When she woke again, Lohr was perched next to her, his elegant fingers tracing the curve of her lips. She forced her focus to lock on him, blinking to make it happen. "What..."
"You are so beautiful," he interrupted, lightly running his fingers over her jaw. He bent and kissed the skin next to her mouth. "So incredibly beautiful." He kissed the other side.
"I don't understand," she mumbled, the words sticking in her throat like they were made of glass. She wanted desperately to push out of the liquid soup holding her captive, but she felt like a bee drowning in wine.
"What is there to understand?" He stroked her hair, his eyes sweeping over the length of her face and up again. "Your blood is like honey to me." He nuzzled her cheek. "You are like honey to me."
She wanted to twist away from him, but was locked in place by the ropes binding her. She swallowed against the fear and bile rising in her throat. "Why are you doing this?"
"I told you. Yours is the blood I crave."
Her muddled thoughts flashed suddenly to Melanie crumpled and bleeding in the corner. Oh God, she had to get Melanie and get out of there.
"Join me in immortality, Kate Miller," Lohr was saying. "Be my dark princess."
She stared at him in disbelief. Immortality? He really was crazy. Truly, fucking, crazy.
Somehow she had to burn off the fog clouding her thoughts and figure out how to escape. Her brain might not be at peak operating capacity right now, but she knew for certain she did not want to anger Lohr. And if she played along, maybe he would untie her.
"How?"
"The process has already started, my love. Only a few requirements to fulfill before you become my queen."
She hated the possibilities that popped in her mind. "Like what," she forced out.
"Only a little more of your nectar and then you can taste mine."
Lohr sat up, positioning himself until he knelt at her knees. Pulling a blood scalpel from the folds of his pants, she watched as he pressed it to the top of her naked thigh and cut. The substantial amount of blood that sprang from the slice ran warm and moist over the side of her quad, and was immediately captured by Lohr's long tongue. He growled, and when his iridescent eyes met hers, she subdued a shudder.
It wasn't long before the soup in her brain graciously overtook her again.
* * * *
Darus couldn't sleep. It was a foreign state for him. He could always sleep. People who had trouble catching some zzzz's tended to have drama clouding their thoughts. Darus didn't normally have that problem.
Until now.
All he could think about was Kate Miller and Lohr's unhealthy obsession with her. Darus didn't even know the broad, but he didn't want her getting wrapped up in Lohr's warped world. If Lohr wanted something he would get it, Darus had no doubt about. He wouldn't be surprised if Kate was with Lohr this very minute. The question was: what should he do about it?
His initial response was to blow it off. It was none of his business. But as much as he'd like to deny it, he felt guilty about Eve and his role in her death. Darus was a lot of things, but he wasn't a killer and despised being labeled as such. Ignoring Lohr's obsession with Kate Miller, especially given she was an unwilling participant, would only add to that guilt.
Normally, it was easy for him to disappear into his own narcissism, but this was one instance where his conscience wouldn't let him. There had to be something he could do about Kate Miller that would satisfy all aspects of his fucked up world. He just had to decide what.
* * * *
Slade had given up checking his phone. He'd also called Kindle and told him not to come in. It was pointless anyway. Not only was the bar a ghost town, but there was no way Kate was going to suddenly show up. It was done. Over. Finished.
And it was disappointing to say the least.
Slade wasn't a dweller, never had been. Angst was reserved for assholes and tasted like shit. But as he stared at the vast, empty expanse that was Luxure, he fell headfirst into a steaming pile of angst.
On the surface Slade might seem like an easy going, carefree kinda guy, and for the most part he was. But there was a reason he painted all the damn time. It was his therapy. Painting allowed him to express emotions on canvas instead of having his mind cluttered with them. It kept him from being an Emo pussy, that's what it did.
He'd spent his entire life being an outcast of some sort and the connections he usually made with people in the Community were superficial to say the least. He was tired of banging random chicks and drinking blood from test tubes. He was tired of being ostracized from his family, tired of living alone. He just wanted to see his nieces and nephews, his mom, his sister. And he wanted a goddamn relationship with a woman he actually cared about. Was that too much to fucking ask?
