The Bitten

by L. A. Banks

  Tetrosky lifted his head slowly, admiration in his partially closed eyes. “How can you be depressed when you live with Oblivion? You only gave away one night.”

  “I don’t know, man,” Carlos murmured, walking away from Tetrosky as another hard shudder claimed him. “Guess I just miss my wife already.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  THE ELECTRICITY of the crowd was the rush she required to take her head where it needed to be. The percussion always did that. Rocking the mic. Bass adding bottom; guitar screaming. Cowbells jerking her muscles with its pulse. One beat, the entire Sydney Opera House throbbing to the same rhythm—hers. Giving it all she had, voice coming up from the diaphragm. Stage lights and energy making the walls sweat. The team in perfect harmony, simpatico. Glorious. Keyboards becoming her spine, running melody up it one vertebra at a time. Head thrown back, wailing, sending truth up and out into the universe. Hands clapping the rhythm of the beat. Oh, yes! Tapped into an energy source she couldn’t define.

  As soon as the music stopped and the crowd roared, the awareness hit her. They were one and the same about their sensitivity to their environments, she and Carlos. When she was on stage, it was almost like making love . . . a much-needed release that cleared problems from her mind all the way to her soul. Every sense was keened, every part of her fired on with a passion near stroke level. Every sound, every impression, became one with her to the marrow. It was also like that when she was with him.

  “Yo, Sydney! Is everybody all right?” she yelled, laughing, giddy from the natural high. “Give it up!” she hollered, waving her arm before her band to let them take the weight so she could slip backstage and change for the final number. She glimpsed the VIP box. Still empty.

  The sight of the empty box immediately blew her natural high. All the performance euphoria drained from her. What if something had happened to him? What if they’d rushed him on the ship? Anything could have gone down.

  Six black stretch limousines pulled up to the Sydney Opera House. Drivers at military attention, eyes shielded by black shades, glanced both ways before opening the door for dangerous diplomats. Five masters got out, smoothed the fronts of their expensive suits, looked both ways, and four of them extended a hand behind their rigid postures without glimpsing back, eyes hardened on the landscape. Curious onlookers were awed, but sensed it would be ill advised to approach. Feminine hands slid into stronger ones, slinky silks covering voluptuous forms moved in close to the males, syncopating their high-heeled strides to the determined ones on their right.

  Carlos walked alone.

  As the small party wound their way through the elaborate theater, Carlos just listened. The music was a part of him, her music. The aftermath of Damali’s stage libations was bringing the other masters down, blowing their high. He could see it in their eyes as they regained their former clarity and control. It was definitely chilling him out, too. A variable. He was just glad that they hadn’t seen her administer some of it.

  Ever mindful of the mission, his power became laser focus to project the dummy tape on the inside monitors. There was no room for variables. Variables didn’t exist.

  At the entrance to the box, Carlos greeted the international courier with a nod, and led his guests in. He immediately went to the bar, picked up a crystal decanter, and filled a short rocks glass. Glancing at the courier, he summoned him for a poison test, and waited for the courier to take a small sip and return the glass. He didn’t even look at the blood as he threw it against the back of his throat hard, swallowed, and blotted his mouth with the back of his hand, then refilled his glass. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the burly guard to wait outside.

  Carlos could see the other masters smile as they settled their wives into the comfortable sofa-style seating and studied him from sly perspectives. Fuck it, he definitely needed a drink. Holy water notwithstanding, and despite her new condition, Damali’s adrenaline had soaked the air. That was real.

  He gave an idle human server a nod. “See that everybody has what they need, then you all can go,” Carlos said, dispatching a vamp-helper to bring over several unopened black bottles and glasses. He sat with his guests listening but not listening to the small talk; listening but not listening to the music; beating his own ass for ever getting into a predicament like this; and waiting a little too anxiously to see Damali perform.

  Wresting his attention away from the stage that she wasn’t on, he glanced at the monitors, hoping they’d hold the correct image when she came back to it.

  “I don’t care about the results,” Alani told her husband under her breath. “I don’t like the reason you had such an intense reaction to me.” She folded her arms over her chest, looking at the wall.

