Bloodshed (The BlackGuard Society Book 2)

by SF Benson

  If Clint didn’t know, I wasn’t about to enlighten him. Folding my arms, I asked, “What would you like us to do?”

  Instead of talking to me, he addressed Ace. “Tabitha’s going to Decadence. She’s hoping to lure St. John there. Maybe you should head over—”

  “That’s where we’re going,” I lied again, hoping Clint would give up and take his ass home. It was the safest spot for him. If he didn’t try to contact Tabitha, she couldn’t encourage him to go to Alexander’s house. Problem solved.

  “Correction,” Clint said through his teeth. “We’re going. I might be able to talk some sense into Tabitha.”

  I doubted it.

  Decadence was the hot spot in the Vieux Carré. When we arrived, a line wrapped around the place. Actually, Clint’s presence was useful. He walked right up to a slick-looking dark-skinned man wearing all red. Poor choice for a man his color. He resembled a neon sign on a black building.

  “My man, Clint.” They greeted one another with one of those ridiculous so-called manly one-arm hugs. “Long time, no see.” He eyed me and then Ace. “They with you?”

  “Yeah, Dre, meet Ace and Morgan. We’re looking for someone.” Clint removed his phone and flashed a picture of Tabitha. “Have you seen her?”

  “As a matter of fact, I have. She’s dressed in all black. One of those tight-ass dresses with a leather jacket and sky-high heels. If she’s your girl, you might be in trouble.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked.

  The bouncer pressed his lips together for a second. “She came with some joker. He acted like he ruled the world.”

  Ace and I exchanged a look and then I asked, “What did he look like?”

  “Tall, well-dressed, green eyes.”

  Bishop.

  Why was he at the club?

  Clint thanked the bouncer, and then Dre removed the red velvet rope.

  We entered the dimly lit packed club. People gyrated to the sounds of Pitbull’s I Know You Want Me. The place was too hot and crowded for my tastes.

  “We should split up!” I yelled over the music. “Maybe we’ll cover more ground.”

  Clint nodded and headed for the dance floor. Perhaps he knew more than we did.

  Ace went left. I went right, bouncing off bodies as I moved. Decadence was a popular club with supernaturals. Auras from all sorts of shifters, witches, vamps, and even fae collided with mine and gave me an excruciating headache.

  I was also hit on by everything with a pulse. A dragon shifter blocked my path. I started to say something, but then I glimpsed Tabitha and Bishop on the dance floor. Clint was literally two steps behind them. Disaster would happen if I didn’t intervene.

  Grabbing the shifter’s hand, I tugged the guy onto the floor. I kept my eye on Clint as we moved. When we were inches away, I chanted,

  “Clint, olvida por qué estás aquí y vete a casa.”

  Thankfully the music was too loud for anyone else to hear. The male in front of me kept swiveling his hips to the beat. I looked over, and Clint was gone.

  Bullet dodged.

  The beat changed, and I quickly left the dragon on the dance floor. Ace met me at the edge of the crowd.

  “Is it handled?”

  “Yes. I told Clint to forget why he was here and to go home.”

  “What about the fact Bishop is here with Tabitha?”

  Honestly, it could be problematic, but we couldn’t apprehend him for simply being in a club.

  “I say we keep on alert. We can’t make a move until something happens.”

  Ace nodded, and we pushed our way toward the exit.

  Sadly, we didn’t get far. I sensed the rogue’s presence and froze.

  It was too loud to grab Ace’s attention verbally. I tried speaking to his mind, “Baby, St. John is here.”

  “Dawlin’?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  There were too many supernaturals in the vicinity. Other voices started drifting into my head. It was like being on an old-fashioned party line.

  I glanced around, and my gaze landed on a fast-moving male in black leather. I tapped Ace’s arm furiously. He glanced down at me, and I pointed to the blur.

  We had to stop Tabitha. I grabbed Ace’s hand and yanked him toward the door. As soon as we reached the curb, I opened a portal. Within seconds, we were in the Irish Channel at St. John’s house. The lights were on throughout the structure, but I didn’t see anyone inside.

