Eveillez: Deny Your Blood Lust

by C. D. Hussey

  Topping off the coffee cup, he leaned back in the chair and looked over the street. The parade was already gone. A few crumpled beer cans, a broken strand of beads, and a pile of poop from the police horses were the only stragglers.

  Tossing his thoughts into the street with the rest of the trash, he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the shaking in his hands.

  * * * *

  Angel wasn't sure exactly what woke her, but when her eyes finally peeled open, she found herself in the throes of a raging migraine. The entire left side of her head felt like it was being squeezed over and over in a vice-like Techno beat.

  She didn't dare turn on the light. Even the sound of her breath rolling in and out of her lungs was like a freight train. Lying in the cool darkness, she tried to get a handle on what might have woken her. Was it something her body needed? Besides blood, of course.

  When her phone suddenly rang, it felt like someone was shoving needles into her ears. She moved as quickly as she could without getting nauseous and possibly vomiting. Keeping her eyes firmly clamped shut, she rolled onto her side and felt around on the nightstand for her phone.

  It was Liz, one of her sunlight instructors. Angel rarely taught a class before sunset, but yoga was very profitable in the early hours. She employed several yogis who taught during the day.

  "The crystal healer is here," Liz told her.

  Wincing at the sound of Liz's shrill voice, she pushed her brows together as she desperately tried to dodge the knives in her skull. "Um…"

  "You scheduled a session last week," Liz continued.

  "Oh, yes, of course." She'd completely forgotten. As much as she wanted to find a solution to the depression that had been dragging her down for months, the prospect of getting out of bed was overwhelming. "Tell her I am very sorry, but I need to cancel. I'll gladly pay her for the session." She'd figure something out later, just not now.

  "Are you okay?" Liz sounded concerned.

  No, she was definitely not okay. Besides being rejected over and over by the only man she'd wanted in a long time, she'd fallen out of her silks, one of her Donors was in the jail, the other had betrayed her, and she was being tortured by her own body. "I'm fine," she lied. "I just had a late night and am not feeling well."

  "Should I cancel your evening classes?"

  "No, I should be okay in a few hours." Surely she could pull herself together before her first class. She owed her clients that respect. "Just lock the front door when you leave. I'll be right down."

  Clutching the phone to her chest, she eased onto her back, keeping her eyes squeezed shut to help fight off the nausea.

  There was nothing left to do but wait. Until the migraine had released its hold on her, she wasn't moving. Eventually it would pass and overwhelming fatigue would replace it. She could deal with fatigue. Exhaustion might make thinking slower but the throbbing pain in her head made it impossible.

  When she roused a few hours later from a pleasureless sleep, her brain felt like her muscles—a fuzzy mess. But at least the migraine had released its hold on her.

  Fumbling around the nightstand until she found her phone, she powered it up long enough to note the time—five—and to check her messages. A text message from Kindle and a few voice messages from Liz were it. Nothing from Kevin.

  She sighed. What was she expecting? That he'd suddenly get over his aversion to her and profess his devotion? Beg for her affection? Save her from her own apathy?

  With a sigh she rolled out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom. Hoping a shower would wake her up enough to make it to Luxure before her first class, she turned on the water and stepped into the stall. Warm water only made her sleepier, but cold water felt like someone stabbing her with an ice pick. She settled for warm. Not trusting her legs to keep her upright on the slippery tile, she sat on the shower floor and let the water wash over her like a waterfall.

  As soon as she got a handle on her Craving, she'd get a handle on the depression and then work on getting over Kevin McCoy. She leaned against the shower wall. Just as soon as her Craving was taken care of…

  * * * *

  By early evening, Kevin's fatigue had returned with a vengeance. To the point he could no longer ignore it. His head felt like someone had stuffed cotton between his ears, and his muscles felt like lumps of useless tissue instead of the powerful instruments they'd been the day before.

  Nothing he had accomplished the day before could be described as superhuman. But compared to how he felt now, it definitely felt superhuman. Chasing a car, climbing a pillar, scrambling over a six-foot fence topped with glass… At the current moment, getting out of his chair sounded like a chore.

