de Sang: Embrace Your Blood Lust

by Hussey, C. D.

  de Sang

  Embrace Your Blood Lust

  By C.D. Hussey

  * * * *

  Copyright (c) 2011 C.D. Hussey

  All rights reserved. This ebook may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by any means, without expressed, written permission

  Chapter One

  Shit, his hand was trembling.

  Slade glanced down at the key quivering in his hand as he attempted to slide it into La Luxure's front entrance lock. Like the withdrawal tremors of an alcoholic after an all night drinking binge, his shaking hand was a symptom of a craving that had gone unsatisfied. Body shakes were next and finally, debilitating, chronic, endless fatigue.

  He was like a goddamn junkie and blood was his fucking drug. Without it he was sick as shit. With it, well, he was just normal.

  With considerable effort, Slade managed to settle his hand long enough to shove the key into its cozy home and turn the dead bolt. Flicking on the lights, he stepped into the empty bar. For a place that was open seven days a week, La Luxure was impeccably clean. There wasn't a spot of dust on the hardwood floors and the black leather furniture glistened with a light, polished sheen. The scent of lemon cleaner hung on the still air and it would take at least three sticks of incense to camouflage it.

  It was too pristine for Slade's tastes. He liked things with a little more dirt to them, more substance, more character... But Luxure wasn't his bar. And like the majority of his life, Armand Laroque, the bar's owner and Slade's closest friend, preferred clean control.

  Slade didn't have that luxury. He was bound by the thing keeping him healthy. Blood had him neatly in its control.

  Not that he was really complaining. For Slade, craving blood wasn't a horrible desire. As far as he was concerned, it wasn't too different from sleep, food or water. As a bonus, the vampire lifestyle was tailor-made for him. The only problem was the source of his drug.

  He pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial. "Nikki? I'm sorry to bug you. I know it's only been a few days. Do you think you can swing by the bar tonight?"

  There was a brief pause and it stung because Slade knew he was asking for too much and she was hesitating. "Never mind…"

  "No problem, Slade," she said quickly, interrupting him. "Just let me finish up here and I'll be right there. Fifteen minutes tops." She hung up the phone before he had a chance to protest.

  Slade stared at the dead phone in his hand. Maybe he shouldn't have called her. There was a refrigerator filled with blood in Luxure's back room.

  He grimaced at the thought. Not only was the taste of anti-coagulants as unappealing as the taste of lube during oral sex, but the shit had a tendency to make him sick. It wasn't just a little nausea, but sorority girl, hugging-the-toilet-after-a-night-of-jungle-juice type of sick. Hurling up the blood his body apparently needed defeated the whole fucking purpose.

  Still, the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to call Nikki and tell her not to come. She was his only Donor right now and it was a lot for one person to bear. His Cravings weren't as strong as some Sangs', but they were strong enough it meant she had to get stuck with a needle a couple times a week. It'd be easier if they were lovers. Blood and sex mixed naturally.

  He had her number pulled up and was about to push Talk when she stepped through the front door. "Hey," she said by way of greeting. Wearing a soft smile on her dark red lips, she gave him a quick hug before sitting on one of the barstools. She glanced around the empty bar.

  "Where's Armand?"

  "On his honeymoon."

  "Still?" Nikki's surprise wasn't unwarranted. Armand had been out for three weeks.

  "Until the end of the month."

  She laughed. "That's some honeymoon."

  "Yeah, well, they deserve it."

  She leveled her blue gaze on him. "So, you're okay with Julia now?"

  "I am. She's a good girl." Nikki gave him a hard look. Slade shrugged. "So I had my doubts at first. But she's cool."

  Doubts was an understatement. When Julia had first stumbled into Luxure, practically one year ago to the date, he'd hated everything about her. As a perpetual outsider who thrived on the fringes of society, Slade was naturally wary of seemingly normal people. And Julia had represented everything he distrusted about those who walk a traditional path: the judging, the fear, the misunderstanding… Initially, she'd proven him right. But she redeemed herself, and now, Slade was actually quite fond of her. In the end, it didn't matter two shits how he felt. Julia made Armand happier than Slade had ever seen him and that was the important thing.

