Spirit Sanguine

by Lou Harper

  Harvey had waited up for him and now lay next to him. “What’s wrong? You smell troubled.”

  “I smell troubled?” Gabe asked.

  “Yes, you do. It’s what Joe said, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” Gabe admitted. That was part of it anyway.

  After several beats passed, Harvey spoke up. “Tell me.”

  Right. Communication. And why not?

  Gabe dug down to the root of his unease. “He made it sound like he and Miklos had something to do with my parents’ deaths.”

  Harvey’s whole face morphed into a frown while he thought it through. “But that’s not possible. Your cousin might have been a deranged killer, but he couldn’t possibly pull that off. You’d need a vampire to do it. An experienced one too. You think…?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anything, but I can’t shake the thought they somehow got a vampire to do their bidding.” The thought troubled him deeply.

  “But that’s crazy!” Harvey’s words pretty much summed up how Gabe felt about it.

  “I know. Augustine wants me to find out whatever I can about Joe. Maybe I’ll dig up something.”

  “We will,” Harvey said encouragingly.

  “We?”

  “Sure. We’re good together.”

  “That’s true.”

  Harvey arranged Gabe’s arm to serve as a pillow and fidgeted around till he got comfortable. “Tell me about your parents.”

  “Okay.”

  Gabe told Harvey all about his immigrant parents, how they’d never completely lost their Old Country ways or their accents, about the smells of his mother’s kitchen, their Sunday dinners that had always finished with a traditional Hungarian dessert. He confessed how embarrassed he’d been of his folks as a kid, to the point that he didn’t invite any of his friends over after a while, and how ashamed he’d felt about that later. He told Harvey about the little store his father poured his life into, and how Gabe had ended up selling it after his parents had died. The hardest part was to talk about the accident, the impotent rage he’d felt over losing his parents to such a senseless act, how he’d used to stake out the overpass in hopes the perpetrator would return. Gabe admitted having fantasized about catching the guy and beating him to death, bashing his brains out. Learning that Uncle Miklos might have somehow been involved in their deaths felt like the ultimate betrayal.

  Harvey listened without interrupting. Once Gabe stopped talking, they both sank into a contemplative silence for a long while.

  Harvey spoke first. “Why do you think Joe killed Paul and Chrissy?”

  Gabe had wondered about that too. “Probably because he was a hate-filled, psychotic bastard.”

  “Yes, but it would’ve made more sense for him to go after vamps.”

  “He wouldn’t have had a chance against one of you. The vampires Miklos and I battled in Europe were different—lots of brute strength but not fast. The speed you move is a whole different ballgame. I’m guessing he knew it too, so he struck out to those he could easily overpower. Maybe after Miklos died, he snapped. I don’t know. If you know and accept vampires exist, it’s not too hard to figure out who they feed on. No matter how much Joe rationalized his actions, he was a bully and a coward.”

  “But the only thing putting you ahead of him, or us, is your ability to sense us from a limited distance. It’s not much.” Concern colored Harvey’s tone.

  “There’s something else. I knew you were going to break Joe’s neck before you did it. And it wasn’t the first time I had a foreknowledge like that.” Gabe rubbed his face. “What I can’t figure out is what Joe had been doing here for the past five years.”

  “I shouldn’t have killed the asshole.”

  “It doesn’t matter now.” Gabe had a feeling if Harvey hadn’t, he would’ve.

  “I lost it when he cut you.”

  Those memories were a part of what kept him awake. “So much for Sanguine. You fell off the wagon pretty hard.”

  Harvey flopped on his back and covered his face with his arm. “Don’t remind me.” He was a picture of embarrassment.

  “My ass is still sore,” Gabe teased him.

  Harvey groaned. “I was so scared I’d hurt you but couldn’t stop myself.”

  Gabe peeled Harvey’s arm away from his face. “You didn’t. Well, except for the ass, but that part was quite…umm…exciting.”

  Harvey squinted at him. “I wasn’t totally out of control, was I? I guess Syl is right. I’m safe.”

  “Not out of control. A bit wild.”

  “I had quite a lot of your blood, and you were just so… I can’t describe it. I wanted you so much it hurt. I’m sorry, Angel. It won’t happen again.”

