Deep Desire: The Deep Series, Book 1 (11 page)

Edward watched him. “That was no pick-up, Adin. That man did threaten you, didn’t he?”

Adin glanced away. “He warned me off trying to get
Notturno
back is all.”

Edward gripped his hand hard. “Or what?”

“Nothing. He simply said don’t go looking for it.”

“That’s it?” He raised his eyebrows and took out his phone. “Tuan, it’s me. Someone threatened Adin. No, I only saw him for a second, but Adin sketched him. Okay, good. Love you too.” He hung up. “Boaz, we need to fax that to my partner, Tuan.”

“Very good, sir,” said Boaz. “May I ask why?”

“You may ask,” Edward said dramatically, “but as the information seems to be flowing in one direction, I will feel free to remain silent.”

Adin sighed. “Edward—”

Edward held up his hand to forestall him. “Adin, the man I love is out there trying to get to the bottom of this. If you know anything and aren’t sharing it with me, I would say that’s a deal-breaker, wouldn’t you?”

Adin remained silent for a moment. “I can’t tell you everything that happened to me. You wouldn’t believe it, anyway. I swear to you that the guy you saw me with just warned me not to try to retrieve
Notturno
. He told me I wouldn’t survive it. That’s all.”

Edward punched Adin’s arm angrily. “That’s all? You fucking idiot! It’s like we’re all running around trying to find something that’s going to get you killed. We need to regroup.”

“Edward.”

“Let me put it this way. Drop me off at the house, and I’ll talk to Tuan. You go back to your hotel. Boaz?”

“Yes, sir?”

“If he leaves the room, kill him yourself.”

“Will do, sir.”

Adin stared a pit into the back of Boaz’s head while Edward nodded.

When they arrived back at Edward’s, he left Adin alone in the backseat to weigh things over in his mind.

“I’ll take you back to the hotel now, Dr. Tredeger, all right? I’ll bring you what you like for dinner. Just find something on television and stay out of trouble for a while. Your friend is right. Things have changed.”

“You’ve got that right,” Adin muttered. “They sure
the fuck
have.”

Chapter Nine

Adin checked his watches again. In the darkness, the illuminated markers on his Rolex glowed faintly, telling him it was half past eleven. The television droned on, recapping the news of the day. Adin had screened two pricey pay-per-view movies and eaten the steak dinner Boaz brought him. He hadn’t ordered it, but apparently Boaz didn’t feel compelled to listen to him when he said he wasn’t hungry—good thing, because as soon as he smelled the food, he was ravenous.

Turning off the television, Adin opted for music on the clock radio. It had an iPod docking station, and Adin placed his phone in it and cued up his classical playlist. He sighed as he sank deeply into the pillows, punching them around to make himself more comfortable. The truth was, he didn’t want to be lying in bed. He wanted to be anywhere else, preferably forgetting he’d ever seen that
fucking
manuscript, and that called for drunken anonymity and men. Adin rolled over onto his dick as it came to life. Finally he threw the covers aside.

“Fuck this.” He lurched out of bed and dressed in his club clothes, low-slung jeans that were indecently tight in all the right places, a wide leather belt, and a lightweight olive cashmere sweater over a tight T-shirt. In the bathroom, he messed up his hair and brushed his teeth, then added a dab of cologne. Adin stared at his reflection in the mirror, liking what he saw.

When he was ready, he put condoms in his wallet and dialed Boaz. “Yes, Dr. Tredeger?”

The speed with which Boaz answered surprised Adin. He’d half expected Boaz to ignore him—like a prisoner rattling the bars of his cage with a tin cup. “I’m going out. You can drive me, or you can watch me leave in a cab.”

“That’s not strictly true, sir, as I’m not near the hotel at this time. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“To drive me or to watch me leave?”

“Once again, so droll, Dr. Tredeger.” Boaz hung up.

What the hell did that mean?

Adin waited out in front of the hotel, chatting with the doorman, when Boaz arrived with the limousine. Its size required that he park it on the street, but Adin saw him pull up, so he murmured his good-byes and went to meet it. When he got there, Boaz was holding the door open. He looked only slightly reproachful.

