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Location: middle of nowhere, pa, usa
Karma: 100 |  | Steel City Vampires & Vampire Oracle: LOVE (adult)
« Thread Started on Jul 23, 2008, 1:07pm » | ![[Quote]](http://s4.images.proboards.com/buttons/quote.gif) |
The Vampire Oracle: Love
by L. Shannon
Available August 1, 2008 with Cobblestone Press
BEGIN EXCERPT
Chapter One
Jason Sawyer was about to die…and it was about damn time.
The Mistress’s fangs tore at his throat, sucking his blood down in long, lusty swallows. Thrilling euphoria flooded his mind. The emotional barrage was a complete lie, nothing more than a lure the damn vampires used to tempt and subdue their victims. His mistress didn’t love him or even desire him. He knew it, but after twenty years in her ruthless care, the truth didn’t matter. He simply had to have it. He hated her and was addicted to the high as badly as any heroin addict ever could be.
And just like that street junky, risking it all for the next fix, he was about to pay for it.
He struggled, clawing at her arms. He didn’t want to escape, but a little struggle was quickly rewarded with another burst of sensation. The Mistress liked him to play prey.
Pleasure spiked through his body, pulsing through his veins and lifting his cock into a throbbing erection. Must have some blood left after all. His heart raced and he let his eyes fall closed, accepting the coming end, praying she allowed him one final release.
The Mistress pushed him back against the foyer wall. Her petite body writhed over his in a mimic of sexual frenzy.
Even as he felt the weakness seeping from his fingertips up his arms, he couldn’t help rolling his hips, rubbing his jeans-covered cock into her side. The friction was harsh, almost too much, so good he repeated it again and again.
And then the doorbell rang.
The Mistress dropped him, letting him fall to his knees behind her like unwanted trash. She left him there, in a boneless heap, to answer the door. When they were alone again, would she finish him, take his last drop? Lord help him, he’d let her. He’d give anything just so long as she filled him with the Blood Kiss while she killed him.
He blinked hard to clear his blurry vision. There was a man standing at the open door, arguing and pointing at him. Rain poured down behind the stranger like a gray curtain, broken only by the occasional flash of lightning.
The Mistress was unruffled as always. “If the desire to save him is so great then take him. He is nothing to me, a shell emptied of all value. Take him and consider him a tribute.”
The strange man stepped forward, in an effort to intimidate the Mistress. Most misjudged her because of her size and this stranger was no different. Though, in truth, the dark haired giant was huge compared to the Mistress. He looked well over six feet tall and built like an ox with thick shoulders. Had he been less muscular, he could be a model with his perfect face and stylish black hair.
But his eyes… the blue depths were like flint, cold and hard, eyes of a killer.
That frozen gaze turned on him. “He’s nearly dead already. What good is he to me?”
That was when he knew…the man was a vampire. He’d missed it at first, maybe because of his recent draining, or maybe because the stranger hid it so well. There were no flashing fangs, no glowing eyes, and no waves of hunger or need. He looked human, if perhaps a bit pale for any mortal. Then again, his own tan was probably more than a little wilted at this point.
What if the Mistress did send him away? Would this other vamp take him in, offer him what he needed?
“Take him or leave him to die. He’s become weak and clingy. I don’t need a toy who gives in so easily.” There was a leashed anger to the Mistress’s tone, a violence barely hidden beneath the surface.
The man gave him another assessing look, as if he was judging a horse before buying him. The comparison pricked Jason’s pride, driving him to his feet in a slow awkward lurch. He wouldn’t kneel before these two while they haggled over which would be forced to “keep” him.
One dark eyebrow rose incrementally at his effort. “Does he have any other skills?”
The Mistress spoke in a quiet, deadly purr. “He has many skills and is also quite well formed. Shall I have him strip for you to judge?”
“No, I can see well enough. Is he more than a bed and blood slave?”
“He is.” The Mistress flashed him a demanding look. “This one has tended my household affairs for many years now.”
Jason took the hint in the angry depths of the Mistress’s eyes. He was to prove himself worthy or be killed on the spot. Obviously, since she was done with him, he was going to be passed on to this male in some diplomatic move. Damn vampires loved their politics. He looked around for some way to do as she demanded and his gaze settled on an envelope lying on the floor beside the door.
He forced his body to move, carrying him the five feet to the white envelope with slow careful steps. His vision gained a black frame as a wave of nauseous dizziness hit him. The blood loss was by far the worst he’d ever faced.
She’d meant to drain him.
He settled to the floor, kneeling at the Mistress’s feet before he fell. After a couple deep breaths, he picked up the envelope and cradled the elegant stationery to his chest while his vision came back.
“…always drain your people like this?” the male vampire asked.
