Blood Song: Prelude (Blood Song Series Book 1)

by Charli B. Rose

  After Mrs. Burkett left the room, Celesta opened the desk drawers and found my note. A small smile played across her lips as she read my words. My heart thudded at the knowledge that I had put that smile on her face. The beast argued I could put an even bigger smile on her face, as well as my own, if I’d just give in to temptation. The straining in my pants was making it harder to rationalize with my inner beast. I continued to watch and fantasize until she left the screen to head to her room.

  Once she was gone, I pressed a series of buttons on my phone and waited for the voice on the other end to answer.

  “Toven, what a surprise? I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. What can I do for you?” her tone was business-like yet dipped in syrup.

  “Ms. Thomas, sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but I have a formal event tomorrow evening. I need a gown for Celesta. I was hoping you could arrange something with your designer,” I explained quickly.

  “Oh, absolutely. Wardrobe is covered in the percentage we take of the girls’ money. Did you have something particular in mind?” She seemed eager to accommodate me.

  “The event will be indoors at the McDaniels’ estate. Please select something classically beautiful, yet sexy without looking slutty.” I had no idea what sort of outfit would fit the bill, but I trusted Circe would.

  “I’m certain Jacque can come up with something to fit your requirements.”

  “Oh, and no red. I have an aversion to that color.” I shuddered just picturing it.

  “I seem to remember you enjoying red quite well at one time, Toven.”

  “Well, that time has passed.”

  “Very well. What time will Celesta be coming to pick up the dress?” she asked.

  “Actually, I’ll have someone come pick it up. I want to surprise her. I don’t know why, but I get the feeling she hasn’t had many pleasant surprises in her life.” I smiled at the thought of doing something nice for her.

  “That’s quite kind of you, Toven. I’ll make sure the gown and necessary accessories are ready for pick up by noon tomorrow. Should I send someone to your home to help her prepare?”

  “That won’t be necessary this time, but I’ll keep it in mind for next time. Thanks for your help and your discretion,” as I talked, I stared at the computer screen, longing for Celesta’s face to light it up.

  “Of course. And discretion is a necessity in this business.”

  “Speaking of discretion, I just wanted to double-check the contract I signed initially . . ..”

  “The non-disclosure agreement?” she asked.

  “Yes, do all your clients sign them?”

  “Of course, as do all of our employees. Everyone with any connection to B.I.T.-10 is sworn to keep the identities of all employees and clients secret, as well as all transactions and activities. The penalty for violating the agreement is steep,” she said as her voice took on a hard edge.

  “So, no one should be able to find out how I came to hire Celesta as my new marketing person?”

  “Your secret is safe,” she assured me.

  “Thank you.”

  “Goodbye, Toven.”

  I ended the call without any further conversation.

  Immediately, I dialed another number.

  The call was answered on the first ring.

  “Toven, do you work every day?” he asked in surprised tone.

  “Just catching up on some things, Victor.”

  “We just met yesterday afternoon. I don’t have any new information for you yet,” he said, his tone impatient.

  “That’s not why I’m calling. I just wanted to remind you that you’re under a non-disclosure agreement with this company as well as one with Bishop, Ingelheim and Thomas.”

  “I haven’t forgotten. Why are you reminding me?” I detected the frown in his words.

  “I just don’t want you to mention to anyone that you saw me on Saturday.”

  “Oh, I understand. My lips are sealed.” He chuckled.

  “See that they stay that way.” I clicked off without a goodbye.

  I opened the latest Vampiral trial results again. Once it filled the screen, I scrolled to the summary page, skipping over the charts and figures for the moment. I became engrossed in Dr. Gregory’s summary of the latest trial.

  Protein #1 (VP1) was isolated from the blood of test subject V#12. The protein was put through a series of purification steps. The purified protein was then replicated to create an abundance to work with. Upon injecting rats with a small dose of the purified VP1, the mice underwent immediate changes. After about thirty minutes of loud squeaking and convulsing, ninety-five percent of the mice seemed to be fine health-wise. The other five percent died within the first ten minutes of the injection. The living subjects began to stalk around their cages as if in search of something. Food and water were readily available, but none of the subjects showed interest in them.

  The only other behavioral observation of note thus far with this test group is when partitions were removed, allowing them to see each other, they immediately began hissing and their fur stood on end. They appeared to take on aggressive stances. The partitions were put back in place so they wouldn’t harm themselves while trying to access each other. The mice were weighed two hours post injection, and all surviving mice had lost roughly five percent of their body weight. If they continue at this rate and continue to abstain from eating or drinking, this test group won’t survive to the end of the experiment.

  A second group was given the purified VP1 in their water. No behavioral changes or weight loss changes have been observed thus far. At this point, I feel confident saying if no changes are observed by day three, these mice won’t have been affected by ingesting VP1.

  VP1 seems to only impact the recipient when introduced into the bloodstream. Sequencing of the protein and corresponding DNA will be performed. I suspect it’ll reveal that the protein either interacts with testosterone or causes a change in the amygdala of the brain.

