Sex in a Coffin (Kismet Knight, Vampire Psychologist) (2 page)

Sweet Devereux was trying to soothe me. His sensitivity was one of my favorite things about him. But now that Lucifer had popped into my head, I found it hard to concentrate on anything else. The memory of my frightening time with the insane killer still caused me to have regular nightmares. I suffered from vampire-demon-induced PTSD and hadn’t yet made peace with the lunatic haunting my life.

“Kismet,” Devereux said, startling me out of my stroll down Anxiety Lane. “Even if I were human and unable to scent your fear or hear your heart race, I could see how frightened you are.”

My mouth went dry and my breathing shallow. I shifted my gaze to the mesmerizing flames sparking in the stone fireplace. “I’m okay. Really. We don’t have to talk about this right now.”

We don’t have to discuss the fact that I’m still jumping at shadows. How can I trust anyone when my reality is a continuous nightmare?

“Perhaps it would be good to discuss it. The mere mention of the Halloween events still sets you on edge,” he continued, face solemn. “It has been weeks, and I worry about you holding on to such terror and anxiety.” He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “What would you tell a client in your situation? Someone who had gone through a horrible trauma, and was attempting to repress the memories?” He turned my face toward his. “I intend for us to be together for a very long time. I hoped I had begun to earn your trust by now.”

I took a deep breath and let it out as a loud sigh, deciding not to pick a fight with him about his familiar assumptions about our relationship. We’d only known each other a short time. I didn’t understand what the hurry was.

“Trust is hard for me, Devereux. I don’t know if that’s due to my training or my childhood, but I’ve rarely been able to count on anyone besides myself.” I gave him a quick kiss. “But as I said, I
want
to trust you. I’m trying to. I believe you’ll do whatever it takes to protect me. Maybe I’m just not ready to put the recent experiences into words for anyone yet. I guess I’m being superstitious, but even recalling the last time I saw
him
makes me hyperventilate.” I started talking faster, the pitch of my voice rose. “I think I’m going to refer to... that vampire... as Spot from now on. Or Fluffy. Yes. A harmless pet name.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “I’m not trying to keep things from you. Really, I...”

He pressed his finger against my lips. “No more. You may rest assured that I will find him and he will be destroyed. Your nightmares will end.” He kissed my forehead. “But we have all the time in the world to rehash the past. For now, the pleasure of this moment is all that matters.”

“You’re right.” I stretched my neck from side to side, trying to release some of the ever-present tension in my body. “I’m being ridiculous. I’m giving his memory more power by being afraid to say his name, than if I actually said it. I never thought I’d be listening to one vampire tell me not to be afraid of another.”
Shit. I never thought my life would turn into a horror novel.
“Thanks for the pep talk.”
Suck it up, Kismet.

“You are welcome.” He pulled me in for a hug.

Definitely wanting to distract myself from the traumatic topic, I raised a different issue. “Why did you finally agree to let me meet Laurence and Elliott?” Prior to the last few days, he’d said it was a very bad idea. “What changed? Why did you invite them to join us tonight?”

He shook his head, an annoyed expression on his face. “I still believe it is a poor idea, but I allowed myself to be talked into it. The two of them are relentlessly persistent and adolescent in their behavior. They said they would simply make an appointment in your office and pretend to be clients – or they would show up uninvited in the middle of one of your sessions – if I did not introduce them properly. They are impulsive enough to do such things.”

“Devereux!” My eyebrows rose. “I’m shocked that you would allow anyone to manipulate you like that.”

He shrugged. “Laurence and Elliott hold a unique place in my life. I allow them much more leeway than others.”

“I see.”
No I don’t.
“Should I be nervous about this get-together? Are they dangerous?”

“No, merely theatrical.” He traced my collarbone with his finger. “Although they do not behave in ways that humans would understand, I can usually control them. There is nothing to be afraid of when I am near. Laurence and Elliott rarely interact with mortals who are important to me. Sometimes I think they are ancient children, constantly seeking amusement.”

He can
usually
control them?

“Once they sent me on a series of blind dates,” he continued, “thinking I was lonely and needed female companionship. Their idea of
help
was a bit more bloody, violent and dramatic than I expected.” He grinned.

