BloodlustandMetal (18 page)

My parents agreed to the hunt, but said not to wait for
them. So the girls and I took off. We had a great time that afternoon, hunting
rabbits and playing around. I missed this. I needed to come back here more
often. It even took my mind off Layla for a while.

Once back in human form, we sat around a campfire that
evening. Even though catching up with my family was great, Layla crept back
into my thoughts.

What was she doing now?

I even entertained wild thoughts of having her here in the
forest with me now, introducing her to my family. She was a predator too, she
could hunt. I remembered the time out in the forest hunting deer, before those
bloody vampires came. Even though the idea of a shapeshifter and vampire doing
anything together seemed very unnatural, in fact it felt the opposite.

My parents would probably die if I told them she was a
vampire though. They were convinced they were all evil, soulless, bloodsucking
monsters.

“All right, Devon?” my mum asked.

“Fine, Mum.”

“You seem awfully quiet. Even more so than usual.”

“Probably a girl,” Margaret said.

“Don’t worry, it’ll pass,” Jayne added. “Since when has he
been into the same one for more than a few weeks?”

This was true. I liked staying unencumbered and the women I
dated often grew too clingy for my taste. Before I could censor myself, I said,
“This one’s different.”

Jayne leaned closer. “Ooh, do tell.”

“What’s to tell? I fancy someone. It didn’t work out. She
went back to America.”

“An American?” Margaret said with mock horror. “What, are
you daft?”

“She’s not the brash tourist type,” I said in defense. “And
she’d lived in England for a couple of years.”

“I hope we rubbed off on her then. You know how I feel about
Americans. Spoiled brats.”

“Rubbish,” my dad said. “Just because you’ve met a few like
that doesn’t mean the whole lot is spoiled.”

“Maybe you should take a trip to America,” I added. “Might
do you good to break some of your misconceptions. I’ve met many polite, generous
Americans—quite the opposite of how you perceive them as ugly tourists.”

Margaret made a face to indicate her distaste at that idea.
“Let’s get back to the subject, shall we? So if she lived in England for so
long, why did she leave? Because of you?”

“Ha ha. No, I didn’t scare her away.” I ran my hand over my
shaved head. “It’s complicated.”

“Most people think things are more complicated than they
actually are,” my mum said. “If you strip out all the distracting details and
narrow the situation down to the essential parts, usually you can find a way to
make things work.”

Let’s see, she was a vampire and I was a shifter. My mother
might flip if she heard the first obstacle, let alone the many others. She
lived in America and I lived in England. She slept days and I usually enjoyed
walking in the sun. She sang for a rock band and traveled on the road with them
in America. I was a bounty hunter living on my own and traveling around Europe
mostly for work. We met because she was a job I was hired to take on and I
brought her to a vampire who wanted to kill her. Even if I redeemed myself with
her in the end, it wasn’t exactly the most romantic way to start out.

Hmm, still not finding anything simple in this situation and
no apparent fixes.

The next morning, Jayne asked, “Who wants to fly?”

We all loved to fly. I believe this made us superior than
the others, but my mother would smack me on the back of my head and bring me
back to reality and say, “We are what we are. No better and no worse than
anybody else.”

Since we chose to stay in England, the animal forms we took
on were limited. Foxes were a good bet in these forests, although it was also
dangerous as we had to watch for hunters. On family trips, we’d venture to more
exotic locations where we could experiment.

“Falcons,” I said.

Jayne said, “You always say that.” Nevertheless, she was the
first to change.

We all followed suit and spent the morning flying in the
forests. By high noon, we returned to my cottage and said goodbye. With them
gone, what would I do to take my mind off Layla?

Joey

Angelica called me from Logan Airport and said she was back
in Boston.

“Can I come over?” she asked.

I paced my apartment waiting for her. What would I say? What
happened to her? Did I dare ask?

When she walked into my apartment, seeing her again after
all this time was like being able to breathe again after being underwater for
an extended period. All that pressure settling on my gut was suddenly relieved.
She was back, in front of me. Her image was burned onto my mind, but I studied
every part of her again as if seeing her for the first time. Her hair was now a
rich chestnut-brown, but the rest of her was just how I remembered—the delicate
features, the warm eyes the color of honey and the unbelievable body. She was
wearing casual clothes, jeans and a Motorhead T-shirt with black riding boots.
And even in an everyday outfit, I salivated imagining the curves of her body
underneath her clothes.

“Angelica!” I ran to her.

