Beautiful Death (21 page)
“I see,” she said sounding unhappy. But then, she knew this, heard him thinking about it nights ago with many other things she was surprised to learn about him. Things she would have never of guessed he’d been involved with. Then again, it was amazing the things one could do when pushed past their limit, things they thought they were never capable of. She knew this hard truth all too well.
Ash placed her sword aside and took stance, fists out with a tiny grin. “Do not hold back because I am a girl. Think only of me as your enemy.”
Free of his practice sword, Tristan grinned in return, putting his hands up. “Okay, but don’t complain when I hit you.”
“
You mean,
if
.
Hajime
!”
Ash dove. Tristan yelped, jumping back. He didn’t move fast enough and she caught him on the chin. He gave a groan and toppled on his feed, but managed to stay upright. She hadn’t hit him nearly as hard as she could have. They both knew it.
Grinning hard she practically sang, “Point.”
“F
iiii
ne,” he moaned, but was smiling. “Truth or dare?”
“Pardon?” Ash asked confused.
“Never mind,” he grumbled as he righted himself. “Shirt or question?”
“Oooh,” she drawled out, eyeing him hungrily. “
I
get to choose? Hmm, I have seen you nude after all…”
He shrugged. “You got the point.”
Ash’s grin spread into a dark sneer and he wondered what he got himself into. “How about a compromise then? The winner of the point may ask a question but the loser may choose to strip instead of answering.”
“All right. Fire away.”
After a moment’s hesitation she said, “Tell me about your mother and father.”
He dropped his arms to his side, face fallen into a deep frown. “Wha—what kind of question is that?”
“The shirt then.”
“No, no. It’s—whatever. Mom, Julia, she was the most beautiful woman, inside and out. Dad, Vincent, well, Spike everyone called him, I actually looked a lot like him. Both were doctors, very accomplished doctors.” He looked down to his feet, lost in memory. “I can remember going with them to the hospital when I was younger and thought that they were superheroes. Everyone loved them. They helped so many people and never asked for anything. The greatest tragedy was their deaths.”
“Thank you.”
“Whatever. It’s part of the game, right? Besides, I’ll get you back. Don’t worry.”
She laughed. “Very well, show me what you have, Uruwashi.”
He was a little angry that she made him say those things, then went so far as to call him Uruwashi, and lunged at her. She managed to dodge, but he kept at her with a deep focus, swinging at her with a vengeance. He was so into it that he almost didn’t notice when he actually hit her with a low blow that glanced off her elbow and took her in the side. She harrumphed, but didn’t double over.
“Point,” Tristan said, withdrawing for a moment. “What do you really look like?”
Ash was taken off guard and came to a sudden stop. “What?”
“You’re only pale because of your vampire superpowers, right? What’d you look like before?”
She didn’t like the question, but answering did no harm. “Olive flesh, dark brown hair. Blue eyes. I told you, I am Greek.”
He smiled. “Beautiful.”
She wasn’t sure if he meant then or now and didn’t care. She did not want to bring up her past. Irritated, she dove at him with a cry.
He jumped back, just missing a jab at his middle. “Lucky, lucky...”
Ash looked angry when she came at him again and got careless. She left herself wide open with a hit that would have rocked his head back if she could have followed through. Instead he planted both palms to her chest bone and shoved. The vampire stumbled back, eyes wide.
“Another point for the human.”
“Uruwashi,” she hissed back.
He smirked but it wasn’t a nice expression. “What is your power? What can you do that took all of your color away?”
Her jaw tightened, cold eyes staring at him. “My power? You want to see what I can do?” she said, making it sound more like a threat than an affirmation.
“Yeah,” he said, cracking his knuckles, stalking slowly towards her. “Yeah, I do.”
She considered him a moment and then tugged the hem of her kimono from her pants, movements rough and angry.
“Really?”
“What?” she snapped. Despite not needing it, she was wearing a bra underneath her top. Too bad the thin lace didn’t hide much. With the extra layer gone the hakama slipped down her hips showing a slender waist. Tristan groaned thinking it was super sexy but was going to make his focus super shitty.
“You’d rather strip than tell me what it is that you can do?”
She took stance, looking angry.
“Fine,” he said, “have it your way.”