  “It wasn’t bad.”

  “Not bad?”

  “Well, the sex part was pretty good.”

  “Oh really?” Harvey cocked an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, okay, I’ve never come so hard in my life. Now I get what Dill went on about,” Gabe admitted.

  “Well, that’s the upside to the whole bloodsucking business—you get to give something back. But I shouldn’t have been so…forceful.”

  “I’d be okay with doing it again.” There. It was out.

  Harvey stared at him, surprised. “You would?”

  “Well, not every day. It’s a little too intense. And not in public, if possible.” Gabe felt heat spreading across his cheeks. “Unless you don’t want to,” he added.

  “Oh, I do want to, Angel.”

  The heat spread across Gabe’s chest, and the source wasn’t all him. “It’s not only the sex, you know. It was different.”

  “Intimate?”

  “Yeah. I could really feel you. I don’t just mean physically.” He couldn’t explain it any better, but Harvey seemed fine with it.

  Their silence grew comfortable, and Gabe’s eyelids got heavy. Harvey moved to slip out of bed, as was his habit. Gabe grabbed him by the hip and pulled him back.

  “I wish you’d stop leaving the bed every time I’m about to drop off,” he grumbled.

  “But—”

  “But nothing. Stay.”

  Harvey settled back under the blankets. “Doesn’t it bother you that I’m stiff like a corpse?”

  “No, you aren’t. You’re soft and pliant. A bit cool, sure. At least we don’t get all sweaty when we spoon. It’s quite comfortable,” Gabe said matter-of-factly while tucking Harvey closer to him. In truth, he liked falling asleep with his limbs around Harvey, and waking up alone felt more and more like a loss.

  “So I’m simply a big body-pillow for you?” Harvey murmured, but Gabe could hear the smile in his voice.

  “Got a problem with that?”

  “No.” The word came soft as a puff of breath. Harvey wiggled around a little, then settled down. “You know this is the number-one thing I miss from being normal.”

  “What, sleeping?”

  “Falling asleep in my lover’s arms.”

  Harvey made it out like it was another one of his wisecracks, but a subtle sensation of warmth flowed through Gabe, starting from his chest bone and spreading to his toes. It came from Harvey, some extension of his emotions, but it also soothed Gabe.

  “Big sap,” Gabe muttered before falling asleep.

  Bad Blood

  Chapter One

  A bitter gust of wind whipped across the street, and Gabriel, aka Gabe “The Bull” Ungaro, pulled his heavy woolen coat tighter around himself. His fedora kept the drizzling rain out of his eyes. He stopped at the corner and studied every shadow, every dark doorway with suspicion. He had good reasons to be vigilant—danger stalked him from all directions. If he was found out, his own people would be even less forgiving than the Prohibition Agents.

  Gabe slipped into the hotel lobby quiet as a ghost. A lump of an old man sat behind the reception desk, chin resting on his chest, snoring. Gabe hurried past him and up the stairs. He didn’t take the elevator—too noisy, too easy to get trapped in. On the second floor, he turned left
. The shabby carpet swallowed the sounds of his footsteps. He rapped his knuckles on the door to room 216—two quick taps, a pause, and a single tap. Before he could even drop his hand, the door flung open and he was yanked inside.

  Harvey fell on him, lips hot against Gabe wind-chilled skin. The warmth of his lover flooded Gabe , reminding him why he kept risking everything for these stolen moments. Their kiss ended as swiftly as it began. Harvey pushed away and marched across the room.

  “I’ve been waiting for you at this dump for over an hour.” His vexation only made his half-Chinese, half-Caucasian features more handsome.

  Simply looking at him made Gabe pulse quicken. Even in his cheap suit Harvey looked graceful and sexy as hell.

  “I came as soon as I could.” Gabe unbuttoned his coat and draped it on the back of a chair.

  “Yes, I’m sure you were in a big hurry. You stink of cigars. Are you sure you weren’t playing cards with the boys?”

  Hurt fueled the sarcastic words. It had been the young man’s beauty and sensual smile that first attracted Gabe to Harvey when they’d met in a speakeasy, but this dizzying combination of sharp and vulnerable kept him coming back for more.

