“Aye, that we does. Bit yew and me, we aw’ays,” he whispered into Ash’s ear, lips practically touching her, “have gret fun, eh, lassie?” Those green eyes shot up to catch Tristan’s and he grinned at the pissed off American.
There was no doubt what offering Desmond was asking for—her body. Tristan’s knuckles started to ache and he realized he was gripping the butt of his gun so hard that his arm trembled, ached with the need to pull the hardware and blow Desmond’s loud mouth off. Just who the fuck did the big Scottish bastard think he was? What gave him the right to touch Ash like that? Vampire or not, Tristan wanted to hurt the prick.
Desmond burst into laughter and walked up to the tall American until he they were pressed chest to chest. Tristan refused to move back and be intimidated by the guy. “An’ yew think yew can better us, then? We’d like tae see yew fookin’ try.” He said this all with a smile, but his eyes were hard and cold. Eyes of a killer.
Without thinking, Tristan swung out. Desmond could have easily of avoided the fist but took it square to the jaw without flinching. His head didn’t even move under the force of a blow hard enough to split one of Tristan’s knuckles open, cold eyes staring right at him. The place where he’d hit the big guy turned red for a moment and then smoothed back to pale white. It never happened—except for that Tristan’s hand fucking hurt. Tristan shook out his hand wondering if the guy had bricks for a jaw.
“That aw yew bloody got?” he asked, eyes wide with amusement, grinning like a psychopath. “Slap like a fookin’ girl. Hell, no’ even a wee lassie, that wud insult Asta.”
“You son of a—”
Ash stopped his next hit and Tristan blinked down at her in surprise, her hard, cold hand so tight around his wrist. He couldn’t move it even if he wanted to. “Stop. You will only anger him and there are more of them than I can handle at once.” Ash motioned to the room.
Somehow, Tristan had forgotten about all the others. And when he looked up he could have sworn there were twice as many than when they first walked in. Many had moved, clumping together in groups, and had taken off those expressionless white masks. His first assumption was right, these people all looked different. “Are they really vampires? They look human.”
A nearby girl sneered all teeth, but she had no fangs, and gave a small hiss like from a bad vampire movie. He rolled his eyes at her and looked back to Ash.
“They are not human,” she answered plainly.
Ignoring the huge Scotsman blocking most of his view, Tristan looked around again at the others. There wasn’t a single one there, besides the aforementioned Hulk, that looked like Ash. Desmond gave off a sharp laugh that made Tristan flinch and give him a dirty look. “Ah, bloody marvelous. She didna tell yew aboot us, then?”
“About what?” Tristan snapped, looking to Ash. He was losing his temper and this asshole wasn’t helping.
The Scot laughed and took a step into Tristan, trying to intimidate the American again. Desmond may have been bigger, but he still had to look up. “Yew dinnae ken a bloody thing. No’ aboot us. No’ aboot her,” he said pointing to the short vampire at Tristan’s side.
Angry and confused, Tristan took a step back as he looked to Ash. His mouth was open to ask her what the fuck was going on when she shot past him and tackled the big guy. “Holy shit,” Tristan exclaimed, stumbling away from them.
Ash had Desmond on his back against the tatami, knees pressed into his chest. Her right hand was poised in front of her, dripping with blood. Under her, Desmond’s nose was gushing red. Tristan’s mouth fell open, not sure what he’d missed. He never saw her hit him, none less saw the Scotsman go down. At least Tristan’s instincts kicked in enough to pull his gun. For what good it would do—he was just only starting to understand how much more powerful, faster, stronger, dangerous these things were. He was nothing more than a one-finned goldfish to a school of big-teethed piranha.
“Goddammit, Ash, what the fuck is going on? Are you lying to me again, because if you are—”
“No,” she said so quickly that he knew it wasn’t a lie. “He is—Desmond is a fool.” A jealous fool at that.
“Fook yew, lass.” He was smiling but there was something angry and defensive in his eyes.
