The Vampire's Seduction (39 page)

BOOK: The Vampire's Seduction
2.04Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

The beer man stepped forward again. “And now let me introduce you to the finalists for the title of Miss DRL. You’ll be selecting the winner, Jack, and you have all weekend to make up your mind.” The beer man winked at me lecherously and elbowed me in the ribs.

Sashaying up the platform steps in spike heels came three of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen in my life. Great goodness alive.

A blue-eyed blonde in a bolero top and short shorts came first. She slid her slender arms around my waist and pressed her breasts against me. “Pick me, Jack. I’ll give you anything. And I mean anything.” She pressed a kiss to my lips and I came away with the taste of honeysuckle on my mouth. Her lips puckered into a pout as she was forced to yield her place at my side to the second girl.

The green-eyed redhead, even hotter than the blonde, linked her arms around my neck, pressing herself more firmly against me, shoulder-to-thigh. She kissed me as well, opening her mouth slightly to greet my tongue with hers. She whispered throatily, “Pick me, Jack. And I
promise
you won’t be sorry.” I felt her body stiffen as the third girl pinched her shoulder in a signal to relinquish her place by my side.

The third beauty, a doe-eyed brunette, pressed herself to me and looked up into my eyes. Her gaze was full of adoration and desire. This dark beauty was familiar. Who did she remind me of? Catherine Zeta-Jones? Close, but not exactly. This girl was even hotter than the movie star. Who, I wondered, was she? She even felt familiar in my arms.

“All this can be yours, Jack,” Reedrek intoned in my ear. “I can make it happen right now.” He was standing right behind me, his hot breath on my neck. Ordinarily that would be quite a buzz kill. But what he’d said—that he could give me all this, that it was somehow possible . . . “All you have to do,” he said, “is pledge your allegiance to me. And perform a . . . task now and then.”

“What kind of task?” I asked. The woman stayed in my arms as if time had come to a standstill. If she heard Reedrek, she didn’t show it.

“Oh, just enjoy some human blood from time to time. I promise you, there’s nothing like it. When you give yourself over to your true nature, when you at last accept who and what you are, you will finally attain true happiness.”

I didn’t look at him, instead keeping my gaze locked on the liquid depths of the woman’s coal black eyes. “And what am I exactly?”

“You’re a monster, Jack. You’re the offspring of the most ancient line of the most savage, merciless killers the world has ever known. You are the heir to a dynasty of blood. A prince among demons, a fledgling master vampire.”

At any other time in my existence, I would have whipped a guy’s ass for calling me a monster, even though it was technically true. But when Reedrek said it like that, it made me hard. I’d rebelled against my own demonic nature since the night I was made. But now everything looked different, and it wasn’t just the neon. Was it time to embrace the darkness?

My mouth went dry with the thirst for blood. I saw the artery in the girl’s neck pulsating. I now knew who she reminded me of. It was as if Reedrek had refocused my vision while he was speaking and I could see more clearly than ever.

Connie.

He’d picked up on my desire for her as he’d picked up on my other desires.

And it wasn’t over yet. Great googly-moogly. My Connie grabbed me and suddenly we were rolling and tumbling across satin sheets, scattering rose petals to the hot desert wind. First time a woman had outclassed me in the sack. The more we fucked, the more otherworldly she seemed. Beyond me, above me—wild as a sex banshee.

I awoke bathed in blood-tinged sweat, staring at the black satin lining of my coffin lid.

 

Fifteen

Jack

The familiar dimness of my own coffin steadied me. It’s not like anyone would know what I’d been up to all night/day—except maybe Reedrek. And I had to admit that if a dream could be good enough to practically make my hair stand on end with pleasure, then the real thing would have to be . . . awesome. My mouth went dry with the possibilities. I pushed the lid of my coffin open and immediately went for the wet bar.

For blood.

I felt parched—like Huey must have, suffering under his wife’s curse, when he watched the rest of us guys slug back as many beers as we wanted—thirsty enough to risk death. The words
There are no limits
echoed through my body.
You can have all you want . . .

My body didn’t care who I betrayed or how I went about it—it only wanted blood. Human blood. I didn’t bother emptying the IV bag into a glass. I simply bit and sucked. My hard-earned attempts at manners seemed stupid now. In midsuck a sound behind me turned me around.

