Bitter Bite (3 page)

“I’m probably just imagining things,” Gideon muttered, standing up
abruptly.

Alaric let him go. Now that he’d imprinted the man into his mind,
he’d be able to find him anywhere, not that he intended to track Gideon like
that. “It’s late.”

“Yes,” Gideon agreed. “And I can’t be late for work again or Eric
will pound me into the wall.”

Alaric snorted. “That might take some doing.” Gideon was all
muscle. He eyed his consort, considering whether he should mark him as his
property. That would keep him protected against all the undead, given that
Alaric was one of the oldest vampires on the continent, but it would also
advertise his presence in the city.
No. No need to paint a sign on a
vulnerable human for Brosius to follow to me. I have other ways of finding that
bastard.

Gideon shrugged. “True, but I don’t like to provoke people.” He
stepped back. “See you around.”

Alaric didn’t bother replying. The blood-rage had risen again, hot
and impossible to ignore. He turned away, hiding his face as Gideon walked
away. His blue eyes would be glowing like stars by now, with this much hunger
riding him. He took a deep breath and let it out. He hadn’t had to fight this
part of his nature since he’d been newly made. He didn’t like having to
struggle with himself so many years after he’d become a vampire.

This is Gideon’s fault.
He growled under his breath in frustration, then forcibly let his
anger go, allowing the old, consecrated ground to soothe his senses. He glanced
out across the nave. The church was empty.
Just as well.
He strode down
the aisle and shoved open the doors. When the scent of prey hit him, he smiled
and let the monster out.

* * * *

Hannah slid the drink down the bar and smiled grimly at the man
who’d ordered it. “That’ll be eight and a half bucks,” she said loudly, hoping
he could hear her over the pounding music.

“Eight-fifty? Jesus,” he said, glaring at the glass. Light strobed
across his face, highlighting his immaculately plucked eyebrows and weak chin.

I knew this joker was going to be a dick.
She kept her smile pasted on her
face. “I don’t set the prices, mister.”

He grumbled and slapped a five and nine ones on top of the bar.
“Keep the change.”

She nodded thanks and grabbed the money as he turned away. She
slid the measly extra dollar into her pocket and put the rest in the register.

“Another night, another crowd of disgruntled customers,” she
grumbled under her breath. She squared her shoulders and got back to work. She
knew she should be happy she had this job at all. When she’d lost her spot at
the grocery store six months ago because she couldn’t deal with the random
scheduling, she’d been desperate to find another job that could accommodate her
need for night hours. She worked days in an office as an administrative
assistant, but didn’t make enough to cover the cost of her student loans,
and
buy food,
and
pay her rent. She was freaking drowning in debt.
Because
an associate business degree means practically nothing at all.
She didn’t even want to consider how much
more money it would cost her to get her bachelor’s degree. More than she could
afford for the next ten years, that was certain.

She mixed three margaritas and a daiquiri, and then grabbed the
bag of nuts from the back corner shelf to refill the bowl on the bar. After
that, she ran a cloth over the surface to wipe up most of the mess and kept
working, even though she was already exhausted. She had four more hours to go.

Be grateful, because it was just random luck that you ran into
Father Keegan when you did, and you’re also lucky he was able to help you out.
She grimaced as she realized she’d
thought of him by his former title,
again.
He wasn’t Father Keegan anymore,
not for a few years now, but old habits were hard to break. He’d taught her
religion classes when she’d been in Catholic high school, and when she’d
literally crashed into him on the way out of her day job all those months ago,
she almost hadn’t recognized him in regular clothes.

“I’m not a priest anymore, Hannah,” he’d said, smiling ruefully at
her as he helped her pick up her papers before they blew away. The warm
afternoon sunlight had kissed his skin like glitter gilding a damn lily. The
man was ridiculously gorgeous. She’d known that when she was in school and
crushing bad on him, and her attraction for him was even worse now. Most of the
other girls in high school had flirted shamelessly with him even though he’d
always been strictly professional, but Hannah had always behaved herself. She
didn’t think it was cool to hit on a priest.

Those other girls were such fools and now so are you,
she thought as she mixed another
mojito. She remembered how she’d stared like an idiot at his arms when she’d run
into him. He’d been wearing a tight black t-shirt and jeans. She snorted,
thinking about the abstract tattoos that crawled up and over his biceps. She’d
had no idea he’d been hiding muscles like that under his priest uniform.

“Hey, you seen Gideon, Hannah?” Eric yelled from the end of the
bar, startling her out of her thoughts.

She slapped the mojito she’d just made down in front of her
customer, wincing when a little of it sloshed over the top of the glass.

The blond twink winked at her as he slid twice as much money as he
needed to across the bar to pay for his drink. “Keep the change,” he said,
sipping the minty cocktail.

She smiled at him gratefully as she pocketed the cash. Every
little bit counted.

“Hannah? Did you hear me?” Eric asked.

“Gideon’s not supposed to be in until midnight,” she yelled back,
still feeling weird for thinking of Gideon by his former title.

“Dammit.” Eric ran his hand over his bald head, knocking his
earrings askew.

“The roster’s on the office wall, Eric,” Hannah said, not feeling
particularly sympathetic. Eric knew the drill. He’d been here longer than she
had, for God’s sake. “What’s up with you?” she finally asked as he just stood
there, face screwed up in a frown. “Aren’t you supposed to be working the
door?” She began mixing another drink and poured three beers for the group near
the raised stage. Scott, the waiter who needed the beers, appeared out of
nowhere and grabbed the tray before the foam had even begun to settle in the
glasses. He blew her a kiss before he waded back out into the chaos. It was
Saturday night and the hottest gay club in town was hopping.
At least I
don’t get hit on here,
she thought, even as she wiped away the sweat
running down her temples.