“Good evening, Dr. Tredeger.” Boaz gave him a long slow perusal. “I see it’s hunting season.”

“Yes, Boaz. I’m particularly fond of the sport.” Adin shot Boaz a defiant look as he closed the door between them.

When Boaz entered the vehicle, he turned to Adin. “Would it be futile to try to talk some sense into you?”

“Probably.”

“Where to, sir?” Boaz asked, all business.

“Take me to The Bar on Castro. I’m going dancing.”

“Would it do any good to mention that Mr. Fedeltà would prefer it if you—”

“Is there no ‘food’ to be had in Los Angeles? Did he miss a meal?”

“Dr. Tredeger.” Boaz voice held disappointment.

“I’m going dancing,” Adin repeated. “I doubt there will be many ancient-manuscript enthusiasts there. I will be perfectly safe.”

In answer, Boaz raised the privacy partition and edged away from the curb. Adin looked out the window. A little dancing was just the thing to pull him out of his mood. If he could get his swerve on and get laid, maybe he could sleep. Maybe he could forget that he was embroiled in some kind of otherworldly battle. Maybe he could forget his job was at stake.

He huffed a bitter laugh at that thought.

The place was as packed as he remembered, an eclectic group of men and women from the young and hung to the straight and curious. The Friday crowd was well ahead of him, the drunks loud and the bodies rocking. He got himself a beer and waded onto the dance floor with it, not caring that he was alone. He didn’t stay alone for even the length of the song, a number of other bodies joining his, some guys, some girls, all pressing and groping in the tiny space until he’d finished his dance and his beer and was flushed and shiny with sweat.

“Hey, pretty.” A man behind him snaked a hand over his shoulder to rest on his chest. Adin looked down and saw the hand had neatly trimmed nails. He turned to find a reasonably good-looking, dark-haired man with a tattoo of an eye on his neck standing behind him. Adin smiled. He continued to dance to the throbbing beat, not knowing and not caring whom he danced with, content to brush and touch and work his body hard. The other bodies, most of whom Adin never actually looked at beyond ascertaining what space they occupied, began to exert a soothing kind of pull on his senses, like the ebb and flow of waves when he swam in the sea, lifting him, pulling him down, challenging his equilibrium, and lulling him into a kind of transcendent euphoria.

It was within this space that he first heard the hissing sounds, like the slithering of hundreds of snakes beneath his feet. It began as part of the music, the noise, and—much like the sweat that dripped from his face and caused him to remove his sweater and tuck it into the back of his jeans—it wasn’t a distraction. The hand that now caressed his chest pulled him into a solid, muscled body, its contours and valleys brushing Adin’s like hard wind. Adin felt the man’s erection and deliberately rocked into it, taking pleasure where it was offered, indicating he could give pleasure if desired. The man slid his hand down to Adin’s waist, pulling him flush against his cock, grinding a little, and Adin expelled a sharp breath.

“Pretty,
pretty
.” The man spoke into his ear, causing the hair to tickle the back of Adin’s neck.

Adin sighed and leaned back against him, putting a hand up to caress the stranger’s hair. Another man moved up beside Adin, also touching him, running a finger down Adin’s face and taking his hand; the new man joined the erotic dance with them, finding sensual places to graze a hand or brush a body part. The three of them swayed there, under the hot strobe light, with the bass thumping inside and outside their bodies. A fourth man came to join them then, another tall man, who brushed and touched and bumped until Adin was breathless with wanting. He swayed and moved, rubbing up against the first, who held him flush against his body as the others groped him.

The hissing in Adin’s head turned to whispers, then strange words that soothed and excited him, as his arousal numbed his brain and turned off his other senses. He heard Spanish words, under his skin, like crawling, predatory insects that burrowed deep within and moved about in a parody of the dance the five men did on the dance floor.

“Who?” asked Adin, unable to move away, unable to feel the fear he
knew
should be making his heart race and his mouth dry.

