Born of Fire

by Danika Kane

  “Yes!” Caldre realized he’d ripped the man’s tendons to shreds but didn’t give a shit.

  “Jesus!”

  “Oh my God!

  “Do it! Kill him!”

  The crowd instantly rushed the stage, shaking their fists in the air.

  And all Caldre wanted to do was slaughter the man. As he tilted his head and looked down, he dragged the tip of his tongue across his lips and teeth and could swear they were sharper. He twisted again until Stash’s face went stark white.

  “Let me go.” Stash’s voice was barely audible.

  Caldre shifted and pushed his weight into Stash as he lowered his gaze to the man’s jugular, his rapidly beating pulse. The instant vision of sinking his teeth into Stash’s neck was tempting. Opening his mouth wide, he issued a keening howl and lowered his head. Seeing the terror in Stash’s eyes was delicious.

  Stop now. You can’t do this. Come to me.

  “Kill him!”

  “No, Caldre stop,” Draper pushed his way to the edge of the ring, his voice imploring.

  “Let him go, son. You’ve won the match,” the gruff voice filtered over him as hands grabbed Caldre’s arms.

  He wavered back and forth between reality and something else entirely. Caldre snarled and dropped his head, sinking his teeth into Stash’s neck.

  “No!” Stash screamed.

  Let him go and come to me.

  As a moment of melee ensued, Caldre suddenly broke his hold on Stash and turned his head toward Sakima. Then he slowly rose and walked off the mat, leaving a broken and bloodied man in his wake. A new chapter had begun.

  Immortality. Perhaps now he was ready.

  Chapter 8

  Sakima was surprised Caldre had been able to disappear after the win. Granted, the entire arena had gone wild after the fight, rushing the stage to take pictures of the fallen man, and more accusations thrown against Sakima and his past. The murder of William Forester was all the raging news and his family was hell bent on crucifying anyone connected to him. Sakima had been contacted by the police and would need to go in for questioning. Damn it, he loathed modern crime fighters. Right now, he had to concentrate on caring about the seriously injured Stash. While he was no doctor, he knew from his years of experience Stash was likely never to be able to fight again. Tendons and muscles in his arm had been literally ripped to shreds. He’d stayed to comfort the fighter as the reporters hovered around, the accusations more significant than the questions.

  Every thought drifted to Caldre. Sakima sensed what dire straits he was in, the hunger leaving him raw and bitter. There was no doubt Caldre was going to lose his humanity, needing to find a source of food, even though he couldn’t understand at all what was happening to him. Only Sakima knew and could help him. Everything had been set in motion and was now out of his control.

  Slipping out the side door, he moved to his car and became keenly aware of a presence standing in the shadows. The person was watching and waiting, as if to see what he was going to do. Sniffing, he was unable to detect the identity of the person. Without a doubt, the entity was filled with animosity, their intentions murderous. His thoughts shifted to Tor, the curiosity growing. He was going to check on his dear friend and find out if he was loyal. At this point he had to locate Caldre, for fear the man would thwart chaos on the unsuspecting city.

  As he walked toward his car, clicking on the unlock button, he realized so many aspects of his life would need to change. Sakima couldn’t help but think only Tor could lead him to the person or persons betraying him and he was determined to figure out who that person was.

  Sakima climbed into his car and glanced out of the windshield. Usually the night was his friend, his savior in a way of hiding him when necessary. Tonight, the darkness seemed far too foreboding. He sighed as he thought about how many centuries he’d lived and the loneliness only fulfilled once, the time short lived. Was he being allowed a chance at happiness again or was this the final ending to his centuries of torture? Either way, finding Caldre was the only thing he could concentrate on. The rest would have to wait.

