by Martha Woods
“It is probably a blessing,” I say. “Not remembering. Your mind is probably protecting you from further trauma.”
“Yes,” I suppose,” she says with a heavy sigh. “I think I loved him? I’m not sure.”
I remember the blush on her skin while Charlie had his way with her at Olivia’s. The other vampires had commented that her feelings must be real, because blushing was a real response, that humans being compelled did not blush like that.
“I think you did, too,” I say. “Love is cruel sometimes.”
My mind wanders to Vincent, just for a moment. I feel him through the bond we share. I have tried to keep our minds separated, tried to stay away from his thoughts. For just a moment, though, I allow myself a quick dip, just to let him know I am thinking of him.
“Well, “ she says, her tone resolved as she wipes an errant tear from her cheek, “Let’s talk about something else, shall we?”
“Gladly,” I say cheerfully. “How’s work?”
“It’s been good,” she says. “It’s been keeping me from thinking too much, you know?”
I nod. “Yes, work was always that for me, as well, until recently.”
“What’s going on?” she asks.
“Oh, Rick is limiting my investigations,” I say. “There has been a lot of drama and craziness and I haven’t been well, either, so he is leery of allowing me to resume my normal duties.”
“That must be hard for you,” Cara sympathizes. “I know how much you love your job.”
“It is, but I have an interesting case right now,” I say, “so I am hoping it will help me convince Rick that I am okay to get back to normal workloads.”
“Normal workloads can be a blessing and a curse,” Cara says. “I can think of plenty of times when I have wished for extra time off, but now, work seems like a safety net. Plus, there’s a new attorney at work who keeps trying to flirt with me.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask. “You flirt back?”
“Oh geesh,” she says, giggling. “He’s totally gorgeous but I’m not ready to date again yet, I don’t think. But if I were, I’d totally go out with him.”
“You’d date a coworker?” I ask.
“Sure, why not?” she asks.
“I mean, what if you beak up? Wouldn’t it be awkward?”
Cara laughs. “I guess, maybe. But we’re all adults. Right?”
This feels like the old Cara to me. It feels like our old friendship – me, being overly cautious and rational and her, throwing caution to the wind. It has always been like this for us. We are a good balance that way.
“How is Damon?” she asks after telling me the office gossip.
“He’s okay,” I say. “He started a new job as a bouncer tonight.”
“Oh, where at?” she asks.
I grimace. “At the Centerfold Club.”
A wide smile blooms on her face. “No kidding?”
I shake my head. “He is actually helping me stake the place out for my latest case.”
“Oh,” she says, laughing. “That makes more sense. I mean, I would be so super jealous if my boyfriend was working around naked women all night, every night.”
“Well, it’s not like he needs to go elsewhere to see a naked woman,” I say, grinning. “He sees me naked every day.”
We giggle and swap sex stories and it means so much to have my best friend back in my life tonight. I needed this more than I realized and I pat myself on the back for calling her, for inviting her out, instead of retreating into introverted cave for the night, just me and a movie on my couch.
Around eleven, she tells me she needs to head home because she has a court appearance in the morning. We hug for a long time and promise to get together again soon.
* * *
I stand outside the bar, deciding whether or not I am too drunk to drive myself home. Contemplating the few mile drive versus a taxi ride, I turn to find a large man next to me on the sidewalk.
Tristian, eye-patched and thickly bearded, huffs a greeting at me.
“Ugh,” I groan. “What do you want?”
“I need Damon back,” he says. “There’s some crazy shit brewing. Vampire nests are getting bigger, covens joining together and feeding more regularly than usual. Werewolf packs that have fought for years over territory now hunting together. I’ve heard that Witches are experiencing power surges, like they’ve all been plugged into some kind of supernatural grid. Something is not right and we need all the Hunters we can get before all Hell breaks loose.”
“I never asked him to leave the brotherhood,” I say.
“He gave it up for you. After that business with the Sisters, he knew his attachment to you would get him in trouble. But that boy can’t stay away from the Hunt. And because I need him, but he wants you, I need you to send him back to work.”
“Talk to him yourself,” I say. “I’m not his keeper.”
“But he quit because of you,” he says. “He won’t leave you unless you make him.”
“You make it sound like his relationship with me and his role as a Hunter are mutually exclusive,” I say. “They don’t have to be.”
“They do, though,” he says. “And you know it. He nearly got killed because of his feelings for you.”
“Well, regardless of that – and for the record, I’m the one who saved him – it’s not my choice to make for him.”
He scoffs. “Okay. Well just know we need him and you keeping him like a pet is doing no one any favors.”
“A pet? Are you kidding me? You piece of sh--,” I start.
Before I can unleash some truly choice language, I’m overcome with a feeling of utter terror as the world around me falls away.
I’m running. We were having a normal conversation and he just…switched. His eyes went black and he started calling me filthy names. When he grabbed the knife, I just ran. And now I’m trying to get to the police station, trying to get somewhere safe and…oh god, he’s catching me up. Maybe if I turn around, show him how scared I am….
“Why are you doing this, Jimmy?”