“
Querido mio,
” said one, “
que guapo.
” The stranger lifted one of Adin’s hands and, turning it over, took a sharp, stinging bite out of his wrist, lapping at the immediate blood there and, just as quickly, closing the wound with a sensuous lick of his tongue.

Adin reacted to the pain, now stirring from the drugged stupor of the dance, when the man who held him bit his neck. Again, he delivered a bite and a lick so quickly that Adin hardly knew what was happening until it was over. He craned his neck to see the man behind him and was appalled to see a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

That’s when a new truth clanged into place as irrevocably as if it were the vault in a bank closing for the night. He was a toy. They were out there, everywhere, he was a pretty bauble for them to play with, and it
amused
them.

Adin tried to shove the men surrounding him away, but they held him, and it seemed so easy for them it made him sick inside. He could no sooner free a limb or pull a small distance away than one of them would catch him again and pull him closer. He fought, but it was like a rip current: the more he struggled, the stronger their holds on him became.

The men continued to bite and lick, tormenting him with pricks of their teeth so sharp they slid into his skin like hot knives through ice cream. In the shifting anonymity of the crowd, it must have looked like they were only dancing.

When they licked his wounds closed,
dear heaven
, he couldn’t help the pleasure that gave him, the feeling that they weren’t licking the tiny punctures they put into his exposed skin, but that they swirled those exquisite, slick tongues right over the head of his cock, up and down under the crown, along the vein. He thought he’d die of ecstasy.

One second the pain would sear his skin; the next pleasure would engulf him. He still fought to break free—fought their holds on him—but they were much stronger, and fighting only brought him a different kind of pain, as they weren’t above jabbing him with their bony elbows, hard enough to bruise or even crack a rib, or pulling his head down below the sightline of the sea of bobbing people and giving it a sharp, shocking pop with a fist that he was sure would show up as a black eye the following day.

In the end, they bit, licked and beat him until, just as suddenly, they left, throwing him to the ground and delivering a few vicious kicks to his hips and thighs. Weak and dizzy, he crawled to the side of the dance floor. Several pairs of hands lifted him up, patting him and pushing him away.

“Fucking drunk, ought to know better.”

Thoroughly ashamed, Adin made it as far as the patio wall where he leaned hard, catching his breath. He called Boaz. The noise was impossible. Adin didn’t know whether Boaz even heard him before he hung up. He stumbled his way to the exit, to Castro Street, and into even more people who took his staggering and the torn and dirty state of his clothing as one more example of simple inebriation and shockingly bad taste.

Adin’s limo skidded to the curb. Adin waited as Boaz performed the nicety. His dark eyes were unreadable as he opened the door.

Adin crawled into the backseat. Boaz didn’t speak after that, which didn’t surprise him. His humiliation was complete.

Men like Donte could use him. They could play with him; they could eat him or fuck him or tear him apart like fresh bread. He
had
known it but hadn’t let it sink into the part of his consciousness that knew without thinking that fire was hot and would burn you if you touched it.

Now he knew.

They drove through the night in silence. Adin tried to read his watch, cursing that he’d chosen to wear only the one, his father’s. By the illumination of a reading light, he saw the crystal had been cracked during the scuffle. He turned the light off and slumped in his seat, trying hard to comprehend what had happened. Every part of his body hurt, and he was so exhausted he’d begun to drift.

Only a week before, Adin considered himself a capable man, good at his job, certain of his life. Only a week before, the things he dreamed about were just that; he’d known his nightmares were an illusion, and he’d always known he’d wake up sooner or later.

Only a week before, Adin had dared to believe that
he
was the top of the food chain.

Chapter Ten

Adin’s mind drifted lazily away from his body as Boaz drove. It began to occur to him that the trip back to the hotel was taking a great deal longer than the trip to the bar. He opened a swollen eye to look around and realized they’d probably driven over the bridge into Sausalito. He’d probably slept. Soon the sun would begin to glow on the horizon, and nothing he saw was familiar to him.

“Boaz?” he asked, suddenly startled out of his dreamlike state. “Where are we? Where are you taking me?”