  Turning over the engine, he zoomed out of the parking lot toward Caldre’s house. The ride somehow cathartic, he thought about the limited information he’d been able to find out about Caldre’s ex-lover. Michael Sichione had been a human with a bent on the occult. He craved all things vampirism and it appeared the accountant had run across more than he’d bargained for. There was little to go on except for police reports of the murder investigation, one that had gone cold after finding no evidence to implicate Caldre. The murder was oddly very much like a heinous act performed by a vengeful vampire. The thought remained in the forefront of his mind.

  Were the murders merely a man or two men being in the wrong place at the wrong time? He was beginning to have an idea this was a very well-planned scheme. Or the curse… Goddamn, the fucking curse. Vampires often caroused vampire based Goth bars in search of victims who would easily give in to the very concept of being bitten. Little did anyone know the cascading effect the few events that led to Michael’s horrific murder would have on a future that might have never happened had Caldre remained unbitten. The man was floating between his human life and the reality of what he was becoming. There was no turning back and even though Caldre had remained human for these years, the Soul Monger was going to have to make a choice, life as a vampire or death as he knew it. There was no longer an in between. Whether curse or simply body chemistry, a cataclysm of events had led to decisions needing to be made.

  If Caldre couldn’t or refused to make the only decision, Sakima would have to make it for him. He was ready for this to end, one way or the other, and needed to find out who was betraying him and his company. As he downshifted the Ferrari, ready to turn on the interstate for home, he slowed to a crawl and contemplated what he wanted to do. As a series of cars careened around him, horns blowing, he snarled and dragged his tongue across the tips of his fangs. Anger tearing through him, he jerked the steering wheel to the right, banking down the exit ramp, gunning the engine.

  Tor owned a fashionable bistro and jazz club in the heart of the financial district. He’d been to the posh establishment on several occasions, giving his support in several ways. After all, he was one of the silent investors in the restaurant. Perhaps it was time to make a visit unannounced.

  Sakima found a parking place close enough and as he walked down the surprisingly busy street, he suddenly had a vision, more like a calling from Caldre. He stopped short and tipped his head. Agony enveloped the man yet he was fighting what and who he was becoming. He reached out, trying his best to tether their minds, but there was so much tension as well as adrenaline running through Caldre’s body he wasn’t allowing Sakima to break through. He closed his eyes, offering a solution and one he prayed Caldre would take.

  Come to me. Come and be healed. For all that you think you are, you’re wrong. Your life is not what you know it to be. Embrace the inevitable or die. Become…

  The mantra practiced among his kind, a lure to bring those on the verge of coming into the fold. Some heeded the call and others were unable to accept what they already were. Madness soon overtook them. Sakima sighed. Mate or no mate, he refused to allow a rogue vampire to walk the city streets.

  Shaking off the ugly feeling, he continued on his path. Entering the restaurant quietly, he inhaled the rich scents of French cooking as the sounds of a jazz pianist permeated the entire room. The sights and sounds were pleasing, a reminder of days in his past, those filled with having a lover, not a hard fuck. He scanned the crowded club and walked toward the remaining bar stool. There was a presence in the room, one masked yet the odor remained strong. The scent of death lingered. How very interesting.

  “What will you have?”

  Sakima eyed the bartender. “Dewar’s, neat.”

  “Comin’ right up.”

  Quiet observation was something he was very good at. He hovered in the shadows, the location giving him the ability t
o see all the comings and goings in the room. When a drink was safely secured in front of him, he turned his attention to the conversations in the room. His keen hearing allowed him to be a small part of their lives. Inhaling, he swirled his glass. Tor’s scent was strong. His ex-lover was close by.

  He caught a glimpse as Tor entered the room, gliding in and around his guests, shaking hands and patting others on the back. Tor was at his element being the showman. As his friend moved to a table in the back, one Sakima knew to be highly revered, he took note of the businessmen who were huddled together. They were those who catered to the dark side of life, at least in their own way. Yes, they were the true monsters in the city, living a life of crime in any manner that pleased them. They used men and women alike to do their biddings, laughing in the face of the law. They had no way of knowing vampires were slowly changing methods of punishment.

