by BA Tortuga
“Uno. Dos. Es muy frío, Guapo, sí?”
Was that “cold”? He thought it was. Oh, please just let him get to the phone. “Here, yes? Here.” He had to hold Mago with one hand to tear the door open and stumble through, hitting the coffee table hard on his way to the couch.
Mago went tumbling from his hands, landing on the floor with a dull, wet thud.
Going to his knees, Dieter reached out, the smell of blood maddening him, the blisters on his hands breaking, running. He sobbed, feeling blood bubble from the hole in Mago’s skin. Too much blood. The ambulance would never make it in time.
“Mago….”
“Shh. ’S okay, Guapo. It’s cool.” The words had no breath behind them, Mago’s skin growing chilly beside him.
“No. No.” This was not how it was to go. He was to decide when Mago went; he was to decide whether to feast on him or make Mago like he was himself. He pressed his hand to the wound. “Stay.”
The wound sucked at his palm, Mago gasping, getting a breath.
Cursing viciously, Dieter made his decision. He did not want to be without the one man who had intrigued him in more than a decade. He bent, his knees slipping in the blood on the floor, and he whispered in Mago’s ear.
“Don’t hate me, love.”
Then he sank his fangs into Mago’s throat.
ITCHED.
He itched.
Burned.
Mago shook his head, groaning, struggling to open his eyes. Wake up. See. Something. He….
The lamplight hit his eyes, and he screamed, the brightness spiking into his head.
“Shhh. Close your eyes. I forgot….”
Guapo. He knew that voice. It echoed in his bones.
“Dieter.” His own voice sounded hollow. Wrong. Echoing inside his head. “Guapo.”
He itched, arm scrubbing his eyes where they hurt from the light.
“I know, love. You’re aching, yes? Burning.” Dieter stroked his belly, hand on his bare skin, and it eased him somehow, like they were connected by that invisible string.
“Burning. I got hurt, Guapo. Real bad.” Dieter hadn’t seen. The bastard outside had shot him. Shot him right in the chest.
“I know, love. I had to do some rather… er… extreme first aid.”
Something clicked and the relentless orange glow let up on his eyelids.
“Are we at the hospital?” It didn’t smell like the hospital.
“No. We are at a hotel, actually.”
Well, that explained the bright light, because Dieter didn’t have any fluorescents in his place.
“Hotel?” How did he…? How did…? But…. “He shot me.”
“Yes. There was much blood, and I did not want to have to answer the inevitable questions.” One hand moved up to stroke his hair off his face.
Oh. Oh. The touch. He could feel every one of the hairs move with Dieter’s fingers. Dieter smelled of him. Of blood. Of water.
“Let me get the cloth. It will make your face itch less.” Cold. Fucking cold water on a rough hotel washcloth.
His eyes flashed open again, watered against the dim light. “I… I don’t….” He didn’t understand.
“Shh.” Bending, Dieter kissed him, lips soft and cool on his. “You were dying, Mago. I had to.”
“Had to?” It must’ve been worse than he thought. He must’ve been in the hospital a while and just couldn’t remember.
“You’ll forgive me. I shall give you all the sights I never had.” It was almost like Dieter was talking to himself.
“Forgive you?” He tried to sit up, tried to think.
“Yes. I am sorry, love.” Easing him up, Dieter let him lean. His chest didn’t even hurt.
“For what?” He blinked down, a pink-skinned scar on his chest. Scarred. Jesus. “How long has it been?”
“Not quite a day and a half. I know you must be hungry, but you slept so well.” The man just couldn’t seem to stop touching him, his cheeks, his chin. His throat.
“A day….” No. No, it couldn’t be so. “I gotta call Mama. She’ll be worried.”
Hungry.
Oh God, yes.
Hungry.
“Yes. Yes, you must call her and tell her you are leaving town, and that you love her, but not to speak to anyone about you.”
“Huh?”
“She must think you’re dead, love.” Dieter sounded dead serious. Dead. Him.
“Why? That’d make her cry, Guapo.”
