Blood Unleashed (Blood Stone)

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  “Sleep,” Rick told him. “I’ll have my say once you’re awake and sober.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Marcus woke to a new day. Dawn light spilled through his bedroom windows, bright and cheerful.

  He stretched under the covers, feeling tendons creak and joints pop. He felt fresh, clean and light. There was no trace of a headache, like he usually had. His sleep had been dreamless and unbroken.

  “Amazing,” he told himself. He sat up, tossing the covers aside. He was wearing jeans and a wrinkled shirt.

  Memories plugged back into place with a jolt. Not all of them – he couldn’t recall parts of the last few days, but what he did remember made him grimace. “Fuck,” he whispered. Cyneric. Pills. Booze.

  He padded into the bathroom and used the toilet, and glared at the reflection of the shower in the mirror over the sink as he washed his hands and splashed his face with water. Then he moved out to the main room and came to a halt.

  Rick sat at the table, working on a laptop. The room was pristine clean and neat. On the kitchen counter, next to the microwave, the coffee machine was bubbling merrily, a pot brewing. The smell was heavenly.

  “What the fuck?” Marcus said.

  Rick didn’t look up from the screen. “Your cellphone told me you have an appointment in two hours. I presumed you would not want your visitor to see the disaster that greeted me.”

  “That’s my computer,” Marcus protested.

  “Observant of you,” Rick commented. “The coffee should be done by now,” he added. He still didn’t lift his dark gaze from the screen.

  “The computer was very well hidden,” Marcus pointed out.

  “It was sitting out in the open in your basement,” Rick replied. “As I was forced to play nanny while you slept off your drunken binge, I borrowed it.”

  “That’s my point. It was in the basement,” Marcus growled. “The basement is very well hidden.”

  “Clearly, it isn’t as hidden as you think it is.”

  The smell of the coffee beckoned. Irritated, Marcus grabbed a mug out of the cupboard and poured himself a cupful. He sipped, trying to find reasons why he should be pissed about this. He studied Rick, who seemed to be completely unmoved by his ire. “And you’re wearing my robe,” he groused.

  “My clothes were wet. They’re now in the wash,” Rick replied evenly. He shut the computer gently and turned in his chair. “You graduated from Caltech with a Masters in Chemistry. The CIA recruited you right out of college because you had a unique talent for explosives and corrosives.”

  Marcus leaned against the counter, cradling his coffee against his arm, which he rested across his abdomen. It was supposed to look casual, like he couldn’t care less than Rick was digging through his past…and with his own computer, too. “Weren’t you going to beat the crap out of me once I was sober?”

  Rick stood up. “I imagine you were shuffled off to a shiny laboratory in their weapons research division and given a budget that any chemical engineer worth his salt would weep over, and you were told to play.” He rested his fingers against the lid of the computer. “What I cannot reliably explain is why you became a field agent. Why would they pull someone like you out of the lab, where you were so much more valuable?”

  “Perhaps I had other talents they valued more.” Marcus looked down into his coffee. Why was he handing over this stuff to Rick, of all people?

  “Of course. Your way with people.” Rick said it like it was clicking everything into place for him. It probably was. Marcus tried to build up his resentment to a good, solid anger, but it wouldn’t rise.

  “It’s an unusual combination,” Rick observed. “A geek with social skills.”

  “Thank you,” Marcus replied dryly. He put the mug down and opened the bottom cupboard next to him and pulled out the toaster. He was hungry. Toast, almond butter and jelly were calling his name. “Why are you here, anyway?” he asked irritably.

  “Given your training, you probably picked up far more about the explosion at the gun range than anyone there, but you didn’t say anything. Why not?”

  “There was nothing to say. Not even to you. It was a propane tank. The fire burned exactly as hot as you guessed, which is a lot more than the eight hundred degrees you guys can take. End of story.” He popped two frozen slices of bread into the toaster and pulled the almond butter and jelly jars out of the cupboard.