“Joey.” She threw her arms around my neck.

“You’re safe. You’re okay.”

“I am.”

“What’s been going on? Where did you have to go?”

She inhaled deeply. “There’s so much about me that you don’t
know and you’re better off that way. I just wanted to tell you I’m okay.”

“You’re wrong. I want to know everything about you. You
don’t have to keep anything from me.”

“I do. Trust me when I say I do. I’m not who you think I
am.”

“Who are you?”

“I can’t tell you everything. But I can tell you I was on
the run from someone. There was a big misunderstanding and this guy was after
me.”

“What guy? I’ll kill him.”

“Calm down. It’s all been taken care of.”

“Taken care of? How? What happened? Was it that guy from the
club? I knew it.”

“No,” she protested. “Not him.” Her face appeared pained.
“Someone else. It’s not important. Let me get back to the story.”

Not wanting to stop her from continuing, I forced my
questions aside. “Go on.”

“My life was in danger so I changed my name before I found
you guys. And you know I changed my appearance when I joined the band. You were
my lifeline and I thank you so much for it. I could start over, be someone
new.”

“Who are you then?”

“I’m still the same person. Just had a different name. Not
so much makeup.”

“Why were you in danger? Who was after you?”

She shook her head, indicating that I wouldn’t be hearing
these answers any time tonight. “I’ve loved playing with you guys. It was one
of the best experiences of my life and I’ll never forget my time with you, as
short as it was.”

“So you’re leaving us?” The very idea pained me.

“I don’t see what other option I have.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not on the run anymore.”

“So wait—you were just using us?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I’m trying to figure out who I
am. You don’t understand. My life changed so radically a few years ago in ways
that I can’t explain. And then when I had to run off, it changed again so much
when I joined the band. So now I’m just trying to figure out who the hell I am
and what I’m supposed to do.”

“Do you want to leave Bloodlust Diamond?”

She thought about it. “Not necessarily.”

“Then don’t.”

“What about my whole trying to figure myself out thing?”

“What about it? Why can’t you do it while you’re with us?”

“Even with all my baggage?”

“What baggage? You just bring a little carry-on compared to
some of the nutjobs I’ve met in my life.”

“I don’t want to lead you on and have you think this is
forever. And I don’t want things to get awkward between us. I don’t know what I
want to do with my life anymore.”

“How about who you want to be with? I mean, I practically
spilled my guts to you on the phone telling you how I cared about you.”

“I’m sorry, Joey. You know I care about you. A lot. But not
in a romantic way. If you’re asking if there can be anything more between us,
there can’t.”

“So all that stuff onstage—all that chemistry—you’re telling
me it was fake?”

She rubbed her temples. “I don’t know. Yes, I guess so. We
went into it as a gimmick. Maybe parts of it felt real sometimes when we got
into it, but I think it was just fantasy. It’s not real.”

“I think you’re wrong. There was something real to it.”

“We were characters on a stage, the same as actors in a
movie playing a part.”

“Maybe initially. But I know there’s something more there.
Something between us. Even if you deny your feelings, I can see them more
clearly.”

If she wouldn’t see them, I had to show her. I walked toward
her and put my hands on either side of her head so she’d look up at me. Her
eyes were swimming with uncertainty. “Please don’t.”

“Don’t do what?” My eyes focused on her lips and I bent
closer to her. She didn’t pull away. “This?” Then I kissed her. I’d make her
see that all that chemistry onstage wasn’t just staged. Some sort of whimper
escaped the back of her throat, but she didn’t pull away. She pushed at my
chest gently, but then reached around and pulled me closer to her. The way she
kissed me back showed me she had more feelings that she’d been willing to admit
to.

But then she pulled away. “Please don’t kiss me again, Joey.
I don’t feel for you the way I do for—someone else.”

“Who?” My heartbeat raced as I waited to hear.

“Does it matter?”

I thought about it. “Yes. Yes it does.”

The guilty look in her eye helped me figure it out.

“That guy from the club last weekend? The one I warned you
about?”

No, please say it wasn’t him. Maybe because all the focus we
placed on finding this guy to lead us to Angelica made me cringe about her
having feelings for him. Anyone but him.

“Angelica, are you crazy? Did he take you that night? Force
you on the run? Have you been with him all this time?”

“There’s so much you don’t understand, Joey. So much that I
can’t explain. Just know it’s for the best that you don’t know. You deserve
someone better than me. A nice, normal girl without so many—complications.”