“I’m not allowed to say, sir,” Boaz replied. “I’m very sorry for the inconvenience.”

“This is more than inconvenient, Boaz. It’s kidnapping. It’s a criminal offense.” Adin’s throat tightened. “Please take me back to the hotel. I believe I’ve learned whatever lesson you wanted to teach me.”

Boaz eyed him in the rearview mirror. “You can’t imagine that I wanted you to experience that, Dr. Tredeger.”

Adin looked out the window, contemplating the sadness in Boaz’s voice. “No, I don’t suppose you did. What was that about, Boaz? I thought you said that Donte marked me in some way as his property. That no one would challenge him.’

“That would usually be the case, sir.” Boaz hesitated, as if choosing his words very carefully. “It’s been my experience that no one in this area would ever consider challenging Donte Fedeltà.”

“So I’m special? I’m vampire crack?”

“No, sir, I doubt that. I don’t think so. It appears someone has decided to move on Donte, and you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Ah.” Adin sighed. He fingered his broken watch, mourning the loss. “My lucky day.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I should have stayed closer. I didn’t see any of this coming. I don’t know what Donte will say when he sees—”

“Is that where we’re going? To Donte? What if I were to say that I want to go back to the hotel, right now, Boaz? I don’t want to see him.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily believe you.”

“I don’t want him to see me.” Adin held his shaking hands out where he could see them. “Not like this.”

“I can assure you, he’s seen much worse.”

Adin gingerly probed a particularly painful place near his eye and imagined he had a spectacular bruise. “Do I look as bad as I feel?”

“Probably.”

“Take me to the Kabuki, Boaz. There’s no point in Donte seeing me when I look like—”

“We’re here, sir.” Boaz paused the limo at the entrance of what could only be described as an estate. There was no sign or name at the entrance, but the gates opened automatically, and Boaz negotiated the long car through the narrow entry. He continued along a tree-lined driveway until a spectacular house came into view.

The home had the charm of a Tuscan holiday villa, a stone structure with climbing vines of all shapes and colors covering the walls on the outside, carefully pruned back around the windows and doors. In the distance, lit with landscape lighting, Adin could see an orchard on the right and a garden on the left with a fountain and large, shady trees. When Boaz stopped the limousine, the front door opened and Donte swept out. He wore suit trousers and a white shirt, and some sort of immensely luxurious, golden-colored robe that hung open as he walked, whipping out behind him. Adin looked to the sky, but although he could see the first blush of dawn, the sun wasn’t yet visible.

“Dear heaven, Adin,” Donte murmured as he opened the car door. Adin all but fell out into his arms. “What have they done to you?”

Donte carried him up the stairs, through the door, and down the hallway to a large room with a lit fireplace.

Donte deposited Adin in a large leather chair. “This place is always damp and cold, no matter how Tuscan the architecture may appear.”

Adin overheard Donte and Boaz’s heated discussion, although it was mostly hissed in whispers of Italian and what sounded like Arabic. If Adin had felt better, he would have intervened. As it was, he was unable to keep Donte from giving Boaz a dressing down he didn’t deserve. When Donte returned, he was alone.

“It wasn’t his fault,” Adin said as Donte placed a heavy quilt over him. “I gave him no choice in the matter.”

Donte’s eyes were hard. “Neither did I. But it appears that he chose to placate you rather than follow my orders.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? What if they’d killed you?”

“I hardly think it likely they’d murder me on a dance floor full of—”

“You know less than nothing,” Donte spat. “Boaz, however, is fully cognizant of what could have happened to you. Never mind. It’s finished. Where are my manners? May I get you something to eat or drink?”

“No, thank you. I’m tired.” Adin sighed. He sensed the barest movement in the room, yet suddenly Donte was kneeling next to his chair. He took one of Adin’s arms in his hand, studying the tiny bite marks there. He rubbed a delicate thumb over one shallow set.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.” Donte waited.

“Why is it that sometimes I hear a noise in my head when the undead are near, and sometimes I’m taken completely by surprise?”

