Duncan (10 page)

His driver, Ari, grunted unhappily at the mishmash of cars parked in front of the house. Jerking the wheel to one side, he cut across the field and pulled around back instead. Miguel and Louis both bailed from the SUV when it stopped, but Duncan sat and waited while the second vehicle parked behind them and his security team piled out and took up positions. He spent that time probing the crowded house, separating humans from vampires, or perhaps the other way around. Vampires burned so much brighter to his empathic senses than the humans did. And there were two or three very bright vampires inside this house. Interesting.

Miguel opened the door next to Duncan. “My lord,” he said.

“Thank you, Miguel,” Duncan said and stepped out onto the half-frozen ground. He studied the back of the house. There were low lights in every window, and this close, he could feel the deep thumping base of the music playing inside. The garage was off to the left. To the right was a small porch with a closed door.

Miguel signaled as Duncan started for the porch. One of his vampires went ahead, making quick work of the lock. Not that it was a bad lock, but his staff were very good at such things. He tamped his power down, wanting to size the place up before announcing his presence.

The music hit him as soon as the door opened, much louder than he would have expected from hearing it outside. Someone had invested in some serious soundproofing, because modern houses weren’t usually built that way. The extra sound dampening was a good sign, however, telling him the house was well run, that whoever was in charge was paying attention.

Duncan entered the house with only Miguel and Louis, leaving the others to secure the outside perimeter. If he needed them, they could be at his side in seconds, but he was more concerned about someone coming up behind him than taking him down from the inside.

The house was as crowded as he’d expected, given the parking situation out front. The back door opened onto a long, narrow kitchen and den area, with a breakfast bar in between. The kitchen was nearly empty, but the room beyond was packed wall-to-wall with vampires and humans, some dancing to the music, and some only pretending to dance while they engaged in other pursuits. What furniture there was had been pushed up against the walls to make more room for the dancers. And he could both hear and sense more people upstairs, mostly having sex from the sound of it, which was perfectly normal for a blood house this big. That’s what humans came here for, after all. They offered blood from the vein in exchange for a sexual high like no other. A hundred years ago, vampires hunted and took what they needed. Today the humans lined up for the privilege of opening their veins.

A pair of vamps were deep in conversation as Duncan came through the door. They glanced up, and one of them automatically straightened into an aggressive posture, but he took one look at Duncan and dropped his eyes, backing away until his ass hit the kitchen counter. The other vamp only stared, eyes wide.

“Who runs this place,” Miguel snarled.

“Otis,” the wide-eyed vamp offered eagerly. “He’s in there. I mean, through the next room and past the stairs. That’s his place.”

Miguel glanced over at Duncan, his expression somewhat troubled. Duncan was sure his lieutenant and he were sharing the same thought. Why had the vamp been so
happy
to give up Otis’s name?

Only one way to find out. They started forward. The music was blaring as loudly as ever, as Duncan stepped into the room. He stood still for a moment, simply observing, and then he released his power. It rolled across the crowded room like a wave. One by one the dancers turned to stare, their eyes wide with recognition. They shrank back, pressing against the walls and taking their humans with them. Some fell to their knees, others whispered, “Master,” as Duncan passed, following the suddenly wide open path through the crowded room.

He proceeded past the stairs, where a few more vampires froze in mid-step, staring at their new lord, and strolled into the high-ceilinged room beyond.

Otis, at least Duncan assumed this was Otis, was ensconced on a big, black leather sectional in a corner. The room was no doubt intended to be a formal living room, with its tall windows, elaborate chandelier and elegant stone hearth. Otis had made it his throne room. He sat in the light of a brightly burning fireplace.
Holding court
. There were no other words to describe it. His arms were stretched out to either side of the couch, while a human woman knelt between his wide spread legs performing oral sex. Thankfully, she was finishing her performance right about the time they walked into the room. She tucked Otis’s cock gently back inside his jeans, then zipped him up with agonizing slowness, clearly terrified of making a mistake.

“That’s good, pet,” Otis said lazily, closing his knees and trapping the woman between them. “But don’t go far. I might need you again.”

The woman, who’d been poised to stand, closed her eyes in resignation and slumped back to the floor, resting her head on the sofa cushion between Otis’s legs.