“Have I been a fool this whole time? I thought there was
something between us. I felt something in that kiss. Don’t tell me you didn’t.”

“I don’t know. There was something. Interest, maybe.
Attraction. Curiosity. But not love, Joey. You can’t honestly tell me you love
me.”

I thought about that. Love was monumental. Did I love her?

I cared about her. I thought about her. I was crazy
attracted to her and desperately wanted to sleep with her. But love? The
I’d
do anything for you, I only want to be with you
kind of love?

“I care about you,” I finally said.

“But it’s not love. At least not
that
kind of love.”

“Do you love him?” I asked.

She thought about it. “I don’t know. I think so.”

“Why him, Angelica? You just met him.”

Her brows furrowed as she tried to find words. “It just
feels—right.”

Layla

I left Joey’s more distraught than ever, walking through the
city to lose myself in the bustle of night. I missed Devon with a fierce
longing and needed some sort of distraction. When Joey kissed me, I’d
responded. He was right, the underlying attraction between us wasn’t all for
show. There was a reason why women threw themselves at him at our shows. He
looked like a bona fide rock star, long wild brown hair, sensuality oozing
through his eyes—what woman could resist a hot guy playing guitar? A part of me
wanted him, had always wondered what it would be like to kiss him, maybe do
more.

But when it actually happened, I thought of Devon and how
badly I wished it was his lips kissing me.

If I’d never met Devon, would I have felt different about
Joey kissing me? Could it have led to something more?

No, I didn’t think it would. It was just attraction, not
love, just as I’d told him.

I needed to focus on something else, anything else but
wanting someone who lived an ocean away. On the way back to my apartment, I
decided to throw myself into the band. If there was any place where I could
lose myself, it was in music. I could be anyone onstage, the subject of
whatever song I sang.

Hopefully it would help me take my mind of Devon.

Three weeks later

Devon

I was out of my mind. That’s the only explanation I had as I
left my flat.

“Heathrow Airport,” I told the taxi driver.

“Right, mate.”

As we skirted in and out of London traffic, I tried to talk
myself out of what I was about to do.

She left England. She left you here. She hasn’t made any
effort to contact you, nor have you made any effort to contact her. Don’t you
think you should call her first and see if she even wants to speak to you
before you see her?

She must be relieved to have everything that happened
here in London behind her. Nothing but bad memories of vampires who tried to
frame her, kill her, and a goddamn shapeshifter who led her right back to them.

The memories weren’t bad for me, however. I remembered the
times we spent together in my flat. Even when she was tied up and we declared
our contempt for each other, a part of me enjoyed having her around.

What about you helping her in the end? Doesn’t that count
for anything?

No. It just means you were less of a dickhead than you
started out. You don’t get any brownie points for finally figuring out how to
do the right thing.

The traffic eased a bit as we headed away from the city. We
circled many roundabouts and I read the signs for Heathrow’s terminals. This
time I didn’t have the luxury of being transported with one of Stefano’s light-blocked
jets through his undercover methods. It was British Airways coach class for me.

After the driver dropped me off at the terminal, I knew each
step I took closer to the plane led me closer to Layla. And most likely to
being rejected by her. I was a fool for going. I should have talked myself out
of going by now and climbed into another taxi. Instead I checked into my
flight, went through the rigorous security screening and sat down at the gate
to wait.

I had to see her, though, to know that my feelings for her
were real. I’d been thinking about her nonstop since she left England. I’d
hoped that as the days went by I’d think of her less and less, but if it was
even possible, I thought of her all the more. Seeing her face everywhere I
went, wondering what her reaction would be to something I’d encountered,
creating conversations in my mind on what we’d say if she was with me.

Even though she wasn’t physically with me, she was a part of
my everyday life. She dominated my waking thoughts and penetrated my dreams. I
was turning into a madman. I had to see if I’d just created this reaction to
her in my mind due to her absence. Or would I feel the same way if I saw her
again?

Only one way to find out.

What the hell was I going to say when I saw her?

Layla

Bloodlust Diamond was booked at a fairly new club on
Commonwealth Ave. The owner grew up in the Boston rock scene in the eighties
and nineties. Since many venues for playing live rock music had disappeared and
been replaced by more upscale establishments, he thought it was time to create
a new club in the spirit of the old Rathskellar, Channel, and Bunratty’s. Those
Boston rock clubs that no longer existed, but were still reminisced about
fondly online by regulars—the headbangers, punk rockers and hardcore crowd that
frequented the shows.