“I was at the door, but Johnny came by and took over,” he said.

Hannah frowned. Why was the owner working the door?

“He said he was waiting for a friend,” Eric explained, correctly
interpreting her confusion.

“Well, you can always help out here. I think we have a party
coming in at eleven-thirty,” Hannah said. She began cutting more fruit now that
there was a slight lull in the drink orders.

“Crap. That’s why he sent me back here,” Eric said, slumping
against the bar. “They’ll probably be high, handsy, and horrible.”

Hannah shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“You are too fucking Zen, Hannah,” Eric said. “You’re lucky they don’t
hit on you. I’ve got to deal with dudes grabbing my junk left and right.”

“I thought you liked the pretty boys grabbing your goods?” she teased,
grinning when he flipped her off. “You know I can’t afford to freak out at
every little thing. I’m too poor to make a fuss over shit I can’t do anything
about.”

Eric made a face. “Such a nice girl, but such a potty mouth.”

“Oh please,” Hannah said, flippantly. He had no idea what she’d
been through. She lost her smile as one of her terrible memories unexpectedly
pushed past her mental walls. She cursed and took a calming breath, settling
her heartrate. “I’m not always nice.”

Eric raised an eyebrow. Clearly he didn’t believe her.

Hannah ignored him and began stacking glasses along the back wall.
There were a lot of things he didn’t know about her. There were a lot of things
about her that
no one
knew, and she liked to keep it that way.

* * * *

Gideon lurked near the dumpsters outside the back entrance of Club
Trinity, wishing he could take the night off, but he needed the money. He
wasn’t in debt, but he wasn’t exactly rolling in dough, either. He had to go
into work in a moment and he needed a few minutes to put himself back together
after what had happened in the church. The man he’d met, Alaric, was not only
dangerously attractive, he’d also somehow brought feelings Gideon had managed
to keep under control for years now surging to the forefront of his mind. Now,
every time he let his thoughts wander, he remembered Alaric’s intense blue eyes
staring directly at him. He flushed, thinking about the other man’s rugged good
looks.

Stop it. Stop thinking about him.
He banged his head on the wall,
wishing he could just turn off his stupid libido. Now was not the time to
suddenly begin dwelling on his long-suppressed sexuality, despite what John
believed. He wasn’t going to ask a man out on a date. He wasn’t going to ask
Hannah either. He forced himself to breathe deeply and slowly. So Alaric was
gorgeous. So what? It didn’t matter. Gideon found a lot of people attractive,
both women and men. He’d known he was bisexual since he was a teenager, not
that he’d had a word for how he felt back then. It didn’t have to mean
anything. He’d been ignoring that part of his nature since he entered the
seminary almost fifteen years ago.

Your head is killing you. That’s why you’re so out of sorts.
He felt as if someone had shoved a
bulldozer through his skull. Working the door of the club was going to be a
nightmare unless he could do something about his headache. He took another deep
breath and let it out, wishing he could pray, but that solace had disappeared
along with his faith years ago.

“Well, well. I certainly wasn’t expecting
you
to show up in
my life tonight, Stanley.” A familiar voice echoed down the alley. “How
fortuitous. I feel the need to work off some frustration and you’re just the
man to help me out.”

Gideon stiffened.
What the hell? That’s Alaric. What is he
doing here?
He pressed himself back against the wall as his heart tripped
into double time. He was afraid to look around the trash bins.
Because you might find precisely what you
most desire
, a small voice at the back of his head mocked.

“Oh dear God. No, no, no. I thought you were
dead,
” another
man said. He sounded horrified.

Gideon knew the feeling. How many times in his life had shit
happened that he had no control over?

“How are your grandchildren, Stanley? I’m assuming you have
grandchildren by now.” Alaric’s voice turned menacing. “You’ve had years to watch
them grow up, haven’t you?”

“You don’t look any different. Why don’t you look older? What the
hell are you?”

“It doesn’t matter what I am,” Alaric said so coldly, Gideon
questioned whether he was really sure it was the man he’d met twice. The Alaric
he spoke to in church had seemed aloof, but not chilling, but then he
remembered the altercation in the alley. He frowned, listening to the other man
pleading frantically.

“Don’t do this, please. I swear I didn’t mean to kill him. I was
young. We didn’t know what we were doing!”

“You still don’t know what you’re doing. You’re an old man, and
you’re still cheating on your wife with male lovers, aren’t you? It’s forty
years too late for remorse, Stanley,” Alaric said softly. “You and your friends
really ought to have thought things through before you put a stake through
Edmund’s heart. He was my friend, and you killed him without a second thought,
as if he were the foulest of demons. He just wanted to be left alone.”

“He attacked us!”

Alaric laughed harshly. “He did nothing of the sort. You and your
idiotic group of boys got the wrong person, all those years ago. Edmund was a
man, not a monster.”

The sounds of a scuffle and a groan of paralyzing fear told Gideon
bad things were happing at the far end of the alley.

“Shit,” he breathed. He had to see what was going on, even if
Alaric spotted him. He eased his head forward slowly. When he glanced down the
street, he sucked in a harsh breath. Alaric had the other man pushed up against
the brick wall of the opposite building in an uncanny repeat of the previous
night’s brawl.
The one I thought I’d
imagined.
The older man’s feet and legs dangled like a disjointed
mannequin. He looked to be around sixty, if his grey hair was any indication.
Light from the street lamp behind the men silhouetted them so that Gideon
couldn’t make out the expression on Alaric’s face, but he could read the rage
in his stance.

This can’t be real.
No one could hold a grown man against a wall with one hand. He’d
put what he’d believed he’d seen last night out of his mind, but perhaps he had
been too hasty. He must have made some sound, because Alaric abruptly turned
his head and looked right at him.