de Sang: Embrace Your Blood Lust (15 page)

He hated to think that way about Kate. They'd shared some pretty powerful shit this morning and this line of thought only tainted it. But he had to be realistic. It wasn't like he knew her that well and their brief history had been pretty rocky.

He had to face it; she was blowing him off.

To make his suck-ass day even better, the twinge of Craving gripping him earlier had turned into a full on ache. He couldn't bring himself to call Nikki, though. The Craving had to be in his head; it had only been two days for fuck's sake.

Still, even the bagged blood was starting to sound appealing. Maybe if he chugged some Pepto he could stomach the anti-coagulants…

He ignored his shaking hand as he pulled out his phone and checked the messages. Again. It didn't matter that he hadn't felt the phone's text message alert vibration.

 
For a brief moment he thought about swinging by her house to make sure the thing hadn't burnt down. But that had crazy stalker written all over it, and he wasn't ready to assume that title just yet. If she didn't reply, he should be man enough to accept her dismissal.

The thought of never seeing her again made every bone, every muscle, every hair on his body ache. It also sent his Craving into a flurry of urgency and he had to breathe through the shakes that overtook his body.

It was ridiculous. He was an adult fucking man, not a thirteen-year-old girl. Whether she called or not, life would go on. It might suck a little, but it would go on. He sure as hell wasn't going to shrivel up and die because Kate Miller was blowing him off.

Chapter Thirteen

Kate drifted in and out of her mind for what seemed like days. She was swimming in warm pudding, her mind trapped in a thick soup she couldn't seem to crawl out of. She woke once to the click of a camera and blinding flash. Cold shook her out of the fog another time, but it took her minutes to realize she was cold because she was naked. She woke once to find Lohr hovering above her, his silky black hair a caress on her skin even as his teeth pierced her flesh.

When she woke again, Lohr was perched next to her, his elegant fingers tracing the curve of her lips. She forced her focus to lock on him, blinking to make it happen. "What..."

"You are so beautiful," he interrupted, lightly running his fingers over her jaw. He bent and kissed the skin next to her mouth. "So incredibly beautiful." He kissed the other side.

"I don't understand," she mumbled, the words sticking in her throat like they were made of glass. She wanted desperately to push out of the liquid soup holding her captive, but she felt like a bee drowning in wine.

"What is there to understand?" He stroked her hair, his eyes sweeping over the length of her face and up again. "Your blood is like honey to me." He nuzzled her cheek. "You are like honey to me."

She wanted to twist away from him, but was locked in place by the ropes binding her. She swallowed against the fear and bile rising in her throat. "Why are you doing this?"

"I told you. Yours is the blood I crave."

Her muddled thoughts flashed suddenly to Melanie crumpled and bleeding in the corner. Oh God, she had to get Melanie and get out of there.

"Join me in immortality, Kate Miller," Lohr was saying. "Be my dark princess."

She stared at him in disbelief. Immortality? He really was crazy. Truly, fucking, crazy.

Somehow she had to burn off the fog clouding her thoughts and figure out how to escape. Her brain might not be at peak operating capacity right now, but she knew for certain she did not want to anger Lohr. And if she played along, maybe he would untie her.

"How?"

"The process has already started, my love. Only a few requirements to fulfill before you become my queen."

She hated the possibilities that popped in her mind. "Like what," she forced out.

"Only a little more of your nectar and then you can taste mine."

Lohr sat up, positioning himself until he knelt at her knees. Pulling a blood scalpel from the folds of his pants, she watched as he pressed it to the top of her naked thigh and cut. The substantial amount of blood that sprang from the slice ran warm and moist over the side of her quad, and was immediately captured by Lohr's long tongue. He growled, and when his iridescent eyes met hers, she subdued a shudder.

It wasn't long before the soup in her brain graciously overtook her again.

* * * *

Darus couldn't sleep. It was a foreign state for him. He could always sleep. People who had trouble catching some
zzzz's
tended to have drama clouding their thoughts. Darus didn't normally have that problem.

Until now.

All he could think about was Kate Miller and Lohr's unhealthy obsession with her. Darus didn't even know the broad, but he didn't want her getting wrapped up in Lohr's warped world. If Lohr wanted something he would get it, Darus had no doubt about. He wouldn't be surprised if Kate was with Lohr this very minute. The question was: what should he do about it?

