Blood Trouble

by Connie Suttle

  "Let me see your eyes, first," I said.

  "What?" He was puzzled, I could tell. Ignoring the urge to read him (again), I waded into the dark depths of his gaze before closing my eyes as he asked.

  "That's my baby," he crooned and kissed my neck gently.

  Keeping my eyes closed and my hands on the bench became the sweetest torture I could recall enduring. His hands—and his mouth—traced my collarbone, my ribs and my hipbones. Fingers caressed the bend of my knees and then my ankles. He cupped my heels in his hands, his thumbs softly rubbing my anklebones. Was that hot? Hot didn't begin to describe it.

  "Don't resist," he murmured against my ear as he lifted my feet up. "Baby, we're gonna take care of this pretty bush one of these days," he sighed and put his mouth on me. I screamed his name thirty seconds later.

  * * *

  "Sleep, baby," Hank brushed lips across my cheek before leaving his apartment. He'd left me bonelessly sprawled across his bed, with nothing more in my head than letting sleep claim me. He'd done exactly what he'd set out to do—worn me out and made me want to sleep. Had I gotten a lip lock in all that time? No. He'd kissed everything else, and parts of me had received extended attention, but I still hadn't been kissed by the mind-bending Hank Bell. Someday, I intended to ask him about that. When I was awake.

  * * *

  Lissa's Journal

  Lifting the coronet off my head, I stared at myself in my dressing table mirror.

  "My love?" Thurlow appeared behind me. He didn't visit often or for very long.

  "Honey?" I did a half-turn and looked up at him.

  "Might I spend a little time in your bed?"

  "I think you might."

  "Good." He leaned down and drew my lower lip into his mouth before sucking on it.

  Something sure had Thurlow turned on—he seldom moved as fast as he was moving now, and he was taking me with him. I closed my eyes and sighed with pleasure.

  * * *

  "This the new toy?" John eyed the bench in the back of Hank's truck.

  "Yeah. Works great."

  "Tried it out already?" John eyed the piece of furniture with interest.

  "And cleaned it afterward," Hank grinned. "Come on, get the tailgate down and help me unload this thing."

  "Gonna tell me who?"

  "That, now and always, will be none of your fucking business," Hank grunted, pulling the bench forward after John lowered the tailgate.

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  I woke after midnight. Hank was still working and I wanted a shower. I left a note for Hank, telling him I'd gone home, then misted toward my house in San Rafael. Dropping my purse on the kitchen island with a sigh, I headed down the hall toward my bedroom. I felt hungry, too, since I hadn't eaten anything past lunch at Francie's. I wanted a shower before food, however, and went through the walk-in closet to my private bath.

  My abdominal muscles were nicely sore as I cleaned off the remnants of sex with Hank. Yes, he still used condoms, and I toyed with the idea of telling him they weren't needed. Discarding the notion, I shampooed my hair and applied conditioner. If I didn't, it curled too much. Lissa and I had that in common, I suppose, it's just that she had beautiful, strawberry-blonde hair and I was a brunette.

  Sighing, I pulled on a fleecy robe and made my way to the kitchen for a very late dinner. My cellphone was ringing the moment I turned on the kitchen lights.

  "I'm gonna call that fucking app company," Jayson stated without preamble. "One minute you're at Hank's apartment, the next you're home."

  "Jayson, just stop, okay? I'm hungry and I don't need your crap right now."

  "Hank keep you too busy to eat?" Jayson snickered.

  "Jayson, I swear I'm gonna drive over you with my almost-car."

  "That ought to raise a bruise," he laughed. "Seriously, though, we may have another problem."

  "What's that?"

  "Mom wants us to come to L.A. for a visit this weekend."

  "Oh, for cripe's sake," I muttered. "You can't do that to me. Or her. You can't. Won't your birthday party be enough?"

  "Dad's made plans to be out of town through the weekend on a business trip, and Mom wants us to come."

  "Of course she does."

  "I already told her you're an old-fashioned girl and will want separate bedrooms. She's made plans to put us in two rooms across from each other. Just in case."

  "First off, I don't want to go to L.A. Second off, what will Henry Hank Bell say?"