Oh. My. God. Bloody, violent and dramatic... He thinks that’s funny!

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a pretty serious guy. If Laurence and Elliott are as immature and chaotic as you say, I’m surprised they’re your friends. I mean, what on earth could you possibly have in common with them?”

“We share a long, challenging history, spanning several centuries. To cope with the pressure of living so long, I became focused on creating businesses and supporting my vampire causes. They chose to be troublemaking and irreverent. We each have our ways of dealing with immortality. Underneath their foolishness and their distasteful preferences, they are faithful friends who have walked with me longer than anyone else.”

“Well, you must have great affection for them in order to allow them in your inner circle, and tolerate their misbehavior.”

“Yes. I do have great affection for them. They are my actual children – my vampire offspring.”

“Your children?”
Whoa.
I knew Bryce had been his offspring, but he’d never mentioned any others. When I’d encountered Bryce, I’d been so caught up in trying to keep him from using me against Devereux, that after I cut his head off with a ceremonial sword, I never gave a thought to how that might have affected Devereux emotionally. After all, Bryce
had
been his child. Was there always a deep connection in that bond? “Are there others?”

“Yes. Many. I have been a vampire for eight-hundred years and I have turned hundreds of humans.”

“Hundreds?”
Shit!
Good thing there’s no child support for the undead!

“Yes. But only a small number remain. Being a vampire is a harsh life.”

Hearing the distress woven into his words, I hugged him, then pulled back to study his face for clues about his emotional state. “I’m sorry you lost so many of your children.”

He gave a sad smile. “You are wondering if the loss of my offspring is as emotionally painful as the wound felt by a human parent. The answer is no. While I forever carry the blood memory of each of my children, the bond between us differs with each child. Some of the deaths were personally difficult for me, and some not. I am sure that sounds cold, but it is our way.”

I started to ask about Bryce, but he anticipated my question. “And, no. Bryce was not hurtful for me. I allowed myself to be maneuvered into bringing him over. He proved to be unpleasant and dangerous from the start. I could never give him the intimate sexual relationship he wanted.”

Wow. What’s it like to fight off an unwanted suitor for centuries?
“I’m glad you feel comfortable enough with me to share some of the details of your long life.”

“I am happy to share with you. I want you to be with me forever.”

Again, with the forever. I don’t even plan breakfast in advance.
To distract him from his single-minded focus, I took advantage of the opportunity to ask another question I’d been curious about. “Who turned
you
?”

He was silent for a few seconds, radiating unease. “That is a discussion for another time.”

What the hell?
“Why can’t we talk about it now?” What could possibly be private about that? It wasn’t as if I’d know whoever it was, anyway. “Is it a secret? How can I trust you if I’m out of the loop?”

He silenced me with a kiss, his soft hair trailing down my arm. “Please do not be upset. I am handling this very badly. In the future, there will be nothing hidden between us. I promise to tell you everything as soon as I can. Come.” He stood in a graceful movement. “We should not be late for the festivities. A pleasant evening will set us to rights.” He reached his hand down, and I grasped it, letting him pull me up. “I want tonight to be special. In fact, I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” A blend of excitement and fear rushed through me. I never knew what to expect when he used that word. It could be wonderful or horrifying.

“Yes. Let us hurry. You have appropriate clothing at my penthouse. I propose we go directly there to shower and dress before we meet my friends upstairs. Is that acceptable?”

I nodded, deciding to avoid another argument and be a good sport about his evasions for the moment. Honestly, it was all exhausting.

Shifting my gaze around the room, I shook my head. Once again, reality proved to be stranger than my brain could process. Never in my life would I have imagined myself standing naked in a coffin, while discussing plans to flash through time and space with a gorgeous vampire.

He slid his arm around my waist, pulled me against his still-warm-from-my-blood body, and we vanished.

