My Immortal (3 page)

“Would you like me to suck your huge dick?” Talon squeezed between him and the table. “I owe you my gratitude for giving me a second chance.”

“You don’t have to,” Kohl replied in a strangled voice, barely able to speak.

“I would like to. You freed me. I belong to you now, to please you forever. Will you allow it?”

Kohl gave a quick nod. “You’re the prettiest man alive. I can’t explain my attraction to you.”

“Don’t analyze it.” Talon slid to his knees. “Just go with it.”

A wild groan erupted from Kohl’s chest when the man’s hot mouth closed over his aching cock. He sucked it fervently, going down on him over and over, taking his entire length into that warm moist sexy mouth. He gripped the table edge, sucking in a sharp breath, then tangled his fingers in the black satiny strands of hair falling over Talon’s face. Talon groaned his approval when Kohl began thrusting against his face. The man was undeniably skilled and took Kohl’s engorged cock with ease.

He took a tight hold of Talon’s silky hair and pumped into his luscious mouth, softly grunting with each drive, urgently seeking release. Talon gently rolled Kohl’s balls in one hand while keeping his other hand at the base of his cock. Not once did the man ease up from the delectable sucking. Sweat trickled down Kohl’s back. He thrust harder, faster, holding the man’s sweet face against his groin.

“Ah fuck,” Kohl groaned. His body lurched forward with a forceful jerk of his cock. Heat washed over him in blissful waves of euphoria. He glanced down at the beautiful man on his knees, his mouth stretched over Kohl’s distended cock, drinking him in with obvious zeal.

Gradually, Talon pulled back, licking the slickened head until every drop of semen had been released. “Did I please you?”

Kohl let out a growl of laughter. “Hell yeah, best head I’ve ever had.”

Talon slithered up his body, his erection brushing Kohl’s shaft as they stood chest to chest. Hairs on the back of his neck prickled as the man’s teeth grazed his skin, nipping and biting.

“I’m so hungry,” Talon groaned. “Just one taste…just one…” He bit down a little harder. “No, I can’t, not with you. I want you too much.”

And without warning, the sweet beautiful man disappeared.

Kohl’s eyes shot open when cold rain began pelting his skin. Only inches away lurked the edge of the cliff overlooking a deep river ravine bordered by jagged rock. He glanced around frantically, grasping for clarity on how he’d managed to end up at the drill site in his sleep. Lightning veined as fingers of light across a black sky. Thunder rumbled around him. One wrong step would’ve taken him over the edge and sent him plummeting to his death.

Naked and now wet, he inched away from the ledge to gain his bearings. A dull ache at his groin drew his gaze downward. His cock hung freely, still oozing from the dream. He wrapped one hand around the length, sticky with saliva. This dream felt very real. His heart pounded in his ears while walking down the rocky dirt road. It was a long walk home. He felt drained. Regardless, he had to make it back before daybreak to avoid being spotted in this disheveled state.

His feet were raw by the time he crept into his two-story home, doing his best not to wake Alaric.
I
could never explain this. He’ll think I’ve gone mad, or worse, blame this
on that
amulet.
Kohl slunk quietly up the steps and straight to the shower.
The amulet, Talon
said
something about the relic.
Kohl struggled to pull the details of his dream into view, to recall what the man had told him. The answers teetered on the edge of his mind but refused to come forth.

Exhausted, Kohl dropped into bed, but sleep denied him the rest he craved. Questions tumbled through his brain in waves of endless torment. Tossing the sheet aside, he pulled on a pair of jeans and padded downstairs and to his lab, hoping a connection between the pendant and his dreams would manifest.

The eagle fossil was still gone from the stone. However, the vibrant fiery red color had not faded. In fact, the color had deepened to a passionate blood red shade.
Blood,
he thought.
The man said something about blood.
Dropping his head into his hands, Kohl racked his brain for a mere recollection, squeezing his eyes shut to focus.

Bloodstone! He called it a Bloodstone!

This time, in addition to going over the pendant again, Kohl examined each link of the chain and the clasp with a high power microscope. His eyes burned an hour later. He leaned back in his chair, lifted his arms overhead, and stretched his back.

