Bitter Bite (4 page)

Gideon held his breath as all his muscles locked. He was in the shadows
while Alaric and the other man stood directly under a streetlight. There was no
way Alaric could see him, so long as he didn’t move. So long as he didn’t
breathe
.

“Don’t do this,” the older man begged.

Alaric’s blue eyes glittered as he turned back to his victim.
“It’s time, Stanley. You knew I’d find you eventually. I told you I would, all
those years ago. Remember?”

“I’m sorry! I was young and stupid,” the old man said, voice
catching. “I didn’t mean to kill him.”

Alaric nodded. “You were young, but not anymore.” He leaned in and
bit the man’s neck.

Gideon’s blood ran cold as he stared at the impossible scene.
Alaric’s jaw moved in an obscene parody of a love bite. He seemed to be
drinking. The pose was vaguely sexual and Gideon swallowed hard against the
sudden stab of desire that shot through him.

No, this is impossible,
he thought faintly, unable to move. He wasn’t sure if he was more
disturbed by his arousal or Alaric’s violence, and it wasn’t until Alaric let
the old man’s body fall to the ground in an untidy clump of skewed limbs and
loose clothing that his mind managed to process what he’d just seen. He shakily
let out the breath he’d been holding and eased back against the wall as his
pulse pounded in his temples. He needed to get out of there, but he couldn’t get
his legs to move. He’d heard rumors of demons when he’d been in the seminary,
but he’d dismissed the stories. No one really believed that crap, or so he’d
thought. He closed his eyes and told himself to get a grip, but it didn’t work.
His heart still beat way too fast.

Alaric is a vampire.

Chapter Three

Alaric knew the moment he stepped into the alley that Gideon was
there. He could smell him, taste him like fine wine against his skin. He
snarled, not wanting to feel so exposed. He’d never wanted a consort. Never
wished for one, and now all of his instincts clamored to let the bond deepen.
Well, screw that, as they said in this day and age. He watched his consort ease
around the corner, probably heading for work.

“I’ll have to find him later.” He frowned, looking down at the old
man he’d let fall to the ground. Stanley wasn’t dead, just drained to
unconsciousness, but Gideon didn’t know that. Alaric hadn’t taken enough blood
to kill the man, but he’d wanted to frighten him almost to death. Alaric wanted
him to suffer. Forty years ago Alaric had been in Saigon, during the evacuation
of the American troops. He’d been hunting Brosius, the sadistic bastard who’d
murdered Alaric’s last surviving descendent. While he was there, he’d struck up
a friendship with a young soldier, Edmund. They’d spent a few weeks together,
hanging out at night when Alaric could spare an hour or two. One unlucky
evening, Stanley and his belligerent friends had found them together.

They found us because I was a fool,
he thought, wiping at his mouth.
The taste of blood lingered unpleasantly. He should never have taken Edmund as
a lover, but something about the man soothed him. Stanley and his pals found
their intimacy abhorrent, and one of them thought it would be more amusing to
stake them both than expose them as homosexuals in the usual way. Stories of
phantoms haunting certain places in Vietnam had circulated throughout the
American troops, and Stanley and his cronies obviously felt it was their
Christian duty to feed the rumors. None of them really believed there were any
such creatures as vampires, but a taste for blood had been whetted by the war.
He and Edmund made convenient targets for their sick fascination with killing.

“Little did they know they should’ve staked me first.” Alaric pivoted
and heading toward the street. He’d been lulled into complacency back then, or
he would’ve been able to save his lover and gone on his way with no one the
wiser about their relationship. Instead, that terrible evening, Alaric had gone
to fetch Edmund some water after they’d made love. When he’d come back, Edmund
was gone. Dead. A wooden stake through his heart.

When Alaric caught up with Stanley and his crew, he’d vowed to
kill them, but the rising sun drove him underground before he could complete
the job. The soldiers shipped out that day and Alaric lost their trail to the
ocean. He’d found them again, years later, but all of them had families and
Alaric couldn’t bring himself to harm innocents.

“And yet here I am once more, caught in a similar trap,” he said,
walking down the street. The glowing sign of the club beckoned just ahead. He
knew Gideon was working the door tonight. He’d have to compel him to forget
what he’d seen or all hell would break loose and he’d never locate the hole where
Brosius had gone to ground.

“And I’m not going to let that foul blood-eater escape again.”