He'd never lamented his Vampire condition; it was what it was. But at the moment, with his Craving rearing its ugly head, the woman he hoped to satisfy it a no show, his father dying and no one telling him…he was really beginning to hate this Vampire shit. Hated being controlled by blood. Hated there was no medical explanation for it and hated there was a huge possibility it was all in his fucking head and he was crazy.
When the front door interrupted his thoughts, he breathed a sigh of relief. Death could have walked through the door, hooded cloak, scythe and all, and it would have been a welcome reprieve from the pity party bullshit tap dancing through his mind.
The couple who walked in was even better.
"Holy fuck, am I glad to see you!" If he had the energy, Slade would have jumped over the bar to throw his arms around them. Instead, he had to walk around it.
Julia laughed when he squeezed her. "We should leave town more often," she told Armand from the fold of Slade's armpit.
Armand clapped him heartily on the back. "It's good to see you too, friend. Having a slow night?"
"Something like that." Slade released them and returned to his spot behind the bar. Sometimes it felt like his feet had worn a groove in the floor from standing in the same place night after night. Julia and Armand took the center stools.
"Holy shit, do you have a tan?" Slade said after giving Armand a long once over. His normally pale complexion was now a deep brown.
He shrugged. "The sun is strong on the Mediterranean."
"You should have seen him the first day," Julia said to Slade. "SPF fifty couldn't protect him. Red as your eyes."
"The blisters weren't much fun, either," Armand lamented.
She touched his arm. "You recovered."
"Barely."
Julia grinned, moving her torso close to him. "You didn't seem to mind when I was rubbing lotion on you." The hand on his arm became a hand on his thigh.
Armand's eyes swept lustily over her. "I think there might be a few spots you missed."
"Hmm, I should probably get those."
"All right, all right!" Slade interrupted their banter and tried to ignore the slug of jealousy hitting him in the chest. He'd gotten a taste of a love like theirs. Bearing witness to it and knowing it was out of reach left him starving. "Your honeymoon is over. The PDA is no longer cool."
Armand glanced at Julia. "Guess it's time to go upstairs then."
She jumped up. "I'll get the bags." She ran to the door where they'd dropped their suitcases. As she stooped to retrieve them, the door opened and the broad smile slid from her face, something looking like terror replacing it. She scrambled backwards until her back hit the wall.
Armand's barstool crashed to the floor. "Julia?" He was by her side in an instant, his face contorting in pure rage when he caught sight of what made her so terrified. "Get out!"
Stepping into the bar, Darus winced but didn't budge when Armand ascended on him like a hurricane. Apparently Julia's terror had amused him, and he'd first walked in wearing a rather smug expression. He didn't look amused now with Armand bearing down on him.
"Get. Out."
"You aren't happy to see me, Armand? It's been a whole year."
Jerking his
arm forward, Armand wrapped his hand around Darus' throat. "No."
"Armand." Julia placed a hand on his arm. "He hasn't done anything this time."
"I didn't do anything the first time," Darus croaked. It was the wrong response. Still clutching Darus' neck, Armand jerked the door open and prepared to shove him through it. "I guess you don't want to know about Kate Miller," Darus wheezed.
"No."
"Wait! What?" Slade had been watching the showdown like it was a movie. He felt detached somehow, his focus shifting from the events unfolding in front of him to the trembling in his hands. But hearing Kate's name brought his focus back to where it should be. Running to the door, he pried Armand's fingers from Darus' neck. "What'd you say?"
Darus rubbed the pink skin on his neck. "Kate Miller," he repeated, glaring at Armand.
Slade stepped between the two, forcing Darus to look at him. "What are you talking about?"
"Who is Kate Miller?" Julia asked.
"A woman unlucky enough to catch Lohr Varius' eye," Darus told her.