  "Well, I have a hard time trusting someone with zero tattoos. There's something completely unnatural about it," Nikki said with a laugh. A tattoo artist, Nikki was covered in ink. There wasn't a bare spot of skin on her back, chest or either arm. She was an incredible artist and had done most of Slade's ink.

  She hopped off the barstool. "You ready to get this party started? You look like shit." She headed toward the blood room. "I'm not going to lie. I'm a little disappointed Armand isn't here. He's a damn magician with a needle. Never even feel the thing go in." She stopped at the locked door to the blood room and waited for Slade.

  Key in hand, he paused. "If this is ever too much for you…"

  She cut him off. "I'm just giving you shit."

  "I know. I'm just sayin'. If it gets to be too much…" He didn't care for the pangs of guilt building in his gut.

  "I'll let you know," she assured. "But it isn't an issue. This is the least I can do. I owe you everything. If it wasn't for you and Armand, I'd be dead. I haven't forgotten that."

  Neither had Slade. Nikki's ex was a douche-bag heroin addict who liked to knock her around. For years, she'd endured numerous black eyes, broken ribs and bruises no amount of makeup could cover, before finally finding the courage to end the relationship. When the restraining order only got her a trip to the emergency room with a ruptured spleen, Slade and Armand took matters into their own hands. They left the guy alive, barely. He split town immediately after and no one had seen him since, which was best for his health.

  "And Jenn's okay with this?" Slade probed. One abusive penis had been enough man for Nikki's lifetime. She now embraced the lesbian side of her bisexual nature.

  "I'm not going to say she gets it but she's cool. Are you going to unlock the door or not?"

  He hesitated and Nikki sighed. "Jesus Christ! Don't pussy out on me, Scott Corelli. Open the door, draw some blood and let's go! I love you, baby, but I don't have all night."

  Hearing his real name was an affront to his senses. She obviously meant business. "Fair enough." He pushed open the door after unlocking it.

  Pulling a tourniquet off one of the neatly organized shelves, Nikki tied off her left arm, flexing her hand until the vein at the crook of her elbow bulged. She leaned against a stainless steel table. "Look, I know this isn't ideal for you," she said as she scrubbed the injection site with an alcohol swab. "And I understand you feel like you're imposing. But honestly, I'm happy to help." Catching his gaze, she touched his arm. "As long as you need me. As. Long."

  He nodded. "Thank you." He didn't know what else to add, so he moved to the sink and washed his hands. After pulling on a pair of latex gloves, he grabbed a fresh needle and three, and then after a second thought, four Vacutainers. He usually only needed about an ounce of blood a couple times a week, about 30 mL or three Vacutainers. But this Craving was stronger than normal. An extra 10 mL certainly wouldn't hurt and might possibly delay the next urge.

  Setting the glass tubes on the table next to Nikki, he gently steadied her left arm and prepared to pierce the vein. The shaking hadn't subsided in his hands, and he realized very quickly ther
e was no way he'd be able to stick a needle anywhere, let alone into Nikki's fragile vein.

  "Wow," she said, her eyes on his trembling hands. "You really did need me to come over."

  "I don't get it. I didn't wait any longer than normal." The situation was a little frightening. If his Cravings were getting stronger, he needed to find a second Donor A.S.A.P.

  Nikki took the needle from him, slipping it quickly and smoothly into the swollen vein on her arm. She smiled sheepishly at Slade's surprised expression and shrugged her tattooed shoulders. "From my heroin days," she explained.

  There was no room for judging in Slade's world. He grabbed one of the red glass tubes and clicked it in the holder. Blood immediately began to spill into the tube. He withdrew and replaced them in rapid succession until three tubes were filled. As the fourth tube filled he gently removed the tourniquet and when the last Vacutainer was filled, the needle as well. He handed Nikki a cotton ball which she pressed against the needle hole.

  She rose from the table. "I'm going to take off," she said, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. "I'll see you in a few?"