His initial response was to blow it off. It was none of his business. But as much as he'd like to deny it, he felt guilty about Eve and his role in her death. Darus was a lot of things, but he wasn't a killer and despised being labeled as such. Ignoring Lohr's obsession with Kate Miller, especially given she was an unwilling participant, would only add to that guilt.

Normally, it was easy for him to disappear into his own narcissism, but this was one instance where his conscience wouldn't let him. There had to be something he could do about Kate Miller that would satisfy all aspects of his fucked up world. He just had to decide what.

* * * *

Slade had given up checking his phone. He'd also called Kindle and told him not to come in. It was pointless anyway. Not only was the bar a ghost town, but there was no way Kate was going to suddenly show up. It was done. Over. Finished.

And it was disappointing to say the least.

Slade wasn't a dweller, never had been. Angst was reserved for assholes and tasted like shit. But as he stared at the vast, empty expanse that was
Luxure
, he fell headfirst into a steaming pile of angst.

On the surface Slade might seem like an easy going, carefree kinda guy, and for the most part he was. But there was a reason he painted all the damn time. It was his therapy. Painting allowed him to express emotions on canvas instead of having his mind cluttered with them. It kept him from being an Emo pussy, that's what it did.

He'd spent his entire life being an outcast of some sort and the connections he usually made with people in the Community were superficial to say the least. He was tired of banging random chicks and drinking blood from test tubes. He was tired of being ostracized from his family, tired of living alone. He just wanted to see his nieces and nephews, his mom, his sister. And he wanted a goddamn relationship with a woman he actually cared about. Was that too much to fucking ask?

He'd never lamented his Vampire condition; it was what it was. But at the moment, with his Craving rearing its ugly head, the woman he hoped to satisfy it a no show, his father dying and no one telling him…he was really beginning to hate this Vampire shit. Hated being controlled by blood. Hated there was no medical explanation for it and hated there was a huge possibility it was all in his fucking head and he was crazy.

When the front door interrupted his thoughts, he breathed a sigh of relief. Death could have walked through the door, hooded cloak, scythe and all, and it would have been a welcome reprieve from the pity party bullshit tap dancing through his mind.

The couple who walked in was even better.

"Holy fuck, am I glad to see you!" If he had the energy, Slade would have jumped over the bar to throw his arms around them. Instead, he had to walk around it.

Julia laughed when he squeezed her. "We should leave town more often," she told Armand from the fold of Slade's armpit.

Armand clapped him heartily on the back. "It's good to see you too, friend. Having a slow night?"

"Something like that." Slade released them and returned to his spot behind the bar. Sometimes it felt like his feet had worn a groove in the floor from standing in the same place night after night. Julia and Armand took the center stools.

"Holy shit, do you have a tan?" Slade said after giving Armand a long once over. His normally pale complexion was now a deep brown.

He shrugged. "The sun is strong on the Mediterranean."

"You should have seen him the first day," Julia said to Slade. "SPF fifty couldn't protect him. Red as your eyes."

"The blisters weren't much fun, either," Armand lamented.

She touched his arm. "You recovered."

"Barely."

Julia grinned, moving her torso close to him. "You didn't seem to mind when I was rubbing lotion on you." The hand on his arm became a hand on his thigh.

Armand's eyes swept lustily over her. "I think there might be a few spots you missed."

"Hmm, I should probably get those."

"All right, all right!" Slade interrupted their banter and tried to ignore the slug of jealousy hitting him in the chest. He'd gotten a taste of a love like theirs. Bearing witness to it and knowing it was out of reach left him starving. "Your honeymoon is over. The PDA is no longer cool."

Armand glanced at Julia. "Guess it's time to go upstairs then."

She jumped up. "I'll get the bags." She ran to the door where they'd dropped their suitcases. As she stooped to retrieve them, the door opened and the broad smile slid from her face, something looking like terror replacing it. She scrambled backwards until her back hit the wall.

Armand's barstool crashed to the floor. "Julia?" He was by her side in an instant, his face contorting in pure rage when he caught sight of what made her so terrified. "Get out!"