  "Oh, he'll probably beat the hell out of me during my Krav Maga lesson."

  "You do Krav Maga?" I'd always been interested in that, for personal reasons.

  "Yeah. Lessons for five years." He was proud of that, I could tell. "Hank can still beat my ass and my instructor's ass, though. Probably at the same time."

  "Good for Hank. Maybe I'll suggest he do that when you piss me off next time."

  "He's already done it once over you."

  "Really? Maybe I'll buy him a new car, just for that."

  "What?" Jayson sputtered.

  "Yeah. What do you think he might want?"

  "Look, if you'll go with me to L.A., I'll see that Hank gets a new truck. He does a lot of hauling, so that's what he needs."

  "Sure. Go the blackmail route, why don't you?"

  "It's not blackmail—I told him I'd give him a loan for a new truck last week." Jayson was proud of himself. "We're going tomorrow to pick it out. Why don't you come? I'll take pictures of us out together and send them to Mom."

  "Liar, liar," I muttered.

  "Not. I'm going to buy something for myself while we're out, too."

  "You already have a garage full of vehicles," I pointed out. He did—Trina told me he had six parked in his overly enormous garage.

  "That doesn't include the classics I have in storage."

  "I'm getting a headache," I said.

  "I want a new Escalade," he said. "I'll trade in the old one."

  "The old one that is barely a year old?" I asked.

  "Yeah."

  "You're impossible."

  "You keep saying that. Are we having a spat? I can text Mom and ask for advice. She'll love that."

  "You need to keep me out of that," I snapped.

  "You know, I'll bet your hair is all fluffed up now, and you're spitting like a kitten," he laughed.

  "Something you're not used to, no doubt," I grumped.

  "Well, that's true," he agreed. "Mom will like that, too, since the other girls she's met have never disagreed or questioned me once."

  "By design?"

  "I guess—yeah."

  "Jayson, I really, really hope you're happy," I sighed.

  "You mean that?"

  "I do. Really. I like your mother. A lot. She loves you—a lot. I'm not really sure why sometimes, because I would have kicked your ass over the anniversary party."

  "I know." Jayson actually sounded contrite. "I don't know why, but I always feel better after I talk to you, too, and I can't explain that. We disagree over most everything."

  "Well, I sure can't say why that is. We're oil and water, Jayson Rome."

  "No, maybe oil and fire," he laughed. "But you've never once said I was wrong in my lifestyle or my choices. I made you feel inadequate in five seconds after I met you, and you've never said I was sick or evil. I sort of enjoy our disagreements on everything else, actually."

  "Jayson, will you stop?" I sighed. "I've seen evil. You're not it."

  "You keep saying that. I wish you'd explain it. Hank probably wouldn't mind knowing, either."

  "I'm not telling. Ever. So don't ask. Stop asking. Fuck." I rubbed my forehead.

  "You coming with us tomorrow? We can argue about the vehicles I buy."

  "Oh, sure," I muttered sarcastically.

  "Good. I'll pick you up around ten and we'll go get Hank. I'll buy lunch."

  "Hey, I was being sarcas," I didn't get to finish the word, Jayson had already hung up.

  Chapter 11
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  Breanne's Journal

  "I was railroaded," I informed Hank as I moved from the front seat of Jayson's year-old Escalade to the back seat so Hank could sit up front. We'd stopped outside Hank's apartment to pick him up before heading to the dealership Jayson preferred, which sold new Escalades. From there, Jayson intended to take us to lunch and then to a Ford dealership to buy Hank a new truck.

  "What will you do with your old truck?" I asked Hank as Jayson pulled away from the curb.

  "Give it to charity," he leaned around the back of his seat and grinned at me.

  "Okay," I shrugged. He was excited to be getting a new vehicle; that was easy enough to see. "I'll be happy when you don't have to beg it to start," I added.

  "Come on, that's half the fun of having a classic vehicle," Hank chuckled, settling back in his seat again.

  "No, that's most of the worry of having an ancient rattletrap," I said.

  "Are you calling Hank's rattletrap a rattletrap?" Jayson pulled to a stop at a red light.

  "Yeah. You have no idea how many times I wanted to buy a roadside assistance membership for him."