  The thought giving him a smile, he took another sip of his drink and contemplated what he was going to do. Tor certainly hadn’t detected his presence, nor would he until Sakima wanted him to. As Tor moved into the back of the club and out of sight, Sakima polished off his drink and pushed the glass across the bar, giving the bartender a command. “I’ll be right back. Have another drink waiting for me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Sakima moved through the crowd, his actions stealthy. There was no need to mask his appearance or cloak the beast hiding just below the surface. None of the men and women would remember his presence. They’d forget most of the night, waking to a fog of self-doubt. He took long strides, following in Tor’s path until he found his lover in the small office nestled in the back of the building. The quiet location far removed from the main area of the restaurant and bar, this would be a perfect location to find out what he needed to know.

  He stood just outside of the doorway and could easily see how distraught Tor was. He was mumbling under his breath, tossing files back and forth across his desk. He pounded his fingers on the keyboard, several exasperated grunts coming from his lips.

  “Fuck!” Tor lowered his head into his hands.

  “Betrayal is a horrible avenue, one that drags your very soul straight into Hell. The entire activity lends itself to such a complex mixture of feelings, raw emotions.” Taking a few steps into Tor’s office, he kept his voice even.

  Jerking his head up, Tor gasped as he gripped the edge of his desk. “Sakima. You startled me. What… What were you saying?”

  “Simply that I understand the difficulties you’re facing.”

  “Difficulties?” Tor’s voice was shaking.

  “Yes, trying to reconcile the man you always knew you were with the one who sold out for greed.” He allowed the words to sink in as he moved further into the room, closing the door with a soft click.

  Tor swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple moving up and down the length of his throat. He stood slowly and smiled. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Of course, you do. Rewards don’t come without risks.” Sakima moved to the edge of his desk. “Tell me, are the rewards all that you thought possible? Is the money and the supposed clout within the organization of dangerous men all that you’d hoped for?”

  Tor blinked several times before looking away, his face haunted.

  “Mmm.” Sakima concentrated on watching the way the beads of sweat trickled down Tor’s face. The man was guilty, having sold his soul to men he assumed would protect him. Well unfortunately he’d assumed wrong that he could trust a human he’d thought was a friend. Letting his guard down wasn’t something he’d allow to happen again. Leaning over the small desk, he lowered his voice as he opened his mouth wide, exposing his canines. The growl was slight but effective enough he was keenly aware Tor’s heart skipped several beats. “I reward loyalty and discipline dishonestly severely. Perhaps only you can truly appreciate my methods of punishment. I think you’re due for a finality to everything you seek. Don’t you?”

  There was no need to threaten. Tor knew exactly what was going to happen, that his life would end. Just not when.

  “I wasn’t and didn’t do anything to betray you.”

  “No? I believe I’m right. That’s why the press has riddled me with the kinds of questions that have damning answers. That’s why Caldre is terrified of me. That’s why you’re running scared. You reek of terror, your blood pulsing through your veins.” He laughed, every part of him longing to rip the man to shreds.

  “I only did…”

  “You only did what? Something to fulfill your cravings? Money? That’s all you humans care about is money. I abhor the concept.”

  “Yet, you reek of it!” Tor snapped, then instantly recoiled, sucking in his breath.

  Sakima shook his head. “What do you want of me? What was so important that you had to betray me? What turned you against a man who could offer you immortality?”

  Tor rubbed his eyes, his body wavering. “I…”

  “What?” Sakima demanded. He snarled as he slammed his hand on top of the desk. “Tell me what amount of money was enough to turn you against me?”

  Exhaling slowly, he placed both of his hands on his hips.

  The trite move was all Sakima could take. As he wrapped his hand around Tor’s neck, digging his claws into Tor’s skin, he opened his mouth wide, exposing his fangs. “You have no idea what you’ve done.” He waited to see the utter horror in Tor’s eyes as he twisted the man’s neck. The draw of his pumping jugular was almost too much to bear. Lowering his head, he swirled his tongue around the enticing thump, his hunger raging off the charts. He could hear moans and echoes in his body and for a few minutes he was certain the blood lust was going to consume him.

