Enthralled 2: Breathing

by Laura Baumbach

  Breathing

  Laura Baumbach

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2008 Laura Baumbach

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  ISBN: 978-1-59596-875-3

  Formats Available:

  HTML, Adobe PDF,

  MobiPocket, Microsoft Reader

  Publisher:

  Changeling Press LLC

  PO Box 1046

  Martinsburg, WV 25402-1046

  www.ChangelingPress.com

  Editor: Margaret Riley

  Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

  This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  Breathing

  Laura Baumbach

  Colin Dobson has everything he ever imagined -- excitement, travel, and night after night of possessive passion with his new lover, Rowland Campbell. Safe in the arms of his vampire lover, for the first time in his life the sheltered young hemophiliac has nothing to fear.

  There’s only one thing marring their perfect relationship. Colin is finding it increasingly difficult to sleep with a corpse -- until an unexpected trip to a mystical tattoo parlor and a run-in with an old nemesis puts things into perspective.

  Chapter One

  “This is where you wanted to take me? A New Orleans tattoo parlor?” A shiver of ingrained fear ran down Colin’s slender back, a lifetime of avoiding sharp objects inducing an automatic, horrified response from him. He no longer had to fear bleeding to death from a simple laceration, not since becoming lover to a vampire who healed him, temporarily, of his genetic bleeding disorder, but twenty-five years of conditioning was hard to overcome. “One with needles? Dirty, sharp needles?”

  “Right now there are other things that need be feared more than this.” Rowland Campbell put a fraction more pressure on the small of Colin’s back, urging him off the crowded square filled with rambunctious partygoers sampling the sights and sounds of the picturesque French Quarter.

  Colin watched with mounting trepidation as the tall, burly vampire glanced up and down the street warily before he shut the door behind them, then turned the heavy lock, sealing the shop off from any new customers. “This needs to be done now.”

  Despite the massive degree of lingering devastation from Hurricane Katrina, this part of the city was untouched, still attracting the annual hordes of people for the string of weekly festivals and parties New Orleans was famous for. The sector was teeming with life and chaos. Colin found it exciting, but Rowland appeared distracted and on guard. If one as powerful and cautious as his lover was worried, Colin had reason to be terrified. Almost as terrified as being told he was going to spend the entire night being tattooed.

  Outside the window, the homeless mingled with the drunken revelers, the smell of human sweat and grime mixed with the scent of spicy foods and flowing liquor. The uneven streets, dark corners, above-ground graveyards, and miles and miles of abandoned houses and businesses gave birth to a bevy of unwatched places to find shelter and a variety of senseless or impaired humans to feast on. This was an environment rich for the taking from a vampire’s point of view. So why wasn’t Rowland out looking for his evening meal instead of barricading doors and window to shut them out?

  “Is something wrong? You’re… tense.”

  “We’re being followed.” Rowland drew down the shade covering the glass panel in the door and pulled Colin deeper into the shadows of the candlelit storefront.

  “Who? Why?” Edging closer to Rowland, Colin took comfort in his lover’s solid presence.

  “The remaining hunters who attacked me the first night we met. The why is obvious. They hunt vampires. They have been trailing us for several days. That’s why we’re here. This trip is necessary.” Rowland ran both hands up Colin’s arms to his shoulders, where he caressed Colin’s breastbone with his callused thumbs, icy blue gaze bathing Colin in a reassuring glint of confidence and power. “You, my tiny pleasure, will always be safe. I will assure that.”

  Colin couldn’t help but smile and nod, his expression mirroring the adoring look on Rowland’s handsome, square-jawed face. He stepped closer until their bodies touched. The scent of the rich, strong European coffee Rowland liked to sip reached his senses and ignited a spark of arousal. He loved that heady scent -- rich, masculine, and bold. His gaze flickered to the small scar on the vampire’s chin, and Colin had to fight down the urge to taste the white line with his tongue. It was difficult to resist, but his lover’s strong hands turned him around and propelled him forward a few more steps.

  Rowland had been turned centuries ago, at the height of his physical prowess, a massive, burly leader of a ruthless, yet honorable, warrior clan from an age so long ago Colin had trouble imagining it existing. Like a mighty draft horse dwarfed a sleek thoroughbred, Rowland dwarfed most other men. Broad-shouldered, massively muscled arms, and legs like tree trunks attached to an iron hard torso sculpted out of a mountain of flesh and bone. Colin couldn’t help but feel secure and protected at his lover’s side, even with the idea of men hunting them.

  A thin, dark-skinned man appeared suddenly from an alcove at the back of the tiny shop. The man had come from a doorway closed off by a blood red curtain, but the fabric hung limp and still, no sway or flutter showing any sign of the man having moved it aside to enter the cluttered room.

  The man’s half-lidded gaze instantly locked with Rowland’s. The vampire’s arm slipped around Colin’s waist, drawing him nearer, surprising Colin.

  Frowning slightly, Colin slid a hand under Rowland’s suit jacket to twist his fingers into the silky gray shirt beneath. Colin’s heart rate shot up and his throat tightened. Although Rowland wasn’t one for casual displays of affection, and definitely not in public, he didn’t push his hand away. Gooseflesh rose on Colin’s arms, and the room grew stuffy, the air heavy with the smell of ink, and other things Colin didn’t recognize.