  Slade's nod was small, weak.

  "Cool." She gave him a brief, rigid hug. "Don't stress, man. I meant what I said."

  She slipped out of the room and Slade heard the front door open and then close. He took her place leaning on the table. As he peeled the red rubber cap from one of the filled Vacutainers and swallowed the thick red liquid in one smooth gulp, he thought about how un-ideal the situation was. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate Nikki and everything she did for him. Shit, he was eternally grateful. But sucking blood out of test tubes gathered in some über sterile environment, well … it left something to be desired, to say the least.

  Blood might be a necessity for him but it was meant to be shared and savored in an intimate setting, not traded in a tit-for-tat you saved my ass now I save yours exchange.

  Slade sighed as the last 10 mL shot hit his tongue and slid smoothly down his throat. Ideally, this would be shared with a lover. Maybe in his younger days he'd have been happy to Graze off whatever tail presented itself but now he was ready for something more substantial, more meaningful. There was more to this blood sharing than lust, fetish or even basic necessity. He'd seen it with Armand and Julia. Now, he was ready to experience it.

  Of course, saying he was ready for a meaningful relationship was one thing; acting on it was a completely different beast. He hadn't begun looking for the one and wasn't even sure how to go about it. It wasn't like he could join an online dating site. He doubted they had a box to check for Human Live Vampire seeking Donor/Lover. He could probably venture to the fetish clubs or Goth bars but one, he worked most nights and two, he didn't own a ball gag, nor did he want to.

  That left luck and Luxure. Hopefully, his Ms. Perfect would walk right through the door and he wouldn't be too stupid to recognize her.

  * * * *

  "Hand me Doe in Field."

  Sifting carefully through the framed photos until she found the correct piece, Kate handed the artwork to Lauren, the curator of Gallery La Prochaine and her boss. It wasn't what one would expect from the title alone, even though it was aptly named. The black and white photo included both a doe and flowering field, but the doe wasn't grazing peacefully, or twitching with alertness as she spied some far off enemy.

  She was dead.

  Her large glassy eyes stared blankly at the viewer, a fly lingered on the froth gathered at the corner of her slightly agape mouth and tiny white flowers dotted the blades of blood soaked grass her carcass laid on. The photo was eerily beautiful but all of the artist's pieces were. Part of a collection called La Bella Morte: Exploring the Beauty in Death by the renowned artist, Lohr Varius, the photo was one of many portraying death in nature. The subjects in the photos were animals. The paintings were human.

  Kate's favorite was titled, Death by Fantasy. The huge painting featured a woman seated on a plain, wooden chair. Her arms hung limply at her sides, wrists forward to the audience. A velvet dress draped her smooth, cream-colored skin in tatters, exposing a single, pert breast. Pairs of puncture marks which looked like snake or vampire bites dotted her skin. There were several on her neck, one on her breast and one at each wrist. Blood oozed from the wounds, collecting in a shimmering pool at her heeled feet.

  The image alone was striking but it was the woman's eyes that captured Kate: lost, forlorn, desolate… As far as she was concerned, Lohr Varius was a genius.

  Lauren stepped back, arms neatly folded against her cashmere sweater and stood shoulder to shoulder with Kate. "So, what do you think?"

  Kate grinned. Finally, an opportunity to put her Master's degree to use. "I really like the emotional build up on this wall," she said, indicating the line of photographs decorating the brick wall before them. "The pieces are flowing well but I think Loss of Femininity should begin the exhibit, not end it. I believe Death by Fantasy is more appropriate. Not only will she," Kate indicated the painting, "overlook the gallery like a queen observing her subjects but I feel like the painting captures the passion building in the other pieces really well. Besides, her eyes will just draw people into the gallery. They won't be able to help themselves."

  Kate waited anxiously as Lauren considered the mouthful she'd just spewed. She knew she might have overstepped the level of opinion Lauren wanted to hear from her but Kate was eager to put her education and talents to use. Not that she didn't like or appreciate the assistant job Lauren had given her but Kate's dreams were to be a curator, or even a gallery owner, and she wasn't going to realize them by being timid.