* * * *

Gideon checked IDs on autopilot. His mind kept circling back to
the alley and the crumpled body on the ground. Alaric wasn’t human. He couldn’t
be, not with that kind of strength.

I should have called the cops.
He was angry with himself all over again for not doing so. When
the line of people finally disappeared, he ducked into the club and stationed
himself near the coat check. From here, he had a great view of the bar and
Hannah. He wanted to keep an eye on her. The last thing he wanted was for her
to get mixed up in the mess with Alaric. Since he’d seen the vampire attack the
old man just down the street from the club, he worried Alaric would show up inside,
like a bad penny. Gideon could take care of himself, but Hannah was an
innocent.

He rubbed his chin, watching her work and trying not to think
about what he’d seen earlier. When she turned and winked at him, he smiled,
hating himself for it. She was beautiful, and way too young for him, but every
time he saw her, he wanted her more.

You are so screwed-up,
he thought, feeling his face go tight as he stared at her. Her
auburn hair was pulled back into a ponytail tonight, and it made her look even
younger than her twenty-one years.
She’s fourteen years younger than you and
a former student. Get over this thing you have for her, before you hurt
someone,
he told himself bitterly.
You can’t even decide if you like men
or women. She doesn’t need you mooning over her.

“The old man is not dead, you know.”

Gideon froze, his whole body going rigid. He slowly turned his
head.

Alaric stood uncomfortably close to him, all lean muscles and
dangerous angles.

“How the hell did you get in here?” Gideon asked, pitching his
voice low. Try as he might, he couldn’t keep it from shaking. He wasn’t sure if
it was fear or lust that had him so strung out. Alaric’s long hair slid across
his forehead, making Gideon itch to push it out of the other man’s eyes.
No,
not a man,
he reminded himself, warily.
A
vampire
. Fortunately, Alaric didn’t seem to notice his turmoil.

“I walked in the front door,” Alaric said. His blue eyes glowed
like midnight in the flashing lights of the club. The leather jacket he wore
did nothing to disguise the strong, spare lines of his body.

Gideon frowned, not liking the expression on Alaric’s face. He
knew he should be frightened or angry, but instead, all he felt was heat. He
wanted to drag Alaric to the back and do unspeakable things to him. He glanced
at Hannah, but she was busy again, thank God, and wasn’t watching him anymore.
“You bit him. He collapsed,” he said tersely. He wished he were anywhere else
but here, caught between conflicting desires. This was why he’d quit the
priesthood. God couldn’t cure him of his so-called perversion, so he’d cured
himself of religion, instead.

“True.” Alaric moved closer. “That does not make him dead.” He
reached out and traced a finger over Gideon’s mouth. “If you thought the man
had died, why didn’t you call the cops, my dear?”

“I’m not your
dear
.” Gideon
jerked his head away as his lips tingled. “And the chief of police doesn’t much
like me.” No way was he going to admit the true reason he didn’t contact the
police: none of them would believe him if he told them a vampire killed a man.
And he knew Alaric had likely cleaned up after himself. There wouldn’t be any
evidence to show that a man had been murdered.
And, too, you liked the
violence,
a little voice murmured at the back of his head.

Alaric lifted an eyebrow. “So much anger,” he said softly. “Why
are you so angry, Gideon?”

Gideon glared. “Why are you following me?”

Alaric smiled. “Fair enough.” He leaned a little closer.

Gideon tried to step back, but Alaric grabbed his biceps and held
him immobile.

Jesus, he’s strong.
The tiny flicker of lust he’d felt earlier flared hotter. “Let me
go.”

“In a moment,” Alaric said, and then his eyes turned from blue to
deepest black. Gideon stared into them helplessly.

“You don’t remember seeing me outside the club, Gideon. The alley
was empty.” Alaric’s voice was smooth as chocolate.

Gideon shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do,
Alaric, but it won’t work. I know what I saw.”

The vampire’s eyes widened, and he leaned back. “You don’t
remember me, Gideon.”

Gideon frowned and tried to pull away. “Let me go. I know you
killed that man.” He paused. “Or hurt him badly, at the very least.” He was
willing to give Alaric the benefit of the doubt, God help him.

Alaric swore. “You can’t be immune. Only priests—” He broke off,
then leaned back and yanked Gideon’s right arm up. “Your tattoo. When did you
get it? When?”

