Vampire Thirst (11 page)

He wandered around a little longer, stepping over the debris. Going by the extent to which everything had turned into ash, whoever started this fire was very keen to see Zoricah dead. Very few pieces of furniture had survived. One of them was the toppled bin in the kitchen. A small business card inside it caught his attention. He reached across and took it into his hands. A logo with a phone number.

“Fluid,” he said, reading it out loud.

That name, the colors, the curved lines…where had he seen that logo before? He pulled his cell phone out and dialed the number on the card.

A female voice answered after the second ring. “Fluid, good evening.”

“Hi, there. I have a reservation for tonight. I just want to confirm the address.”

“I’m afraid this is an invitation-only club, sir. Are you a member?”

Rafe chuckled low and hung up. He didn’t need any further explanation. For a true connoisseur, only half a sip was enough, wasn’t it? He twirled the small piece of paper between his fingers. This mission had suddenly gotten quite interesting. Who would have thought – Zoricah was a member of a swingers club. Did the vampire king know about her little hobby? Or maybe they went there together? He rubbed his short stubble with his fingers. Very interesting indeed.

He put the card in his back pocket and stepped out. Even though Zoricah’s address was located in a quiet cul-de-sac, his ears could clearly hear the buzz of the nightclubs and bars in Camden Town.

The hairs on the back of his neck suddenly went up. His wolf went into full alert. He was being followed. He closed his eyes and let a little of his beast out. Not too much, just enough to give him a substantial advantage over whoever was after him. Ears pricked, nose sniffed, sharp teeth and claws emerged. Heavy footsteps, were coming close. Just a few seconds before they reached him, Rafe turned around and prepared for battle. Then he stopped.

“Stand down, soldier, I come in peace,” Balaur said. His open palms were raised above his fat shoulders.

“What do you want, draco?”

“I want to help you.”

“Oh, really? Since when does
a draconian senator give a shit about a wolf?”

“Since that named wolf has been assigned to find the vampire king,” the senator replied. His black eyes sparkled in the moonlight.

“How did you find me?”

“I have plenty of resources.”

Rafe exhaled and straightened up, but he kept his claws out. “I thought your grievances with the vampires ended with the war, Balaur.”

“It did, ultimate champ,” Balaur said, referring to his fighting championship title. “But old habits die hard.”

“You mean your obsession with every vampire king in history?”

“I mean the vampires’ inclination for treachery.”

Rafe narrowed his eyes at the S.O.B. Who did he think he was kidding? “Yeah, right, whatever.”

“It came to my attention that you owe a fair amount of money to Wyvern. Is that true?”

Fuck. Rafe didn’t like the way this conversation was going.

Balaur lowered his double chin and glanced at Rafe through dark lashes. “I have an offer you won’t be able to refuse.”

“What the fuck happened to make every dragon come to me with irresistible offers?”

“I can help you be free of debts entirely,” Balaur carried on, ignoring his remark.

“You’re a little too late. Wyvern has offered that already.”

“He’s offered to waive your debt with him, yes, but what about your other three collectors?”

Shit.

“Seven-figure debts are not easy to erase, my friend.”

“Why do you need me? I thought you had plenty of resources.”

“Well, let’s just say that my attempts were reduced to ashes,” Balaur answered, glancing around at the rumble. “I need someone to get it done, who can guarantee the results. Someone with a track record like…yours.”

Rafe ran his fingers through his thick hair. He was digging his own grave, but there was nothing he could do to stop the train wreck from happening. “What do you want me to do, dragon?”

“I want you to kill the vampire king.”

Chapter 17

Sam’s eyes flickered open. The room was fairly dark, just lit by warm amber light. Funny, she didn’t recall having Mrs. Wilkinson change her light bulbs. She turned on her back and stared at the ceiling. Wow, when was the last time she felt so relaxed? She couldn’t remember. She stretched across her bed like a happy starfish. Her mattress felt sooo good. And her ceiling looked different.

Holy Apa Dobrý! Sam shot up on the bed. This was not her bed, it was a futon, and this was not her room. She was still in Hikuro’s house in Japan. Fuck! How did that happen? How long had she slept?