  "I have one already," Hank pointed out.

  "Thank God. I had visions of you being abducted by roving bands of sex-crazed women if you broke down on the highway," I retorted.

  "You think I'll be attacked by sex-crazed women?"

  "I'm surprised it hasn't happened already. If you disappear for days, I imagine that's probably what will be responsible," I said.

  "Baby, would you rescue me?" He leaned around his seat again.

  "If you wanted or needed to be rescued," I nodded.

  "Good."

  * * *

  "Jayson, that's a behemoth." I stared at the largest Escalade available, in a white diamond color with a cocoa leather interior. Jayson grinned as the salesman handed a key to him. We were going for a test drive, looked like.

  "I may want to buy a behemoth," Jayson grinned. Hank was checking out the gadgets and gizmos inside, so I resigned myself and climbed into the back seat. That's when it hit me—Jayson was buying his birthday present a day early. Was he buying it for himself or was this the gift from Mom and Dad? That's when I decided to read him briefly. I didn't know how old he was and I'd find that out, too. I didn't want to see anything he did for kinky fun, and I was determined to stop reading him the moment that came.

  "Jayson?" I said as he settled on the driver's seat and started the vehicle.

  "Huh?" he turned to me. I lowered my shield. Nothing. Not a damned thing happened. I couldn't read fucking Jayson Rome. Was that upsetting? You bet.

  "Uh, how old will you be? I probably ought to know that," I covered up my hesitation with a question.

  "Thirty."

  "Oh. Okay."

  "We're going to the party?" Hank asked.

  "Looks that way—Bree's gonna do the interview for my staff writer and Mom's gonna watch," Jayson steered away from the dealership. "Then, she's going with me to L.A. Friday afternoon. For the weekend."

  "Rome, no." Hank was adamant.

  "I already told Mom she was coming."

  "I said no."

  "Look, why don't you come, too? That way you can protect your territory. It's not like we don't have enough room at the house. Plus, Dad will be gone."

  Without replying, Hank hauled out his cellphone and dialed a number. His assistant manager answered on the second ring. "John," Hank said, "I need you and Trey to cover the weekend. I'm going out of town."

  * * *

  Jayson was happy to pay nearly a hundred thousand for his new vehicle. Half that was credited for the trade-in, but we drove his new Escalade off the lot. I chewed my lip and said nothing as he drove toward Sausalito and a restaurant he'd selected. Hank was pissed about the L.A. trip, I didn't want to go in the first place and the temperature inside the new Escalade had dropped to near-freezing.

  "You agreed to this?" Hank pulled me against him while Jayson asked for a table for three in an upscale restaurant.

  "I really didn't," I tried to pull away. "He keeps badgering me with his mother and her feelings in all this." I wanted to hug myself. Hank was doing it for me. I didn't add that Jayson had thrown Hank's new truck into the mix. "I think I want to go home," I moaned against Hank's chest.

  "Shh—it's a disagreement. It'll blow over." Hank rocked me gently before turning me around and pulling me along—the hostess was leading us toward a window table overlooking the bay. I ordered a salad, didn't eat much of it and didn't talk all through lunch.

  * * *

  Hank picked out a blue Ford truck, with extended cab and plenty of hauling space. I watched as he talked with the salesman about everything, including mileage. Jayson stuck his two-cents in occasionally, since he was Mr. Auto Expert. I thought about my TinyCar and shivered in a San Francisco afternoon that had gone cold and gray.

  Jayson handed over his credit-card when it came time to pay. I left the office and stood in the showroom, staring, unseeing, at new vehicles. Twice I was approached and asked if I wanted to buy anything. I wouldn't have left if it hadn't been necessary. It was necessary, and in the worst possible way.

  * * *

  Fes Desh had just put pans of ox-roast into the ovens for the dinner menu when his brother rushed into the kitchen.

  "Fes, there's a sandstorm blowing outside," Rane shouted over the sudden noise.

  * * *

  Lissa's Journal

  "I hate to interrupt, but a sandstorm is sweeping through Targis," Kyler rushed into the Council meeting, her face pale and fearful. Flavio rose immediately and went to her while I stood on shaking legs.