She hissed something in another language and slugged him again, this one Tristan saw happen. Hell. He almost felt it. Desmond grunted under her blow and then she stood up off of him, shaking her fist. “I promised you, did I not?” she answered Tristan.
He looked at her, then at the bleeding vampire lying on the floor smirking and back to Ash again. “Fine.” Only because he had no choice at the moment.
Ash sighed and took a step towards him, putting her back to the others watching the drama play out. “Tristan, I—”
Her next words were cut off and replaced with a deep groan as something large and pale slammed into her, lifting her feet from the ground and throwing her through the wood and paper door the pair had entered from. Tristan could only stand and stare at the smiling Scotsman as he theatrically cracked his knuckles, slowly striding up to him.
“Yew got sumhin tae say, mate?”
Tristan looked back to where Ash was tossed, seeing nothing but a broken screen and the bottom of her feet as she tried to gracefully free herself from the mess, and then back to Desmond, breaking into a cynical smile. “Oh man, do I ever.” He clicked off the safety on the gun that was still in his hand and chambered a bullet. “The thing I wonder the most right now though is how many times I can shot you before it really counts.”
The big vampire laughed. “Dinnae even ken how tae kill a bloody vampire proper like. Brilliant.”
Behind Tristan, Ash stood up out of the rubble, angrily brushing herself off and ripped the katana from her hip. “I would not bother,” she snapped and jerked the sheath free, walking towards the pair. “You owe Shishō for that one, Desmond.”
“Aye,” he answered as if there was nothing wrong. As if Ash didn’t look like she wanted to rip his nuts off. She pointed the sword at him and he put his hands up playfully. “We even Steve noo, lassie.”
Ash gave the big guy a look that could kill. All women had that look, it was in their genetics or some shit. “The Look”. Yeah, you know the one.
“The hell we are,” she hissed and lunged.
Tristan gasped and tried to jump away, only to trip on his own feet and land right in the arms of a dark haired girl. He thanked her for the catch, but when he went to get up, she tightened her hold on him, unrelenting. “Whoa, hey, you’re cute ‘n all, don’t get me wrong, but now’s not the time for a tumble, sweetheart.”
He glanced back and noticed it was the same one who made the bad vampire movie hiss at him earlier. Across the room the other two were starting to really have it out, hard fists slamming into flesh. It was clear by the python-like grip the chick had on Tristan that he wasn’t going anywhere—guess she wasn’t human after all. And he was content to just stay in her hold, pressed up against her naked form until the others were done with their little Fight Club, but then he realized the girl meant to bite him.
“Oh shit!” he blurted and just reacted. Instinct moved his hand before he could stop it. He’d never hit a girl before and hadn’t planned on ever doing it, but there it was. His fist was just balled and moving over his shoulder at a bad angle to meet her face. She groaned and stumbled back, grabbing her face.
“You hit me,” she said in a surprised, thick Italian accent.
“Look, I don’t mind a bit of biting now and then, but I’m not looking to become dinner, darlin’ and if that means hitting you, then so be it.” That was assuming this chick was even a vampire. She had no fangs after all.
The girl smiled and dropped her arms showing a large red spot where Tristan had slugged her. “A man who’s not afraid of breaking conviction, sexy.”
Behind Tristan, the crowd was getting denser as it moved in around the other two boxing it out. There were moans that sounded nothing like fighting and everything like bedroo
m noises. Tristan wanted to turn around so bad to look it hurt, but the chick messing with him grinned a very Desmond-like grin and lunged. Tristan back peddled only to trip right into the arms of another. He had hoped it was Ash, but his luck was obviously shit. He didn’t need his sinuses filled with the scent of cloves and musk to know it was a man at his back.
“What the fuck,” he grumbled and then let out a low pained noise when the girl tumbled into him, forcing him back. Tristan and the one holding him fell back as she landed on top of him, kneeing him right in the ribs.
She opened her mouth wide showing blocky, human teeth. Tristan wondered what she possibly thought she was going to do with those. But his throbbing arm reminded him again what damage the vampire could do with just hands and that maybe he should count himself lucky she was de-fanged. And right now, he had two vampires on him… in supposedly neutral territory.