  Okay . . . another variable. The wives not liking the fantastic outcome of the drug. Wounded female ego. Carlos watched the dynamic shift into play, wondering which of the wives he’d have to seduce the hardest. Right now, Alani had just taken the numero uno position.

  “Darling,” Evelyn said in a discreet murmur, “I would have given my eyeteeth if Harold could do what we all heard Amin do to you. Enjoy the results, and don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” She sat back with a wise smile, nodded at Carlos with affection, and blew him a kiss.

  Easy target, Carlos thought to himself. Number four on the list.

  He glanced at Master Xe, who returned an unusually nonthreatening smile and a serene nod in his direction, and then glimpsed his wife. She was snuggled up to him like a high school girl, her eyes dreamy and looking at the stage without seeing it. Kiersten reached over and slipped her hand into Lai’s, which made Tetrosky chuckle. Lai lifted the female hand up to her lips, studied Kiersten’s wrist with affection for a moment, and then lowered her mouth to it, slowly opening a vein until she shuddered.

  Tetrosky brought his glass to his mouth, took a leisurely sip from it, and caught Carlos’s gaze. “I’m going to hope that our esteemed councilman has more of what has begun a glorious evening?” The elder master waited, excitement brimming beneath his cool gray stare.

  The other masters turned their full attention to Carlos, Tetrosky’s question their own, a collective wish waiting to be granted.

  “Of course,” Carlos said as seductively as he could, motioning with his head toward the stage. “See the guy to the left on percussion,” he added, identifying Jose. “That’s my human courier. He’ll bring it up here after the show.”

  “You don’t have more on you now?” Amin said, sounding thoroughly disappointed.

  “I didn’t want to be tempted to open the package in here, man,” Carlos told him truthfully. “It’s being delivered in full and double hits . . . could cause undue chaos around all these humans. We gotta do this shit on the boat.”

  Amin chuckled. “I definitely concur,” he said, stroking his wife’s hair even though she pulled away. “But maybe we could coax you to offer a small sample in the limos?”

  Before Carlos could speak, Alani had snatched away from her husband’s touch, making him narrow his gaze on her. “Not now, darling,” he warned. “Don’t air our personal conflict in this VIP box.”

  “I told you, I don’t want you to take that crap,” she said, her voice a lethal hiss. “She smells like fetus—like a fucking pregnant human—”

  “I said,” Amin warned her again in a low, calm tone, “not to say one foul word about our highly regarded councilman’s wife. Are we clear?”

  Amin’s gaze was sharp enough to cut, and after a few seconds, Alani sat back in her seat, arms tightly folded, her gaze at the wall venomous. “My deepest apologies, sir,” Amin said, straightening his tie.

  “It’s cool,” Carlos said, trying not to bug. The air. They could pick up Damali’s condition in the air! Big ass variable. Not on point like he should have been.

  “Well, I personally think it’s very romantic of you, Mr. Councilman . . . Carlos,” Evelyn breathed, “if I may be so bold.”

  He glanced at her, truly at a loss.

  “O
h, you dear man,” Lai Xe murmured. “You gave her a pregnant woman before the show—just to help her perform better . . . oh . . . my.” She threaded her fingers through Kiersten’s. “If you have something for the masters, don’t you have anything like that for us?”

  The masters sitting by him smiled, a hint of fang showing. How to play this . . . hmmm?

  “Only if they approve,” Carlos murmured, his gaze raking each female. “I wouldn’t want to cause an international incident. This night is supposed to be just for fun. No business until tomorrow evening.”

  For the first time since the wives had been speaking, Alani turned her attention to Carlos. “I don’t think my husband will have a problem with that,” she said, her voice threading to him across the room like a satin noose.

  “I honestly don’t,” Amin said, sitting forward, bracing his body weight with his elbows on his knees. “A word?”

  He stood and went over to the bar. Carlos followed, watching the eyes of the masters at his back.

  Leaning in close, Amin’s voice dropped to a low, intense whisper in Dananu. But it wasn’t a hard negotiation; it was more like an urgent request near begging.