Another vampire approached Otis, this one wearing neatly pressed khakis and a button-down blue shirt, his dark hair cut short. He was holding a clipboard in one hand, a pencil in the other.

“Lance is here, Otis,” he said, reading something on his clipboard. “It’s been three weeks, and I think it’s time—”

“On your knees when you talk to me, Nelson.”

The dark-haired vamp stiffened, and Duncan could see every muscle tightening as he tried to resist the order, but eventually he surrendered. His knees hit the carpeted floor with a dull thud.

“That’s a good boy,” Otis drawled. “Now, what was it you wanted to ask me?”

“Lance,” Nelson repeated sharply. “It’s been three weeks—”

“Fuck that bastard. Tell him to go someplace else.”

“There
isn’t
anyplace else, Otis. You know that. He’s been traveling over a hundred miles just to feed. That’s not—”

“I don’t care how far he’s fucking traveling,” Otis roared, sitting up and knocking the woman out of the way. “Let him hunt! I don’t want that bastard in my house or even my line of sight.” He smiled then, and ran a casual hand back through his long hair, as if aware his outburst had made him seem out of control. And Duncan knew that control would be everything to someone like Otis.

“Some vampires just aren’t worth the effort, Nelson. You understand,” he said with a sickening smirk. He started to lean back against the sofa, but caught sight of Duncan and his people. He sat up straight, his dark eyes skimming over each of them in turn, resting finally on Duncan.

“Well, looky who’s here, Nelson,” he sneered. “It’s our new lord come calling.”

Nelson, still on his knees, twisted around to stare at Duncan. His face registered first surprise, and then a fierce satisfaction. He grabbed the woman, dragging her with him, as if clearing a path between Otis and their new vampire lord.

“Feel free to help yourselves, boys,” Otis said, waving a casual hand at the crowded house. “We’ve a full house tonight.”

Miguel stiffened, a growl rumbling in his chest. Duncan rested a hand on his forearm.

“Well, hell, Nelson. Get these boys a room. It’s okay, gents. We’re an equal opportunity establishment, if you get my drift. Maybe a nice boy for dinner?” Otis laughed loudly, amused by his own pathetic wit.

“Miguel,” Duncan said. “Get rid of the humans.”

“Hey!” Otis shot to his feet. “This fucking house is mine! I give the orders, not you.”

The woman broke away from Nelson to stagger over to the door, and Miguel shoved her out of the room as he muttered orders into his Bluetooth mike. Several more of Duncan’s people slammed into the house and began scouring it from room to room, racing up the stairs to clear the second floor. Humans screamed and vamps roared, but the noise quickly abated as the local vamps realized what was happening and helped herd the humans out of the house. Within moments, the only hearts that could be heard beating were the vampires’.

“Nelson,” Duncan said, drawing the startled attention of the preppy vampire with the clipboard. “Come here.”

“What the fuck?” Otis demanded. “I don’t care who you are! Nelson belongs to
me
.”

Duncan ignored him, turning his attention instead to Nelson, who had scrambled over on his knees and was now gazing up at Duncan with unconcealed longing.

“Nelson? Is that your full name?”

“Nelson Conway, my lord. But everyone calls me Nelson.”

“You know who I am?”

“Yes, my lord. You’re our master, the new Lord of the Capital Territory.”

“Do you run this establishment, Nelson?”

“No, he does
not!”
Otis roared, jumping over the glass coffee table to confront Duncan. “This is
my
house and he’s
my
fucking child. I turned him to handle all this shit.”

Duncan shifted his gaze to Otis, but didn’t waste any words on him. With a silent exertion of his will, he drove the angry vampire to his knees and choked away his voice. Otis’s face twisted with rage as he crashed to the floor at Duncan’s feet.

“Nelson?”Duncan prompted, bringing the other vampire’s attention back to him.

“Yes, my lord, I run the house. Otis makes policy. He decides who gets in how often, and who doesn’t,” he added with a dark look in his Sire’s direction. “But I’m the one who manages everything.”

“And did you volunteer for this job? Did you ask to be made Vampire?”

Nelson stared up at Duncan, as if trying to figure out the right answer to the question.