Olivia, rising from William’s coffin, watched me with questioning eyes. Reyha and Deylaud sat on the floor at either side of the coffin like living statues in a pharaoh’s tomb. “Good morning,” Olivia said. Reyha picked herself up and crossed the room to sit at my feet.

It’s kind of hard to talk and suck at the same time so I just nodded. I was more interested in filling the emptiness inside me than in chitchatting with a houseguest. Even if we had bumped uglies the day before. I tossed the empty bag toward the trash can and ripped into another. Olivia sat cross-legged in William’s coffin, all fresh-faced and pale. I found myself comparing her to Connie. The English chick came up pretty short, especially compared to the Connie I’d gotten to know in my dream. Hoo-ya.

As I ripped into a third bag of blood a wave of dizziness made me wobble on my feet. I suddenly realized what I was doing—gorging myself on human blood, forming a hard-as-rock erection on the memory of a dream. Connie wasn’t really like that, was she? And she wasn’t really
my
Connie, not yet anyway.

All this can be yours . . .

I stopped sucking, tore the bag open, and poured the remainder in a glass before offering it to Olivia. “Did you sleep okay?” I asked, trying to hide my hunger by wiping my mouth on the sleeve of my shirt. I still felt all caddy-wompuss.

She took the glass and sipped. The blood colored her lips a warm red, making my hands shake. I definitely needed to get a grip. “Yes, very well. No dreams.” She slipped from the coffin and took a step in my direction. “How about you?”

No way was I answering that question. But as I tried to think of something to head her off, I got a whiff of her. She smelled of William, from sleeping in his coffin, I guess. The familiar and mostly pleasant reminder of my maker wafted toward me like a comforting arm around my shoulders. Before I could get my mind around the effect, a hard pain struck me like a punch in the stomach from Evander Holyfield in the ninth round. I had to gasp in a breath.

“Are you all right?” Olivia asked, coming closer.

I straight-armed her to keep her away. “Yeah, just dandy,” I managed before collapsing onto the ottoman with my head in my hands. “Drank a little too fast there . . .” Reyha padded over and rested her head on my knee. Her sympathetic eyes watched me with concern. I ran a hand over her soft, pale fur as I fought to keep from jumping up and running as fast as I could. Somewhere . . . anywhere but here.

“Good evening.”

I looked up when I heard Melaphia’s voice. The sight of her alarmed me even further. She looked like she’d gone native. Her coffee-colored feet were bare, but several gold and silver rings sparkled on her toes. Layers of thin, filmy, voodoo blue material fell in different lengths to form a sort of skirt, and her drawstring blouse was bloodred. A black spiderweb of a shawl draped over her shoulders, beads twinkling in its threads like dark stars when she breathed. And her beautiful hair—she’d twisted her soft chocolate dreads into clumps decorated with shells and bones. The whole package gave off a surge of power that a dead man could feel.

Dead man. That would be me.

“Come,” she said in a commanding voice. “We have to get ready.”

William

It took Reedrek two tries to shove the rock off my chest. I drew in several labored but deep breaths before trying to sit up. I could feel my strength growing, though. Not because of being released. Because of Werm.

Reedrek had taken Werm out for his first feeding right after sunset, and the both of us were stronger for it. Another severed head decorated Reedrek’s makeshift trophy shelf. I was past the point of worrying who had been the unlucky donor. Any port in a storm, as they used to say in my sailing days—or rather nights. Difficult to be picky when I was so weak that I could be summarily dispatched—without the opportunity for revenge against my sire.

And I would have my revenge. I owed him for so many things—from the killing of my family to the fire at Eleanor’s. The clock began ticking when Reedrek set me free. It only remained for me to choose my moment.

Werm, my new convert, lounged on one of the bone-covered slabs like a visiting film star. I had to say the change had improved him. His hair, formerly dyed purplish black, had reverted back to its original shade of whitish blond and shone with unnatural good health. His skin had lost any trace of adolescent pimples. His wiry body, still angular, had acquired some substance and certainly new vigor. I watched as he idly picked at the heavy stones lining the chamber, knocking them into the water with dollop-like splashes. Lizards slithered through the newly made holes in the wall.

“That’s enough of that,” Reedrek ordered, and Werm immediately turned his attention back to us.

“Looks like he’s more yours than mine,” I said, speaking the unfortunate truth.

“Well, what did you expect? More gifts when all you’ve done is cross me at every opportunity?”

“One can only hope.”