She swung her legs out and stood up from the incredibly soft futon. Her clothes were nowhere to be found, but there was a white cotton kimono on a nearby chair. Sam ran across the room and put on the robe. The light cotton felt so good on her skin. Just like Hikuro’s hand had just a few hours ago.

Sam felt her cheeks burn with the memories of what they had done together. She’d had a few lovers in her life, but they’d never done anything like
that
before. Her work fighting alongside Zoricah and Yara and her annoying inability to control her powers were definitely a buzz kill to any boyfriend. Hikuro had been the first guy who’d put his own needs aside and focused solely on her. Incredible. Unheard of. She shook her head and smiled.
He
was unheard of. She’d been so embarrassed in the beginning. She had never touched herself before, let alone in front of a lover! Sam was born in 1932, for Hiad’s sake. Back then, sex was not supposed to be fun, and women were definitely not supposed to
explore
themselves. But, wow, if only she’d known how amazing it would be! Well, there’s a first time for everything, no matter how old you are.

She went across to the balcony and hugged herself. Yes, that’d certainly been a night of firsts. She’d never slept over at a lover’s house either. It was too dangerous, too intimate, too complicated.

She looked out the tall window panes of the enclosed balcony. The night was warm, yet she could feel a nice breeze seeping through. Mount Fuji lay ahead, stunning, with white snow coating its top and the full moon shining brightly next to it. She took a deep breath. The delicious aroma of flowers made her smile.

There was a reason she had never wanted to get too close to anyone, and Hikuro had hit the nail right on the head. She didn’t know how far her powers went and had never tried to find out. She would lock herself back in an asylum if she took an innocent life. Truth be told, the teenagers who attacked her had been far from innocent bystanders, and more truth be told, it had been several decades since it happened. Her episode at the park had proven she was not ready to let herself loose. Well, at least not completely. The bummer was – as long as she was
not ready
, she’d not be able to be with Hikuro. And, by Apa Dobrý, she wanted to be with him.

Sam sighed. She knew what she had to do. Unfortunately.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist, covering her own. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest.
Every time!
 

“I thought you were still sleeping,” Hikuro whispered against her ear. His taut chest was the perfect cushion for her head. Her knees had gone liquid again.
Yes, every time.
 

She swirled around in his embrace and hugged him back. He was so tall that she had to tip her head back to look at him. “Hikuro, I need to go back.”

He just gazed at her in that way he always did – neutral, expressionless. But Sam was beginning to get him, to fill in the blanks. He did not like what he was hearing.

“I was thinking…” she tested the waters.

“About?”

“About what Phillip said.”

Hikuro’s jaw clenched. Crap.

“He said I was the key to all of the abductions in New York,” she added quickly.

“He was toying with you, Sam.”

“He was, but I think he threw me a real hook there.”

“A hook to get into your pants!”

Whoa! When did Incredible Hulk come along? She wanted Batman back. “No, he didn’t. It’s just his game plan, his MO. He plays that card until he gets what he wants.”

“Yeah, to get into your pants.”

Sam really didn’t want to fight after the amazing time they’d had, but that broken record had to stop. “Hikuro, you said it yourself, I can’t cover the sun with a frying pan. I’ve no idea how I got my powers, no clue where they came from. My DNA is human. Humans don’t toss out lightning bolts across rooms or melt lamp posts.”

He gazed down at her.

“The episode last night in Seven Sisters had me really thinking. I have to get to the core of who I am…” Sam took a deep breath, then looked straight into his eyes. “I have to go back to where it all started.”

The thought of going back to that old orphanage sickened her, but she couldn’t ignore it anymore. She wanted to be in charge; she wanted to be able to sleep with Hikuro without worrying about hurting or killing him by accident.

Hikuro blinked. Shit.

“OK.”

“OK?”

“OK,” he repeated with a short nod. “We can go back there.”

Whoa, stop the bus, Mister!
We?
 

Hikuro gave out a chuckle and his lips lifted slightly in a small smile. “Sam, you should definitely stay away from poker tables,” he said. “Come on, get dressed. It’s still eleven at night in London, we have time to get there and back before sunrise.”