  Listen, Amin said, his gaze on his wife as he spoke to Carlos. I owe you an apology for doubting.

  No offense taken, Carlos murmured. It’s hard to comprehend, much less handle.

  Amin nodded. I don’t care what you give her, but get her out of my face tonight, and I’ll owe you.

  Carlos just stared at him. This brother was fucked up from just one little taste—like this? A master, and couldn’t get rid of a regular female vamp? Pitiful. Man, you can handle that. Tell her to get lost, I’ll give you another double hit, and go get yourself three or four babes . . . and—

  You would give me another double hit?

  Yeah, why not? You’re my boy and I like your style. Got skillz, and held that shit back till you busted a blood vessel. Much respect.

  Amin broke out of the negotiation and wiped his brow. “When?”

  “Soon as we get on board.”

  Amin nodded and looked at his wife. “I approve.”

  “If she knows how you feel, maybe she’ll stop sweating you?”

  Again, the towering master nodded.

  “Want me to send her to you after she takes a hit?” Carlos waited. There was such a thing as protocol.

  Amin smiled and shook his head. “For a double hit, she’s all yours. She might come back easier to deal with in the long run.”

  They both laughed as Carlos slung an arm up and over Amin’s huge shoulder.

  “It’s settled,” Carlos announced, as he strolled over to the sofa where the ladies had gathered, taking Alani’s hand and kissing the back of it as he returned to the group. He brought his gaze up to hold hers, sending every seductive image from his old life into hers that he could think of, allowing his voice to drop an octave. “It will be my pleasure to show a woman as fine as you something new.”

  “Councilman,” Evelyn purred. “I am oh so sure that Harold would enthusiastically approve, too.”

  “Harold?” Carlos said with a smile, still holding Alani’s hand and gazing down at Evelyn like she was dinner.

  “Objecting never crossed my mind,” McGuire replied with a chuckle. “Please keep my wife thoroughly entertained at your leisure. Especially tonight.”

  Carlos left Alani, letting go of her hand in a slow, dragging release while monitoring the quiver in it as he approached Evelyn.

  He glanced at Amin, who approved with a smile. His competitor’s nod said it all. Nice move. Very smooth. Carlos understood. This was serious game, he had to pull out all the stops. Just like in the streets, it was about more than co-opting the wives or a night of overindulgence; it was about primal power, the brazen display of it. A test. In his world it was all about conquest. The other masters had challenged him for his wife, and they’d expect no less than a returned demonstration of his skill and powers of seduction to draw the available females away from their mates—to do less would show weakness. That could not happen, not here.

  He allowed his gaze to slowly sweep Evelyn. Her eyes held bitter disappointment when he initially ignored her hand as he bent down to her and didn’t accept it, but sheer desire fired in them when he leaned closer in to place a kiss on her bare shoulder.

  She let her breath out quietly and closed her eyes. “Mr. Councilman, Alani and I would both be more than pleased to keep you company tonight.”

  Mistress Xe gazed up at Carlos; her smile was slight, tense, anticipation coiling behind it like a cobra. Her dark eyes held such dignified agony that she was barely breathing. “If what you gave my husband had such stellar results,” she said, glancing at her husband with so much lust it could have burned him, “then, I’m sure he would want me to acquire new skills as well.” Her gaze went from Master Xe, holding a question, a silent request, then to Carlos. “It’s been a long time since I’ve experienced anything new.”

  “I have deep respect for Master Xe . . . he is from the Old World, and as such, I would do nothing that would make him lose face,” Carlos stated firmly, but smiled. This one was definitely number two. He dropped his voice even lower, and murmured to her, holding her gaze. “But if he ever does decide to cede you for one night, I assure you, you’ll learn something new that you can share with him later. Call me—and let me know when you’re ready.”

  “Fair exchange is no robbery, sir,” Master Xe said, giving a slight bow from where he sat, thoroughly enjoying the spectator sport. Then he held Carlos’s gaze with a steady but urgent look in his eyes. For a double hit, and your next visit planned—soon—to the Forbidden City, by all means.