“Hope?” Reedrek huffed. “You truly are a fool. I’ve given up on trying to convince you of anything. Tonight will be the end of your scheming . . . and of you. It’s a pity Alger isn’t here to see this. I should have waited. I would’ve found such pleasure in killing him before your eyes.”

I ignored Reedrek and bent my mind toward Werm.
Come, shake the hand of your sire,
I whispered into his thoughts. After a surprised look, Werm got up, dusted himself off, and moved toward me. I held out my hand and he reached for it.

Reedrek struck before our hands met, faster than either of us at the moment. He grabbed Werm by the neck and thrust him against the stones he’d been picking at earlier. I felt the jolt of Werm’s mindless fear.

“I’ll tear off
your
head and feed your blood to the dogs!”

My own throat tightened, echoing the grip of Reedrek’s fingers around Werm’s neck.

“You don’t speak or move unless I say. Do you have the wit to see who is giving the orders here?”

He won’t kill you,
I whispered.
He needs you.

Werm tried to answer him but only gagged. Reedrek shoved him toward the door, then snatched up the closest intact human remains—mostly a pile of rotted clothes and bones—and threw them in Werm’s direction to punctuate his order. “Now, go and do as I told you.” Werm stood staring, stupefied for a moment. Perhaps his position in the undead food chain was beginning to sink in.
“Go!”
Reedrek shouted. My new convert brushed the dust of the moldy dead off the front of his leather jacket, remembered how to move his feet, and quickly left the tomb.

Jack

Melaphia led us into the corridor to her wall of altars. Each of the thirteen had been dusted and restocked with new candles and fresh flowers. There were fresh bowls of food, too, along with offerings of peacock feathers, African beads, and conch shells. I could smell the tangy odor of Jamaican rum and the still-warm splashes of chicken blood. It looked like every spirit, demon, and god had been called to attention. I wondered if Melaphia had slept even a little since she’d tucked me in at sunrise.

“On your knees, Jack.”

I stared at Melaphia like my ears weren’t working. “Huh?”

She put a strong hand on my shoulder, near my neck, and squeezed. “There are more powerful things in the world than vampires, boy. Do as I say.”

The word
boy
registered just as my knees hit the floor. I was about to give her a hard time but when I looked up at her she was completely ignoring me. Her eyes were leveled on Olivia.

“I only protect those who help us. If you aren’t friend then you’re foe.” Melaphia held Olivia’s gaze like a snake holding a bird’s. “Make a choice. And know that if you lie, the
orishas
will remember. The marks of protection can easily become marks of death.”

Olivia nodded and slowly dropped to her knees.

Reyha and Deylaud, now in their human forms, hovered near the opening of the corridor. Melaphia pointed a finger at them and hissed like an angry cat. They quickly disappeared from the doorway. In human form Reyha wouldn’t be able to fit in her usual hiding place between the ottoman and the recliner. I’d be willing to bet she was hiding in William’s coffin instead.

“Now we begin.” Melaphia moved to the altar at the center—the one holding the vial of Lalee’s sacred blood—and began to light the candles. In the brighter light, I noticed a box that hadn’t been there before. It seemed to be made of bone.

As she went about her business Melaphia hummed a strange tune under her breath and swayed, making the layers of her skirt lift and dance like flower petals in a nonexistent breeze. When all the candles were burning, she ran her fingers through the flames, bathing her hands in energy. Then she clapped her palms together in a rhythm only she understood before picking up a silver bowl of blood—fresh human blood.

“Take off your shirts.”

For once, I didn’t even bother to cop a peep at Olivia’s chest. I didn’t have time to think about sex; I was too busy calculating. Nothing and no one I knew would be the same after this night. Not Melaphia, not Connie, hell, not even the Rin Tin Twins. And then there was Renee. William had crashed and burned off his pedestal of vampire god. Whatever happened next was up to me.

If Melaphia had read my thoughts my ears would be blistered with threats. She considered William her true family—he carried the blood of her ancestors. Yet here she was, protecting me, the one who could betray William. The bowl in her hand was filled with her own blood. I could smell it. I gazed up at her as she plunged two fingers into the warm redness.

Other books

The Best Australian Essays 2015 by Geordie Williamson
The Star Cross by Raymond L. Weil
The Intern Serials: Complete Box Set by Brooke Cumberland, Rogena Mitchell-Jones, Sommer Stein
Dracula (A Modern Telling) by Methos, Victor
The Bodies We Wear by Jeyn Roberts
Murder on the QE2 by Jessica Fletcher