Devereux’s club, The Crypt, was housed in a century-old former church in Denver’s LoDo area. Gothic in design, with ornate towers and archways, the building filled an entire city block. Incredible stained glass windows, with scenes of vampires rising from their graves, spooky castles, bloody battles, and other grisly visions lined the stone facade. Large gargoyles stood guard at various outposts on the upper levels. I had no proof that the grotesque statues came alive when nobody was looking, but I could swear I often felt their eyes follow me. Paranoid? Maybe.
But just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean there
isn’t
a new form of paranormal insanity unfolding.

The club catered to humans attracted to the vampire, Goth and occult lifestyles. Mortal customers were left in the dark about the existence of the actual undead. To the mundane world, The Crypt was a Goth fantasyland – a role-player’s wet dream. A parallel universe where anything could be had, for the right price.

Devereux thought us onto the stairway connecting the dungeon-like basement with the vast public area on the main floor. It wouldn’t do to simply pop into the midst of the partiers, even though it was highly unlikely that any of the stoned, drunk or entranced participants would notice. Of course, it wasn’t unheard of for some blood-drunk vampire to materialize into the bar, his survival instincts temporarily impaired, only to be captured by the bar’s security team and removed to a remote location. Devereux’s vampire coven had survived this long by flying under the radar of the “normal” world. Theoretically, what we humans didn’t know couldn’t eat us.

Rather than his usual dark leather, Devereux chose to wear grey slacks with a turquoise shirt tucked in at his trim waist. But no matter what he wore, he still looked as though he’d stepped out of the pages of
Bloodsucking GQ
. His thick, long hair flowed down his chest like fluid light. My nipples hardened as I enjoyed watching his firm buns move in the snug slacks. He was always a treat for the senses.

Appreciating the downtime, I opted for casual comfort, and wore jeans and a purple “The Crypt” T-shirt. It felt good to have an off-duty night.

When we opened the heavy door to the crowded club, a wall of sound crashed into my ears. As usual, a raucous rock band commandeered the aural landscape on the impressive, multi-level, raised stage. Musicians cavorted wildly amid pyrotechnical bursts and other special effects. Guitar amplifiers, stacked one on another, pulverized the airwaves with eardrum-searing wails.

A smoke machine pumped out continuous fog that snaked along the floor, writhing and curling with a demented mind of its own. Colored lights flickered through the haze, creating LSD-like visuals.

John, the human employee who guarded the passageway between the private and common areas, jumped off his stool at the sight of Devereux. He stood, decked out in his usual, well-worn Harley Davidson attire, his long, gray hair streaming down his back. His eyes were round saucers, mouth hanging open. He twisted his hands, which shook with a fine tremor. Terrified. John was one of many vampire addicts who worked at The Crypt and dedicated themselves to the undead. Or, perhaps it was more accurate to say they dedicated themselves to their
fear
of the undead.

Devereux told me about the “Renfields,” mortals who live for the excitement and horror of serving vampires, the first time I came to the club. He said the character name made popular in the book
Dracula
represented a long-standing bloodsucker-human relationship, so most vampires adopted the term. I understood the phenomenon, because I had many human clients who put themselves in danger continuously in order to feel alive – to give meaning to otherwise empty lives. The vampire addicts were just another variation on the theme. The Renfields donated blood regularly, and were the vampire-world equivalent of fast food.

Still struggling to speak, John finally managed a garbled, “Welcome, Master.”

“Good evening, John.” Devereux nodded. “I trust all is well?”

John nodded vigorously, gaze locked on Devereux’s face, a ghoulish puppy, eager to please. I was apparently invisible. “Yes, Master. No problems at all. We’ve had a full house all night. The band is rockin’.”

Devereux touched the biker’s arm and the man sucked in a breath, reached out to brace himself against his stool, then moaned.

Holy shit.
I unconsciously shifted my eyes to John’s crotch to see if he’d wet himself in either possible way.

“That is excellent news. Keep up the good work.” Devereux gently tugged my arm, propelling me forward.

“I will, Master. I will,” John panted as we moved away.

In the time I’d been involved in Denver’s hidden vampire world, I still hadn’t gotten used to the rigid power structure. Democracy need not apply. Vampires had little use for human rules, morals or systems. Unless, of course, the system was of benefit to the vampire, financially or otherwise. Then, they would manipulate to get what they wanted. They considered the mortal focus on rights and fairness to be amusing. It had been so long since most of them had been alive, they couldn’t remember the reasons for caring about such notions.