“I know. But it would be worse for her to know.” He could see the distress on Dieter’s face, the way the corners of that fine mouth pulled down.
“To know what? I didn’t do nothing, Dieter. The cops would know, yeah? I didn’t hurt him back.”
That hunger in him flared, driven by fear and the beginnings of panic.
“Oh, love. You need to feed. It will not give you everything you need, but here.” Dieter pulled at him, cradling his face in the crook of neck and shoulder, the scent there amazing.
Shudders rocked him, his lips open, tongue sliding on Dieter’s…. Oh. Oh, he wanted to. Fuck him. He couldn’t. But he wanted to.
“Now, Mago.” That voice brooked no argument. It compelled him, just like Dieter’s hand on the back of his neck.
The weirdest fucking sound came out of him, raw and wild, and the light went red when he bit down, Dieter’s flavor filling his mouth. Body going stiff against him, Dieter held him, rocked him, letting him drink his fill. Hot, metallic, salty, it was like Dieter’s come but a thousand times stronger.
He lifted his face to breathe, to meet Dieter’s eyes, when the horror of what he’d done hit him. “Guapo. I’m sorry. I….” What was wrong with him? With everything?
“No. No, this is what you need. What will make you stronger.” So careful. Dieter treated him like he was made of glass.
“Stronger?” He leaned closer, licked the drops from Dieter’s skin, so careful, so gentle.
“Oh yes. Much. You will need more, and you will need it fresh, but this will do for now.” A soft moan followed the words, Dieter rubbing against him a little.
“More? I don’t understand.” He scooted closer, wrapping himself in Dieter, tongue still working, licking.
A low growl vibrated against his mouth, and then he was on his back on the floor with Dieter on top of him. “Too sensitive, Mago. Enough.”
His own growl surprised him, muscles tensing to fight, to push Dieter away.
What the hell?
“I said enough.” Like the man weighed a million pounds, Dieter pressed down on him, suddenly way heavier than his mass allowed for. It was like being buried in wet cement.
“Dieter?” His eyes rolled a little, something in him shaken, deep down.
“Shhh.” Soft kisses landed on his cheeks and chin, Dieter suddenly back to normal, loving on him. Like nothing had happened. “I know it’s terribly confusing, love. I know.”
“Yeah.” Yeah. He was all fucked-up. Maybe even scared. “I don’t get it, Guapo. I’m missing stuff.”
“Missing what?” They sat up, Dieter pulling him up, hands on him, and it was almost like Dieter was a little off-balance, like maybe he needed some reassurance too.
“What all happened. We were going home to your place, then that dude mugged us, and I don’t remember shit after that.” He grabbed Dieter and held on, squeezed the man tight.
“The man, he shot you. I took you upstairs, and I was going to call the ambulance, but you were cold….” Dieter’s shoulders were shaking, for God’s sake.
Oh shit. That must’ve scared the hell out Dieter. “Well, it must’ve worked out, huh? I’m here. I’m alive. Hell, I don’t even hurt.”
“Yes and no.” A muttered curse in what sounded like German came then. “You are now what I am, love. Vampir.”
“What?” Oh man. That had to mean something in German that was different than what it sounded like it meant in English.
“Vampire, Mago. That is what you are now.” That face turned to
him, Dieter leaning like he was trying so hard to see him.
“Did that guy hurt you, Guapo?” He started sliding his hands over Dieter’s skin, searching for wounds. Jesus, what if Dieter’d hit his head or something?
“No. I am not injured. I know what I am saying.” Lifting one of his hands, Dieter rubbed it over those soft lips, then over some very, very sharp teeth.
Okay.
Okay.
No.
No, now that didn’t work.
“What game is this? I don’t…. This ain’t cool, Dieter, teasing me now.”
“I would not. Not about this. I didn’t want to, Mago, but you were dying, and I… I am sorry.”
Man, Dieter was always with it, always confident. This was kinda scary. “Okay. Okay. You relax. We’re okay.” He patted and tried to think. Okay. First. Uh….