Stepping into the bar, Darus winced but didn't budge when Armand ascended on him like a hurricane. Apparently Julia's terror had amused him, and he'd first walked in wearing a rather smug expression. He didn't look amused now with Armand bearing down on him.

"Get. Out."

"You aren't happy to see me, Armand? It's been a whole year."

Jerking his arm forward, Armand wrapped his hand around Darus' throat. "No."

"Armand." Julia placed a hand on his arm. "He hasn't done anything this time."

"I didn't do anything the first time," Darus croaked. It was the wrong response. Still clutching Darus' neck, Armand jerked the door open and prepared to shove him through it. "I guess you don't want to know about Kate Miller," Darus wheezed.

"No."

"Wait! What?" Slade had been watching the showdown like it was a movie. He felt detached somehow, his focus shifting from the events unfolding in front of him to the trembling in his hands. But hearing Kate's name brought his focus back to where it should be. Running to the door, he pried Armand's fingers from Darus' neck. "What'd you say?"

Darus rubbed the pink skin on his neck. "Kate Miller," he repeated, glaring at Armand.

Slade stepped between the two, forcing Darus to look at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Who is Kate Miller?" Julia asked.

"A woman unlucky enough to catch Lohr Varius' eye," Darus told her.

"What do you mean?" Slade demanded, shoving his face back into Darus' line of sight. "Darus, please. What is going on?" Slade didn't care how desperate his voice sounded. Darus' statement had pushed his panic button.

"Look, I'll tell you everything, but first, you have to let me back In. I'm tired of being Invisible."

"Of course."

"Absolutely not," Armand said.

Slade turned to his friend. "Yes."

"No."

"Yes," Slade said firmly. "If that's what it takes. Don't fuck me on this. Kate is…special to me."

Armand's eyes softened and he held up his hands in surrender. "Okay. But you owe me." He turned to Darus. "You have a long path before you if you intend to redeem yourself." He glanced at Slade. "You'd better start now."

"Where is she?" Slade demanded as Armand returned with Julia to the bar.

"Probably at Lohr's warehouse by now," Darus said. "I don't know for sure she's there, but he approached me the other night wanting my help luring her there. He even said you might be an obstacle."

"Did you help him?" If Darus' answer was yes, Slade wasn't sure he'd be able to control his reaction.

"No. After the shit with Eve, I'm on the straight. Well, for the most part."

"What does he want with her?"

"He wants to turn her."

Slade closed his eyes. Fury fed the Craving shakes and his entire body began to tremble. Fists clenched tight, he could feel the muscles twitching and pulling in every direction. He felt like he was going to burst.

Darus pulled open the door. "You're going to want to hurry," he told them. "Lohr is certifiable."

* * * *

When Kate woke again, Lohr was gone and she was wearing a black silk dress. The pudding she was swimming in was even thicker than before. She was choking on it.

Dozens of candles flickered on the flanking nightstands, casting the room in an orange flow. The same violin music she heard when she'd first found Melanie poured out of unseen speakers.

She tugged weakly against her restraints, the ropes refusing to release or even budge a millimeter. It was hopeless. Tears welled up within her but nothing fell from her eyes. It was like she didn't have enough liquid to spare.

Her body throbbed from the dozens or so cuts decorating her skin, and she knew she was lying in her own blood. The sheets were moist with it. She wanted to scream, wanted to cry out for help, but only air escaped her mouth when she opened it.

"Don't struggle," Lohr said. She hadn't heard him come in, and the sound of his voice piqued her despair. "When you are my queen, I will release you." Climbing on the bed, he straddled her. His black silk shirt and slacks matched her dress. Pulling out his camera, he began taking pictures. There wasn't a flash, but the steady
click-click
was like a nail being driven into her brain. "Your terror is lovely," he told her. "It is unfortunate only my eyes will be able to enjoy it."

He moved the camera inches from her face and she squirmed away from it. At one time, the prospect of being a subject in one of his paintings thrilled her. If she had the energy or fluid to spare, the reality would have made her physically sick.

Finally, Lohr set the camera aside, but she would have preferred a thousand cameras over what happened next. Still straddling her, he slid his hands up her sides until they were buried in her hair. "I would prefer you sexually aroused. It gives the blood such a sweet flavor." His lips brushed her neck. "But fear is almost as delicious. I wasn't going to drink any more of you until you were fully mine, but…"