He mocks me, repeats the question I just asked. I back away with my hands up.
“Don’t hurt me. I love you. Why are you doing this?”
He laughs, a maniacal, inhuman sound. He says in a voice that is not his own, “Because it feels good.”
I scream and turn to run but he’s there, and the knife is… and oh my god. Is that my blood?
* * *
I come back to the world slowly, like waking up after surgery. Everything is foggy. My mouth is dry. I feel like if I stand up, I’ll vomit.
“Where am I?” I mouth, my voice scratchy and hoarse. Someone is holding me.
I blink a few times and see the familiar blue eyes first. Vincent.
I struggle to sit up, but he shushes me, his finger at my lips.
“Amy, take a moment,” he says. “You have had a vision of some sort. When I found you, you were convulsing and screaming on the ground. I worry you have hit your head.”
As I sit up and look around, my vision is fuzzy but I can see there are people standing around, watching. Great.
“Where is Tristian?” I ask looking around. “I was about to unleash verbal hell on him for calling Damon my pet.”
“The Hunter was gone when I found you,” he says. “Very chivalrous of him, was it not?”
“Indeed,” I say. “What a jerk. Help me up?”
Vincent does as asked. He notices my cheeks reddening from embarrassment and says, “Can you stand on your own for a moment?”
I nod and he wanders off. A few moments later, the crowd dissipates and he returns to my side. “Shall I call us a ride?”
“I was debating driving or calling a cab when the weirdo with a beardo came up to talk to me,” I say, laughing weakly at my own joke. Vincent doesn’t get it, though, which doesn’t surprise me. “You need to develop a sense of humor, Vincent.”
“Sweet Amy,” Vincent says. “You need to rest. May I drive you home,
then?”
I hand the vampire my keys and he puts his hand on the small of my back as we walk the block or so to where I parked my car.
Just a few minutes later, Vincent pulls into my paring spot and escorts me into my apartment building. After a quiet ride in the elevator with Vincent’s hand once again unobtrusively on my back, he hands me my keys and I unlock the door, practically collapsing onto the couch, shoes and all. Apparently a few drinks and a weird, seizure-inducing vision on a city street really take it out of a girl. Who knew?
The vampire picks me up and whisks me to the bathroom, where he runs a bath and helps me from my clothes. I’m not so out of it that I don’t realize this could be a bad scene should Damon come home right now, but I am totally beat and a bath sounds amazing right now.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be out of here before your hunter friend returns.” He scoffs.
I nod, stepping into the tub. Several times, Vincent gently jostles me awake, finally pulling me from the warmth of the water and enveloping me in a soft towel. He dries me and helps me into a t-shirt and pajama bottoms. I don’t bother to ask how he knew where to find them.
I lie down in my bed and he sits on the edge.
“Amy, what did you see?” he asks. “I was drawn to you as soon as the vision began. It felt as if it were really happening.”
“Erin, one of the murdered girls. I mean, I was in her body and feeling her feelings in her last moments,” I say. “It was gruesome.”
“You screamed quite loudly,” he says.
“She couldn’t understand why he wasn’t himself. And he really wasn’t. His laugh, his voice, none of it was his. And his eyes were black.”
Vincent nods. “Interesting.”
“Faye says someone is harnessing a lot of power and that it’s making our powers stronger. I think that is why I have had this vision. I felt something similar, not quite as intense, at work the other day. It’s getting stronger.”
“And the creatures are all gathering,” he says, mirroring what Tristian said. “I have not seen such cooperation between covens since the last great war.”
“Great war?” I ask.
“Oh yes,” he says. “Maybe two-hundred years ago, a rogue vampire tried to mix bloodlines of many different creatures to create hybrids. Some chose to follow him and his research. Others felt that his creations were abominations. There was a war that lasted twenty years.”
“Do you think something so significant is happening now?” I ask. “Tristian said that werewolves that normally battle for territory are now hunting together. He thinks that something big is happening. Could it be something similar?”
“I do not know. I hope not, yet I feel the pull. I feel the need to return to my kind, to assure they are safe,” he answers. “It is innate, when war is brewing. I fear whatever is coming is now unavoidably driving us toward war.”
I frown but my eyes are heavy. Vincent says, “Sleep now,” and I cannot fight it.
He kisses my neck. My chest, my naked breasts, hardened in the brisk, night air. His long hair flows around his wide shoulders, his defined pectorals lead to a stomach planed with muscle. A thin patch of hair trails to a larger patch of hair from which his erection protrudes.
He’s a beautiful being, perfect with his strong nose, regal cheekbones, kissable but masculine lips. An angel in a devil’s body.
His tongue works my taut nipples as I fight against the chains that hold my arms above my head. He chuckles, continuing to trail south, his lips meeting my stomach, his fangs grazing against my hip bones as I struggle and writhe, moaning softly.
When his lips finally meet that apex between my legs, I cry out. His tongue works magic against my folds, in between them, into the hole that begs for more than just this sweet torture. I widen for him, feeling the early build of release.
It swells and swells, a tidal wave threatening to sweep me away. When the levee breaks, I stop breathing, stop moving, and just let the feeling overtake me.