As one of the oldest immortals on Earth, and the most influential “master” in the western hemisphere, Devereux ruled with charisma and style. But none of his subjects ever forgot for a heartbeat that the velvet glove covering the steel hand could be discarded at any time. Rules in the realm of the undead were written in blood.

“Doesn’t that creep you out?” I asked.

“To what are you referring?” Devereux responded, distracted, gaze scanning the club.

“John.” I poked his arm, drawing his attention back to me. “The fact that he soils his shorts whenever you show up. Don’t you get tired of inspiring fear?”

He tilted his head, raised a brow and appeared genuinely baffled. “Why would I tire of what is necessary? You are still attempting to interpret the reality of the undead through a human lens. Our two species might coexist on the same planet, but we are fundamentally different. Why do you let John’s actions bother you?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “The whole thing seems undignified. Pitiful.”

“I cannot disagree. But the Renfields choose their positions in the vampire hierarchy. No one forces them.” He nodded toward the customer-packed, sarcophagus-shaped bar running the length of a wall and walked us in that direction.

 “Ah.” Devereux tapped me on the shoulder. “There they are.” He pointed to a booth in a raised, hidden corner, the most sound-protected spot in the room. The very booth, in fact, where my friends FBI profiler Alan Stevens, Dr. Tom Radcliffe and I sat during our initial visit to The Crypt last October. If I’d only known how much my life would change that night, maybe I’d have run, screaming.

The two men currently occupying the booth jumped out and hurried toward us, smiling widely.

“Finally! We thought your control-freak boyfriend would never get around to introducing us.” Moving vampire-fast, the tall, dark-haired one slid his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into a tight hug. “Aren’t you just
edible
?”

“Ack!” The breath whooshed out of me from his suffocating clinch.

“Laurence!” Devereux slid his hand in between us and shoved the laughing vampire backward. “Behave!”

While Devereux was talking to Laurence, the red-haired man – whom I assumed was Elliott – darted in and lifted me off the ground. “My turn.” He swung me in a circle. “Wooo!”

“Put her down this instant, Elliott!” Devereux’s voice sounded stern but he was smiling.

My head spun and my stomach lurched when Elliott released me. I grabbed onto Devereux’s arm to keep my balance. If this was Devereux’s idea of
controlling
his children, I was in trouble.

The two vampires laughed and bumped fists.

“If you will act like adults for a moment, I will introduce you.” Devereux glared at his offspring as he waited for them to settle.

“Yes, Sire,” they said in unison, and lined up next to each other, straightening their clothing and smoothing their hair – both struggling not to smile.

Geez. These two really are thirteen. Maybe there was a glitch in the transformation process.

“Hey! What an insult!” Elliott yelled. “She just said we’re thirteen, and that something’s wrong with us. We demand an apology.” He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled.

Crap! How could I forget? All the old ones can read my mind.

“Yes we can,” Laurence said, pouting.

“I’m so sorry, Laurence, Elliott,” I said, slipping into therapist mode. “I didn’t mean to offend you. That was very rude of me—”

They burst out laughing and high-fived each other.

I startled and took a step back, wanting distance from our unstable company.

Devereux turned to me and shook his head. “I apologize for the poor manners of the children, my love. They were playing with you.” He shifted his gaze to them. “Stop right now. Go back to the booth and sit down. We will join you momentarily.”

They did as he asked, shoving and punching each other on the way.

“They were right, Devereux. I
did
think that. It’s so hard to remember that my thoughts aren’t my own.” I sighed, already wishing the night was over so I could crawl in bed and pull the covers over my head. I spent enough time with the chronically mentally ill while working with clients. I didn’t need more of the same during my off hours.

Sometimes the new world I’d fallen into could be draining.

Remind me why I signed up for this. Okay. Research into an unknown species, new explorations of common diagnoses, spending time with a gorgeous male...

“This is my fault. They know that I often describe them to people as ancient children, so they make a point of acting out whenever possible, just to fulfill my expectations. They never behave this way when the three of us are alone. Hopefully, they have the foolishness out of their systems now. Come.” He took my arm and guided me to the booth.