Damn.
First.
Come on, Javier. Think.
“We will…. We will both feel better if we feed. I can find someone.”
“Huh?” Food sounded good. “Why’re we at a hotel, Guapo? I coulda made you food at your place.”
“I’m afraid not. I took you and anything I might need and left. We cannot go back there.” Leaning in, Dieter kissed him, soft, sweet, and kinda careful.
“But….” He hadn’t done anything wrong, had he? “Will the cops come?”
“I imagine. You lost a lot of blood. I’m not sure anyone saw us, but how could I know?”
Yeah, with not being able to see, that was a good question. “But we’re the good guys. At least you are, huh?” He’d have a harder time.
“Am I?” Dieter laughed. “I suppose in this case.” A sigh lifted Dieter’s chest. “It is not like me to mope. We must feed you. Help me up?”
“Sure. Okay.” He stood up, got Dieter to his feet. He just needed to take Dieter home. If Mama couldn’t help, Uncle Eazie could.
“Thank you.” Strong hands latched on to his arms, Dieter leaning to kiss him again, this time deep and hard, making his cock spring to life in a surprising rush.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
Mago groaned, touch going from helpful to needy, just like that, and he found himself rubbing, desperate to be closer.
They moved, Dieter backing him right to the bed, then shoved him down, and crawling on top of him. God, his skin was just on fire, making him buck and arch, trying to get more.
He tugged hard, needing so bad it was like…. Like. Like nothing ever. “Guapo!”
Mago wanted to bite and bite and feel.
“Yes, love. That’s it.” Fingers digging into his hips, Dieter covered him, kissed him, biting at his lips until he could taste blood.
Things went weird about then—red-tinged and wild, both of them slapping together, Dieter the finest thing he’d ever known, enough to get lost in. They just tore into each other, cock to cock, skin rubbing skin. And biting. Dieter bit down into his neck, didn’t even make a sound when he bit back.
Every fucking nerve came alive, buzzing and burning, so alive. So awake and real and….
He groaned and shot, arching so much he thought his spine would snap.
Dieter moaned for him, more come splashing between them, wetting his belly and thighs. When his head stopped spinning, they were licking each other’s skin, moaning and holding on tight.
“Love….” He felt like he could do anything. Anything.
“My magician. Such things you’ll see. I could not let you go.” Dieter held him tight, just held him, solid as a rock against him.
“I ain’t going nowhere, Guapo. You know that, yeah? You…. You’re special to me.” Real special. Real fine. He wasn’t. And Dieter was his. “Mine.”
“Yes, love. As much as you are mine. The rest is just details.” Smiling, Dieter kissed him again, hands framing his cheeks, and for at least a little while he could forget how weird this all was.
Yeah. He’d just…. Yeah.
He’d worry about it all in a while. Tomorrow.
Bad for Business
HONESTLY, PEOPLE were so incredibly…
Predictable.
Licking his lips, he hopped the privacy fence, slipped through the shadows and around the pool. That terrible little yippy fuzz ball was bouncing furiously, pink tongue flicking out, over and over.
He growled; the sound echoed just a little bit, and the puppy yipped and ran, white cotton ball of a tail held high. He fought the urge to give chase, hunt the little beast, but he knew better. That wasn’t what he really wanted.
Padding around the edge of the pool, he headed for the house. He’d been in once before, hunting the safe with the artwork his client had requested.
Divorces were nasty things.
After slipping in the doggie door, he moved through the empty house. He had two hours before the future ex-Mrs. McAllen came home, and by then, the Kertész photos would be gone, heading for the copy machine and to his agent’s agent so he’d get his money, the originals on their way to a museum.
In and out, nasty little games averted.
If he were incredibly lucky, Mrs. McAllen would hire him to retrieve her mother’s pearls and china from Frank.
That would be most amusing.
He dropped the little sack of equipment from his mouth, crouching low before concentrating. Two hours and he’d be home free.
Julian did love his job dearly.