With a cry he swung out again. She blocked, countered, missed with her right, landed with her left. He gave off a little oomph when he felt the hit all the way through his arm, to his shoulder and started to lower his guard. Only, Ash had other things in mind as she kept swinging. He couldn’t keep up and took the next five hits.
“Uncle!” he finally yelled and she stopped, panting as she glared at him. “God. What’s so terrible that you’d rather beat the shit out of me than tell me? What are you so afraid of?”
“Who says I am afraid?” She came for him again, but it was a halfhearted attempted. He caught her hand before it could connect with his jaw and jerked her to him.
“I thought you said you’d stop lying.” She glared up at him and when she tried to pull her wrist away, he only tightened his hold. If she were human, he’d have left a bruise. “What are you so afraid of?” he asked again.
“I am not afraid.” She could pull from his hold with no effort and yet, she couldn’t find a reason to.
He leaned down, looming over her, getting into her face. “Bullshit.”
She growled a primitive noise that made his body tingle with goose bumps and swung out at him with her free hand. He took the hit to his cheek, an open handed slap, without flinching. “You do not know anything about me.”
He took a step into her, forcing her back until she hit the fence. She yelped, having not realized they were so close. She was being careless, so not like her at all. Tristan used his larger body to trap her, looming over over her. “No. You’re right, I don’t. And I’m trying to change that, but every time I gain an inch, you pull back a foot. What is it that you’re so damned afraid of? Is it me? Because no matter what, I’d never hurt you, Ash. I may be your enemy, but I am never your foe.”
“That… those are the same thing.”
“You know what I mean. Ash, just,” He sighed. “Just talk to me. Is that so hard?”
“Yes,” she answered in a tiny voice. “It really is.”
He relaxed, still looming over her, expression softening. “You asked me once to believe in you. And I do. I trust you, Ash, despite all the weird shit and no-quite-lying lies. Is it so much to ask for a little trust in return?”
“No. But—” She stopped short.
He let go of the wrist he was holding, slowly slipping his grip along her arm and took her face into his hands. “But what?”
“It is difficult.”
He nodded slowly, searching her pale eyes as if he’d find the answer for everything he ever wanted to know in them. All they told him was of misery and sorrow. Pain and despair, fear—all the emotions she felt over the last three-hundred and forty years. The culmination of a life he didn’t understand to create the woman, the vampire before him with such strong convictions and emotions that she was in a word, an enigma.
“I want to say I understand, but I don’t. I really don’t Ash.”
She looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “I know.”
“Hey.” He lifted her chin to make her look him in the face again. His next words never got a chance to leave his mouth because he was moving in to kiss her instead. Gaining just a tiny spark of control, Tristan managed to avoid full contact and kissed the side of her mouth. And moved lower until he had his lips pressed to her neck. He may not have been able to kiss her mouth, that didn’t mean he couldn’t indulge in the rest of her delicious body.
Ash sighed under him and gave herself over to the moment, wrapping her arms around his back. She shut her eyes, clinging to him as if he would save her from everything she ever feared. As a vampire, it was hard to admit fears. And yet, they had more to fear than the humans. More to lose.
Tristan pressed closer, pushing his groin against hers so that she felt him very clearly through the thin cotton pants. She groped at his backside, pulling his hips hard against her. He reached between them, covering her breasts. The lace of her bra was softer than he had expected it to be, but what he wanted was the hard buds hidden underneath. He had the bra off in seconds and tossed it aside. She moaned and then her hands were at his waist, slipping inside his underpants over his ass. With a deep groan against her neck, he lifted her against him. She wrapped her legs around his middle and he lowered them to the ground on his knees, her back pressed against the fence.
“Oh god, Ash,” he said through the kisses to her neck. “I...”
I need you so badly.
Ash moaned something in return he didn’t understand. Seconds later she pushed against his chest. He sat back and frowned at her.
“I,” she started softly and then more firmly, “We cannot do this.”
“What—I mean, really?” Okay, so sex without kissing did lack a certain connection, intimacy, but it was so hard to deny the lust that built between them. Maybe it was all they needed to do, get it out of their system and then they could move on.
Too bad they both knew that wasn’t true.
Ash cleared her throat, climbed off of him and turned to retrieve her bra. “I think we should call it an evening.”