  Besides, not only was shy the last word people would probably use to describe Kate, this was one area where she was 100 percent confident in her abilities. She just hoped Lauren felt the same way.

  Finally the older woman turned, her sleek gray bob swaying gently as she moved. "You have a good eye," she said with a smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. Age had only added to Lauren's beauty. She was the most elegant and truly beautiful woman Kate knew.

  Pride swelled in Kate's belly and, when a soft male voice behind her said, "I agree," she thought she'd burst. She actually felt the air get stuck in her throat and had to swallow in order to resume breathing.

  "Lohr," Lauren breathed and turned.

  Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Kate lifted her chest and turned to face the famed artist.

  His hands in hers, Lauren was kissing the air beside each of his pale cheeks in turn. Lohr repeated the gesture but his iridescent blue gaze was firmly planted on Kate. He was gorgeous in the photos she'd seen of him but he was striking in person. He was the kind of man Goth girls like Kate dreamed about. Tall and slender, his black suit coat fit snugly against his lean form and his straight, sleek black hair glimmered in the gallery lights, looking like glass as it hung in a perfect sheet to his waist. Except for the eyeliner, he had the face of a Calvin Klein model: angular and etched in perfect proportions. Of course, if he'd come in looking like Ashton Kutcher, Kate wouldn't have found him attractive at all.

  "I've never had my thoughts echoed so precisely," he said, releasing Lauren's hands. His voice never rose in pitch, staying low and even, like he was trying not to wake a baby. "Your new assistant is lovely," he told Lauren.

  Kate's cheeks were hot and she realized in dismay they were probably as red as his silk tie, which on her alabaster complexion would be blatantly obvious.

  It was a bunch of bull. She never blushed.

  "Lohr, this is Kate Miller. Kate, it is my pleasure to introduce Lohr Varius."

  He took Kate's hand and kissed it gently. "The pleasure is mine."

  There were a million stories on the Internet regarding Lohr Varius. As the self-proclaimed king of the vampires, most of them surrounded his love of blood and blood play. Looking into his electric blue eyes, she didn't doubt those stories for a second. She'd dismissed the darker, more twisted rumors — he killed his subjects himself, or he was actually 150 years old — as
nothing more than hype. She wasn't sure she could discount any of them now that she'd met the man in person.

  It did make him even more intriguing.

  "Nice to meet you, Mr. Varius," she said, trying to keep her galloping heartbeat from infiltrating her voice.

  "Please, call me Lohr." His pale, unblinking eyes remained fixated on her and he still held her hand. She wished she could remove it. It wasn't that his touch was offensive or anything but she was flushed enough and the look Lauren was giving her was making her extra uncomfortable.

  "I love your art," she said abruptly, hoping to turn his gaze and the conversation.

  It didn't work, but at least he finally released her hand. She quickly, and hopefully discretely, folded it into the other.

  Wearing a tiny smile, he replied instead, "How long have you been working at La Prochaine?"

  Kate glanced at Lauren and did a quick mental count. "Three months now?" She couldn't believe it had been that long. It felt like only last week she was driving into New Orleans and into her new life.

  The Crescent City had been like a refugee camp for Kate. Dying to get out of Texas after college and hopefully into a city where she wasn't the weird kid, she'd considered New York but, determined not to live off her parents' money, the enormous northern city and its huge living expenses were intimidating. Besides, she was a southern girl and wasn't sure if New York was her speed. New Orleans fit. Better than she could have ever dreamed.

  "She's been an amazing asset," Lauren was saying, the strange expression finally free from her elegant features. "I can't remember how I managed without her." The older woman gave Kate a warm smile.

  "I imagine," Lohr said, giving her a small, sultry smile.

  Kate knew she should be nothing but flattered by Lohr's approval but his fixation only made her flustered. Maybe it was his exceptional looks, or the fact she admired his work and he was something of a celebrity. Whatever it was, her heart was racing uncontrollably and she felt hot and antsy.