“The truth will do,” Duncan prompted quietly.

The preppy vampire glanced away, as if ashamed or embarrassed, then lowered his eyes, speaking to the floor. “No, my lord. I was in Leesburg visiting some friends. That was more than two years ago, though it seems even longer. We all came to this blood house together, on a stupid dare. When Otis found out I had graduated from business school, he started hitting on me, even though I told him—”

The young vampire broke off, his face heating, and his embarrassment now obvious. Duncan could easily imagine how someone like Otis would have single-mindedly pursued the young human, seducing him into sex not because he wanted him, but because it suited his need at the time. If Nelson had been drunk, which seemed likely, it would have been easy for Otis to seduce him. And once he’d bitten the young man, the powerful euphoric substance in his bite would have wiped away whatever was left of Nelson’s will. Until he woke the next night and remembered what he’d done.

“I’m sorry, Nelson,” Duncan said. “If I could reverse it, I would.”

Nelson looked up and shook his head. “That’s all right, my lord. I still hate what he did to me that night, and I was shocked to discover what I’d become, but . . . it’s not so bad now. And I don’t mind running this house, it’s just—” He shot a hate-filled glance at Otis, but didn’t say anything else.

“Very well,” Duncan said into the silence. “Miguel, if you would?”

Miguel produced a four inch switchblade as Duncan drew his leather jacket off and threw it onto the coffee table. He shoved up the sweater sleeve on his left arm.

“Nelson Conway, do you come to me of your own free will and desire?” he asked formally.

Nelson’s eyes widened in surprise, then he turned sharply, staring in fear as Otis began thrashing like a fish on a hook. But the vampire was unable to speak or to rise from his knees.

“Don’t worry about him,” Duncan said dismissively. “Unless you’d rather remain his?”

Nelson’s head swung back around to Duncan. “Hell, no,” he growled. “Er, my lord.”

Duncan nodded. “Then let us begin again. Nelson Conway, do you come to me of your own free will and desire?”

 “I do, my lord,” he said fervently.

“And is this what you truly desire?”

“Yes, my lord, it is my
truest
desire.”

Duncan sliced open a clean line between the tendons, from the middle of his forearm down to his wrist. Blood swelled from the wound in round droplets, turning quickly to a slow, steady rush of red.

Nelson stared, his breath coming in pants, tongue poking out to lick his lips hungrily.

Duncan didn’t taunt the young vampire by holding back. There was no need. Nelson had been his from the moment he’d walked into this house.

“Drink, Nelson,” he said softly. “And be mine.”

Duncan gazed down at Nelson’s bent head and felt the tug deep in his chest as yet another soul became his to guard, his to care for. Nelson didn’t gulp, but he didn’t waste a drop either. There was a precision to his drinking, the way some people eat an ice cream cone by constantly licking all around, keeping the cone neat and tidy, while others end up with a big mess. Nelson was a tidy drinker. It was probably the same quality that made him a good house manager.

“Enough,” Duncan said gently. Nelson lifted his head at once, settling back on his heels with a glazed look. Miguel produced a handkerchief for Duncan’s arm, and Duncan figured he must have a goodly supply of them somewhere. Boxes of plain, white handkerchiefs for the too frequent times when his master slit his own wrist. He smiled at the idea, wiping the kerchief up his arm before wrapping it carefully and snugging his sweater sleeve down. Duncan’s blood was powerful enough that the wound would begin to close in minutes, and would heal completely in a hour. There was a healing property in Nelson’s saliva, as in every other vampire’s. But it only worked on humans, not on another vampire.

“This house is yours, Nelson,” Duncan said as he pulled his jacket back on. “It has only one purpose, and that is to feed my vampires.
All
of my vampires. If you see someone you don’t know, you may request identification. If you have doubts, you will call Miguel or Louis.” He nodded at his respective aides. “But no one is to be turned away unless they break the rules. And there are only two rules. No drugs. No violence. And we observe human laws within the limits of our needs. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord,” Nelson said, still breathless from the effects of drinking Duncan’s potent blood. His eyes opened wide suddenly, and he leaned forward to whisper, “What about
him?”
His gaze shifted slightly toward Otis.