  Just as suddenly, an almost overwhelming wave of power rolled over Colin. Rowland’s presence intensified in his mind and body until Colin knew it literally radiated from him as well as the vampire. He could feel Rowland in his limbs, taste him on his tongue. The vampire’s scent filled Colin’s lungs. Every breath he exhaled would tell the stranger he belonged to Rowland. He was cocooned in an invisible, protective blanket, a force field that embodied the aura of great power, and death. It would have been suffocating had Colin not been so unnerved by Rowland’s show of power to this lone man.

  Colin’s grip on Rowland’s shirt tightened, his knuckles pressing against the rock hard muscles of the vampire’s side, the coolness of Rowland’s flesh a comfort where it touched Colin’s through the thin, fine fabric.

  It was comforting, even if the lack of all movement under the shirt was noticeable to Colin. It bothered him that the gentle sway and dip of breathing wasn’t there, was never there, when Colin touched his lover.

  Oddly, this was the first time Rowland had let his full power wash through Colin. Colin found it possessive, sexy, and a disturbing display of ownership. Why was this stranger important to impress?

  The dark man shuddered, physically recoiled from them, stopping dead in his tracks, the creaking of his leather pants and heavy boots abruptly still in mid-stride.

  His skin was cove
red in colorful tattoos, all amply displayed on his bare torso, his pale coffee-colored flesh like an ancient parchment for the complex drawings. Dragons, snakes, and creatures Colin didn’t even recognize fought, played, and made love across the man’s body. He was fascinating to look at, but Colin was too interested in watching the man’s expression to concentrate on the body art.

  The lazy, arrogant glint in the man’s eyes mellowed instantly to humbled deference. His gaze flickered over Colin for the briefest of moments before turning to meet Rowland’s hard stare. The undisguised look of surprise on the man’s face coupled with a flash of panic made Colin’s palms sweat. The man recovered and straightened his stance.

  “I am Armand, Master.” Armand bowed his bald head a fraction of an inch, respectful but not groveling. “Forgive me for not recognizing you immediately. Your ability to shield your true self is flawless.” This time he bowed from the waist, still a wisp of a gesture, but Colin got the impression it was a large concession on the dark man’s part.

  Armand let his gaze dart over Colin again, taking in his grip on Rowland’s shirt. “Your…” his nostrils flared as he retested the air surrounding them before finding what he obviously thought was an appropriate word, “… companion is as ill at ease as he is attractive, Master. Perhaps a drink of something,” he flashed just a hint of fanged teeth, “to calm him?”

  “That will not be necessary.” Rowland’s blunt, cold voice sounded as if he was commanding a servant. “There are hunters not far behind.”

  “He is treasured?” Armand didn’t wait for an answer. “Not good. Hunters are not kind to thralls when they… acquire them.”

  A small gasp of protest escaped Colin’s lips before he could stop it. He knew hunters looked for vampires, but why would they want him as well?

  “There is no need for discussion. Begin work on the tattoo immediately, and very carefully.” Rowland reached under his jacket and disengaged Colin’s hand from his shirt. The vampire engulfed Colin’s sweaty palm in his own, and held onto it rather than dropping away. There was a now familiar, slight pressure right over his radial pulse, a signal wordlessly telling him to remain silent. Although it was a possessive and commanding touch, it was also intimate and reassuring. Colin delighted in any physical affection from Rowland. He felt pleasure flush across his cheeks as Rowland smoothly continued talking.

  “He is fully human, but with a rare affliction. You may have to stop now and then if he bleeds too much, but I want the entire job completed well before dawn. These hunters are experienced. They will not wait for dawn. It is highly likely they will rush the shop well before that.”

  Without asking for more explanations, Armand latched the inside window shutters and double bolted the door. He dropped a bar across the entry, mumbling a few broken phrases Colin couldn’t quite hear. The words were spoken in a singsong voice that made him think of a wizard’s spell casting from a child’s movie.

  “A challenge, then.” Armand’s gaze lingered over Colin this time, scrutinizing him, searching for some hint of his mysterious “affliction.” Colin could see him scent the air, and suddenly realized this was the only time he had seen the dark man take a breath. He knew by the way panic edged back into the man’s features that all he had sensed was Rowland’s powerful presence. “It will be as you wish, Master.”

  “Here are the designs you are to use.” Rowland slipped two sheets of folded paper from his jacket’s breast pocket and handed them to Armand. “The arch is complex, but I want all the elements included exactly as you see them. The other design is to be centered in front.”

  Armand smiled and accepted the paper. Unfolding the designs, his smile slipped off his face and the earlier hint of panic was replaced by an open stare of horror. “All these in one marking? The power these symbols will invoke would be…” Armand gasped, studying Colin with a new respect and interest. “Such a mark on a mere human, even a thrall, even a delicious one…”

  A low growl from Rowland cut Armand short. He flinched and took a step back. “No disrespect intended, Master. But the cost of these spells --”

  Rowland pulled a black velvet pouch from his jacket pocket and tossed it at Armand, its solid weight clear by the way it thudded heavily against Armand’s lean, bare chest. Colin heard the clatter of what sounded like glass marbles.

