost battle. A deep cut ran across his

forehead and still seeped a sluggish trail of blood. The sight of it brought Nick out of his trance. He

hurried to the sink to wet a paper towel and slapped it against the wound.

“Ouch,” the man said conversationally.

“Sorry.” Nick bit his lip, eyes tracing up and down the man’s body. Looking for other injuries, of

course. Not checking out the way his shirt clung to his nicely formed muscles. Not.

The man’s full lips tilted into a grin. “You’re not bad, yourself.”

Nick dropped his paper towel and stepped back. “I’m not-“

He stopped there because, really, he had been.

Nick bit his lip again. The paper towel he had been using had stuck to the cut. He reached out a

couple of times but couldn’t make himself yank it off.

The man did it for Nick, wincing a bit. “Whatever you might do, you’re obviously not in the

medical field.”

“I’m a professor of Renaissance history,” Nick replied absently.

“That’s lovely. Wonderful period. So decadent and violent.”

“Um. Yeah. Oh! I’m Nick. Nick Travers.”

“Nick Travers.” The man said his name slowly, seeming to test out the feel of it on his tongue.

Then he nodded. “I’m Raeburn, Nick Travers.”

“Raeburn. That’s… a really odd name.”

“It’s actually Mario Raeburn,” Raeburn said with a grin. “But ever since that bloody video game

came out, I don’t use my first name much.”

“Oh. Um, don’t blame you there,” Nick replied with a singular lack of eloquence, not an unusual

state of affairs for him. He plucked the paper towel from Raeburn’s hand, ready to go back to cleaning

and hopefully avoid any more conversation.

“I really think you should let me take you-“ Nick broke off, hand poised, and stared in confusion

at Raeburn’s forehead.

The cut was gone. Nick knew he wasn’t the most observant person, but he wasn’t a complete

idiot. And less than a minute ago he’d been cleaning out a cut on Raeburn’s forehead. A cut that had

completely, utterly vanished.

Nick poked at Raeburn, muttering nonsense to himself as his mind tried to rationalize the

situation.

“I heal quickly,” Raeburn murmured.

“Nobody heals that quickly.”

Raeburn shrugged. “Good genetics?”

Raeburn didn’t seem surprised when the comment earned a skeptical glare.

The thoughts running through Nick’s mind were too wild to even contemplate. He was going to

chalk it up to the date. Yeah, October thirtieth always put him on edge. Made him believe in things that

his rational mind found ridiculous. It was as good an excuse as any.

“I think I’ll make you some tea,” Nick declared. Did he even have any tea? Heck if he knew.

“Are you hungry?”

“Actually, I am.”

Nick turned to rummaging through the cabinets, grateful for something constructive to do. He had

finally found a box of Earl Gray shoved behind the expired Cheerios when a warm body pressed up

against his back.

“You are absolutely delicious,” Raeburn whispered into Nick’s ear. A kiss was pressed against

Nick’s neck, followed by a little nip with sharp teeth.

Nick slammed his elbow backwards in a purely reflexive action. He swung around, connecting

solidly with some part of Raeburn’s anatomy.

Raeburn yelped, clasping both hands to his nose. “What did you do that for?” he asked with a

wounded expression.

“Sorry,” Nick apologized. “Instinct.”

“You need new instincts.” Raeburn took his hands away, gingerly feeling his nose.

“Sorry,” Nick said again.

Raeburn smiled. “It could be worse. At least nothing broke.”

There was that.

Raeburn stepped close again, licking his lips. “Let’s try this again.”

Before Nick could speak, Raeburn’s head came down. Lips full of heat and desire pressed against

his, tasting with gentle licks.

Nick’s instincts took over again, but with better results for them both. He wrapped his arms

around Raeburn’s neck and returned the kiss with rising lust. He quickly lost himself in the feel of strong

arms caressing him, the taste of another on his tongue. It had been way too long.

He was so lost in sensation that he barely noticed when Raeburn lightened the kiss. Those

talented lips began moving away. Nick uttered a small, wordless protest, relaxing when Raeburn kept

pressing little kisses across Nick’s cheek and jaw. Nick relished the light press of lips to skin and even

tilted his head to give Raeburn better access.

A brief flash of pain was his only warning. Nick arched, a yell catching in his throat. Then the

most delicious feelings sank into the pit of his stomach. Nick gasped, lost in a swirl of color and light. His

body strung tight and it only took seconds for one of the strongest climaxes he’d ever experienced to rip

through him.

Raeburn pulled back, licking his lips, satisfaction simply oozing from him.

“What the hell did you just do?” Nick gasped.

Raeburn shrugged. “I told you. I was hungry.”

That was when Nick saw the fangs.

“I really should have known,” he said.

One perfectly arched black brow rose. “You’re taking this rather calmly.”

“It’s October thirtieth,” Nick replied simply. “I always have really weird dreams on October

thirtieth.”

“I’m not a dream.”

Nick nodded. “Whatever you say.”

Nick twined his fingers with Raeburn’s and tugged. Now that he had established that this was, in

fact, a dream, Nick intended to give his imagination full rein.

“Come upstairs with me,” he said. “I need to inspect the rest of you.”

“For injuries?” Raeburn asked with an amused tilt of his lips that didn’t quite edge into a full-

blown smile.

“Of course.”

Raeburn shook his head, but the lust in his eyes was evident. “Just remember, you invited me

through the front door. And I don’t have any intention of leaving anytime soon.”