"What do you mean?" Slade demanded, shoving his face back into Darus' line of sight. "Darus, please. What is going on?" Slade didn't care how desperate his voice sounded. Darus' statement had pushed his panic button.
"Look, I'll tell you everything, but first, you have to let me back In. I'm tired of being Invisible."
"Of course."
"Absolutely not," Armand said.
Slade turned to his friend. "Yes."
"No."
"Yes," Slade said firmly. "If that's what it takes. Don't fuck me on this. Kate is…special to me."
Armand's eyes softened and he held up his hands in surrender. "Okay. But you owe me." He turned to Darus. "You have a long path before you if you intend to redeem yourself." He glanced at Slade. "You'd better start now."
"Where is she?" Slade demanded as Armand returned with Julia to the bar.
"Probably at Lohr's warehouse by now," Darus said. "I don't know for sure she's there, but he approached me the other night wanting my help luring her there. He even said you might be an obstacle."
"Did you help him?" If Darus' answer was yes, Slade wasn't sure he'd be able to control his reaction.
"No. After the shit with Eve, I'm on the straight. Well, for the most part."
"What does he want with her?"
"He wants to turn her."
Slade closed his eyes. Fury fed the Craving shakes and his entire body began to tremble. Fists clenched tight, he could feel the muscles twitching and pulling in every direction. He felt like he was going to burst.
Darus pulled open the door. "You're going to want to hurry," he told them. "Lohr is certifiable."
* * * *
When Kate woke again, Lohr was gone and she was wearing a black silk dress. The pudding she was swimming in was even thicker than before. She was choking on it.
Dozens of candles flickered on the flanking nightstands, casting the room in an orange flow. The same violin music she heard when she'd first found Melanie poured out of unseen speakers.
She tugged weakly against her restraints, the ropes refusing to release or even budge a millimeter. It was hopeless. Tears welled up within her but nothing fell from her eyes. It was like she didn't have enough liquid to spare.
Her body throbbed from the dozens or so cuts decorating her skin, and she knew she was lying in her own blood. The sheets were moist with it. She wanted to scream, wanted to cry out for help, but only air escaped her mouth when she opened it.
"Don't struggle," Lohr said. She hadn't heard him come in, and the sound of his voice piqued her despair. "When you are my queen, I will release you." Climbing on the bed, he straddled her. His black silk shirt and slacks matched her dress. Pulling out his camera, he began taking pictures. There wasn't a flash, but the steady click-click was like a nail being driven into her brain. "Your terror is lovely," he told her. "It is unfortunate only my eyes will be able to enjoy it."
He moved the camera inches from her face and she squirmed away from it. At one time, the prospect of being a subject in one of his paintings thrilled her. If she had the energy or fluid to spare, the reality would have made her physically sick.
Finally, Lohr set the camera aside, but she would have preferred a thousand cameras over what happened next. Still straddling her, he slid his hands up her sides until they were buried in her hair. "I would prefer you sexually aroused. It gives the blood such a sweet flavor." His lips brushed her neck. "But fear is almost as delicious. I wasn't going to drink any more of you until you were fully mine, but…"
His teeth pierced her neck then, the pain overwhelming. As blood spilled from the wound and his mouth captured it, Kate's head swooned. She would have gladly surrendered to the darkness threatening to overtake her, but she was afraid if she closed her eyes, they would never reopen.
It felt like hours before he finally lifted his mouth from her neck. Blood, her blood, covered his lips and stained his teeth. His head dropped back and his eyes rolled back in their sockets as the most satiated expression she'd ever witnessed on a person spread over his face. It was an expression she only wanted to see on a lover's face, on Slade's face, not this psychopath.
With a smile, his eyes slowly opened and settled on hers. At this point, she could barely keep them open. "Are you ready for your treat?"
She tried to shake her head, but the muscles were slow to respond, and her head rolled weakly from one side to the other. She watched in horror as Lohr held out his arm and sliced into the fleshy part of his wrist with the same bloody blade he'd been using on her, and Kate could only assume, Melanie as well. Forcing her mouth open with the other hand, he lowered his wrist to her mouth.