Donte considered this. “It’s like a rattlesnake…you understand? A signal. Sometimes I hunt by stealth, and sometimes I use noise, like beaters, to warn or flush out my prey. We all do this, in varying degrees.”

“I see. I thought if I could tell when the undead were around, I could protect myself. When I was attacked at the club, I didn’t sense danger. I didn’t know who they were until they bit me.” Adin pressed his lips together in a white line. He’d despised being a chew toy.

“I’m sorry about that,” Donte whispered. “I was vain. I thought no one would harm you if you were under my protection. I was wrong, caro, and you paid for that.”

Donte stroked Adin’s cheek, and he leaned into it a little. “Is there anything I could do? Crucifixes?”

Donte laughed at that. “No.”

“Holy water? Garlic is out, you already told me that.”

“Here,” said Donte, reaching into his pocket. He pressed what looked to be a laser pointer into Adin’s hand. “I bought this for you. I was going to give it to Boaz to pass along.”

Adin examined it and noticed it had a small, oval-shaped, silver button on the side. He pressed it, and light illuminated the room like an exploding star, beginning at the pen itself, and radiating outward, filling the entire space with a brilliant flash.

“
Fuck
, Adin!” Donte stepped heavily onto Adin’s foot. “By all the gods! Are you
insane
? You just push any button you find?”

Adin’s eyes teared copiously, and he hunched over and placed his palm over them. His foot hurt like the devil. “What the hell
was
that?”

“It’s a personal safety device. I cannot defend myself against it, even if I know it’s coming. It will give you time to run.”

“Am I going to need to run?” Adin asked quietly through the black clouds in his field of vision. “From you?”

Donte didn’t answer; instead he found Adin’s mouth and pressed their lips together. He pulled Adin close and leaned in, rubbing his face against Adin’s throat.

Donte stroked Adin’s hair. “They—”

“
Snacked
on me.” Adin cut him off. “Yes, I quite understood. I’m an amuse-bouche.”

“Oh,
Adin
.” Donte held him in a way Adin was certain he could get used to all too quickly.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound maudlin.”

“On a lighter note, it will be fully five minutes before I can see again, but will be no time at all before your eyes are back to normal.” He felt for Adin’s hand and took it. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Donte, really.” Adin shifted in his chair, drawing the quilt more tightly around him. They stayed like that in silence for a time.

“I’m cold,” Adin admitted. “Perhaps I could take a shower? Then a few hours’ sleep, and I’ll be perfectly all right.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll have Boaz—” He squeezed Adin’s fingers. “I really am very sorry. This is something most unexpected. I have never been challenged like that.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t. How could you?”

“I see that you didn’t mean for me to be hurt. That’s all I need to know, Donte.” Adin’s throat hurt, and he looked away. Adin could feel the tension leave his body as he enjoyed the brief, unexpected moment of quiet companionship.

Minutes passed.

“I can see well enough again. Come.” Donte got up abruptly. “I’ll show you where you can shower. Or would you prefer a bath?”

“No, a shower. I’d fall asleep in a bath and drown.”

“Not on my watch.” Donte tugged on Adin’s hand, leading him up a flight of stairs. Adin followed him, noting the natural grace with which he moved, the sway of the robe around his calves, and the breadth of his shoulders.

“Who says I’d let you watch?”

Donte stopped on the landing and turned to face him, an amused smile playing about his mouth. He simply leaned over and kissed Adin lightly before he led him the rest of the way. Adin thought he heard him mutter, “
Pazzo
.”

“Who are you calling a—”

“Shush.” Donte turned again, and his mouth descended on Adin’s, this time a strong brush of tender lips, more, Adin thought, to shut him up than to incite any kind of amorous feelings in him.

“The bathroom is through there,” Donte said. “One nice thing about the nouveau-authentic Tuscan villa is the hot water that comes from fifteen jets in the wall. Enjoy.” Donte opened the door for him and ushered him in, but then he left, closing it behind him with a firm
snap
.