Sam did as she was told – you so don’t want to piss your ride off, especially when you need to hitchhike across continents. Her clothes were now neatly folded on top of the same chair where she had found the kimono. She lifted them up. They were dry and smelled of lavender. Apparently, Mrs. Sato had been busy while she enjoyed her beauty sleep. Sam glanced around. No en-suite bathrooms, no changing vestibule. Hikuro crossed his arms over his chest and lifted an eyebrow. She felt color rise to her cheeks.

“Technically, you haven’t seen me naked yet.” So her shyness wasn’t completely unfounded, right?

Hikuro shook his head and flashed her a traffic-stopping smile. “I’ll wait outside. Call me when you’re ready.”

Sam quickly put her clothes on. Jeans, top, combat knife into sock, boots, and…no trench coat. She looked at her reflection in one of the window panes. Crap, her hair was as wild as a lion’s mane, but there wasn’t much she could do.

Running her fingers along her unruly waves, she called out, “You can come in now.”

Hikuro opened the door, but didn’t come in. “Are you sure?” he asked from outside the door, only his shoulder showing. “You may want to get a hat, a jacket, a scarf…May Apa Dobrý forbid me to see you not properly clothed.”

Great,
now
he’d found his humor? “Shut up and come in, Hikuro.”

He glided across the room and stood just inches from her. His long fingers found her tresses. “Ready for the freefall?”

With you, I’d be ready to bungee jump into Hiad. “Yes.”

He reached down and lifted her off the floor, like Prince Charming on Cinderella’s wedding day. His gaze roamed over her. Sam’s breath got caught in her throat.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he whispered.

Yep, he did. More than he could ever imagine.

Chapter 18

Rafe leaned back on the short iron fence and lit up his cigarette. He took the burnt business card out of his back pocket. It had taken him a whole day to find the address to the swingers club, but after hacking into a couple of websites and email inboxes he got it. The place was actually located in one of the most posh neighborhoods in London and was frequented by politicians, celebrities, the lot – all non-humans, of course. He snorted. Typical. Those up-nosed, prim and proper aristocrats were just a bunch of sex addicts and low lives. Just like him.

A couple appeared on the corner and crossed the road. Rafe took a step back and melted into the shadows.

The couple climbed down the steps of the nondescript townhouse and rang the bell. A massive African man answered. Rafe was almost fifty feet from them, but the distance was no challenge for his wolf hearing.

“May I help you?” the bulky African asked.

“Apples don’t grow on vines,” the woman answered.

Without another word, the bouncer stepped aside and let them in.

Rafe drew in one last puff, then extinguished the cigarette with the sole of his boot. Time to earn his bucks.

He crossed the street and followed the couple’s moves. The same African guy answered the door and asked him the same question. So he answered in the same way.

“Apples don’t grow on vines.”

“Where’s your partner?”

Fuck.
 “She couldn’t come. I’m alone tonight.”

The bouncer narrowed his eyes at Rafe and perused the shadows on the street.

“Fine, come in,” he said finally. “But next time, call in and change your status before coming.”

“Will do,” Rafe answered and went in before the guy decided to ask him any more questions.

Rafe had expected the nondescript façade of the swingers club – obscurity was key to keeping their community happy – but what he found inside was nothing like the ones he went to back in New York. The long living room was full of men and women dressed like they had just come back from the opera. Long gowns, suits, glitter everywhere. He looked down and noted his ripped jeans, worn out t-shirt and dirty camo boots. Blending in was not an option tonight. He leaned against one of the side walls and stayed where he belonged, in the shadows. Apart from a few couples making out on the several couches along the room, the crowd was quite well behaved. There was a pattern of behavior Rafe quickly picked up. The patrons arrived, looked around for a while, then grabbed a drink and went through a door bearing the sign “Private Rooms.” But once in a while, someone decided to pounce on his or her prey right there in front of everyone, which drove the waiters and bouncers crazy. The naughty pair was set apart and politely guided to the private rooms, and harmony was reinstated
in the club until another couple decided to jump each other in public. Pathetic.

There was no such nonsense in the clubs he went to. You could do whatever you wanted, and if anyone had a problem with that, the bouncers were more than ready to kick the S.O.B.’s ass out. Clean and simple. No rules, no don’ts.