“I wish to present Dr. Kismet Knight, the woman I love,” Devereux said dramatically in his most formal, antiquated style.

Geez. Was Devereux ever a Shakespearean actor? If he wasn’t he missed his calling.

Laurence and Elliott smirked at me, no doubt having heard the thought.

“Yes,” Laurence said. “Our father is a very serious, intense fellow. That’s one reason we enjoy rattling his cage. Please. Join us.” He shoved at Elliott to move over so Devereux and I could sit.

As soon as we slid into the booth, Laurence snaked his arm around my shoulders and tugged me against him. I was immediately overwhelmed by a strong combination of smells: a subtle and spicy aroma similar to Devereux’s, the coppery odor of blood, and a mega-dose of Aramis cologne, a scent that reminded me of a predatory undergraduate biology instructor and a close call in an empty lab.

I used my elbow to push him away. “Hey! Let go of me.” My head pounded with the beginnings of a headache from the potent mix. It was as if he’d bathed in the sweet fragrance. I almost choked on it.

How polite am I willing to be? I’m all for getting along with my boyfriend’s pals, but where’s the line?

“Laurence!” Devereux scooted a little toward the end of the booth and pulled me along with him. He rested his arm on the back of the cushions and draped his hand on my shoulder.

“Sorry, Dev.” Laurence held his hands out in front to show he was no longer touching me. “I just couldn’t resist. Her blood is tantalizing.” He gave a wicked grin and turned his vibrant green gaze to me. “I
am
sorry, Doctor. And because Devereux will kick my ass if I don’t behave, I will – or at least as much as I can.”

“Try harder,” Devereux said with a scowl.

My blood is tantalizing?
I didn’t know how I was going to make it through the evening with these two. If Devereux really wanted me to trust him, he was going to have to start telling me a lot more about the vampires he expected me to spend time with. Since I couldn’t count on them to behave in any conventional way, I was once again forced to face the fact that I might not be able to hang out in this new world. It just wasn’t healthy to have to be on guard all the time.

No doubt all the vampires at the table picked up my fearful vibe, because their gazes locked on me.

“So, Dr. Knight,” Elliott said, “we’ve been very excited to meet you. You know of course that Devereux has been waiting for your arrival for centuries.” He toyed with a large, ruby ring on his middle finger. It looked like one of those with a hidden compartment for poison. “I suppose that does put a lot of pressure on you. Talk about performance anxiety.”

Performance anxiety? How about every-day terror?

His eyes widened. “Anyway,” he continued, “Devereux tells us you counsel both humans and vampires. Quite frankly, I don’t know how you can stand to listen to all those sad, negative stories all day and night. Don’t you get overwhelmed? I could tell you stories that would curl your hair. Oh, wait.” He lifted a section of my hair. “Too late.”

He and Laurence high-fived again.

I focused on counting backward from one-hundred, so I wouldn’t have any stray thoughts.

“That is a good question, my love. Do you feel depleted by the unhappy tales your clients tell?”

Devereux really was patient with them. I was grateful he’d brought the conversation to something I could actually discuss. “No. I’m not burned out yet. I still enjoy the challenges of my work. I’m accustomed to human diagnoses and neuroses. Nothing about mortals really surprises me anymore. But vampires? Stress city.”

Reality check: I’m sitting at a table full of vampires, talking about how stressful counseling vampires is.

“Oh, my,” Lawrence said. “Diagnoses, neuroses. I just love when you speak psychology. It’s such a turn-on.” He fanned himself.

“Excuse me, uh, Mr. Devereux?” said a throaty, female voice.

We all shifted our attention to the bald woman resting a hip against the edge of our table. Her shiny scalp, along with the rest of her exposed skin, was covered with tattoos: colorful, mystical symbols and vampiric images. A rendering of two round dots dripping blood decorated the side of her neck. She might have had the biggest breasts I’d ever seen on a non-airbrushed woman, and the tiny bra-top she wore wasn’t likely to survive a deep breath. It was amazing she could even move in the skin-tight leather pants that completed her ensemble.