The Nightlife: Paris (The Nightlife Series) (2 page)

“Thank you.”

He was up and on her before she could take a single step
back.  He dug into her mind as he smiled wide, a slight hint of fang showing.  She
had taken one look at his “GQ” magazine cover designer clothes and assumed they
must be super models headed to a photo shoot in Paris.  Few average people
could afford flights like this, and they looked too damn attractive.  She
admired his youthful, slim build, all five-eleven of him.  Noticing his sharp
angular facial features and dark close-cropped hair, she thought,
I don’t
recall my son’s friends ever looking this good
.

She glanced to Michelle’s petite hourglass frame, perfect
golden curls and flawless pale skin.  
Fucking
supermodels
. 
Michelle removed her rose-tinted glasses and treated Nancy to a disarming green-eyed
stare.

Nancy never had a chance of escape, though she tried to
maintain a professional distance with a step back.  On her in an instant, he
took her by the hand.  She had nowhere to run.

“Would you like some beverages or … or a snack?”  She
stammered, intimidated and aroused in equal measure.

Michelle slipped into the aisle, sliding up on Nancy’s
backside silently.  Nancy turned towards her only to be entrapped in that
emerald gaze.  He still held her anchored by the hand.

Michelle purred, “
Oui
,
I would like a snack.”  They struck simultaneously at opposite sides of her
neck.

“Oh shit!  Let me … go …”

Her knees buckled under the instant euphoria of their dual
assault.  Aaron scooped her up in his arms, holding her tight against his
chest.

“Oh Lord, help me!”

They released her quickly, in perfect sync.  He maintained
his embrace as she recovered.

He petted Nancy’s hair.  “Thank you, much appreciated.  That
will be all for now.  We’ll let you know if we need anything else.  You can
go.”

She stared up into his eyes, her drugged gaze heavy with
desire.  He knew she wanted more.  They always wanted more.  A very bad idea. 
He’d made that mistake with Anastasia.  He and Michelle had vowed never to use
drugs again or lose control like they did in Las Vegas.

He held Nancy’s gaze.  “We’re fine, you can go.”

“Oh.”  She finally remembered herself, blushed with embarrassment,
and wandered away.

Nancy floated past several more times throughout the flight,
trying her best not to stare.  Feeding from her had been a mistake.  She had
developed an obsession.

He followed her thoughts as she slipped up and down the
aisle.  She barely restrained herself from pestering them.  She wanted to know
how they did it.  She wanted them to do it again.  But she didn’t have the
courage to cross that invisible line of propriety between flight attendant and
passenger, not like they did.  She tried to serve them to the best of her
ability, but they had no further use for her.

Michelle donned her rose glasses and ignored Nancy, occupied
with Parisian fashion magazines.  “I have been away for too long.  Is all
different.”

He couldn’t care less about fashion.  Michelle shopped for
him.  She had impeccable taste.  “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time for
shopping.”  They had all the time in the world.  When she shared her blood to
save his life she explained that he would live a very very long time.  With
her.

“
Oui
,
but I don’t like the new styles.”  She looked to him with alarm.  “I have
become American. 
Quelle
horreur!
”  She sounded as if she’d caught a venereal disease.

“I don’t think that’s possible.”  He smiled his first
genuine smile in several nights.  Michelle, Americanized?  Never.

She snorted.  “I have been away from home too long.”

He didn’t want to think about how long they would be
together, master to servant, intimately bonded, together but alone.  He missed
Anastasia
so
much.  She had married him scant hours before her untimely
death.  He could still recall the scent of her strawberry kiwi hair, the feel
of her warm soft body tangled between him and Michelle.  How long would this
grief last? 
I miss my wife
.