  Gabe closed the distance between them in three quick steps. He drew Harvey close, cupping his firm, round buttocks with his hands. He knew just how a little rough handling turned his lover on. Their hips rubbed together, rapidly stiffening cocks answering each other through layers of wool and cotton. Gabriel claimed Harvey with a hard kiss.

  “You don’t say no to Big Al when he wants to talk business, but I came the moment I could get away. Now stop your sniveling and get naked, or I’ll nail your ass to the mattress as you are.”

  The coarse language served to hide the perilous depth of Gabe’s feelings.

  Harvey either liked the dirty talk or was fool enough to think they hid deeper feelings. Gabe tore his eyes away from Harvey’s softening expression and began to undress. Harvey followed his example, and a minute later, they stood naked as a couple of jaybirds. Harvey sank to his knees and nuzzled Gabe’s groin. When the heat of his mouth engulfed Gabe’s prick, Gabe had to fight not to take control and thrust deeper. He threaded his fingers into Harvey’s thick black hair, but let Harvey set the pace. Harvey was too good at this—always knowing where to touch, exactly how hard to suck or when to pull back. Gabriel had more in mind than just a blowjob, so he tugged on Harvey’s hair.

  Harvey let Gabe’s cock slip out of his mouth with a slow, wet slide and sat back on his haunches. A question burned in his eyes.

  Harvey and Gabe always fell out of their roles for a few seconds at this point and snapped back into being their regular selves. Gabe felt Harvey’s craving in his bones, yet he knew Harvey wouldn’t act on it until he gave permission. He nodded. Harvey leaned forward and bit Gabe’s inner thigh, hitting the femoral artery. The bite was no more than a fleeting, dull sensation. It had surprised him the first time—he’d been expecting sharp pain. Just another vampire peculiarity.

  A rush of excitement followed the bite. Gabe had a hard time describing the sensation—promise, anticipation, a lot like the moment before orgasm. At the same time, his nerve endings became supercharged. He felt incredibly alive.

  Harvey sucked Gabe’s blood for only a few seconds—he was always restrained when it came to this part of their relationship. When Harvey stood up, Gabe knew they were back to playing their Prohibition-era alter egos. He looked on as Harvey threw himself on the bed, legs spread in an obscene invitation.

  “C’mon big man, show me why they call you the Bull,” Harvey taunted him.

  Gabe knelt between the slender legs. “It’s sure as hell not for this.”

  Despite the buildup, their lovemaking was slow and sensuous, both of them intent on stretching every moment, every lustful touch to its limit. After Harvey fed on him, sex was always more. All physical sensations became amplified—the taste of and texture of skin, smell of sex, even little whispered words of desire. Gabe’s awareness of Harvey sharpened too—he felt Harvey’s craving for him, and even echoes of himself in how Harvey felt him. The outside world with its chaos, anxieties and uncertainties fell away, and only the two of them and their craving for each other remained. They held back the inevitable till their self-control crumbled. Harvey came first, moaning into the crook of Gabe’s neck and dragging Gabe with him into their release.

  As they lay in a messy tangle, Gabe thought he liked this tired tranquility almost as much as the sex itself. Harvey sprawled across the bed, half slumped over Gabe.

  “Mmm…that was hot,” Harvey said.

  Gabe hummed in agreement. Their early, often impromptu role-playing games had grown more elaborate, more involved. Harvey had a unique talent for finding odd bits of clothing in secondhand stores and building stories around them. Gabe happily went along.

  Harvey climbed higher on Gabe’s chest and peppered soft kisses over his collarbone and the crook of his neck. “I love you,” he murmured into soft skin.

  “Mmm…” Gabe pulled Harvey’s face to his for a kiss. When they broke apart, he looked away to avoid the disappointment in Harvey’s eyes.

  Harvey had said those words before, but Gabe could never return them. He didn’t know what he felt. He’d been in love once, as a teenager—a mad crush on someone who didn’t even know his name. What he felt for Harvey he couldn’t categorize so easily. Addiction, most likely. Sex had always been easy for them, but since Harvey had first fed on him, it gained an extra dimension. It went beyond sex too, and at moments, Gabe thought he felt love, but the rational part of him knew it was only an effect of the blood-feeding.