  He thought of Angel and her fall from the silks. Of course, immediately after that, the image of her drinking Kindle's blood sprang to mind. She'd been like an animal. It was the first time he'd actually seen the vampire side of her. He didn't know how to feel.

  It was shocking for sure. Watching Kindle cut himself, and then watching Angel's brown eyes glaze over as she caught sight of the blood, like it was the most decadent delicatessen in the world, like she was starving and Kindle's blood was a steak, definitely triggered his holy shit response.

  But if he really took the time to evaluate his emotions, if he was truly honest with himself, he'd have to admit he was more jealous than anything. He hated seeing that lustful expression in her eyes. She'd looked at him like that before—when he'd kissed her at the police station and in the lobby of her studio, when his cock had been inside her. He didn't want to share that look with anyone.

  And then there was the little incident where he'd consumed Angel's blood. Had his eyes looked the same as hers in that moment? When her blood touched his lips he'd definitely wanted it, desperately. He'd attributed it to wanting her, but now he wasn't so sure. He might not be sure exactly how he felt about drinking blood, but he was pretty sure he wasn't repulsed. That said something, didn't it?

  What did it say? That the Human Vampire might be real and he might be a member? That the chronic fatigue he'd been plagued with his entire adult life could be cured by … blood?

  He finished the coffee in his cup. It definitely wasn't cured by caffeine, he knew that much.

  So, what now?

  He didn't dare call Angel. It wasn't that he didn't want to, he needed something more neutral. Everything about her turned him on, why would her blood be anything different? He needed a place where he could figure it out away from the temptation of her.

  There was this bar…

  That wasn't even open. Maybe by the time it did open, after dinner and another pot of coffee, he'd have grown big enough balls to make the trek to St. Philip Street.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  She's drowning. Above her, pale sunlight glimmers on the water surface, dancing on the waves. Her arms move frantically in a desperate attempt to get her to the surface. But no matter how hard she flails, it remains just out of reach.

  Slowly she begins to sink. It feels like someone had taken hold of her ankles and is pulling her down. She can no longer fight it. Her arms are wet noodles, her legs filled with rocks. She no longer wants to fight it. Closing her eyes, she succumbs and lets herself be pulled down.

  With a water-spewing cough Angel came to. The shower pounded against her face, any warmth in the water long gone. Turning her face away from the frigid onslaught, she coughed up the last bits of water trapped in her lungs. "Oh God," she murmured, her lungs burning with the effort.

  Had she slipped and knocked herself unconscious? Or had she fallen asleep in the shower?

  The freezing water continued to assault her goose-pimpled and shriveled flesh. Clutching the soap dispenser, she heaved her body forward and twisted the water off. Shivering, she crawled from the shower and grabbed a towel from the rack. Pulling it tight over her body, she curled up on the bathroom rug and clamped her eyes shut against the cold. If she could relax her body, if she could stop the shivering, she could warm up. She focused on taking steady,
deep breaths and thinking warm thoughts.

  She's wrapped in Kevin's strong arms, her body pressed against his firm chest. Warmth radiates from his skin, easing the chills from hers. His large hands stroke her back, encouraging the circulation to return with each pass. She nuzzles into him and he embraces her tighter.

  "I'm not going anywhere," he murmurs into her hair. "You're warm. You're safe."

  Angel smiled at the thoughts. For a brief moment she was.

  * * * *

  As Kevin reached out to open the door to La Luxure he hesitated. The shaking had moved beyond his hands. A subtle quiver under his skin, it started at his fingers and traveled up his arm. He'd had it for years. Only yesterday had it dissipated.

  Well, that was why he was here, wasn't it? To put the Vampire theory to bed?

  The muscle-bound bartender was leaning against the bar, massive forearms pressed into the wood. Kate Miller sat on the stool in front on him. From the expressions on their faces, Kevin was pretty sure if he'd shown up five minutes later, one, or both, would be naked.

