Bound in Blood (7 page)

“Hey, Lonnie…?” Chris paused at the club owner’s office door. “Speak to you for a minute?”

“Sure, kid. Come on in.”

“Um…I have to give my notice. Would a week be enough?”

“What, you need more dough? Need a raise?”

“No, no. I have another job.”

“Oh, okay. Anyone you know to take over?”

Chris hadn’t thought about that. Maybe one of the guys in his class would like the job.

“I’ll ask around. Is a week enough?”

“Sure, sure, no problem. Just see if you can find somebody to take over. Save me advertising.”

“Okay, thanks Lonnie.” He made his way down the corridor to his office then decided he’d like a soda. He walked through the already crowded club to the bar, and that’s when he saw him—the red haired guy he’d sprayed with pepper the night Carlos had saved his ass in the alley. What the hell was he doing in here? Surely, he wasn’t
gay
. The man’s eyes met Chris’, and his face darkened with rage. Chris felt a shiver run up his back. The moron was out to get him—right here in the bar. What was he? Nuts? Chris changed direction and headed for the exit where Joe, the security guard sat. Joe was a six-foot-seven African American, weighing close to three hundred pounds of solid bone and muscle. Nobody fooled with Joe or even talked back to him—except Paulo, his five-foot-seven, one-hundred-forty pound, Hispanic boyfriend who could deliver a tongue lashing like no one else. But then, Chris had heard Paulo’s tongue was talented in other ways, too.

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44

“Joe.” Chris looked up at the giant black man. “One of the guys who tried to beat me up a few nights ago is in the club. I think he’s looking for another chance.”

“Oh, is he?” Joe’s voice rumbled out from his huge chest. “Point him out, sweet chops, and I’ll take care of him.”

“The guy there by the bar with the red hair.”

“Okay, leave him to me.” Joe marched his massive frame over to where ‘Red’ was lurking by the bar. Chris watched as Joe tapped the guy on the shoulder, leant over him and said a few words that had ‘Red’ taking several steps back and nearly falling over his own feet in his haste to get out of the club.

He scowled as he passed Chris. “You’re gonna get yours, faggot,” he snarled into Chris’

face.

“I said, out!” Joe barked behind him, and the guy scuttled through the door like his tail was on fire.

“Thanks, Joe.” Chris smiled at the bouncer. “Can’t imagine what he thought he was doing in here. A gay-basher in a gay bar. What’s that about?”

“He’s lookin’ for trouble,” Joe growled. “You better get a cab home tonight—and this time, have it pick you up right outside the club!”

Chris nodded, got his soda from the bar then went back to his office where he knew Lenny would have left a ton of work for him to plough through. Joe was right, he needed to take a cab tonight. No doubt ‘Red’ had something ugly on his mind. Chris couldn’t imagine Red’s other two friends would be with him. Surely their bones wouldn’t have knitted this quickly. But he might have managed to drum up some other morons to help him ‘get the fag’.

Four hours later, he took a break, poured himself a cup of coffee and walked back into the club. His heart lifted when he saw Carlos’ tall figure standing at the bar, looking so handsome in a long, black leather coat. Chris’ toes curled just from the sight of him.

“Carlos, hi.” Chris smiled up at him. “You looking for someone?”

The tall man returned his smile. “Yes, and I think I just found him.” He leant in to kiss Chris’ lips. “Are you almost through for the night?”

“Yes, but one of those guys who attacked me in the alley was here earlier. Joe says I should get a cab.”

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45

“A good thing I’m here then. I don’t think the little man will want to take on two of us.”

“He might have reinforcements.”

“That won’t help him.”

“Are you sure? I can call for a cab, Carlos.”

“Don’t bother. We will be quite safe.”

After seeing the ease with which Carlos had handled the thugs before, Chris had no reason to doubt what Carlos had just said. Still he felt just a little uneasy.

“You’re worried,” Carlos said, stroking his cheek. “Don’t be—”

“Okay. Just give me a few minutes to clear up the mess in the office, and I’ll be right with you.”

They stepped out into the alley, leaving the noise and the warmth of the club behind.