Kneeling there in the cool grass, he slumped and shut his eyes. "Whatever," he mumbled and shook his head, feeling like he was having some nasty déjà vu.
Gain an inch, lose a foot.
He gathered up his sword and clothes and shuffled off to his room, leaving Ash behind to do whatever it was she did when she wasn’t killing her own kind or spinning her version of truth on unsuspecting Americans.
Tristan fully meant it when he said he trusted her. And that wasn’t something he gave easily, especially not these days. He just didn’t understand what he had to do to earn Ash’s in return. Maybe she was too ruined by her dark past. He had to believe that anyway. Because if her standoffish demeanor was all about what her sadistic Master had done to her, then that would mean it wasn’t Tristan, for once, and maybe—
just maybe
he could still fix things between them. Because no matter what happened in the future, near and—karma allow—far, he desperately wanted Ash at his side. He couldn’t explain that need, only that a part of him felt right when she was near. Maybe it was his obscure heritage, his tainted blood mucking up the works. Maybe Ash was what he’d been looking for all this time. Or maybe… she was never meant for him at all.
A COLD hand over his mouth pulled him from a deep sleep. Tristan swung out, blind in the dark. A hand grabbed his and pinned it to his chest. He groaned under the hand covering his mouth and opened to bite. Just as he got the cold flesh into his mouth, his stomach tingled and tightened. He felt the press of breasts to his arm and the familiar scent found him, and he knew who it was without her soft whisper in his ear.
“Shh, Tristan. It is only me.”
“What the hell are you doing?” he whispered back, blinking up at her in utter disbelief.
She opened her hand, releasing the arm she pinned to him and pressed her palm to the hot flesh of his chest, over his heart. “You are not wearing the charm,” she hissed, fingers curling against him to scrape along his skin.
“I forgot okay?” Ash may have been confident in its abilities but he still felt silly believing in it.
She huffed and climbed off the bed, retrieving her trusted sword, Murasaki Kaeru, from the floor. That’s when Tristan noticed she wasn’t dressed at all, wearing just a wispy excuse for a nightgown and the custom shoulder holster with both guns. “Get dressed. Are your weapons close by as I instructed?”
Tristan sat up and nodded, feeling confused as he noticed the noise coming from the front of the house, the sounds of banging and yelling from at least two men. “Are those…?”
Even in the dark Tristan could see the weariness in Ash’s expression. “We seem to have more unwelcomed guests this evening.”
“Christ, that Yuki and her—”
“No. Not from Yukihime.”
“You mean?”
“They belong to Malik.”
Tristan hopped out of bed and dropped to the floor, looking for his pants. He could admit, if only to himself, that he was worried. He knew how to handle himself, but that was against others of his kind. Vampires were another thing. And while he knew he’d eventually have to face them, well, guess he wasn’t so ready to die just yet.
“No need to be dramatic,” Ash whispered.
“You—” he started, angry, but then realized Ash was messing with him, trying to distract him to calm. “Funny.” He slipped into a pair of jeans he found halfway under the bed, completely forgetting boxers. Where the fuck was his gun again?
Ash cleared her throat. Tristan looked up to find her holding out the gun. He took it and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, darlin’.”
She bristled at the greeting, but he didn’t notice as he fussed with the small thigh holster and winced when he pinched himself.
“What’s going on?” He happened to glance up and gave start when he saw the clock. The night before last was the night they went to Yuki’s. Yesterday they had one last sparring session before Ash was going to return to Yuki’s and demand that she tell them where Malik was. That Ash thought the old loon’d even know bothered Tristan, but he was too in his head to bother saying anything. Their sparring session didn’t turn out quite like he thought it would and just left Tristan more confused about what they were to each other. A simple distraction or a passing fancy...? Anyway, after the session was ended early, Ash left the house alone on Tristan’s insistence that he refused to return to that place. She didn’t like leaving him unattended but, in truth, needed to be away from him for a while. He heard her return shortly before dawn but didn’t bother talking to her to find out what Yuki was holding back. He stayed up a few hours more just to enjoy the warmth of the morning sun but he went to bed early enough that he would have woken before her, before nightfall. It was almost midnight now.
“I only just woke myself.”