  Dark chocolate eyes darting from Rowland to Colin and back again, Armand reluctantly caught the sack and yanked it open. Gazing into the bag, he grew very still, then poured its contents over the countertop, the clatter of glass marbles turning into the clink of diamonds, rubies, and emerald as they cascaded over the inked designs. A glint of greed pushed back the hesitation and panic in Armand’s eyes as he scooped the gems up and pocketed them.

  “Good. We understand each other.” Rowland recovered the step Armand had taken backward and gained two more, until they were nearly touching. “There will be no errors. You will use full binding curses in every drop of ink in this design.” Armand was neither as tall as Rowland nor as broad, and nowhere near as muscled and toned. He was no match for the ancient, and the look on his face said Armand knew it. “Every single drop. Do I make myself clear?”

  Nodding, the tattooed man seemed to shrink in the shadow of Rowland’s presence. Colin felt the wave of power from the ancient vampire expand until it dominated the entire room.

  “How many hunters? I’ll need to prepare death chants for them.”

  Colin shot a startled glance between the vampires. He had a dozen questions to ask, but he had learned quickly that Rowland was not one to discuss things in length, and certainly not in the presence of others.

  “Two left of the original three. Their scents were distinct.”

  “They seek revenge, then. Come. Time grows short.” Armand walked backwards, seemingly pushed toward his workroom behind the curtain by the unseen force of Rowland’s aura. Or maybe it was the brutal, deadly glare on the older vampire’s face.

  Rowland followed with Colin’s hand held tightly in his own.

  Chapter Two

  Colin rubbed his cheek across Rowland’s lap, the fold of the black trousers soft and silky on his flaming skin. He pressed his forehead against Rowland’s side, feeling the coolness of his body seep through the fine fabric of the shirt, soothing the heat of his own flesh.

  Rowland sat perfectly still. No movement from the passage of air through lungs that did not need to breathe, no twitch of stiff muscles locked in the same position after hours without shifting, no need to relieve a bladder that didn’t fill, or rumblings from a stomach that didn’t demand or digest food. Colin thought it was much like resting on a park bench with his cheek against a stone statue, its cold marble gratefully leeching away the heat of his embarrassment, lessening the crimson flush he knew colored every inch of his exposed body.

  The absence of breathing from Rowland truly disturbed Colin, the one reminder it was a creature he loved, and not a man. Not a man anymore. Not a living, breathing man, anyway.

  He lay chest down on a padded table, bent at the waist so his knees rested on lower braces, feet in padded metal stirrups, a sort of reverse pelvic exam table, one he imagined a proctologist might own. Naked from the waist down, his legs were spread only enough to allow Armand to work on the area of extremely tender flesh that ran from the crease under his cheeks to the entrance of his body, which was where the tattooed vampire was now working.

  Armand had spent the last few hours creating an archway of entwined vines and thorned brambles, an intricate design of overlapping, never-ending cords that reached from the crease below one ass cheek and up his buttock to emerge as a long, complex collection of animals and twisted symbols that filled the small of his back. Armand then did a mirror image on his other buttock around to the crease under his second butt cheek.

  Colin sighed, trying not to move. “You never mentioned you’d like to see a tattoo on me before.”

  “And I do not wish it now, pretty.” One thumb traveled down from Colin’s hair to ru
b affectionately over his temple. Colin could feel his pulse pound against Rowland’s touch, increasing in intensity from just the mere stroking. “To mar your perfect skin without reason would be a violation.”

  “Then why?” Colin’s arms were bent and tucked to his sides, his fingers curled and stiff against his palms, shoulder high. He slid his hands forward half an inch to press his knuckles into Rowland’s thigh where his head rested.

  “This tattoo is a talisman. The chants the spellbinder is calling forth will weave the power of the individual symbols into your flesh. You will be well protected from certain attacks.”

  “Attacks? What kind of attacks?”

  “Under other circumstances, I would have years to prepare you, but these hunters are persistent and give me no choice. You need protection for the times that I am away from your side.”

  “Why would they kill me? I’m not a vampire.”

  “But you are my thrall. When hunters capture a vampire’s thrall, even after they have destroyed the vampire, they take great pains to soil and sully the thrall so that the vampire’s scent is… displaced.”

  “Sully?”

  “Sexually.”

  “Rape?”

  “Yes, and worse.”

  “What if it isn’t hunters?”

  “The only others would be other vampires.”

  “Not a better choice?”

  “Most vampires see humans only as food. They tend to dine first, and check ownership later. These marks claim you as mine for all but the most inexperienced and newly awakened. They tend to be undisciplined, and arrogant. Full of their newfound power, and drunk on the glory of it. New vampires tend to be brutal and harsh.”

  “Sounds like… my family.” Pushing all thoughts of his cold, uncaring parents from his mind, Colin rolled his stiff shoulders slightly, careful to keep from wiggling his ass and disturbing Armand’s work. The chanting had turned into a faint buzz in the background for now. “So if we meet other vampires they’ll try to hurt me?”