The arms of the one under him tightened and he felt something against his backside he wished he hadn’t. The woman grinned into his face and leaned down for a kiss or a bite. Tristan didn’t care for either as he started to writhe to get away, groaning with the effort, and failing horribly.
“Look,” Tristan snapped at his captives. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on here, we’re just here to see Yukihime.”
Instead of a coherent answer, he got a deep groan that ended in a growl, raising the hair across his arms. Behind him, Ash made a noise he was sure was a moan. Dammit, just what the hell was going on?
A tiny, but strong and angry voice rose over the commotion and the room fell silent. “Nani shiteru no?”
The crowd cheering on the fighting vampires parted, leaving Ash & Desmond alone in their promiscuous lump in the middle of the floor. Tristan had to crane his neck up to look and caught a glimpse of the one under him—he was only a boy.
“Oh my god,” he whispered when he saw who’d entered the room. The small build, alto voice, and long white, almost transparent hair said the person was a woman, but with the white and red fox mask, it was hard to say. Staring through the eye holes of that eerie mask were two pale iridescent gems, like moonstone. There were no breasts or womanly curves to speak of under the layers of snow white silk draped over the small frame, but if her size was any indication of age, this person was only a child. And pale. Tristan had never seen anyone who was so pale they practically glowed in the dark.
“Tristan,” Ash snapped even as she tried to catch her breath. She was going to have to teach him how to block his thoughts—for everyone’s own good.
He would have shoot her a dirty look if he could see her from his place on the floor.
“Grazia, Ezio,” the tiny voice snapped.
The two grappling with Tristan scrambled to get away from him, freeing him. He quickly moved away, trying to watch this newcomer, find his gun and see what Ash was doing all at once.
“Kono teppō?” the woman behind the fox mask asked as she lifted the hem of her garments to show his gun resting under a tiny naked foot.
He wasn’t sure what she said to him, but he had a good idea. “Yeah, I’d like that back, thanks.”
“Tristan, mind your manners.” Ash took large strides over to the pale creature in the mask and dropped to her knee. “Shi—”
“Damare,” the newcomer snapped at Ash. Those cold eyes fixed on Tristan. “You are here to see the Master of the home?” Again the voice was tiny, like a child’s, but her English was very good around the Japanese accent.
“Yeah. I’m here to see this Yukihime. And I don’t fucking appreciate her goons, or whatever, coming after us. Thought you guys were supposed to be Switzerland here.”
The chin behind the mask rose slightly. “Switzerland, dato?” She laughed, the sound of tiny bells and Tristan shivered having felt that sensation again, like someone touching him intimately. “The way I see it, you drew first blood.”
Tristan looked at his hand, his blood already dried on his knuckles and then to Ash. Her lips were drawn in a severe line, jaw stiff. Tristan shrugged, looking back to the tiny person. “The McBastard deserved it.” Tristan borrowed the term from Lucien. He didn’t like the kid vampire, but found the label for Desmond more than fitting.
The tiny person burst into laughter. Everyone in the room moaned, including Tristan. This time it felt like someone had just shoved their hand down the front of his pants and grabbed him. Jesus, was that really their laughter that did that to him?
“That may be true enough. Come.”
Tristan looked at her skeptically. “Where?”
She stepped aside, showing a long candle lit hallway behind her. “To the very end. Yukihime will be in the last room.”
“Great,” he said and started to leave. He gave the fox faced girl one last look before shooting Desmond a nasty sneer. The step he’d taken came to a jarring stop by the look of murder in the Scotsmen eyes despite the distraction being offered to him as the others started to remove his torn pants. Refusing to let the big vampire know the look unnerved him, Tristan gave him the finger and started out of the room, dragging Ash with him by the wrist.
“You’re going to miss a nice show if you leave now,” the masked girl practically purred.