“But that’s—”
“A Master vampire interfered, forcing us to sleep while the others moved in.”
Tristan stopped tugging at the holster around his thigh and gave Ash the frightened look that last statement deserved. A Master vampire? They could do that kind of shit? And it may be here, now?
“Master is no longer here,” she answered.
Tristan let out the breath he was holding. “
Master
?” he whispered, though it came out nearly a hiss.
Ash’s face shifted to shock for only a moment before clearing. “
The
Master,” she amended.
He gave her a look, not believing the little slipup. Fledging vampires were one thing, but toss in a nasty, powerful Master and he wasn’t sure how well they,
he
, would fare. Make that Master vampire Ash’s former and he knew things wouldn’t end well.
“There are only three. But they have split up,” Ash said, turning for the door. “I... I cannot sense Haruka anywhere. Be on the lookout for her.”
Haruka? He hoped she found herself a good hiding spot before they got to her. Would she even understand the danger she was in?
Tristan followed Ash out of his room in nothing but jeans and a gun that was almost too small for his hands. They stopped in the hallway outside of the Great Room, listening to the vampires fuss at each other in Russian.
“Do you know what they are saying?”
Ash sighed. “Essentially, they will slaughter us for killing Aaron and his new scion. Rotten bitch, who does that vampire slut think she is with her human pet? So on and so forth, nothing of any real importance.” Again she sighed and pulled gun.
“Guns?” he asked. “Is that okay?”
“They are lesser vampires. A gun will do however, we must be sure to cut their heads off or burn their bodies once they have been incapacitated. We must hurry, I am worried for Haruka.”
Tristan gave her a small nod and pulled his gun, removing the safety.
“Do you think you can handle the single vampire in the kitchen alone? Are you ready to kill?”
Ready to kill?
He swallowed hard against the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. “Uh, yeah I should be okay,” he said, a little nervously. “Just don’t get bitten, right?” Or kissed, for that matter.
Ash’s expression fell into a deep frown as if she had forgotten that important detail.
Tristan gave a forced smile and cupped her chin in his hand. “Hey, it’ll be okay. Okay?” When she didn’t pull away, he chanced a quick chaste kiss that left him wanting. And he realized then, that if he just acted on impulse, she couldn’t predict his movements, have time to read is mind and stop the kiss. That little bit of information might help with his next task of defeating a vampire alone. “Now, let’s go kick some undead ass.” He grinned big, trying to pretend like he wasn’t worried about what he was about to do.
Ash presented him with a huge, fangy grin. “Scream if you need me.”
Tristan opened his mouth to give his own snarky response but then, she was already gone, never there.
“Damn vampire,” he whispered breathlessly, alone in the hallway.
He crept past the Great Room and towards the noise from the kitchen. His pulse started to beat hard making his head pound, his breathing coming in and out too fast making his throat burn. The vampire’s hearing was infinitely better than human, but with all the noise this one was making there was no way he was going to notice Tristan coming. Or so he hoped. When he reached the kitchen, he stopped for a moment to catch his breath, slow his pulse. He knew he’d be nervous when he finally got down to it, but not to the point of near panic. He put his back to the wall, feeling the coolness of the plaster under his bare skin. His pulse was up in his throat, nearly choking him.
He swiped an arm across his forehead, pushing the sweat and bed hair aside. “Get it together... Fuck.”
Feeling as ready as he’d ever be, he glanced around the corner, searching the kitchen for what he was up against. The place was a disaster. All of the small tabletop appliances were knocked to the floor, broken and forgotten. The rack above the center island had been pulled down, scattering dried leaves all over. A bag of flour had been involved in the fray, leaving white powder dusted across the tile like a thin layer of snow. There were footprints, a few bloody, embedded in the powder that didn’t lead anywhere.
There must have been something terribly fascinating about Ash’s refrigerator, because the only person in sight had crawled as deep into the box as it would accommodate him. All Tristan could see were two hairy legs sticking out of frayed knee-length linen shorts. Bare feet were covered in powder from the floor, but not a spot of blood. The one in the fridge, a man, grunted and growled as he went about dumping bottles and plates to the floor behind him haphazardly. Plates of food Tristan was sure the guy couldn’t eat. Heh, maybe he got lucky and this guy was only human.