All alone in the modern, luxurious bath, Adin walked to the sink to get a glimpse of his face in the mirror. Shock and revulsion filled him. No wonder Donte had been concerned. He appeared bloodless and ill. He carefully folded the quilt and laid it on a cabinet top next to some towels.

The bruises around Adin’s left eye stood out in hideous relief on his pale face. There were purple swellings on his jaw and smudges under both eyes from lack of sleep. As he peeled off the clothing he’d worn to the club, he laid it out carefully as it was all he had until he returned to the hotel. He placed his phone and his hotel key card along with his watch and wallet on a small shelf.

It took Adin a moment of study to ascertain how to turn on the water, but once he did, he could well understand Donte’s comment about it being a very pleasant thing. As soon as he stepped into the marble-tiled shower, jets of pulsing hot water caressed him.

He adjusted the temperature and the force of the spray, and then simply put his hands against the wall to enjoy it. He let it swirl the tension away from his body and rinse his anxiety down the drain. It soothed sore muscles, removed any residual dried blood, and generally made him feel better than he had in days. He sighed when he left the luxurious enclosure.

While he’d showered, someone had removed his clothing and left an impossibly large white terry robe in its place. It felt soft and warm against his tingling skin. He emerged from the bath to find Donte waiting patiently against the wall opposite the door.

“Hello,” Donte said. “I trust you feel better?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve had Boaz make up a room. He’ll go into town and retrieve your things later. In the meantime, he’s left a small tray of food and some kind of pain tablets, ibuprofen maybe, for you to take. He said you would no doubt be sore when you wake.” Donte led him to a small bedroom with large windows overlooking the orchard.

Adin sat on the side of the modestly sized bed. It was large but not a master suite. The room, in fact, looked as though it had been created for a teenage boy. The hint of a nautical theme played in the colors and the linens, and the spare furnishings stood in contrast to large, robustly lovely seascapes on the wall. Avoiding the direct light, Donte drew the drapes. Darkness was the last thing he wanted right at that moment.

“Can you turn on the light please?”

“You’re frightened?”

“Yes.” Adin lay on top of the covers. Donte turned to the dresser and picked up a tray, which he deposited on the side of the bed opposite the one Adin occupied. He picked a grape off a cluster and held it out to Adin, who shook his head.

Donte ate the grape himself, then spit the skin and the seeds into his hand and wrapped them in the napkin.

“At least drink the tea,” he said, handing Adin the mug. “And perhaps the pain reliever? You’ll thank Boaz later.”

Adin took the pills with a sip of strong tea. “Are we not still on opposite sides of a quest? Why are you giving aid and comfort to the enemy?”

Donte’s dark eyes held accusation. “You can’t still think I’m the enemy.”

“No, I don’t. I really don’t. How goes the search?” He replaced the mug on the tray and put it on the nightstand.

“As if I would tell my archrival.” Donte cuffed him lightly on the shoulder, and Adin held his wince inside.

“I have a confession to make.”

“What?” Donte went still.

“I began a translation of the journal in Los Angeles. I photographed it. I have it stored on my laptop. It’s not lost—”

“How could you do such a thing?” Donte’s anger wasn’t entirely unexpected.

“It was just standard—”

“No.” Donte rose from the bed and twitched the drapes so he could see into the garden from the safety of the shadows. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Donte—”

“It’s bad enough that it’s out there. It feels to me like—” He seemed to search for a word. “Like the corpse of my lover. I’ve carried that journal for almost five centuries. Tried to keep it safe. Now you tell me you’ve made an electronic copy—that it can be propagated all over the Internet like a…like a joke. I thought you might understand. I thought you might see—”

“I do understand. I do.” Adin got to his feet. “Damn you, stop yelling at me! My head hurts…” Adin wavered and fell backward, but Donte caught him even before he could hit the bed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t understand any of it before and now I do.”

Donte sighed as he helped Adin with the covers. “I know, più amato. I’m sorry I was cross.”

“How could I have known?” asked Adin. “How could I have foreseen any of this?”

“Shh,” said Donte. He smoothed the hair back from Adin’s face. “This will all still be there when you’ve slept.”