Someone moaned and Tristan automatically looked back and then wished he hadn’t as he got a big eyeful of naked Scot ass. All around Desmond the others were in various stages of feeding off him and each other. The blood was flowing and Tristan felt keenly sick.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” he snapped to keep from the lump in his throat from turning into a frightened noise and left the room. In passing, the masked girl reached out and brushed fingers across his cheek, barely reaching him she was so short. He had to suppress a sudden shudder that threatened to shake him, the spot on his cheek flaming where those searing fingers touched. The panels slammed shut behind him but did nothing to dampen Desmond’s laughter. Or the moans of the others who’d gathered at his feet like devoted disciples.
Out of the room, he still felt the hum of those vampires at his back, a cold tingling that knotted in his stomach. The fact that he felt anything at all worried him. And there was still the Master of all those vampires to meet. If he didn’t like the underlings, what was the chief going to be like? Tristan was sure he wasn’t looking forward to finding out.
14: Still Doll
TRISTAN stomped down the wide hallway, fuming. Oil lamps lined the long corridor, sending flickering warm light across the ceiling, but not doing much for the pair underneath them. After he realized Ash was not with him, he stopped and spun to find her resting face first against a wall. Her back rose and fell fast like she was trying to catch her breath. He walked up to her and stopped just out of reach.
“You want to tell me what the fuck is going on here? What was that asshole talking about?”
Ash heaved a final heavy sigh that raised and lowered her shoulders and slowly turned to face Tristan. Her expression was darkened by the hallway shadows but he could see the pain there. And anger. But he wasn’t scared of her in the beginning and he wasn’t scared of her now. Right then, he was just pissed off.
“Because if you lied to me again, I swear to God I’m out of here. For good. I’ll take my chances alone, I don’t need your half-assed lying bullshit on top of all this other shit.”
“Tristan…,” she sighed and stood, turning to face him. Of course he wouldn’t forget what that fool Desmond had said to him. She should have prepared Tristan more for this visit and was paying for it now under the beat of his anger, the scent of blood and sweeter things to be had from beautiful bodies. “I have not lied to you.”
“Maybe not recently… and Jesus, why the hell is it so cold in here?” A shiver tore down his spine and he wasn’t one-hundred-percent sure it was the temperature.
She straightened, eyes narrowing. “Desmond spoke the truth. There is much you do not know, but nothing that will cause you harm.”
He snorted a crude laugh. “Then a lie by omission? What is it that I need to know?”
He took an angry step into her, pinning her between him and the pillar. “What are you hiding from me?”
“I told you, nothing—”
“That’ll cause me harm. So you said. But I’m the one to decide that, not you.”
She lifted her chin towards him. “You still do not trust me.”
“I’m trying. But, fuck Ash, you don’t make it easy.”
She sighed and relaxed. “I—” She looked away and Tristan took another step towards her so that the front of their bodies brushed ever so slightly. He was still angry, but being close to her helped distract him from that anger. He wanted to be mad, but he wanted to touch her even more. “I want you to trust me, Tristan.”
“I want to trust you too,” he said in a low voice, aware of their closeness. “There’s something… something inside me that demands it. That says I have to, something that wants…” You, was that last word he couldn’t speak, but then, he didn’t have to. Ash had that pesky trait that made every one of his thoughts less than private.
To his surprise, she leaned into him, lips parted and eyes heavy with an emotion he knew. He leaned down, meeting her halfway. Her breath was warm across his chin where she panted a little too heavily. “I feel…” Her eyes flicked to his neck, the tip of her tongue swiping over the tip of a tiny fang.
Tristan stared down into her pale eyes, that cold burn low in his belly spreading. He was starting to understand her hunger. The need to wrap her tiny frame up in his arms and devour her was nearly overwhelming. His heartbeat throbbed all over with anticipation. He wanted to give her what he wanted, but was he really okay with that? Alone, he was sure the idea of being bitten was not something he could do. But when she was close, the energy of her body mixing with his to make a new flavor, he just wanted to submit and let go.
Ash made a small noise, half whimper, half moan and pressed closer. She put her hands against his chest, feeling his heart pound against her palms. She traced fingers down the front of his jacket, over his ribs until she reached his waist and wrapped her arms around his back under the leather.
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