  He saw, again, Ilaria pressed up against the doors. The fear in her eyes. He kept replaying those moments over and over again until he was ready to scream. Worse, the images were becoming tangled up with Karelia. The fear in her eyes…their eyes. It had been the same. Fear combined with knowledge of what was to come.

  The booze had sent the images away. Just for a while. But he had to be very drunk for it to work. Somewhere in the depths of the drink, he had got the idea in his head that the Lexapro would really put the memories to rest. The shit screwed up normal recall pretty good. So he must have staggered into the kitchen and pulled them out of the back of the drawer. How many had he taken? It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be doing it again. The cost for a few hours of peace wasn’t worth it.

  Now the memories were back. Haunting him. Marcus leaned on the counter and hung his head. “Shit…” he muttered.

  Rick’s hand settled on his shoulder. “I apologize,” he said, his voice low. Marcus hadn’t even noticed him move into the kitchen. “I’ve made you think of her again.”

  Marcus straightened up with a jerk, throwing off his hand. “Why are you here? Why did you come here in the first place?”

  Rick opened his mouth to speak…and didn’t. His brows came together. His gaze skittered away from Marcus. Then he dragged his gaze back to meet Marcus’ squarely. “I thought…in your company, I might not miss her so much.”

  Marcus stared at him. “Truth is a dangerous thing to use around here.” His voice was hoarse.

  “As we both know.”

  Marcus had no idea where the impulse came from, but then, a lot of his better ideas came from somewhere other than his brain. They burst upon him as fully-fledged actions he took before he could consider the wisdom of what he was doing. Later, it usually turned out that his idea had been a good one.

  He slid his hand into Rick’s hair – it was surprisingly soft and silky to touch. Then he kissed him, pressing against his lips. Immediately, the thick hot tension coiled in his gut and he realized that this had been hovering in the far back of his mind since…it didn’t matter.

  The kiss was everything it could be. Good – very good! – and worth letting it extend.

  Rick’s hands slammed into his chest. He was shoved across the kitchen, his feet losing contact with the floor, and cannoned into the counter next to the sink. His hip hit the edge hard, sending out a flare of pain.

  Marcus found himself on his hands and feet, staring at the tiles. No breadcrumbs, his dazed mind whispered.

  Rick picked him up again, placing him on his feet, his hands bunching up folds of Marcus’ shirt.

  Marcus shook his head to clear it. “I said don’t do that,” he told him.

  Rick dragged him closer. “I’ll bear that in mind,” he muttered, and kissed him.

  This kiss was electrifying. Rick’s tongue swept into his mouth, alerting his nerve ends and bringing him into hard readiness. His cock throbbed.

  They parted and Rick looked into his eyes.

  Marcus realized he was holding his breath, hoping for more. “Rick—”

  “Shh…” Rick was studying him, a tiny fold between his brows. He seemed puzzled. “I don’t get involved with humans,” he added, his voice rough.

  “Never?”

  “I take them home. Sometimes they stay for a while. But I don’t get involved.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Marcus asked him, for something was driving him – the frown, his hesitation…shit, the toss across the room.

  “A warning, I suppose.”

  He was lying. Marcus shrugged, le
tting the lie go. Rick’s body was telling a different story. He was tight with tension and the robe was jutting where his cock had risen. He wanted him.

  “You’re an admirable man,” Rick murmured and brought his lips back against Marcus’ mouth.

  This time, the kiss was explosive. Rick wasn’t holding back. Marcus could feel the drive in him, the urgency, and it built up his own already simmering want. The energy between them spiraled.

  Rick’s hands on his shirt tugged, and the buttons flew, pattering onto the tiles at their feet. The shredded shirt billowed open. Rick pulled his mouth from Marcus’ and slid his lips down his throat. He lingered at the base of his neck, and Marcus knew why. His pulse throbbed there, at a runaway pace, but he felt no fear.

  When Rick unfastened his jeans and lowered the zipper, Marcus groaned. He wanted to protest that this was going too fast, but it wasn’t going fast enough. Something huge and hot was building inside him, making him want to hurry, hurry.