Blood immediately filled it: metallic and tangy. She tried to close her throat off from it, would have spit it out or jerked away if she had the strength. But she barely had the energy to breathe, let alone fight.
As the fluid pooled in her mouth, she felt like she was drowning. If she didn't swallow soon, she just might.
"That's it. Swallow it. Savor it." She coughed, writhing as much as her depleted body could manage. Lohr increased his grip on her jaw. "Take it!" he demanded.
A sob heaved her stomach at the same time her throat finally consented. There was so much blood in her mouth, she gagged on it, but her body's reflexes kicked in and eased the liquid down her throat. Her mind reeled in horror. She couldn't take any more, she couldn't stand to be in this skin, on this bed, with Lohr dripping his fluids into her.
She disappeared into a better memory. Slade's handsome Italian features flashed in her mind, his boyish grin contrasting with the sinister look his red contacts gave him. She let the memory of his impossibly strong body, and the feel of his hard, smooth muscles against her remind her this horror was only temporary.
Chapter Fourteen
"We have to go. Now."
"Of course," Armand said. "We'll take my car."
Slade felt sick and it wasn't just from his Craving. He didn't think his shakes could possibly get worse, or his nausea stronger, but thinking of that sick fuck Lohr trying to "turn" Kate shoved them into overdrive.
It was Julia who noticed something was wrong. As Slade rushed past her toward the back door, she stopped him. "Are you all right? You aren't looking well."
He was ready to dismiss her, but unfortunately, the statement caught Armand's attention. He looked over Slade critically. "She's right. You look like shit."
"No sleep," Slade said quickly, hoping it was enough explanation. "Let's go."
Armand didn't budge. "When was the last time you Fed?"
Slade hated that term; it made him feel like cannibal. He shook his head. "I'm cool."
"No, you aren't. When?"
"Two days ago. So, like I said, I'm cool."
"Like hell you are. You're shaking like a damn Chihuahua and there isn't an ounce of color on your face."
Slade wished he could turn off the vibrate button to his hands. It was creeping up his arms now as wel
l. "It doesn't matter. I'm fine. Let's go!"
"You can't go in this condition." The concern in Julia's voice was overwhelming. He couldn't deal with it right now. Getting Kate away from Lohr was the only thing that mattered. "If it's blood you need, I'm happy to help."
Slade felt every muscle in his face turn to stone. "Absolutely not." The words barely escaped from his clenched jaw.
"It'll only take a second. It's no big deal. Armand can draw a couple vials…"
"Fuck. No."
"Don't be stubborn," Armand said. "I don't mind."
Beyond frustrated, Slade rubbed his hand across his eyes. "I said no, and that's what I meant. I'm not drinking your wife's blood! Look, whatever's fucking wrong with me is either in my head or maybe, it's because the woman I love is with Lohr Fucking Varius, Creep Extraordinaire!"
Armand nodded, the understanding finally registering on his face. "We'll get her." He turned to Julia. "If you don't hear from me in twenty minutes, call the police."
She nodded, but her expression was stricken. "Be careful."
"Of course." He bent to kiss her and Slade thought he would explode.
"Jesus! Please, can we go?" he begged.
Armand let his eyes linger on Julia for the longest, most excruciating five seconds of Slade's life before finally turning to him. Without a word, Armand pushed through the curtain into the back room and then out the back door, Slade on his heels.
Within seconds they were squeezing into Armand's Jag. The barn he'd converted into a garage was barely wider than the car, and Slade had to force his hips through the door before his chest could uncomfortably follow. Butter would have made the process much easier.
Blind spots made backing onto Royal tricky and painfully slow. Hitting a pedestrian would only slow the process further, so Slade smothered his anxiety with the breath buried in his lungs as the car inched backwards. When Armand had the clear and hit the gas, leaving some of his tires behind, Slade was flooded with warm relief that rapidly dissipated when the garage was no more than a hundred feet behind them.
de Sang: Embrace Your Blood Lust Page 14