“You going to be okay with this?” I asked Joey when we had a
moment to ourselves backstage.

“I will,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Then why are you scowling?”

“I didn’t say I’m okay with it right now, I said I will be.
I get it, Angelica, we’re not going to be together. Nobody likes being
rejected, but I’ll move on.”

“Thanks, Joey. Someday you’ll find someone who is a much
better match for you than I could ever be. She’ll blow me out of the
stratosphere!”

Joey’s scowl gave way to laughter. “Then I better start
looking for her. Plenty of hot little numbers here tonight.”

“So we’re still friends, right?”

“More than friends. We’re bandmates. Live, work and breathe
together.”

Technically we didn’t breathe together since I didn’t need
oxygen, but I didn’t feel the need to correct him on the matter. I’d kept my
existence as a vampire from him for so long now and was hoping to keep it as a
secret.

Devon

I spent two days in Boston walking around the city, trying
to figure out what my next step would be. My hotel was a short walk from Park
Street Station at Boston Common so I could walk through the Common for a bit of
green space, down the Freedom Trail to distract myself with bits of history
from the American Revolution, an odd experience in itself for a British bloke.
The Tea Party ship amused me as did the stories about the Battle of Bunker
Hill. These Americans were really fixated on that time. Didn’t they realize
they were just one part of what was once the mighty British Empire?

One part of Boston I enjoyed was the North End, an Italian
neighborhood near the waterfront, which had excellent food. I feasted on pizza
and pasta, cannolis and gelato and too many cappuccinos.

When I picked up a newspaper listing local entertainment, I saw
Bloodlust Diamond was playing in a club on Friday night. That would be my next
move. I’d go there and watch her sing, staying at the back of the crowd so she
wouldn’t see me. If I realized I had been sporting rose-colored glasses
idolizing her in her absence and my feelings were no longer real when I saw her
in person, I could slip out of the club and return to London without her even
knowing. No harm done.

And if I did realize my feelings for her were real—well, I
hadn’t thought that far ahead.

The club was within walking distance from my hotel, which
was both good and bad. The good being that I could get there easily, the bad
being that it gave me more time to think as I walked, which gave me more time
to second-guess my plan. It was only a half-assed one and could be go wrong due
to any variety of factors.

What if she sees you and freaks out, thinks you’re
stalking her? What if she sees you, only you’ve realized you don’t want her
anymore, how are you going to explain being there? What if that jealous guitarist
sees you and starts something? What if…

Enough! I couldn’t debate on what would or would not happen.
I was a man of action and sitting around thinking about things was not
something I was good at. When I reached the club entrance, I paid my fee, had
my hand stamped and steeled myself to focus on the moment.

An opening band was playing, one I didn’t recognize. Since
this club catered to mostly local rock acts, that wasn’t surprising. Besides,
although I appreciated the music Layla and her band sang, I was definitely more
into classic rock, jazz and blues than the heavier rock they played.

I bought a Guinness and tried to disappear into the shadows
in the corners of the club while I waited for Bloodlust Diamond to take the
stage. The worst thing that could happen right now was for Layla to catch me
here. I wouldn’t even know how to explain my presence in the US, let alone at
her show.

Shit, a couple of guys came to the bar who I recognized and
it only took me a moment to figure out why. They were in the band. I had seen
the band twice last month when I was—ahem—hunting Layla, some might call it
stalking, but I’d reserve that term for the crazy celebrity worshippers or
jealous ex-boyfriends. It was a simple client-service business transaction.

How things had changed since I first agreed to take the job.
Stefano was dead. The other vampires were dead. Layla was safe and back in
America. And I’d been brooding over her like some bloody fool.

While the guys waited for their drinks, they watched the
opening band. I tried to slink even more into the shadows, if that was
possible. If two of the band members were out here, it could be any moment that
the other two arrived. When the bartender brought them a couple of Sam Adams,
they found of stools where they sat to watch the opening band finish their set.
When the band left the stage, the two guys left the bar and walked up to the
stage area. After they disappeared, I figured they went backstage to prepare
for their set.

Layla must be back there.

The live music was replaced by music playing on a jukebox.
Over the next fifteen or twenty minutes, I heard songs by The Clash, Johnny
Cash and a few bands I didn’t recognize while various people moved equipment
around onstage. Layla wasn’t one of them.

A flash of panic went through me. How could I be sure she
was even still with the band? How reckless of me to just assume she’d come back
here to resume the persona she had invented, one as a cover while she was on
the run. For all I knew, some ugly bloke would be coming out with the band
while Layla had started yet another life under another name in some other city.