  Proteins #2 and #3 are also purified but are posing some difficulties in replicating. I suspect we’ll have enough replicated within a few days for trials to begin. I don’t think any of the mice from trial one will be alive to participate in phase two. Once we get the proteins replicated, I’ll send you a summary of how we intend to test the three primary proteins separately and in conjunction with each other.

  Work continues on isolating and purifying the remaining five proteins.

  I backtracked to view the weight charts and the activity scores of each rodent. Nothing remarkable stood out. I examined the videos of the rats hunting in their cages and their aggressive reactions to each other. The hissing and aggressive stances weren’t foreign behaviors to mice. However, these particular mice had been housed together prior to their injections and had never shown any signs of aggression toward each other.

  Dr. Gregory’s research was fascinating, and I was hopeful it would be invaluable. She’d already achieved more in the past year than the federal labs claiming to work on Vampiral, and its cure, had in decades.

  Once I was up to speed on the research branch of my corporation, it was time to tackle the entertainment portion. I logged into my email and pulled up the calendar Tim had sent me of Club Night’s events for the month. I made a list of dates to send to Lydia so she could arrange meetings on my turf with some of those prospective bands in the next couple of weeks. I could kill several birds with one stone—check in on my club, take Celesta out in public and meet with prospective clients.

  After emailing the plan to Lydia and Tim, I couldn’t resist logging back into my security feeds from home. Celesta was back in the office, hunched over the desk. Her thick hair was piled on top of her head, and she was scribbling furiously on the notepad. Her bare neck was tantalizing. I licked my lips involuntarily. Reaching over, she picked up the top ledger on the stack to her left and flipped it open. I knew it creaked as it opened. I’d heard the creak of the worn leather many times over the years. The ledgers I’d left for her hadn’
t been opened in a long while. I knew how the pages would smell to her, old and a bit musty. The newest of the books in the stack was still fifty years old. And the oldest was well over a hundred years old.

  Awe transformed her face as she turned the pages, finding them all filled with various shades of ink, detailing lyrics and notes. She paused at one point and ran her fingers over the aged print in my leather-bound music book. I zoomed the camera in as close as I could before the image turned grainy. Confusion colored her features. Her lips barely moved as she whispered the words on the page. I’d love to know which one of my songs captured her attention. A single tear tracked down her cheek, but she made no move to whisk it away.

  My breath hitched, and my heart stalled. My fingertip moved to my computer screen of its own volition and traced the tear’s shimmering path. How I longed to reach through the computer screen and dry her tears. Which one of my creations had moved this exquisite creature to tears? Was it one of the few I’d shed tears over as I penned it?

  I was entranced watching her. I’d lived many years, but I couldn’t recall ever being so stirred by a woman. And it wasn’t just a physical need she incited. Something deep inside, that I had no name for, was moved by her.

  I longed to gather her up in my arms as I had the night before. I yearned to comfort her until everything was right in her world. And then, I imagined capturing her lips in a soul-searing kiss, her body pressed flush to mine. I pictured sampling every external cell of her body until she was quivering in my embrace. Then I’d lay her on the desktop and savor the delicacies of her most intimate flavors. I envisioned showing her pleasure like none she’d ever dreamed of or could provide herself. And then, when she thought she’d die from euphoria, I’d meld my body with hers and ruin her for any who may dare to come after me.

  I was so lost in my own imagination I didn’t even realize I’d unfastened my slacks and was teasing my body physically to match the way her image teased me mentally. Once I came back to myself, I realized there was no way I could return home to her in this state. I’d never be able to control myself around her.

  Peering out the window, I was completely surprised to see the sun low in the sky. The day had slipped away from me. I’d intended to be back home right after lunch. After logging out of each of the open windows on my computer, I stood and painfully zipped my pants.

  I strode purposefully toward the elevator, thankful no one was in the office to witness my awkward gait. No amount of sidestepping or shifting relieved the ache or made it more comfortable to be constrained.

  I got in my car and drove out of the parking garage. I drove aimlessly, instinctively turning here and there. My mind continued to run a rolling image of my wildest fantasies. Eventually, I slowed to a stop and closed my eyes, welcoming the rapid-fire images of flushed skin, sweat-beaded breasts, pounding pulse points, slick heat, vise-like tightness and ecstasy. Finally, the painful push against my zipper became so intense I was jolted from my trance. My vision was initially blurred. I glanced around the inside of my car and realized at some point I’d shifted into park. Something sharp was enclosed in my palm. I unclenched my fingers to find a key marked with a number twenty-three on the ring.