  Deep. Open Dananu negotiations—right in front of the wives, under very different circumstances than what had transpired before the hunt. This was getting interesting and they were indeed getting sloppy.

  Done, Carlos murmured toward Xe, and then he returned his attention to Lai. “I guarantee that you won’t be disappointed.” He went to her, wet his thumb, and slid it down her jugular, tasting it as he put it back into his mouth, and causing her sharp gasp to slice the room.

  Mistress Tetrosky was on her feet and had gone to Carlos, breaching all protocol. “Ask my husband . . . now . . . please,” she breathed, her body melting against Carlos’s, and her gaze darting between him and her master.

  Carlos swept up her hand fast, making her swoon, turned her wrist over hard, studying the blue vein in it as he held her close to practically keep her from falling. “Your call,” he said in a low timbre, looking at Tetrosky for a reaction. He allowed a hint of fang to show for added drama, making Kiersten begin to hyperventilate in his arms. “I’ll be without my wife all night. Gentleman’s agreement with Harold. You have no idea how much I’ll miss her.”

  Tetrosky’s eyes went half-mast. “Only if I can watch.”

  Another fucking variable. Okay, new strategy to separate the pack.

  Carlos brought his mouth to Kiersten’s wrist vein, kissed it, and boldly licked a trail up the blue tributary to the inside of her elbow with the tip of his tongue, planting a solid kiss there, but didn’t break the skin. So, Tetrosky liked to watch. Huh?

  Her moan was so long and soulful as he followed the smooth line of her arm that it almost messed him up and made him nick her. Tonight, his game was strong. But he kept his eyes on Tetrosky. “You sure you want to do that with a double hit in your system and mine?”

  “He doesn’t care,” Kiersten murmured, arching to wrap her arms around Carlos’s shoulders. “Hasn’t for a long time.” She swept her nose the length of his collarbone, hovering dangerously near his throat. “I can smell it on you,” she whispered in a husky voice. “You actually care about her. I definitely want to feel that. I love the way you smell.”

  “I smelled it, too,” Alani said, breathlessly gravitating to him in a slow slide.

  Evelyn was trembling as she stood slowly, coming toward Carlos with serious intent in her eyes.

  “His b
lack blood is saturated with pure, unadulterated passion.” Evelyn glanced at the other women, her eyes filled with awe as she returned her sultry gaze to Carlos. “No, it’s more than that. He loves her, which is so rare in our world. More alluring than even blind obsession driven by pure lust. I’ve never smelled it before in one of our males.” Her cat eyes were hypnotic as she neared him and brought her face closer, a public throat strike eminent. “I’ve been around a long time. Do you have any idea how many of our males I’ve been with?”

  Carlos leaned back and put his finger to Evelyn’s lips, then kissed the bridge of Kiersten’s nose. “Not here, sweetheart and not in the throat. Protocol.” He smiled and handed Evelyn off to McGuire in a smooth body transfer. “Some things are just not done . . . in public.” He slipped out of Kiersten’s hold, and ran his hand down her back as he slid her toward Tetrosky. But as he swept her body, he also swept her mind like he had all the others. A deeply guarded secret lingered there. A recent one.

  Mistress Xe was almost panting through a full fang drop where she sat on the edge of her seat. “That is so erotic.” She squeezed her knees together tightly and closed her eyes.

  “You sure you want to watch under the influence?” Carlos asked Tetrosky with a quiet voice and slow smile. Kiersten hovered near her husband for a moment, then sauntered back over to Carlos, slipping back into his embrace to touch his hair, then his face, tasting his perspiration off the tips of her trembling fingers. He needed more information, and went into her mind like a razor. “She’s beautiful, like porcelain,” he whispered through clenched teeth, and then bit her ear making her whimper and drop her mental guard. What is it, sweetness? Tell me what he has.

  Carlos could feel Tetrosky battling for composure across the room, his faculties shredded by the drug in his system, Damali’s performance, and the floorshow. “Do you want me to speak to you in Dananu, or Española, when you come to me?” Carlos crooned, eliciting near delirium from Kiersten.