The plane landed right on schedule.  Poor Nancy stared at
them, biting her lip as they de-planed.  He read her desperate need to connect
with them before they walked out of her life forever.  He turned to her, inches
from her expectant face.  “It’s better this way.  You probably wouldn’t last
very long with us, no one does.  I know you want more, you want to know things,
but I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

He stroked her chin, kissed her on the lips and let his
fingers trail down her body in a parting caress.  Michelle waved goodbye and
blew her a kiss.  Nancy thought they were playing with her, flirtatious yet condescending. 
She didn’t understand Aaron was dead serious.

This seemed the worst aspect of his new life with Michelle. 
People had a constant attraction to them, craved proximity and intimacy.  But
they couldn’t subject innocents to the horrible reality of the inevitable
addiction that came with any kind of prolonged exposure to their bite.  The
effect of their venom was so powerful a person could be reduced to a bloodslave
addict in minutes.  It happened to Anastasia their first night together.

* * * *

Chapter 2

A courtesy shuttle dropped them off at the Hilton Paris
Hotel, Charles De Gaulle Airport – only a five minute hop from their terminal. 
Their timely arrival left them an entire hour before sunrise.  Michelle decided
this was the perfect time for Aaron to learn about life as a
Parisien
.

She allowed him to handle all the accommodations.  She
considered it a rite of passage for all tourists to experience the wonders of
French hospitality firsthand.  She curled her arm around Aaron’s and smiled
brightly at Maximillian Sinclair, the hotel night manager.

A spike of Aaron’s irritation bled through their psychic
bond as he argued with the manager.  “No, we can’t come back to check in at
ten!  Just give us any room you have!”

Maximillian flicked through several options on his screen
and grinned wide.  “
Certainement
Monsieur.  There is a deluxe suite available, the Executive Room,
with free drinks and food at the Executive Lounge.”

“Yes, yes.  Whatever.”  Aaron was losing patience fast.

Without a hint of apology, the manager continued.  “The
suite is four hundred thirty dollars per night.”

“Of course it is.”  Aaron fixed his formidable gaze on
Maximillian Sinclair.  “Do I look like a fool?”

“No, Monsieur.”  He replied with all sincerity, completely
unfazed.

“Right.  So why are you trying to charge me double the rate
of the room I reserved?”

“Pardon, the Executive Room is a deluxe accommodation.  I
cannot adjust the rate without a reservation.”  He spoke as though conveying
the most obvious thing in the world.

“I have a reservation.”

“
Oui
,
for a double occupancy with a ten a.m. check in.  This is not the Executive
Room.”

“Fine.  Just give me the Executive Room.  We don’t have the
time to find another hotel right now.”

“
Certainement
. 
If you must check in immediately, there is a surcharge of fifty dollars for
early
check-in.”

“Yes, I want the room immediately, right now, right this
minute.”  Aaron turned to Michelle, “There’s a fee for early check-in, what a
surprise.  I never would have guessed.”

“At least there is a pool,” she offered, enjoying every
second he squirmed with impatience.  He was very sensitive to the sunrise.  He
had a bad experience with it in the Vegas desert.

“Pardon, Madam, the pool is closed for renovations.”

“Of course it is,” Aaron deadpanned.

Michelle lost control at this point.  She leaned into
Aaron’s chest, hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laughter.  He
glared at her suspiciously, as if she was in on this conspiracy to drive him
mad with impatience.

After signing
here
and
there
and
here again
,
he finally received a pair of plastic key cards and a room number.  Maximillian
handed them over with the reverence of an Academy Awards ceremony.  After all
Aaron had gone through, the room key did seem like a valuable prize.

Maximillian addressed her as they walked away from the
service counter. “
Il est
américain?
”

She answered with an apologetic smile, “
Bien sûr
.
” 
Of course
.

Maximillian shook his head and sighed. 
“
Je vous prie de bien vouloir
accepter mes sincères condoléances.”
 
Please
accept my sincere condolences
.  She couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

Aaron radiated fury. “Yes, I am American, and I understand
some French.  I just don’t speak it.”

She steered him away by the arm.  His anxiety at the
approaching sunrise had put him on edge.  “What was that crap about
condolences?”