When I slump against the chains, he rises, his gorgeous body on display again as he walks behind me. I feel the length of his body along my backside, his erection between my legs as he reaches around, his hands finding my breasts once more.
He fits himself inside of me, moving his hands to support my rear, lifting me while he takes me from behind like an animal. His thrusts are hard and proprietary. He is marking me, owning me. I know this in my heart, and my body responds in kind, pulsating with pleasure, even more so when he sinks his teeth into my shoulder.
Allowing him to take my blood is personal. I feel what he feels, desperation, attraction, anger, frustration, desire. Love. I feel it all as we crash together, crying out our release.
When he releases the manacles around my wrists, catching me as I fall, I am limp and boneless. He feeds me from his wrist, saying, “Be strong, sweet Amy.”
I drink and drink.
When I wake up, clutching at the sheets, my nether region pulsates with want. My panties are damp and my body is overheated, slick with sweat. I feel full and sated, though, groggy as if I’ve just had a five-course meal.
I throw my feet to the ground, feeling the cold, hard wood reconnect me to reality. I stumble in the dark to the bathroom, feeling every bit as if my intense sexual dream – starring none other than the vampire Vincent – was real.
I look at my body, still clad in t-shirt and pajama bottoms and know it was just a dream. Just a dream.
I drink a cup of water and make my way back to bed, where Damon pulls me closer, only barely awakened by my movements.
For a long time, I lie awake, still aroused, still wanting.
Chapter 8
It has been three days since I made my deal with Rick and I am no closer to unlocking the secrets of the Centerfold club and the three murdered woman as I was before.
It is incredibly frustrating. I know there must be something I am missing. There has to be, and it has to be connected to the Centerfold Club.
Damon sets a plate of eggs and bacon in front of me, smiling. I cannot bring myself to return the gesture.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
“What? No gold medal for making breakfast without burning something?” he jokes.
I give a weak smile. “It looks awesome. It’s not you. I only have four days to figure this out or I’ll be forced to take a leave of absence. Please give me something I can use.”
“There’s been a fourth murder, Amy,” he says.
I look at him sharply. “What?”
“Last night. Another girl. Killed by her neighbor. She was due to perform at midnight but she didn’t show up. Two cops came in asking questions as we were closing up.”
“Dammit,” I snap. “Not our team, I assume?”
“No, I didn’t recognize them,” he says.
“Anything weird in the club, besides all this?” I ask.
“Well, I don’t feel magic the way you do, but I can say that the girls who work at Centerfold are spooked. They’re all talking about how they feel unsafe. I guess there is an owner but they’ve never met the person – he sends in some goon to rough the girls up any time they talk too loudly about leaving or going to work somewhere else.”
“That’s worth looking into, for sure. What about Alexis?” I ask.
“She’s tough, runs a tight ship,” he says. “From what I can tell, she’s good at her job. She can be serious but she seems to care about the people who work there.”
I frown, but don’t press further. “What about Brian, her brother?”
“The blonde bartender?” he asks.
“Mmm-hmm.”
He shrugs his big shoulders. “He’s unobtrusive. Mostly moons over over of the dancers named Lydia.”
“He was chatty when I went in to ask questions the first time,” I explain. “He might be worth getting to know. Alexis sais he was her brother.”
“Hmm,” he grunts. “I don’t see the resemblance.”
“I don’t know,” I say, “they�
�re both good looking.”
“I suppose,” he says. “I’ll talk to him a little.”
We’re quiet for a while. After a while, I ask, “Do you enjoy the work?”
He shrugs. “It’s okay. I don’t mind it.”
“You could go back,” I say, my voice oddly cheerful. “To being a Hunter. Don’t you miss it?”
“Part of it, I do,” he says. “I just don’t think being a Hunter, being at risk all the time…I don’t think I can do that and make promises to you, to our relationship.”
“I never asked you to promise me anything,” I say. “I was just happy being with you.”
His facial expression softens. “I know, babe. I know you don’t want to be the reason I stay away, but we both know that if we are going to be together, it will be safer if I stay away from the Hunt.”
“Tristian spoke to me last night,” I say. “Just briefly. He says he needs you.”
“Really,” he says, his face hardening, the softness replaced with steel. “He came to you?”
“It might have been coincidental, but I can’t be sure. And he definitely wanted me to send you back.”
I relay the conversation, leaving out the vision and the fact that Vincent brought me home and saw me naked. That would not go over well and I don’t have it in me to have another argument with Damon this morning.
Damon doesn’t say much about my conversation with Tristian, though he clearly mulls it over as he drives me to work. He insists on driving, even after I tell him to feel free to go back to bed. He is quiet the whole way, chewing on one corner of his bottom lip as he drives.
As we pull up, he says, “I just don’t think I can go back and be with you. It is too hard to manage a relationship in the best of circumstances. Being a Hunter…there are many who would use anything they could to get to me. That includes hurting you, or hurting me to hurt you, or hurting us both. And sometimes it is for an end game, like with Olivia. Sometimes it is just for the monster’s own, twisted pleasure. I simply can’t take that kind of risk.”