  “What’s the plan?” Ace asked.

  “We wait.” There wasn’t a thing we could do until something—if something—happened.

  We didn’t have to wait long.

  29

  Sacrificial Lamb

  Tabitha

  * * *

  One minute Bishop and I were surrounded by sweaty gyrating bodies, and in the next, the vamp was all I could see. He wasn’t in his customary tailored suit and tie. Black leather, though, looked good on him. When I looked back at my dance partner, the sorcerer had vanished.

  A heartbeat later and St. John was at my side. Damn, I’d forgotten how quickly he moved. “Tabitha, it appears your partner left you behind.”

  I licked my lips as my pulse quickened. Immediately, I remembered what Bishop told me about erecting a wall. As St. John moved in, I imagined a brick wall around my mind.

  The vamp cupped my head and crushed my mouth with his succulent lips. I shuddered in his arms right before a fierce breeze engulfed us, and my feet left the ground.

  When the kiss ended, we were no longer in the Vieux Carré. St. John had transported us to the front room of his home in the Irish Channel. The space was beautiful in an old Southern way with understated furniture. Honestly, the antique chairs, tables, and matching sofas reminded me of my grandmother’s house—stuffy, pretentious, and not meant to sit on. The wood floor beneath the Oriental throw rug was in need of resurfacing. Even the crystal chandelier could have used a good dusting. Oil paintings of nondescript landscapes graced the beige walls. A fire, probably more for atmosphere than warmth, raged in the small fireplace.

  Alexander ran a calloused finger up my throat to my chin. He lifted it and planted another kiss on my already swollen lips.

  “Welcome to our home,” he declared.

  “Our home?” My heart skipped a beat.

  “When I first saw you, I realized you were special and had to be mine. We belong together.” He spoke in an affectionate whisper, waking up something buried deep within me.

  Against my will, my traitorous heart opened to him, and a forbidden longing grew. Every inch of me burned with an urgent need to possess the vampire.

  No, no, no, I told myself.

  But I pressed my body to his. Giving into to him—to lust—wasn’t the plan. He didn’t deserve to have me.

  Stay focused.

  He leaned in and nuzzled my neck. His fangs nipped at my neck, and then they pierced my flesh, erasing all reasoning. Nobody told me a bite could be sensuous. It was as if St. John snagged the tendril keeping me in this world. He tugged on that tenuous strand, and my soul moved closer to his. A strong, earth-shattering desire replaced any thought of killing the male.

  Retracting his fangs, the vampire gazed into my eyes. He caressed my cheek, and I leaned into his palm. “I hate to be the one to enlighten you, but this moment is exactly what was meant to be. I know all that’s in your heart.”

  Chilly crystals, like ice slowing down a river’s flow, encased my veins. My guard was down. The carefully constructed wall around my thoughts cracked. Fuck! I’m in trouble.

  A ghost of a smile played on Alexander’s lips. Without him saying a word, I realized he knew everything.

  “Choosing you was not by accident. I’ve been alone for far too long. When I saw you dance, I saw your soul. We were supposed to spend eternity together, Tabitha.”

  Supposed to?

  What does that mean?

  Damn, instead of me trapping him, I got snared. A setup engineered by a crafty sorcerer and a resourcefu
l vampire.

  Foolishly, I thought I’d rid the world of Alexander St. John, but the bloodsucker had planned my demise. Part of me wanted to run, but I couldn’t. The ghastly Casanova had paralyzed me. Something Clint warned me could happen.

  My resolve melted faster than a snow cone on a hot summer’s day. All I could focus on was Alexander’s enticing blue eyes. The intense color became a vortex, mesmerizing me and transforming me into the vampire’s puppet. Unwillingly, my feet inched forward, closing the distance between us.

  “Undress for me, Tabitha,” he said without moving his lips.

  I tried to protest, but it did no good. Like an idiot, I shrugged out of my jacket. My numb fingers obeyed and undid the blouse buttons. When the garment fell to the floor, I reached for my waistband. It was an eerie striptease. Each time an article of clothing hit the floor, Alexander silently instructed me to keep going. Seconds later, I stood completely nude before him.