  "The donut shop's down the street," Slade said with a grin as the door shut behind him.

  He took a seat at the bar. "You're hilarious."

  "I like to think so."

  He glanced at Kate. "Miss Miller."

  "Have you found Lohr yet?"

  "Afraid not. It's like he just disappeared off the face of the planet." Fear crossed her face. "Don't worry, I shot him. He'll either show up in a hospital or body bag. And the FBI's taken the case." Or so Johnson had told him when he finally called the station to check in. "He won't get far."

  "And if he shows up here," Slade added. "I'll deliver him to the cops in a couple of trash bags. Three if Lohr puts up too much resistance."

  Her smile was wobbly but at least it was genuine. "I'd kinda like to see that."

  "And I'd definitely like to show you." He gave her a lustful wink before turning to Kevin. "So if you haven't come to share some good news, why are you here?"

  He grimaced, suddenly finding the barstool uncomfortable.

  "Would a shot of whiskey help you spit it out?"

  "Yes." He sighed. "No. But thanks." He glanced at Kate. He wasn't sure why her presence made him nervous but it did. Slade was a blood drinker so Kevin knew he would understand. Even though the marks on Kate's neck told him she was obviously cool with it, he still didn't want to make his request in front of her.

  She seemed to pick up on his discomfort and rose. "I'll be right back," she said, making her way to the ladies room.

  Both men watched her enter the bathroom and when the door closed behind her, Slade turned to him. "The bagged blood is usually reserved for members," he said. "But I'll make an exception for you. I'm sure Armand won't mind."

  "How do you know that's what I want?"

  Slade shrugged. "Why else would you be here? Besides, you do have the most common symptoms of an unsatisfied Vampire Craving."

  "Why didn't you say anything before?"

  "I didn't notice in the hospital because I was engrossed in my own drama. I finally noticed last night, but there were more pressing issues."

  Kevin groaned, rubbing his hand roughly over his face. "Shit. I don't know if I can—"

  "Let me get you a shot," Slade interjected, "and we'll go from there."

  He disappeared into the back room and Kevin was left alone to twiddle his thumbs. God, what was he thinking? Did he really think for one second this would work, that drinking blood would somehow cure his physical problems, that he was some Human Vampire…?

  His thoughts were cut short as Slade returned carrying a tumbler with about a quarter-inch of red liquid at the bottom. Blood. That was human blood.

  Slade set it before him.

  "Where—?"

  "Donors," Slade interrupted. "Safe, screened, anonymous, donors. Almost any flavor you like."

  He could not peel his gaze away from the cup. If he stared any harder, his eyeballs were going to jump out of their sockets and permanently attach themselves to the glass. "Anonymous…"

  "To you. I know who they are."

  He might not be able to look away but he couldn't pick up the glass either.

  "It's best warm." Finally, he lifted his gaze to Slade. The thought was … horrifying. "I gave you a small shot," the bartender continued. "But it should do the trick. You do need to drink it though. Start with a small sip."

  The shaking in his hand as he reached for the tumbler had little to do with his normal tremble. Closing his eyes, he grabbed the glass, pressed it to his lips, and tipped his head back.

  The moment the blood touched his tongue all of his trepidation slipped away. It was as if every craving he'd ever had was satisfied with one thick swallow.

  "Mmm."

  "That's what I thought."

  He felt his eyes snap open. Slade was watching him, a huge grin plastered on his face. Kevin suddenly realized the "mmm" had come from his own mouth.

  "Fuck." He practically dropped the empty glass on the bar.

  Slade took it and set in under the bar, presumably into a sink. "Don't stress, man. That's probably the best swallow of your life. Trust me."

  "What happens now?" He was thankful Slade removed the evidence so quickly. He wasn't sure what he'd do if he had to stare at a bloody glass.

  "You should start feeling the effects pretty quickly. The shakes are the first thing to disappear; the fatigue takes a little longer. I'm usually pretty mellow right after, kinda how you feel after great sex. Later I feel energized."