  "Gavin," my voice trembled as I gave orders, "gather everybody you can. We'll go as soon as it blows itself out."

  That's the one thing we knew about the sandstorms—they didn't last. It didn't take long, actually, for them to destroy what was in their path. Yigga Prison and the surrounding area had been scoured in less than ten minutes, Earth time.

  "Lissa," a pregnant Reah was set beside me by a shaking and angry Aurelius. Edward landed right behind them, and he looked grim.

  "What?" My heart stuttered into a gallop.

  "Fes," Reah wailed and almost dropped to the floor. Aurelius and Edward caught her between them.

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  The sandstorm that wiped away Beledweyne lasted eight minutes. Satellite images confirmed that, and the images of a brown cloud wiping away lives was shown over and over by the media on Earth.

  This brown cloud raged below me, and I knew it was worse. Targis was the capital city on Tulgalan, and home to millions. It was also home to Fes Desh, his family and his restaurant. Was I seething as I hovered far above the massacre of innocents? Seething couldn't begin to describe the anger I felt. As I'd arrived after the sandstorm began, I felt obligated to wait it out and then see what I might do to repair damage. Did I feel the power behind the sandstorm? I'd be a fool to say that I didn't.

  * * *

  Lissa's Journal

  Fifteen of the longest minutes of my life passed while a quarter of Targis was wiped off the map. Comp-vids were in vampire hands all around me, as electronic feeds from space towers relayed images of the impenetrable brown cloud enveloping parts of Tulgalan's capital city. Those with enough talent might have felt the power behind that terrible storm—if they were brave enough to venture their thoughts in that direction. I was too afraid. Afraid that I'd also hear the screams of the dying as sand flayed skin and muscle from their bodies and dust filled their mouths and noses, stealing their last breaths.

  "Cara, there is nothing we can do," Gavin pulled my head against his shoulder. I wept.

  * * *

  The lieutenant turned in a circle on a clean-swept street. Yes, he and his servants had achieved their goal—a quarter of the city had been razed effectively. Sadly, none had attempted to stop it, and that meant disappointment for his superior. They'd hoped to draw one of the three out and tempt them with stopping th
e destruction. None had answered the call. His underlings began appearing around him, awaiting further commands.

  "Go," the lieutenant barked. "I will follow you swiftly." They disappeared at his command. "The three—they're afraid," he chuckled. "Afraid to challenge us. I will inform my superior of this. We have won, with little effort."

  "Really?" The lieutenant had no time to turn and gaze upon his attacker—his corporeal body turned to sparks and disintegrated.

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  He'd seemed so sure of himself. I had no idea what he was talking about—all I knew was that he'd been responsible, at least in part, for four million deaths. I only hesitated long enough to give him a one-word reply before separating his particles.

  Sighing and allowing my shoulders to droop, I surveyed the devastation around me. Fes Desh was dead, and he'd been so kind to me. Offered to feed me at his restaurant anytime. Well, I was going to see what I could do about that. Raising my hands, I set about Changing What Was.

  * * *

  Lissa's Journal

  Reah was shrieking again, only this time, it was with joy. My head snapped up immediately and I knew without a doubt that Reah's brothers were now alive. "Gavin, get us to Targis," I shouted. He complied immediately.

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  It took nearly every bit of strength I had. I probably should have done it differently, too, and perhaps someone could forgive me for bringing Fes back first instead of others who might be more deserving. Regardless, they all made their way back, I just didn't have the energy to bring their homes and businesses back as well. Those things might be replaced while lives—as they currently existed, anyway—could not. Sinking onto what was left of the street before Desh's former business address, I dropped my head in my hands and moaned.

  "Breanne?" A hand touched my shoulder. I knew who it was. I used up the last of my strength to fold space.

  * * *

  Lissa's Journal

  If Gavin hadn't touched her, she might have stayed. Norian and Lendill arrived on Tulgalan to find me not speaking to my first vampire mate. If he'd just let me know he'd found her and allowed me to approach, but no—he had to put his hand on her. He'd scared her and used her and exhausted her, and yet he thought he could put his hands on her, as if none of that had happened. I had a headache, now, and four million people in Targis had no homes or businesses left. At least they were alive.