  When the haze of lust finally cleared from my eyes, I peered through my darkly tinted windows at some very familiar surroundings. Unknowingly, I’d driven across town and instinctively grabbed the key from the console when I parked. I couldn’t begin to put a number on the amount of times I’d made the drive or parked in this spot or used this very key to let myself up into my secret, second-story apartment. I’d certainly dialed the same phone number so many times that those digits were faded from the keypad of my cell phone. But never had I come here without being fully aware and in control—I’d always driven here with purpose. But then again, my need, my ache had never been this extreme before. Perhaps the throbbing had hit critical levels and made me go out of my mind.

  I exited the car and took the stairs at record speed. Once I unlocked the door to my one-bedroom apartment—which had never been lived in or cooked in or worked in or lounged in—I shrugged out of my jacket and grabbed my phone. This place had been bought for one purpose alone. I gazed at the well-worn digits that had been a part of my routine here from the very first time I unlocked the front door.

  What was I thinking?

  Could I really do this?

  How was I going to survive the next ten weeks without doing this?

  I wouldn’t. I’d go mad with need.

  I took a deep breath and steeled my shoulders.

  I made one more phone call for the day. As I waited for an answer on the other end, I stepped out of my shoes and unbuttoned my shirt.

  Finally, as I got comfortable on the couch, a voice came on the other line. “Hello.”

  12

  Celesta

  I stood from the chair and rolled my head to release some of the tension in my neck and shoulders. A glance at the time on my cell phone told me I’d been in the same position for hours. After scouring the internet and finding only the barest traces of Toven’s existence, I realized I had my work cut out for me. Mrs. Burkett fixed us a light meal when it became apparent Toven wasn’t coming home for lunch.

  Later, I took a break to unpack my belongings and organize my new room. It felt good having a place for my things, even if it was only temporary. There were more drawers and shelves than I had things for, but if Jacque’s packing for a week was any indication of what he’d have ready for me next week, I’d soon have the space filled with clothes.

  Happier once I felt settled in my temporary home, I’d wandered back to the office. By mid-afternoon, I’d composed a lengthy list of ideas of how to help Toven. I’d also added a few questions to my notebook of curiosities. To help him, I needed to understand him better. The best way to understand a musician had to be through an examination of his music.

  With that thought, I’d grabbed the top leather-bound composition book. The smell of old books filtered into the air around me. I flipped through a few pages, just browsing, not really reading. The pages were yellowed with age. The once black ink had faded to brown.

  I’d lost myself in the old pages, reading lyrics about fun and parties, music and women, hell and sadness, loss and loneliness. By the time I finished pouring through that first journal, the sun had dipped low in the sky beyond the windows and my entire body was stiff.

  As I stretched, Mrs. Burkett bustled in.

  “Dear, you must stop for the day and go get dressed. Toven called and will be home shortly. He wants to take you to dinner at Delicieux de Manger.”

  I was dumbfounded. The waiting list for that restaurant was six months long at least.

  “I don’t know what to wear to a place like that,” my voice rose in panic.

  “Relax, dear. You go up and take a shower. I’ll sort through your closet and pick something out for you.”

  “Thanks.” I gave her a little squeeze before I darted upstairs. Her chuckle followed me.

  I raced to the bathroom and turned on the shower to let the water heat up. A glance in the mirror startled me. My cheeks were tracked with dried tearstains. When was I crying? A closer inspection showed my eyes to be bright, but not red like they normally were after a crying spell.

  My fingers worked to release my hair from the messy topknot as I pondered the mysterious tears. To my knowledge, emotion had never caught me unaware and then snuck away without my knowing.

  Shaking my head, I finished undressing and stepped under the hot spray. My mind immediately flashed back to this same setting from the previous night. Just remembering him standing before me, almost chest to breast, was getting me worked up. But I had no time to pursue the path of pleasure if I was going to be ready in time. I forced myself to lather and rinse without dawdling on any specific area of my anatomy.

  By the time I’d finished in the bathroom, Mrs. Burkett had emerged from the closet with a black dress draped over her arms. She held it up by the hanger. It was
the epitome of “the little black dress”. It might even warrant capital letters—it was that gorgeous.

  “This is the one, dear. It’ll make him wonder what the hell he was thinking when he went to work today rather than stay home with you. Pardon my language.”

  I laughed at her outburst. “Are you trying to make him want to eat me?” As soon as the words slipped out of my mouth, I blushed. All the meanings behind the simple words I meant as a joke were totally inappropriate. “Oh, my gosh. I can’t believe I said that. I totally have to change the level of my filter. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Burkett.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You aren’t far off the mark. Based on the way you came down to the kitchen this morning, I got the impression you wanted Toven to notice you and find you irresistible. Am I wrong?” Her brow quirked up at me in question.

  I hadn’t realized I was so obvious in my resolve earlier.

  “Um . . . no, you aren’t wrong . . . I guess. I mean . . . Toven makes me feel all these confusing things. I can’t even begin to sort them out. But I know that I liked when he noticed me yesterday, and I hated when he ran away from me this morning. I want to show him that just because I’m not as experienced as the women he’s used to doesn’t mean he has to distance himself from me. I want him to want me like I want him.”