Gideon growled, not needing to look down to know Alaric was
fixated on the crucifix he’d had etched into his skin over fifteen years ago.
The abstract sleeve he’d had done in the past two years incorporated the cross
into the overall design and most people didn’t notice it intermingled with all
the other ink. “Just before I went into the seminary.” He yanked his arm free.

Alaric shook his head. “You’re not a priest. I would’ve sensed
it.”

“I’m
not a priest
anymore,
” Gideon said softly, suppressing the familiar stab
of anger. Leaving the priesthood had been the toughest thing he’d ever done.

“But
you used to be.” Alaric half-smiled. “Well, well. How interesting.”

“It’s
only interesting to me. Now get out of my way,” Gideon said, trying to shoulder
past.

Alaric
grabbed him again, this time shoving him up against the wall. “Not so fast, my
dear. I’m not done with you yet.”

Gideon
flushed at the words, feeling more turned on than threatened, though why, he
didn’t know. This man had, after all, attacked two people that he knew of, and
possibly more. Alaric was dangerous.
Of course, you’re not an old man like
that poor sucker outside was. You can take Alaric down any time you want.
Strength doesn’t trump balance,
he reasoned, breathing deeply to center
himself. He glanced at Hannah again, needing to know if she could see him stuck
in the corner with Alaric, and found her watching them.

When
their eyes locked, surprise chased across her face, probably because he and
Alaric looked like they were embracing. She had no idea he liked men, too. As
his former student, it wasn’t any of her business, dammit, but it looked like
all his secrets were about to be exposed whether he liked it or not.

“I’ve
seen you looking at the pretty bartender,” Alaric murmured softly, leaning in
as if he was about to kiss Gideon, or possibly bite him. “She seems young for
the job, and oh so sweetly innocent, especially for this place. Those gorgeous
brown eyes are staring at us, you know. She looks shocked. Do you think she
likes watching us together? Is that why she’s working in a gay bar?”

“Leave
her out of this.” Gideon put his hands on Alaric’s wrists and squeezed, but he
couldn’t break the vampire’s grip. “And let me go. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Alaric
chuckled. “You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.” He leaned in closer. “I bet
she’d enjoy watching us kiss.”

The
image Alaric painted aroused Gideon more than he wanted to admit. Angry now, he
tried again to escape, squeezing harder. When that did nothing, he kicked out
with a foot.

Alaric
pushed up against him roughly, using his body to hold Gideon immobile against
the wood paneling. “None of that, Gideon. Let me have my say.”

Gideon
gritted his teeth when he felt Alaric’s cock pressing into his hip, thick and
hard. God, it felt good. “Fuck you,” he said, slightly breathless. Shame washed
through him. He hadn’t tried very hard to get away, and the truth was, he liked
being manhandled like this.

“Perhaps
I will let you someday. I’d enjoy that very much,” Alaric said, smiling
slightly. “But what of the girl?” He cocked his head slightly, blue eyes
luminous. “She likes you, my dear. I can sense it.”

Gideon
swallowed an angry retort. The creature was playing with him. “She’s innocent.
Leave her alone.”

“If
you tell anyone what you saw outside, I’ll have to take steps,” Alaric
whispered threateningly.

Gideon
flinched when Alaric’s lips touched his temple. His cock was hard now, too, and
aching. He resisted the urge to rub himself against Alaric’s strength. “What
kind of steps?” he asked instead, like a fool.

Alaric
inhaled. “God, you smell good.”

Gideon’s
breath hitched.

“Did
you know I like both men and women?”

Gideon
honestly wasn’t surprised, not after the way Alaric had noticed Hannah. “What
kind of steps?” he asked again, more forcefully.

“Perhaps
I’ll ask your girl out. Take her dancing.” Alaric touched his mouth to Gideon’s
lips and kissed him softly. “I’m sure I’d enjoy tasting her like this.” He
kissed Gideon more aggressively, licking inside and taunting with his tongue.

Gideon
choked on a moan as Alaric held him against the wall and ravished his mouth. He
felt himself weakening and bit Alaric’s lip, warning him he wasn’t some damsel
in distress. He couldn’t let his guard down, no matter how desperately aroused
he felt being constrained like this.

Alaric
chuckled.
“Mmm.
I like that. Bite me again.” He rubbed
his cheek against Gideon’s. “Or perhaps I’ll bite you. I bet your blood tastes
sweet as candy.”