Suddenly, from the direction of the Great Room, Ash’s angry voice carried across the house. Tristan tensed as the guy in the refrigerator backed out and turned. Dark hair, dark skin.
Fangs
. Damn. At least he wasn’t a heavy power user. That was something, right? Red drool foamed and dribbled from his mouth like a rabid animal. A cold chill ran down Tristan’s spine as he met the monster’s gaze. From the dark look in the vampire’s eyes, he was wondering what Tristan tasted like.
Chicken.
No. Pull it together, man.
Shots went off in the other room and Tristan flinched. “Fuck,” he scoffed and jumped to his feet. He faced the vampire feeling naked with only his gun to protect him. The vampire let out a low ominous growl, back arching, body tense and ready to spring. Thin lips curled back, baring small fangs as a hiss slipped through. He started forward on all fours, gait slow and animalistic, muscles under his skin working wire tight.
Tristan fired two shots at the vampire. It took him a few seconds to realize he was shooting at nothing. The vampire wasn’t even in front of him. The flare of cold burn in his abdomen was the only warning he got before a weight smashed into his side. He hissed a curse and hit the ground with a grunt. His hand smacked into the hardwood and burst into pain, the gun skittering away. The beast moved in for a bite and Tristan jabbed a hand into his throat. The vampire gagged, jerking back.
Tristan tried to flip him off, but the vampire moved too fast, grabbing for him. He was forced to shove an arm under the vampire’s chin just to keep his teeth at bay. The vampire pushed into his shoulder, fighting against his strength. Bloody breath came out hot across his face.
“Fuck…,” Tristan growled through gritted teeth.
Angry, the vampire gave a deep growl, grabbed the hand Tristan had pressed into his shoulder and pinned it to the floor at his side. With his free hand the vampire reached down, searching low on Tristan’s body. Tristan gasped, more in shock than pain, when the sharp edge of nails bit into his stomach and warm liquid started to tickle down his sides. Seconds later, the nerves lit up and the pain hit.
Tristan jabbed again at the monster’s throat making him gag, but the monster wouldn’t move. Instead the vamp leaned forward, mouth agape as he tried to find something to bite on to. Annoyed that he couldn’t, the vampire let out a cry of anger, spraying hot spittle across Tristan’s cheek and dug harder at his stomach.
Tristan gasped, swallowing a scream as the monster tried to gut him alive. Each new scrape of nail, curl of steel fingers as the vampire ripped at skin, nerves and muscle sent another surge of pain throughout his entire body. All he could do was writhe under the smaller man’s weight and scream his pain while struggling to keep the beast from biting him.
Frustrated, aching, scared, pissed the hell off, Tristan lifted his head and screamed into the monster’s face. He wasn’t going to die like this. Not as food or fodder to a fucking fledgling vampire. He forced a knee up between them and pushed as hard as he could. The vampire answered with a growl and tightened his hold around Tristan’s wrist hard enough to make his fingers tingle. But the hand digging to China through his stomach stopped. The moment those steel fingers came free, Tristan could breathe again. He sucked in a gasping breath, but couldn’t pull enough air into his lungs for some reason. He felt like he was drowning.
The vampire growled again, a deep growl that vibrated throughout Tristan’s whole body, and reached for him with that bloody hand. There was more than blood on that hand. If he thought too closely he’d realize that his own flesh was stuck under that thing’s nails. Tristan flung a slew of curses at him, almost a growl, and pulled his other knee up between them. Grunting with the effort, he pushed with both legs. The vampire’s weight shifted and it suddenly went flying backwards with a loud, enraged scream and crashed into the kitchen island, rattling the utensils inside the cabinets.
Tristan wanted to be amazed at his accomplishment for flinging him so far, but the pain in his stomach was nearly debilitating. He wanted to curl up into a ball right there and learn to breathe again. Sleep sounded good too, but there wasn’t time. The vampire righted himself on all fours, spitting and screaming Russian curses. Tristan scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could, a little unsteady, holding a hand over his stomach. Blood came through heavy, soaking the front of his jeans. He looked around quickly. He needed a weapon. The gun was nowhere, lost under a piece of furniture maybe. But there was a kitchen full of knives. If he could get there.