She smirked.  “He said welcome to Paris.”

“I’m sure that’s exactly what he meant.”

She pulled on his arm, guiding him to the elevator.  The
massive glass-roofed atrium flanked by full-grown trees distracted his
attention.  “Is this a hotel or a mall?”

“We have not left the airport.”  She tugged on his arm
again.  “Come.”

And he did.  He always obeyed her commands.  Not that he had
a choice.  She held the power to command his will.  When she told him to jump
off the side of the building, he did, whether he wanted to or not.

Aaron accepted this fact of life within their first week
together.  Sharing her blood saved his life, but it came at the cost of
obedience – one of the reasons she loved him so much.  Having such a majestic
and powerful creature at her command was intoxicating.

She felt Aaron’s anxiety about the sunrise, and the
encroaching lethargy that always hit about this time.  By sunrise, they would
both be in bed, comatose to the world, until the sun retreated back over the
horizon.

“We need to get movin’.  I don’t like cutting it this
close.”  Busy gawking at everything, he didn’t notice the opportunity gliding
down the hallway towards them.

Michelle knew they had just enough time for a quick bite
before bed.  She slid up on the target and engaged the woman with a question. 
“
Quelle heure est-il?
”  
What time is it?

“
C’est
…”  The girl’s response trailed off unfinished, snared by Michelle.

Aaron finally caught on and surrounded the prey to close in
ranks.  They tagged her front and back, a French brunette sandwich.  She tasted
juicy sweet, young, fresh, and her adrenaline spiked her blood with such
wonderful spice.

Michelle understood how the legends of old could paint vampires
as vicious killers.  She had seen and experienced that life with her master
many years ago.  The rush of a victim’s fear was like no other.  But she
refused to live that way.  She respected her food.  She respected all life, and
she would not cause further death if she could avoid it.

The girl sighed and quivered at the two-pronged assault.  In
seconds she started grinding her hips against Michelle’s leg, humping in time
with the waves of her orgasm.  She made an adorable little grunting sound as she
wet her jeans with her release.  They both relinquished their bites simultaneously,
but continued to support her frail body until she regained her equilibrium.

They excused themselves, each of them kissing her
rose-blushed cheeks platonically.  They left her standing in the hallway
flustered and dazed.

* * * *

Mike Jamison touched down in Paris just after dawn, two hours
after the vampires arrived.  He enjoyed the commercial flight they could not. 
It cost an arm and a leg for the last minute booking, but well worth the price
to stay on their trail.

He had a fairly easy time following them.  They obviously
didn’t know they were being tailed.  While in the air over the Atlantic, he
called several hotels in Paris and encountered their registration at the Hilton. 
He promptly reserved a room for himself in the same.

While eating chicken cordon bleu and sipping vodka and
cranberry juice, provided courtesy of the airline, he read through the New York
Times.  Another piece of the Aaron-Michelle puzzle conveniently fell into
place.  He glanced quickly at an article about the murders of two NYPD detectives
six weeks ago.  The high profile investigation remained unsolved, no suspects. 
Reading between the lines, they didn’t have shit to go on.  The brief mention of
one peculiar detail stood out.  One of the detectives died from having his
esophagus torn out.  This stopped Mike’s roving eye.  He recognized the name,
Scott Konowicz.  He’d seen that name before.

It clicked in his mind like a lightning bolt straight to the
chest.  He jumped up in his seat with the physical jolt.  His hands shook and
his heart raced as he retrieved the background check on Aaron Pilan from his
briefcase. 
Holy shit
.  Detective Scott Konowicz filed a missing persons
report on Aaron Pilan dated five days prior to his violent death. 
There are
so very few coincidences in this life
.

These two left a trail of bodies everywhere they went.  Two
dead cops in New York and six more bodies in Vegas.  Each time they fled the
city – to escape the heat from authorities?  The investigation hit a dead end
in New York, and to the best of his knowledge, authorities didn’t know anything
in Vegas.  So, what drew them to Paris?