Chris slipped his hand inside Carlos’ as they walked towards the busy street at the end of the alley. He couldn’t help glancing left and right as they walked and his feeling of unease increased. Carlos’ cool hand tightened on his reassuringly, and Chris told himself to relax.

Nothing was going to happen.

“Faggots!”

Chris felt the blood drain from his face at the sound of the ugly word rasping from an even uglier voice. Ahead of them, several men stepped out from the shadows of a warehouse entrance.

Jesus. What? They needed an army
? Chris’ eyes widened when he saw one of the morons carried a gun.

“Carlos,” he whispered, “he’s armed.”

“I see it,” Carlos said, his eyes narrowing as the men spread out around them. It was obvious they’d been warned that Carlos was a fighter. There was wariness in the men’s stance, a seeming awareness of the tall man’s speed and prowess.

“You!” The one carrying the gun gestured at Carlos, pointing the weapon at his chest.

“Stand over there while the guys take care of your little buddy.”

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“No.” Carlos’ voice was calm as he put an arm around Chris and pulled him to his side.

“I gave your friends one fair warning, as I now give you the same. Leave here at once, and none of you will be harmed.”

The gunman sniggered. “Ooh, you’re really scary.” His face twisted as he raised the gun towards Carlos’ face. “Now, I don’t tell you again. Get out of the way, or I’ll shoot.”

Carlos moved so fast to Chris it was no more than a blur, but the gunman screamed as the gun disappeared from his hand and he was sent spinning into the two men standing behind him. All three crashed to the ground, and Chris, for the first time, saw ‘Red’. The creep had been skulking behind the others and now yelled, “Get them!”

One of the men scrambled for the gun, but Carlos reached down and grabbed him by the collar, swinging him effortlessly off his feet and straight into the warehouse’s brick wall.

The man went down without a sound and didn’t even try to get up, but someone else had grabbed the gun and pointed it shakily at Carlos.

“Get back,” the man croaked, more than just a little fear in his voice. The first three men Carlos had laid out were on their feet again and, with murderous expressions, advanced on him and Chris.

“Shoot the son-of-a-bitch!” the redhead howled.

A low growl that made the hair on the back of Chris’ neck stand on end escaped Carlos’

lips. He lunged forward, the one holding the gun fired, and Carlos staggered back.

“No!” Chris screamed, but to his complete amazement, Carlos did not fall, instead he lunged again, lifted the terrified gunman over his head and flung him deep into the darkness of the alley.

“Holy Christ! What are you?” The man who had confronted them first stared at Carlos, sheer terror in his eyes.

Chris looked up at Carlos and gasped. His lover’s face was contorted into a mask of savagery, his lips pulled back, exposing his teeth. Teeth that were very white—and very long and
sharp
.

“
Carlos
…”

His face once more composed, Carlos gazed down at Chris’ stricken expression and reached for him, but Chris shrank back against the wall.

“Get them, now!”

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Through the turmoil in his mind, Chris was only vaguely aware of the chaos around him. Shouts and screams filled the air. He heard the sound of a shot. He was flung backwards from the impact of something slamming into him then a sharp burning pain filled his body. He felt strong arms enfold him, the sensation of his feet leaving the ground then nothing.

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Carlos gently pushed back the hair from Chris’ sweat-covered forehead and bent to kiss his lips. Beside him, Marcus put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“You must act now, Carlos, if you are to save him.”

“I do not intend to change him, Marcus. I simply want to save his life.”

“Then do it, quickly,” Marcus urged him. “You have removed the bullet. Now give him the blood that will heal his wound.”

Carlos grimaced as he remembered those last few moments in the alley. How foolish he had been to expose himself to the men who’d threatened Chris. Because of his arrogance, and his need to terrify the men into submission, Chris had been shot and very seriously wounded. He would not die, but the bullet had severed several nerves in his shoulder. No doubt his right arm would be paralysed if Carlos did not do what Marcus advised.

He took the knife Marcus held out to him and cut deeply into his left wrist. He held the dripping wound over Chris’ damaged shoulder, letting his blood flow over the torn flesh, nerves and tendons. Marcus gave a long sigh of satisfaction as the wound began to mend, and the skin closed over the once gaping hole. Once he was satisfied that not even a scar would remain, he held his wrist to Chris’ lips.