  Harvey didn’t push the matter. He rolled off the bed, picked up the fedora and placed it on his head at a jaunty angle. “I wish men still wore hats like this. You looked so hot. We should do something in the style in those old detective stories. You’ll be Sam Spade, and I’ll be the suspect you interrogate.” He stood naked, except for the hat, in the middle of the room.

  Gabe welcomed the change of subject. He pushed himself up on his elbows for a better look. “I wish I knew how you come up with all these fantasies. Not that I’m complaining.”

  “I dunno. I’ve been making up my imaginary worlds since I was a kid.”

  With a wink, Harvey flounced off to the bathroom. Gabe listened to the splashing of water and tried to picture what Harvey was doing at the moment.

  “You know, this is plain unfair. You make all the mess, and I do all the cleaning up,” Harvey grumbled, strolling back into the room. He dropped the hat on the table and crawled back into bed.

  Gabe put an arm around him and tugged him closer. “Come ’ere, cicám,” he said. The word of endearment slipped out of his mouth before he realized it.

  Harvey arched his brows. “Hungarian?”

  “Yes. It means my kitten.” Gabe fought back the flush threatening to spread across his face.

  Amused laughter erupted from Harvey. “You know, for all that tough-guy front, you’re a big softy inside. Though I have half a mind to be offended.”

  “You remind me of a cat,” Gabe explained.

  “What, soft and cuddly?”

  “Obviously you’ve never had a cat chewing and clawing at your naked arm. They are beasts.”

  Harvey grimaced. “We never had pets. My father hated the idea of spending money on them. Who knows why. He had enough to spare. You?”

  “We had a gray tabby when I was growing up. Kandurka.”

  “Hungarian too?”

  “Yup, kandur means tomcat; the -ka makes it diminutive. It’s a whacked-up language.”

  “You must be bilingual.”

  “Pretty much. My parents spoke Hungarian at home, but after other kids made fun of their accents, I stuck to English, so I got rusty, especially since I’ve always thought in English. But I got better while in Hungary.”

  “Is that where you picked up…what was it again?”

  “Cicám. Nah. It’s what my father called my mother, but
only when he got frisky.”

  “Tzeeh-tzahm,” Harvey attempted to repeat the word. After a few tries, he got it right.

  “Your folks sound like they cared for each other.”

  “Yes. Didn’t yours?’

  Harvey wrinkled his nose. “I dunno. They were an odd pair. She was petite and beautiful and very nice. He was big and dull. Mom came from Hong Kong to study economics and met my father at college. Sometimes I think she married him for the citizenship, but she stayed with him even after. Maybe they had something. She died when I was little, so I didn’t get to ask.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago. My father and I never quite got along, though. I didn’t fit his idea of what a boy should be like. I was too small, too uninterested in sports and other guy stuff. He nearly blew a gasket when I joined the drama club instead of the wrestling team. Wrestling is way more gay, if you ask me. I moved out as soon as I could.”

  “Did he know about you?”

  “He must have suspected, but we didn’t talk about it, not till he was dying. I visited him in the hospital just a few nights before he passed away.”

  “How did it go?”

  “Not well. He called me an abomination, but I told him about being gay and a vampire at the same time, so it could’ve been either of those upsetting him.”

  True to his nature, Harvey tried to make light of it, but he didn’t fool Gabe, who pulled him closer and planted a kiss on his temple.

  Harvey wriggled a hand between the sheets and gave Gabe’s cock a friendly tug. “Up for another round, Mr. Big Bad Gangster?”

  Gabe was in favor of the idea, but it was getting late. “We should go. It’s already past dawn,” he said and patted Harvey’s rump.

  Reluctantly, Harvey let him go. Gabe got up and wandered around the room, picking up their clothes and piling them on top of the duvet.

  Harvey stood by the window, looking out onto the street through a narrow gap in the curtains. “It’s strange…” he started.

  When he didn’t finish the sentence, Gabe asked, “What?” and started pulling his clothes on.

  “It’s this vamp day-night thing.”