“MRS. MCALLEN, I know you feel like your personal property was stolen, but there’s nothing about these photographs on your list of provisions from the divorce.” Thayne Terra hated bored society chicks. And frankly, no one who’d looked at the crime scene could figure out how anyone could have gotten in to do the job. The doggie door was pretty small, and none of the windows or doors had been jimmied, picked, or jammed. Personally, he thought it was an inside job.
“You don’t understand! I’ve been violated! Violated!” Lord, that woman could scream.
“We’ll do all we can. Donny? Can you finish up the lady’s statement? I need to check the escape routes.”
He fled, the shrill screaming still sounding.
Donny was going to kick his ass, no sh—
He stopped short in the backyard, head tilting.
He knew that scent.
Sniffing deep, Thayne skirted the pool, ignoring the yapping little dog who followed him every step. There was a definite scent trail. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for—eyes on the ground, lips twitching, he was trying so hard.
There. Just by the back fence, there was half a pawprint. A big one. Damn. That would be why there were no fingerprints, no jimmied doors.
He bent down, fingers tracing the lines. Male, strong, full-grown…. But still small enough in cat form to fit through the dog door.
A black hair was caught in the print, another couple of hairs atop the fence. That would help. Jags were unusual in these parts.
Unusual at best.
Cool. He bagged the hairs for evidence, even though there was no way he could turn them over to the lab. Hell, that was why he was a detective. There were some cases the uniforms didn’t need to know about.
The tree leaves rustled, and he went still, hairs standing up all over his arms.
Lifting his face, Thayne scented the air, seeing if it was just paranoia or if someone was watching.
Bright yellow eyes peered down from the leaves of the elm, the little calico howling at him, the sound low, seductive.
“Look at who’s a pretty kitty.” He grinned, purring a little, just for her benefit.
She preened, stretching along the branch.
“What can you tell me about the jag, baby?” He was so not above flirting with a house cat for some information.
Oh, that got a sniff and a yowl. Somebody’d taken her favorite napping branch.
Twice.
“You’re a star, baby.” He boosted himself up into the first available crook, then held up his hands, and she flowed right down into his arms for a scritch and some cheek rubbing
. When he let her go, he checked out the branch.
Claw marks, deep and fresh. The cat had to be something to not be seen at all. To get out with booty.
Not that the McAllens had a security system. He’d bet the lady had one put in soon, though. She had to live for a long while on what the divorce provided. He snapped a couple of unofficial pictures with his phone before shimmying back down to the ground.
“You find anything up there, buddy?” Donny came wandering back, looking a little shell-shocked.
“Nothing we can use. I mean, I think the guy must have come over the back fence, but there’s not even a shoe print.” See him. See him not lie and say “footprint.”
“Damn. She needs herself a bigger dog and a nicer ex-husband.” Donny winked, eyes on the pool. “Must be nice, huh?”
“She’s a barracuda. What she needs is a bigger pool.” He winked, clapping Donny on the back. “So, what next? We’re not big on the leads.”
“We file the paperwork. Question the ex-husband. Go on to something else.” Donny was nothing if not practical.
“Sounds like a plan, man. Sounds like a plan.” If he had the idea in his head to do a little investigating on his own time, well, Donny didn’t need to know that.
Looked like there was a new cat burglar in town.
“JULIAN, DARLING.” Yvette’s hand slid down his cheek, nails just like claws, so careful not to mark. “How’s things?”
“Busy, as always.” He took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, sipped. The room was crowded with people who desperately wanted to believe they were beautiful strutting peacocks. It made his nose twitch.
“And yet, you find time to attend my soirees.” Her smile was as wicked as a pure-blooded demon, and he chuckled.
“I wouldn’t miss them.” Goddess knew how many baubles might fall into his pockets before the night was out.
“Ah, there you are, Yvette.” A tall man with bright green eyes wandered over, his suit perfectly acceptable and yet somehow out of place. “Can I steal you for a minute?”
Julian’s nostrils flared as he stepped back, sliding into the shadows. Oh. There was pure danger there.