After a few more gulps of black coffee, he resumed his task, feeling somewhat deflated. Eerie cold filled the room. The lights flickered. He checked his phone for weather alerts but found none. Turning his attention back to the relic, he went over the chain again. A flash of light drew his focus back toward the metal eye that secured the pendant to the chain. He honed in and sure enough, etched in the tiniest script possible was the word
Shasta
.

Another tidbit of information sprung to mind.
Talon said he was from, what the hell was it? Shasta…Shasta something, damn it!
He let out a growl and concentrated hard. A few moments later, it came to him.
Shasta Realm!

Surely, this is the genuine artifact!
Renewed excitement spiked his adrenaline. Visions of money and fame raced through his mind. Feeling very confident that he’d stumbled upon a genuine treasure, Kohl delicately wrapped it in non-acidic tissue paper then in a nonabrasive jewelry cloth before placing the amulet into a new plastic baggie and locking it in the fire safe hidden behind some loose bricks in the wall. Carefully and quietly, he slid the bricks back into place, ran a bead of calk around the edges, and hung the picture back over the wall.

With something of this nature and value, he felt it would be in Alaric’s best interest to not know anymore. Kohl decided to hold onto the item until further research was complete. He did not want this precious relic falling into the wrong hands or getting snatched from under him at the wrong price. Most significant though, was the uncanny connection Kohl felt to the amulet. Strangely enough, he didn’t want the erotic dreams with Talon to stop.

“Kohl! Are you in there?” Alaric’s pounding on the lab door bolted him straight off the chair.

“Yeah…I must’ve fallen asleep. I’ll be right out.” He did his best to shake off the grogginess before opening the door.

“You look like hell, man. Did you get any sleep at all?”

“Some.”

“C’mon.” Alaric nodded toward the kitchen. “I’ll cook breakfast. You’ve taken your obsession with that amulet to an unhealthy level, my friend.”

“Perhaps.”

“Anymore dreams about the hot guy?” Alaric cast him a wink.

“Yeah…but I’d rather not talk about it.”

“That hot, huh?”

Kohl nodded then smiled. “It’s embarrassing. I’m a straight guy having wild dreams about some paranormal creature.”

“What makes you think he’s paranormal?”

“I don’t know.” Kohl shrugged, wondering the same thing. “The word just came out.”

Alaric set a plate of eggs and sausage in front of him. “I still think it has to do with that amulet. I tell ya, my grandmother told some scary stories.”

“Was she raised in this area?”

“Yeah, all my ancestors grew up in this area before moving farther north. We are one of the founding families.”

Kohl arched a brow as his thoughts churned. “Any family journals?”

“Probably. I have an old cedar chest in the attic passed down through the generations. I never opened it, didn’t any connection to whatever is inside.”

“I know. You want the past to stay dead and buried.” Kohl grinned then looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Oh no, don’t look at me with those sultry eyes of yours. You know I’m a sucker for those baby blues. I’m not opening that chest. There’s nothing of value inside.”

“I came across a few clues as to the possible history of this piece. I’d rather not burden you, but I’d be truly grateful if you’d let me read the journals. You keep mentioning the tales your grandmother told.” Desperation for answers deluged him. “Since your family originated here, there may be crucial information in their stories that connects the dots for me…please?”

Alaric rolled his eyes with a groan, then smiled. “I never could say
no
to you.”

Kohl denied the need for sleep and rode with Alaric to his home not far away. The place carried an eerie air, making him realize why his friend spent very little time here. The house definitely gave off vibes that would make a superstitious person uncomfortable. Kohl didn’t believe in ghosts, witchcraft, or anything paranormal. His entire belief system was based on logic and fact. If he couldn’t back up the myths with concrete evidence then they remained just that—a myth. And until someone or something proved him wrong, he wasn’t about to let a little spooky ambiance get in his way of possibly unveiling information about his rare find.

“Here you go.” Alaric plopped a wooden chest about two feet square on the floor. A cloud of dust puffed up around it. “I’m going into town to meet with the insurance agent and pick up groceries. Do you want anything?”

“More of those steaks would be nice.” Kohl flashed him a pleading smile.

“No problem.” Alaric shifted his weight. Anxiety flitted through his eyes. “Hey… you don’t mind if I crash at your place again, do ya?”