He didn’t think Aaron had ever been to Paris, so this must
have something to do with Michelle.  He didn’t have a thing on her, not one
piece of paper.  Didn’t even know her last name.  Again, he wished he had the
audio to accompany the video footage he’d found of the vampires in Vegas.  He
needed more answers, and the missing audio was a huge hole in his intel.  But
after seeing these lethal creatures in action, he wasn’t foolish enough to risk
going anywhere near them.  He’d have to bug their hotel room as soon as
possible.

* * * *

Aaron opened his eyes to the sound of Michelle brushing her
teeth.  She generally woke up before him, a few minutes before the sun
completely dropped below the horizon, in the grey twilight.  He slept in until
darkness.  Michelle’s fabulous butt cheek peeked out from her nightie as she
bent over the bathroom sink.  He pictured running his hands all over her
beautiful assets while he pounded her from behind.

She glanced over her shoulder with a spark of arousal in her
emerald eyes.  She picked up on his imagery and stepped out the bathroom door
with a fang-filled gleaming white smile of anticipation.  Her desire leached
through their psychic link. 
Yummy, wakeup sex
.  She was on him in a flash
of movement.

“I am so happy to show you my homeland.”  She slid into his
arms, soft, warm, inviting.

He kissed her, a wonderful minty-fresh taste.  “We need to
get out of this hotel.  Don’t you have an apartment or something?”

He sensed his question struck a sour chord, like the
displaced needle scratching across the vinyl of their love song.  Their interlude
screeched to a halt.

“I have lived in Paris most of my life …”  He felt the wall
go up in her mind cutting off his access to her thoughts.  Her words were
cautious, measured.  “
Oui
. 
I have a home … the home of my family.  I don’t spend much time there.  Is
filled with memories of things long gone.”

“Okay.  Whenever you’re ready to talk, that’s fine with me,
but ...  I mean, here we are traveling the world together, and I still don’t
know your full name.  That’s kinda weird.”

“You don’t know … is difficult.  There is much to tell you. 
I promise I will soon.”

“I’m not going anywhere.  No matter what you have to say,
I’m here to stay.”  He gave her a devious smile.  “Besides, where would I go? 
You own my ass.”

It was like sticking a spiked barb into her rigid emotional
control.  Her irritation flared at his jab.  “I am not that way!  I do not like
to force you!”

He hit the button on that one.  They both avoided the inconvenient
truth, but he liked to remind her once in a while.  She did indeed own his ass.

“I’m sorry.  I’m just … I shouldn’t have said that.  You
know I love you.”

He hugged her tight, burying his face in her delicious
golden hair. 
What the hell is wrong with me?
  Something had changed
with Ana’s death in Las Vegas.  He couldn’t seem to get back onto the same
track with Michelle.

Until a few days ago he had happily accepted his place in
Michelle’s world.  He loved her like no other, how could he not?  She seduced
him with every waking moment in her presence.  His own personal sex goddess.  But
Aaron would never truly be her equal.  When push came to shove, she was the
boss.

She melted into his kiss.  Her acceptance of his love and
apology flowed across their bond, but her mind remained tightly closed against
his access.  Such a complex creature, he didn’t truly understand her at times. 
The waters of her emotions ran deep, and he was only privy to the splashes on
the surface.

“Soon
mon
amour
.  I will have answers for you soon.  Can you please be patient
with me?”

As her kisses penetrated his melancholy, he murmured his
agreement.  No staying mad with Michelle.  She had a way of obliterating all
else with her affections.  And nothing good came from arguing with the boss.

“
J'ai un
faim de loup!
”

She was always hungry,
hungry like the wolf
.  He
wondered if that funky little 80’s song by Duran Duran had been inspired by a
starving French vampire.

“Let’s go!  I will show you the wonderful Paris Nightlife!” 
She pulled him up from the bed.

* * * *