“Drink,” he murmured. “Drink, my love, and be made whole again.” He smiled as Chris’ tongue licked tentatively at the blood then as the spicy sweetness covered his taste buds, he began to gulp at the life-giving liquid.

“Is that a good idea?” Roger, who had been watching quietly by Marcus’ side, asked.

“It will speed the healing,” Marcus replied. “Carlos doesn’t want Christopher to have any knowledge of what took place.”

“But he’s going to remember the guys attacking them, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but not that Carlos flew him here after dealing with the cowards.”

Roger nodded, satisfied with Marcus’ explanation.

Carlos eased his wrist from Chris’ lips then kissed him tenderly. He looked up at Roger.

“Nor that he saw me as I really am.” He shook his head with frustration. “My poor BOUND IN BLOOD

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judgement put his life in jeopardy. He wanted to call a cab to pick us up at the club. He had seen one of the thugs at the bar earlier and had guessed the man was out for revenge. But I wanted to show him I could protect him. My hubris brought him this pain.”

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up, Carlos,” Roger said, rubbing the other man’s shoulder.

“Chris is gonna be all right, and all he’ll remember is that you saved him from those morons—again.”

“Yes, but if I hadn’t interfered with his plan to call a taxi, none of this would have been necessary. That bullet could have entered his heart…” Carlos shuddered at the thought.

“Perhaps it would be better if I erased all memories of myself from his mind—if I tried to forget what we almost had.”

“There you go again, just like Andorra said,” Roger sighed. “You give up too easily, big guy. It’s pretty obvious to me and Marcus that you love this mortal man—so give it a chance.

Don’t blow it because of one little setback.”

Marcus chuckled and ruffled Roger’s hair. “You’d better listen to Roger, Carlos, or
he
won’t let you forget the mortal.”

“Right.” Roger slipped an arm around his lover’s waist as he continued. “Marcus here tried threatening me with that little ploy early on in our relationship, and no way would I allow it. I’ll bet if you asked Chris what he thought of that idea, he’d use some words that might surprise you!”

Carlos smiled at him. “You are a most unusual vampire, Roger, but I will take your advice, for the time being. It’s just that I can still see the expression of horror on his face when he realised what I was.”

Roger shook his head. “Well, of course, he didn’t realise you are vampire. Most people don’t believe we exist. Until I met Marcus even
I
didn’t, and I was a horror movie freak—still am. I just hoped you guys
were
out there somewhere. But that’s the part you can erase from his mind. All he’ll remember is you saved him, and he’ll love you even more because of it.”

“Well, I thank you both for letting me bring him here.” Carlos said. “Now perhaps I had better take him to his apartment before he wakes up.”

“And perhaps you can bring him back as a guest on a more appropriate occasion,”

Marcus suggested. “That is, if you decide to continue your relationship with him.”

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Before Carlos could reply, Roger said fiercely, “You better not dump this guy, Carlos.

It’s totally obvious to me and Marcus that you love him.”

“
Roger
.” Marcus threw his lover a warning glance.

“That’s all right, Marcus,” Carlos said, lifting Chris into his arms. “As I said before Roger, I will listen to your advice. Now I should go. I will spend some time with Christopher when he regains consciousness, but I’ll be back before dawn—perhaps sooner if he throws me out,” he added, chuckling.

“That is not gonna happen,” Roger growled. “Love him good, and he’ll be yours forever.”

Chris woke slowly, aware of two things—he wasn’t in the alley, and he had a splitting headache. He peered into the darkness of his bedroom.

“Carlos?”

“I am here, Christopher.”

“What happened? Why are you sitting in the dark?” He switched on his bedside lamp, blinking as the sudden brightness flooded the room.

Carlos rose from the chair he’d been sitting in and smiled down at Chris. “I was waiting for you to awaken. One of the thugs dealt you a nasty blow to your head.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”

“Like somebody hit me on the head.” He reached up to touch Carlos’ face. “There were so many of them. Did you…?”

Carlos nodded. “Like all cowards, they ran when confronted by someone who is not afraid of them.”