“You’re welcome anytime, you know that. My home is your home.” He glanced around the dreary abode. “I don’t blame you for not staying here, feels kind of—”

“Creepy?”

“Well…yeah, I guess that fits.”

Alaric pointed at the chest with a comical expression plastered on his face. “I told you, man, my grandmother was into scary shit. Don’t be bringing anything from that chest home with you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll put everything back when I’m done,” Kohl said, waving him off. “Go run your errands, and don’t forget to come back and get me. I don’t want to spend the night here.”

“Ha! You do believe me.”

“Nooo…” Kohl rolled his eyes and laughed. “It’s just not a very inviting atmosphere.”

“Uh-huh, say what you want but you feel it, too. I’ll be back in couple hours. Don’t open that box until I’m out of here…happy reading.”

Kohl shook his head and grinned while watching his friend pull from the drive. Whatever tales his grandmother had told sure left an impression on the man for him to react so dramatically. He turned back toward the chest, walked to the couch and plopped down on the worn green cushion. Carefully, he opened the wooden box. Right on top of the contents lay a crucifix attached to a tarnished silver chain. Kohl shrugged off the uneasy feeling that crept up his spine.

It seemed that whoever sealed this crate wanted to make sure it stayed sealed.

He hesitated for a moment over digging into the stack of letters and photos. Forcing the rising apprehension aside, he moved the crucifix aside, but left it inside the crate. He began gently sorting through the faded envelopes, carefully unfolding the brittle yellowed pages and skimming over them. Most were love letters written back and forth during wartime between people he assumed must’ve been generations of Alaric’s ancestors.

At the bottom of the box lay a notebook, bound in soft weathered leather and tied shut with leather ties. Delicately, he loosened the ties, opened the book, and began to read.
Bull’s-eye!
Written by a woman named
Alice Basset
, the first entry was dated 1910 and titled
The Castle
. Kohl assumed the author must’ve been a great, great grandmother, since she carried the same last name as Alaric.

I saw the vampires swooping out from under the bluff today. They come out only at night. The townspeople lock their doors at sunset. We are all afraid. Our castle overlooks the great river. We are forbidden to explore the caves below the cliff. Police have found bodies drained of blood at the base of the ravine. They say the attacks are from wild animals but we who live here on the ridge know the truth. All of the victims wash ashore with puncture marks in their necks, shoulders, or thighs. Father has gathered a team of hunters. They are devising a plan on how to rid our town of the cursed monsters.

“Vampires?” Kohl muttered aloud in disbelief. He turned the pages, reading quickly about more stories of vampire sightings and the slow death of an entire community. Several chapters into the book he came upon a new subject matter. It was dated 1912 and titled
Shasta Realm
. Kohl felt the air in the room grow cold as he began to read.

My grandparents are dead, killed by the bloodsucking beasts that still lurk in the caverns below the cliff.
Today I can barely write through the tears in my eyes. Father almost died while trying to destroy one of the vampires. He is more determined than ever to destroy the evil creatures. Fortunately, he was not bitten, but he did fall off the cliff in his attempt to escape. He told Mother and me about his experience with death. Father spoke of a place called the Shasta Realm, where people between life and death are sometimes offered a gift.

Father said that the rulers of that realm found favor in him because of his bravery against the vampires. He was given the gift of shifting into the animal that closely embraced his human nature—the hunter. Father can now transform into any bird of prey and has supernatural speed when in his animal form. Had he not shifted for us to see, I’d have not believed it. He is now able to sneak up on the vampires and use his talons to tear their hearts out when they sleep. We have new hope that the vampires will finally be defeated.

Kohl couldn’t turn the pages fast enough, reading about how Alaric’s distant grandfather had received this incredible gift and destroyed the vampires one-by-one. The stories were incredible and practically impossible to believe. However, the crackled black and white images lying on the bottom of the box gave proof to the journal entries. Someone had photographed the man during his shift. Kohl stared in utter amazement at the hard evidence.

A yellowed envelope taped to the back cover of the journal caught his attention. He couldn’t imagine what more he’d uncover, but he’d opened the door to another world and had to continue on. Setting the notebook aside, he loosened the brittle seal. He gasped when he read the signature on the letter—
Alaric Basset
. The letter was also dated 1912.