  What a heavenly synopsis of events hopefully to come. Energized. Like he had been yesterday.

  "It was weird for me the first time too."

  Kevin looked him over. With Slade's red contacts, jet black spiked hair, fangs, black painted nails, skull tattoos, and fitted black Tee with buckles on each shoulder, the bartender looked like he'd always embraced being a Vampire.

  "When … how did you discover…?"

  "Armand. I came to the city to work in the shipyards—my uncle's a superintendent—and I was out one night and Armand approached me. I was a little freaked out at first, but everything he said made sense. I was a less of a square than you, though." Slade flashed a quick grin at him. "Armand hooked me up with a girl and well, the rest is history."

  "Hooked you up with a girl? Like a blood-whore?"

  "The term is actually Blood Doll but yeah, blood-whore pretty much describes it."

  "So it's sexual for these … Blood Dolls?"

  "Usually." Slade shrugged. "Some people really get off on it. Blood and sex man, they're a good mix."

  Kevin couldn't argue with that. Knowing how hard he'd come with Angel riding him, her blood in his mouth…

  "In fact," Slade was saying, "that was a night of firsts for me. I'm pretty sure I had sex with her too."

  "Pretty sure?"

  "Like I said, it was a night of firsts. I'm not sure I actually made it to her vagina. It's quite possible I had sex with the air around her vagina." He gestured in wild circles. "But I still count it."

  Kate's laughter was so loud it seeped through the bathroom door.

  "Ah shit, she heard me, didn't she?" Slade glanced at Kevin and then tipped his chin toward the bathroom door. "We cool?"

  "Oh, yeah, sure."

  "You can come out now," Slade said loudly.

  Kate was still laughing when she emerged from the bathroom. Wiping the tears running down her pale face, she returned to the barstool she'd occupied earlier. "Thanks. I was getting tired of staring at myself in the bathroom mirror." She started laughing again.

  "It isn't that funny," Slade said dryly.

  "Having sex with the air outside her vagina? Uh, hell yeah, it's that funny." She touched his arm. "Don't worry baby, I'll let you have sex with my vagina air any time you want."

  "Har-har."

  Her smile was broad as she stood up, leaned over the bar, and kissed him.

  Kevin was only partially paying attention. He was too busy
noticing the weird shit going on in his body. Warm gooeyness had seeped into his veins and he felt like he'd just had an hour-long massage. The tension was gone, the constant twitching that made it feel like his skin was trying to escape subsiding.

  "It works quick," Slade said, breaking his trance.

  He stared at him. "Impossible."

  "Maybe. But in a couple hours when you feel like you could climb Mount Everest, you won't give a shit." Slade leveled his gaze on him. "Look, I know it's hard to accept; in fact, I'm having my own issues with it. But you're not alone in this and we're not all freaks. Most of us are fairly normal."

  He shook his head. "Fuck. A Vampire…"

  "There are worse things to be."

  "Like what?"

  "A politician."

  He laughed. "Jesus Christ." He raked his fingers through his hair. "It's so ludicrous." He shook his head again. "So, how often will I need to," he grimaced, "drink … blood?" God, he even hated saying the words. If this bullshit was true, how the hell was he going to keep up on it?

  "It's different for all of us. Some Cravings are mild—once a week, every couple of weeks—some are stronger. I need it about twice a week. Vamps like Angel are daily drinkers."

  "Angel…" Kevin had successfully avoided thinking about her, but hearing her name brought her to the forefront of his thoughts and dumped a pile of emotions at his feet. Regret and longing being the strongest. "She knew from the beginning. All she tried to do was help me and I repeatedly pushed her away. I was a complete prick."

  The realization of what he'd done to her punched him in the gut. Of all the people he'd hurt in the last several months—his family in St. Paul, his friends on the force—he felt like he'd done her the greatest injustice. He might have run away from his problems in Minnesota, but the way he'd treated Angel was despicable, even for him.

  "She'll forgive you. Angel's good like that."

  He had a hard time believing that, but he suddenly knew he would do anything to make it true.