  “No. I…” His voice strangled, Tor wrapped both hands around Sakima’s wrist, his nails digging into his skin as he gasped, his face turning red.

  Fury enveloping him to the point he was lost, he lifted Tor off his feet, slamming him against the wall. “You fucking betrayed me! No one betrays me.”

  “Ah!” His eyes bulging, he wailed, his legs kicking out.

  Sakima very much wanted him to die, to pay for the fucking indiscretions. He lifted Tor higher, ready to snap his neck. For an instant, they looked at each other and a flash of times together inched into the far crevices of his mind. His body was shaking, trepidation unlike anything he’d ever felt before remaining. “You betrayed me.” Dropping his body like a rock, Sakima turned swiftly and walked toward the door. Tonight, wasn’t the end of Tor’s life, but he would destroy the man. He had no choice.

  Tor coughed, his breath sounds ragged. “You…” Wheezing, he jerked forward.

  Sakima heard every move as well as the rapid beating of Tor’s heart. He continued walking toward the door.

  “Wait.”

  He hesitated for a brief second then moved on.

  “You asked me… you…” Coughing, he gasped for air as he stumbled forward. “You asked why.”

  For the oddest reason Sakima wanted to know why so he stopped but remained facing the door. “Tell me.”

  “Because.”

  Even in the man’s hesitation Sakima could hear anguish. He needed to know what was so important.

  “Because…” He coughed until his voice became raspy. “I’m in love with you and you could never love me. It’s as simple as that.”

  He heard Tor’s laughter, bitter and so full of anguish, and while he longed to comfort the man, perhaps changes things. The reason for his actions changed nothing. Tor was going to die.

  Ravaging thoughts swept through his mind on a continual basis. Caldre was unable to stop the cravings. He didn’t remember coming home, didn’t remember drinking half the bottle of bourbon without feeling any effects, and certainly didn’t remember trashing his living room and most of his kitchen. Raw emotions and rage were fueling his every move and yet he couldn’t understand why he wanted to kill, to maim.

  Standing in what was left of his living room, he panted. “Fuck!” He fisted his mouth and turned in a full circle. Whispe
ring words seemed to be floating in his mind as visions of the past, something he certainly didn’t think he’d lived seemed to be vital to his very survival. Groaning, Caldre clenched his eyes shut as he did everything he could to make sense of what was happening to him. All he could think about were Michael’s words and his very warning. There was no way to grasp the understanding, no real reason Michael had been sure Caldre had a destiny, that he would…

  Caldre’s eyes flew open. A vision of Michael floated around him. He held out his hand, longing to be able to touch his lover one more time. The air in the room became charged, current creating goose bumps across every inch of his skin. His heart raced, sending a wild thumping into his chest. He clutched his heart, the anguish agonizing. “Are you here? Michael, what are you trying to tell me?”

  You know what you are. It’s time for you to accept.

  “I’m not anything but a man trying to figure out what the hell is going on.”

  But you’ve always known. You’ve known since the very moment you succumbed.

  Caldre took a step forward. Michael seemed to be floating. Shit, he was losing his mind. “Succumbed?”

  Think. Remember. You know. You understand.

  He had no idea what Michael was talking about. “Why are you here?”

  To protect you. My life’s goal was to protect you and I failed.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Michael’s eyes flashed. He tilted his head, his eyes filling with sadness. I thought my death would be your salvation. Instead it was the final unraveling. You must accept your destiny or you will die. Go to him.

  “Him?” Who the fuck was he talking about? Shivering, Caldre held his arms. Goddamn, he needed a drink.

  The one who has always been your mate. My gift to you is knowledge. This will be my last visit for my time is gone. Don’t forget.

  “Sakima.”

  Yes. But be careful.