If I was looking at this situation analytically as a bounty
hunter doing a job rather than a guy going after a girl, I would have analyzed
all these possibilities long before getting on a plane. Funny how my feelings
for a woman had clouded my judgment. I’d been vacillating between excitement
over seeing her and anxiety over her reaction that I failed to look at the
bigger—and possibly more realistic—picture. Layla could be someone else in
another city by now. My heart sank. Had I crossed an ocean like a damned fool?

The stage was still dark when the drummer came onstage and
took his place at the drum set. He was followed by the bassist and guitar
player, who waved to the crowd before walking up to their instruments. My heart
pounded with anticipation as I waited to see who would come out next to stand
in front of the mic.

Then a woman came out on the stage wearing a long black
duster that hid her silhouette. Through the darkness on the stage, I could make
out dark hair, but I couldn’t see her features. She walked up to the microphone
stand and said, “Hello, Boston. It’s good to be back in this wicked town. Who’s
ready to start this shit tonight with some good old Def Leppard?”

I knew that voice. It had cursed me, seduced me, called to
me, warned me of danger, whispered to me while we made love, soothed me and
haunted my dreams every night.

The crowd cheered and spotlights lit up the stage.

She was wearing chunky boots that gave her several more
inches of height. She’d kept the more natural shade of brown hair as when we
parted three weeks ago, save for a thick purple streak that graced one side.
There was my girl standing on the stage.

My Layla.

She warmed the crowd with a smile, but it dazzled me so that
I felt giddy. Had it only been three weeks since she left? The ache deep in my
chest made it feel like months, if not years.

Layla sang
Pour Some Sugar on Me
, which instantly
woke the crowd up. It sounded like everyone in the audience knew the lyrics, as
you could hear them singing along, fists pumping in the air. Layla knew how to
work them. She moved with subtle gestures at times, barely moving, but would
then leap up into the air, screaming out lyrics and encouraging the crowd to
join her. She knew exactly how to draw them in to have a good time. And I
couldn’t help but smile. She was a natural charmer.

I remembered how she seduced me at my flat in an attempt to
convince me to let her go. If I was a mortal man, I would have done whatever
the hell she asked for; she could charm the pants off anyone. Or mesmerize
them. Or whatever vamp power she had that could reduce men to jelly.

I was a fool to think I might not feel the same on seeing
her again, that my feelings for her might have been magnified and made fonder
by the time and distance between us. Because what I knew now after seeing her
again was something I’d been suspecting for some time. I was in love with her.

For the first time in my life, I’d found a woman who I loved
with all my soul. There was the slight problem with her being a vampire. My
family might revolt initially at first, but perhaps if they knew how sincere my
feelings were, they’d come to accept her. She would never age while I would,
although shifters aged slower and lived longer than most mortals. But we faced
all kinds of life-and-death obstacles already. And something inside me knew
that I would do anything for this woman. Kill or die for her without question.

But I was getting ahead of myself here since Layla may have
forgotten me by now.

At the end of the song, she whipped off the black duster,
revealing a tight black catsuit. She wore a big silver necklace of a bat,
dozens of silver bangles and a silver belt. My focus wasn’t on the outfit, it
was on the curves it revealed beneath. I held my breath, remembering what
pleasure our bodies gave each other.

Forget the vampire powers. She could get any man to do her
bidding with just that body alone.

Since Layla had left England, I had been sulking around
London, missing her. Her smile, her laugh, her scent, the sound of her voice.
It was only in the darkest moments late at night when I focused on her touch.
The way her hands ran down my body or clutched me when she was nearing her
peak. How soft her skin felt under my fingers and how her body instantly
responded to my touch as if waiting for me. How her lips tasted when we kissed,
how the taste of her thrilled me beyond return. I’d force these thoughts out of
my mind during the day because they were too overwhelming. They could consume
me.

A longing reared itself in my mind, body and spirit right
now. I wanted her, I loved her, I needed her. If she didn’t feel the same, I
didn’t know how I’d recover.

Oh God, I was fucked.

Layla

Bloodlust Diamond played our most requested numbers that
night, everything from fun crowd favorites like Bon Jovi’s
You Give Love a
Bad Name
and Mötley Crüe’s
Girls, Girls, Girls
, to darker stuff like
Metallica’s
For Whom the Bell Tolls
and Black Sabbath’s
War Pigs
.