  His jeans fell open, sagging around his hips. Rick stripped the shirt from him and dropped it to the ground, on top of the buttons. For a moment, his gaze lingered on Marcus’ shoulders and chest. “You’re strong, for a human.”

  “Strong enough,” Marcus said gruffly.

  Rick slid his hand inside his jeans. His fingers curled around his aching cock and Marcus groaned heavily, his hips jerking. If he stroked him at all, Marcus wasn’t sure what he’d do in reaction. The pleasure coursing through him was powerful, driving him, throbbing with urgency.

  But instead, Rick yanked down his jeans enough for his cock to emerge, red and with the veins ridging, proclaiming his arousal. He gripped the base of the shaft. “Just like the rest of you,” he murmured and lowered himself down until he was level with it.

  Marcus drew in a breath that shuddered in anticipation. Rick’s mouth closed over his cock – he was cool against the flushed flesh, just like Ilaria had been. Marcus closed his eyes and thrust his fingers into Rick’s hair, gripping tightly.

  He tried to last, to ride out the pleasure and extend it. He threw his head back, gritting his teeth, as his climax built, tightening everything in his body. He was shaking with the need to come, fighting it off with sheer will power. Rick’s mouth was doing things to him he’d never experienced.

  He gripped the counter with his free hand, closing his eyes and floating on the sea of silvered pleasure. His climax was inevitable, but he still fought to hold it off, to enjoy this a moment longer.

  Rick’s long fingers cupped his testicles and squeezed gently and Marcus came instantly, with a hoarse shout. His climax seemed to explode behind his eyelids, leaving his vision sparkling with the after-effect.

  He gripped the back of Rick’s robe and hauled him to his feet. “You’re going to pay for that.”

  Rick wore a small smile. “Am I?”

  Marcus turned him and stripped the robe from him in one movement and dropped it to the floor.

  He stepped out of his jeans, the last item of clothing he was wearing, as he sized up Rick’s long, lean body. There was muscle there, wiry and corded. Not nearly as developed as Marcus’, but there was strength there that his vampire nature enhanced. His ass was tight and hard.

  Marcus pushed roughly against his shoulders, bending Rick over, so his hands were resting on the counter. “The drawer on your—” he began, but Rick reached out for the correct drawer before he finished, opened it and pulled out the tube of lubricant. He handed it back.

  Of course, he had cleaned up the place. He would have found it when he was putting dishes away.

  Marcus pushed him back down into his bent posture. “Stay there,” he ordered. He kicked his feet apart, spreading him open. Rick’s balls hung heavy and large between his thighs. Marcus indulged in a whim, and slid his hand around Rick’s tight hips, reaching for his cock.

  Rick exhaled heavily as Marcus gripped it and stroked his hand along the length of it. His own cock, still rampantly erect, began to throb with renewed enthusiasm. He poured lubricant onto his fingers and slid them from the base of Rick’s balls, up to his ass.

  Rick hissed. “You are baiting me,” he said in his precise English voice. “Even vampires have their limits when it comes to sex.”

  “Good to know,” Marcus replied. “I’d like to think I can drive you out of your mind with something.”

  “You’re succeeding,” Rick said heavily, his head hanging.

  Marcus deliberately slowed his movements, stroking around his ass and pressing up against the perineum, listening to Rick gasp and draw in shuddering breathes. Then when the need to ram his way into him was almost overwhelming, Marcus at last put the tube aside and gripped Rick’s hips. He guided his cock up against his ass and slipped inside.

  Rick moaned, his hand on the counter curling into a fist.

  Marcus felt the resistance of muscle and held still, savoring the sensation. The muscle relaxed and he pushed deeper and deeper, until he was all the way in. He swallowed. Dammit, he wasn’t going to last very long this time, either.

  He began to rock in and out of him, feeling the tightness at the pit of his stomach, the clenching and the swirl of another climax building. He reached around and stroked Rick’s cock, matching his thrusting stroke for stroke.

  Rick dropped his head again, his breath blowing out in a groan. He hammered the counter with his fist, lightly, then threw his head up. “Ah, gods!” he cried.