  He sighed with satisfaction and then frowned. “You’ve betrayed me, Tabitha.”

  How can he know about Bishop?

  “The same way I know everything. You let someone else touch what belonged to me.”

  He must have taken leave of his senses. I belonged to no one. My resolve returned, but it didn’t have the ferocity it normally had. It didn’t take much for St. John to bend my will. I dropped to my knees and lowered my head.

  What the hell am I doing?

  My lips parted on their own, and the words shot from my mouth. “Forgive me. I was weak.”

  Alexander touched my hair. “How many times did the half-breed touch you?”

  “It was only once. It won’t happen again.”

  He was so self-assured. It sickened me, but I couldn’t voice my disgust.

  “Thank you.”

  The vampire was the flame. I was his moth.

  “One last time.” He swept me into his arms. Alexander spoke near my ear, but I couldn’t hear him. Another voice intruded.

  Resist him, said Clint. Help is coming. Just hang on. I’ll be there soon.

  “Tabitha, my darling, who’s speaking to you?”

  I forced my eyes shut. It allowed me to think. Lie like your life depends on it. “No one important. You’re the only one who matters.”

  Alexander lowered me to the sofa and lay on top of me. He traced the seam of my mouth, and I opened it eagerly. His tongue slipped in, and he tasted me as if it was the first time.

  Moaning, every fiber in my body begged for him. The vampire hovered over me and spread my legs with his knees. His cock teased me, rubbing my clit without entering. The touch alone almost pushed me over the edge.

  Don’t do it, said Clint. Remember why you’re there.

  I was there to end Alexander. All I had to do was explode my arm up…

  “Ah…” My eyes shot open.

  Piercing pain hit me. Bone-chilling cold spread through my body. The edges of my vision darkened. Then I saw it.

  Blood dripping down Alexander’s arm.

  In his hand, a heart slowly beat. It wasn’t just any heart. It belonged to me.

  As I slipped into a permanent abyss, the last thing I heard was, “Remember, cher, I hear everything.”

  * * *

  Alexander

  * * *

  I looked down on the corpse. Did I regret my action? Of course, I did. If I could have put Tabitha’s heart back and breathed life into her, I would have.

  But one of us had to die.

  I hadn’t survived for nearly four centuries to be taken down by a mere girl. In a hundred years or so, Tabitha could have been formidable. She had the right instincts. It was why I chose her. Ending her was the worst act I’d committed as a vampire.

  My thoughts paused. Swallowing became difficult. Ah…shit!

  I should have heard her coming long before the blade hit home. How did I miss the creaking porch or the door opening?

  Witches.

  They were always the bane of a vampire’s existence. Leave it to one modern day witch to deliver the death stroke.

  Ugh….

  30

  Death Strokes

  Morgan

  * * *

  The blade tore through the vampire’s flesh, and his head tumbled across the floor as blood spurted from the stump. The ancient Katzbalger would need a good cleaning later. Its shiny surface had been made dull with crimson. Regardless, the vampire was no more. Alexander St. John wouldn’t terrorize another.

  I glanced down at Tabitha’s nude body on the sofa. Her chest had a hole where her heart should have been. I sighed. Before anyone else saw her, exposed like a common whore, I materialized her clothes on the vampiress.

  A staccato clapping rang out. The sound came from everywhere and nowhere simultaneously. I spun around with the sword raised. “Who’s there?”

  Out of the shadows stepped the one person I’d hoped never to see again. At least, not in this world.

  I would have thought a trip to Hell would have been harder on Bishop. The slim-fitting, Italian-cut suit screamed well-to-do. It was black like his heart and soul. His elegant fingers adjusted the skinny black tie. The male looked like he’d returned from a vacation instead of a journey to the Nether Region.

  “Well done,” he said, stopping in front of me.

  I gripped the hilt tightly.

  “Honestly, do you think that will harm me? If anything, I can direct you to stab yourself with it.”