“That’s okay,” Nick reassured, leading the taller man through the darkened hallway and up the

steps. The creaking wood under his feet was a bit too realistic for his dream world, so he shoved the detail

to the far corner of his mind.

Morning. Everything would be back to normal in the morning. He just had to get through the rest

of the night before Halloween.

And for once, it was going to be a pretty good night.

**

Nick woke up the next morning wrapped around a warm, firm body. He smiled, still half-asleep.

Now that was really nice.

He blinked slowly as his mind started to work again. Then Nick leapt out of bed. His feet tangled

in the sheets and he hit the floor.

A dark head popped over the edge of the bed, hair attractively mussed. Raeburn examined Nick

with quizzical eyes. “Problems?”

“You’re still here.”

Raeburn shrugged. “I like it here.”

“Like it – You were a dream! You’re supposed to be gone now!”

“I told you last night I wasn’t a dream,” Raeburn pointed out logically.

Nick rubbed his head. “It’s too early,” he said. “I can’t deal with this.”

“That’s fine,” Raeburn said. He sat up, stretching and showcasing some truly magnificent abs.

“We’ll have plenty of time to work out the details later.”

“No, no. If you’re not a dream, you need to leave. Now. Right now. This minute.” Nick didn’t

care that he was babbling. He couldn’t get past the fact that he’d had sex. With a vampire. The best sex of

his life, too, dang it all.

“You invited me in,” Raeburn reiterated. “In more ways than one.” A little leer accompanied that

last bit and Nick buried his face in his hands, groaning.

Somehow, he’d always pictured vampires as smooth, suave. You know, romance book types.

Raeburn was…well, a little awkward, if truth be told.

Raeburn settled himself more comfortably against the pillows and crooked his finger, motioning

for Nick to join him on the bed.

“I like it here,” Raeburn said again. “I like you. I don’t see why I can’t stick around for a while

and see what happens. It’s been quite a while since I met someone still willing to play the Good

Samaritan.”

Nick ignored the compliment, even though it gave him a little tingle of warmth inside. He leapt

straight to the important point. “I can’t live with a vampire!”

Honest to God, said vampire pouted. Common sense flew out the window. There was just

something so endearing about Raeburn. And Nick couldn’t quite get his mind off the sex…

“Fine,” Nick sighed, wondering why the heck he was giving in but unable to stop himself. “But

no biting.”

Raeburn waggled his eyebrows. “But you taste really, really good.”

“No.”

Nick untangled himself from the sheets and joined Raeburn on the mattress.

He’d barely settled on top of the sheets when Raeburn leaned over and stole a kiss. Tingles

started again in his stomach and Nick wanted nothing more than to lean over and offer his –

No. He’d said no biting, and he meant it. Nick’s mind started racing, trying to distract himself

from the nearly irrepressible urge.

He latched onto the first thought that occurred to him with something approaching desperation. “I

never pictured vampires as hit-and-run victims. Don’t you have, I don’t know, super-speed or

something?”

Raeburn flushed and looked away. “I was trying to be stealthy,” he explained. Nick had never

actually heard anyone sound sheepish before. “Vampires don’t have super-speed, but we are very good at

stealth. Most of us, anyway. I tend to lose track of my surroundings. Then things have a way of hitting

me.”

Nick tried not to laugh, he really did.

Luckily, Raeburn didn’t take offense when Nick didn’t succeed. Instead, he moved in for another

kiss.

This time Nick’s thoughts flew right out the window and there was no getting them back.

That was okay. Nick found he didn’t really want to, anyway.

**

“Take that,” Nick shouted at the TV. His target exploded and Nick pumped his fist into the air.

“Score!”

Raeburn groaned and tossed down his controller. “I should probably be disturbed with how good

you are at this.”

“Just like I should be disturbed by a vampire who’s obsessed with Undead Hunter III?” Nick

asked with a sideways, teasing glance.

“Point taken,” Raeburn said.

That deep chuckle still turned Nick’s insides to mush, even after nearly three months of hearing

it. He just had to lean over and take a quick kiss.

“Dork,” he said.

“Geek,” came the familiar reply.

They shared another kiss, the feelings still as rich and stirring as the first time.

“I’m done slaughtering monsters for today,” Nick whispered. “Think we can find something else

to do?”

“Well, I am a bit hungry.” Raeburn’s look was pure lust and wickedness.

A tingle darted down Nick’s spine and lodged in his lower body. Despite his initial refusal, there

was nothing more erotic than Raeburn’s bite. Except maybe what usually came after that bite.

With an eagerness that didn’t show any signs of fading, Nick took Raeburn’s hand and let

himself be led upstairs.

He’d never hate the night before Halloween again. Sometimes things that went bump in the night

turned out to be something good, after all.

Author Bio

KM lives in the Midwest surrounded by cornfields. To compensate for the lack of scenery at

home, she spends her time visiting exotic locations with gorgeous men.

All right, so the men are mostly fictional. So are the locations. Everyone needs a hobby.

In reality, KM lives a fairly unexciting life with her cat. She writes mainly m/m romance, often

with a paranormal or fantasy element. KM loves to follow her characters wherever they decide to go and

insists on having very little control over their actions. Honestly.

KM loves to hear from readers, so be sure to visit her at

www.authorkmmahoney.com

, or check

out her page at Samhain Publishing,

http://samhainpublishing.com/authors/km-mahoney

.