  Marcus felt his cock jerk under his hand, in heavy pulses, as he came. His ass squeezed, and it pushed Marcus into his own deep, hard orgasm. He spilled cum, thrusting hard, until the climax released its hold.

  They remained motionless, locked together. The room was silent except for their breathing.

  “Let me up,” Rick said quietly.

  Marcus backed away from him, withdrawing.

  Rick turned to face him. He picked up Marcus’ hand and laid it on his chest, over his heart. Marcus felt the organ beating heavily and fast.

  “You did that to me,” Rick told him.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “We can control our hearts. We can let them beat only when we want or need them to. But sometimes, if fear or anger or some other emotion is too overwhelming, it will slip from under our control, and beat as it needs to.”

  Marcus felt his heart beating with new appreciation. Rick was watching him adjust to the fact. The question was on the tip of his tongue; Is something happening here? But he held it back. Rick was finding his way through messy emotions. To confront him with them too soon would derail his efforts.

  Rick picked up Marcus’ hand again and tugged him into motion.

  “Where?” Marcus asked.

  “The bed,” Rick said shortly, pulling him through the doorway into the master bedroom. He turned to face him and took his face in his hands. “This is much better than beating the crap out of you,” he murmured as he kissed him.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Rick felt boneless, so relaxed was he. Vampire physiology and their self-healing abilities meant that he never really got uptight – not in a physical sense. But this pleasantly depleted, mellow sensation was unusual.

  Marcus stretched, next to him, and flopped back onto the bed. He reached for the cellphone on the nightstand and began thumbing out a message.

  “Your visitor?” Rick asked, recalling the appointment that was looming.

  “It’s the only one today. I’ll reschedule, and that gives me the day.”

  “Don’t do that because of me,” Rick said.

  Marcus rolled his eyes. “Why not?”

  Rick couldn’t come up with an answer. He reached for something. Anything. “Her name was Katya, wasn’t it? Tangiers?”

  Marcus lowered the phone. For a long minute he stared ahead, not speaking. Then he sighed. “Yeah. Katya.” He rolled his head to look at Rick. “One day, I’ll tell you what happened. But not today.” He finished his text and tossed the phone back onto the nightstand.

  “Did Ilaria know?”
Rick asked. The effort it took to ask that question! What was this? Latent jealousy?

  Marcus rolled off the bed and stood up. “She knew.” He pulled open a drawer and yanked out a pair of jeans and stepped into them.

  “You’re going somewhere?”

  “There’s something I have to check.” Marcus shrugged. “I’ll be five minutes, tops.”

  “The still you have running in the basement?” Rick asked. “It was operating smoothly when I was there.”

  Marcus dropped his head for a minute, like he was girding himself. Then he looked at him. “Why don’t you come and see? Since you’ve already busted in there.”

  Rick sat up, trying to deny the genuine pleasure that touched him. “You’re quite sure?”

  “You’d better get your ass down there before I change my mind,” Marcus growled and left the room.

  Rick followed him out to the kitchen and picked up the green tartan robe from the floor and slid it on. Marcus was already working at the false back of the closet next to the back door. With a grunt, he pulled the sheet of plywood out of the frame and put it aside. It had been painted to match the rest of the closet. The removal of the plywood revealed what looked like a normal hollow core door, but Rick knew from the first time he had found the door that it was reinforced with steel sheeting.

  The whole basement was lined in steel, painted to look like normal walls. It made the basement a fireproof, sealed box, when the door was closed. Most industrial laboratories had similar precautions. Given Marcus’ preferred playing field in chemical engineering, a work area that could enclose and contain an explosion was a necessity.

  “You disguised the entrance for safety reasons,” Rick asked, “or because you don’t want anyone to know about your past time?”

  “Yes,” Marcus said flatly, and unlocked the door. “Thanks for locking it after you picked it, by the way.”

  “You’re most welcome.”

  Marcus rolled his eyes and flicked the switch to turn on the lights. The iron stairway revealed itself. This, too, would have replaced what were originally wooden steps.