  Proving his point, the sword vibrated, and the tip tilted toward my face. Rather than taking the risk, I dematerialized my weapon.

  “Better,” he said.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He lifted his wrist and glanced down at the ridiculously expensive gold timepiece. “We only have a few minutes before Kragen arrives.”

  “Kragen? Why?” I lifted my hand to my hair and then remembered the blood. Alexander’s blood. No amount of shampoo would get that funk out. I lowered my arm.

  “To see your handiwork of course.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Bishop?”

  “Take a look.” He waved his hand toward Alexander’s corpse.

  My eyes followed the path. And then I realized how cruel reality could be. My jaw dropped, and I staggered backward. Good thing I’d put away the sword. Otherwise, I would have plunged the blade into my own heart. The vampire’s severed head wasn’t what lay at my feet.

  Bile shot up my throat. I dropped to my knees and puked beside Clint’s body. When I thought I’d vomited up everything—Was it possible to throw up one’s soul?—I sat back on my heels.

  “How did this happen? I just spoke to Clint.”

  Seriously, we were coordinating the rescue. He said he was able to reach out to Tabitha. They had an intimate connection, and he was using it. I told him I was closer to St. John’s location. That was why I arrived first.

  Bishop crouched down and swept his palm over the barf, dispelling it. “Sleight of hand. You killed Alexander, but to everyone it will look like you goofed. Again. Killed an innocent male. Just like you did with my brother. Tsk-tsk. You really should do something about that temper of yours.”

  “Where’s Clint?” I demanded.

  “Alive but extremely uncomfortable in Hell. He’s my guest, so the demons will go easier on him.”

  Side-glancing at the spiteful sorcerer, I asked, “What do you want from me?”

  “Just wait. I hate repeating myself.” He rose from the floor. “I believe the vampire of the hour has arrived.”

  The front porch steps creaked, and then Kragen’s angular frame took up the doorway. The full moon shining behind him was the perfect backdrop for a horror flick featuring me.

  His eyes landed on Bishop and then me. “What the fuck is going on here?”

  “Do come in, Bonaparte,” said the sorcerer. “I was just about to explain everything to Morgan.”

  Kragen crossed the threshold and then froze in his tracks. I’d always thought the vampire was devoid of emotion
. After all, I’d never seen him smile. I’d never heard him crack a joke. Hell, I’d never heard him tell his son he loved him. But in that moment, all my beliefs were rewritten.

  The lanky vampire fell to his knees. As bloody tears filled his eyes, his gaze bounced between Bishop and me. “W-who did this?”

  No one spoke for a long moment. Just when I was about to tell Kragen the truth, Bishop announced, “Technically, it was your little protégé.”

  The words were barely out of his mouth before Kragen pounced on me. The floor flew out from under me, a strong breeze blew my hair, and my back hit the wall on the opposite side of the room. The dry wall cracked behind me.

  With one hand around my neck, the vampire held me in place. A flash of silver, and then the sharp edge of an ancient stiletto dagger pricked my breast.

  Kragen pressed against it, and my breath sawed in and out. I wanted to scream, but I didn’t have the strength to do it. I closed my eyes and prayed I wouldn’t black out. Starbursts played behind my lids. A devastating chill coursed through me. My body was shutting down. Stay calm. The stiletto couldn’t kill me. Just make me wish I was dead.

  He leaned close, and his hot breath stifled me. “I shall bury ya so deep it will take a century to find ya.”

  I prepared my mind for what my future would be. The sharp ache would be endless. The darkness would be overwhelming. Out of the shadows would come undistinguished sounds threatening my sanity. The worst part would be the crushing hunger. If the noise of small animals and bugs didn’t drive me crazy, being without food—or blood—would push me over the edge.

  Kragen tried to plunge the blade farther, but he couldn’t move. My eyes popped open. No matter how he struggled, his arm remained frozen. Bishop stood behind him, and I realized the sorcerer was responsible.

  “Not so fast, Bonaparte. This is my show. Remember?”

  Clearing my throat, I asked in a raspy voice, “Do you think we can do this sitting down? Talk like civilized people?”