Jason focused on the words as best he could. The man had just challenged his Mistress by offering insult. Shit, what else had he missed?
The Mistress drew in a gasp of air. The soft sound was harsh in the otherwise silent foyer. Even the thundering storm outside stilled, as if holding its breath for her response. Her fingers brushed over his thick hair, petting him like a dog. “Do not try my patience, little one. I have done my duty and offered my tribute to you as is proper from a visiting guest.” The petting shifted. Her fingers sank into his hair, gripping it painfully. “Take him or not, but do not offer insults which you haven’t the age or strength to defend.”
A long moment passed between the vampires, during which Jason didn’t dare move or even breathe. His sentencing would come from a stranger’s lips. Would he live with some new Master or be killed by his current Mistress?
“If he can get to his feet, he goes with me.” The words were ended with a crash of deafening thunder.
Dillon watched the female warily while the human staggered slowly to his feet. There was a certain amount of pride to the stiff set of the man’s shoulders. The slave might be half dead but he was still unbroken. Despite his ragged breath and fast pulse, the man stayed on his feet. The wound at his neck needed attention and he’d need rest but otherwise he looked like he might live.
“My car is in the drive. Go warm it up.” He held out the keys and moved just enough for the man to slip past him, through the door. Passing the keys over to a strange human might be a risk, but showing any weakness to the man’s pissed off former mistress would be a bigger one. To her he offered a short nod. “Your tribute is accepted. Please consider me at your service while you stay in my city.” Not that she would be staying long in Pittsburgh if he had anything to say about it. This female was a killer. He could practically smell death on her breath. Even if she was hundreds of years older than him, there was no way in hell he’d let her stay in his hometown, killing those he considered under his protection.
His car purred to life. It was time to go.
With a hard nod, he spun and left. He trudged back through the freezing rain to his Porsche. Even that short walk chilled him. Chilled him even more than his usual cool body temperature. Fortunately, the human had the car running and warm air flooded the small space. When he slid into the driver’s seat, the warmth encased him with comfort.
His passenger though looked anything but comfortable. The poor guy huddled on his side of the car watching warily. With good reason, too. The scent of the still bleeding neck wound dragged at Dillon’s hunger. His fangs ached and his stomach clenched. When was the last time he’d fed? Obviously it’d been too long. He’d have to get the scent muffled or he’d have a devil of a time focusing on driving.
Dillon reached behind the seat for the small first aid kit he kept handy. “Your neck is bleeding. You can’t spare the blood.” He pulled out a large gauze pad and the tape while the guy cringed a little less. “Here, use the mirror and put this on.”
The guy took the pad and did as he was told. Once the tape was in place, his hands settled into his lap to toy with a white envelope.
“Do you have a name?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?” Dillon couldn’t keep the growl from his tone.
The man’s fingers tightened over the envelope, as if it could save him from his unknown fate. “Jason, but I haven’t been called much but ‘slave’ and ‘hey you’ in the past ten years.”
“You’ve been with her for ten years? I’m surprised she hasn’t killed you.” Now that they were out on the road, he looked over his new “servant”. The guy was too lean, and his pale skin was countered by his flushed face. The scent of his fear-laden sweat and leftover physical desire combined as a vampire aphrodisiac.
“I believe that was her plan tonight.”
Then why didn’t the human sound happy about being rescued? Had he been a willing plaything for the female? No, he’d said slave. “Then I’m glad I stopped for a visit just in time to ruin her dinner.”
Jason mumbled something, and slumped, with the mail still clutched in his hand. In seconds, he was limp in the passenger seat and stayed that way for the rest of the short drive.
With the Porsche safely garaged, Dillon rounded the car and opened the passenger door. “Wake up. We’re here.”
There was no response. Jason didn’t come awake even with a shake, but his heart pounded slow and steady.
Dillon scooped him up, slamming the car door closed with his foot. Damn, the poor guy was light. He felt much lighter than he should have considering he was probably close to six feet tall. There wasn’t any extra weight on him but he wasn’t skinny either. Rather than wake him, Dillon carried him through the house toward his guest room.
As he passed his own bedroom, a vivid image of Jason spread out in his bed tripped up his steady stride.
Damn, he would look good, too good. He continued down to the next room and gently laid Jason onto the bed. “Hey? You awake?” He shook Jason’s shoulder which did nothing but tip his jaw to the side, revealing the blood soaked patch of gauze. Shit, he was still bleeding. That bitch of a vamp had done a real number on him.
He gathered up some supplies and returned to Jason’s side. He didn’t bother to undress him, but did pry the crumpled envelope out of his hands and drop it onto the nightstand beside the bed. It landed face up revealing it had been addressed to Jason, not his former mistress. Interesting. He was tempted to open it and maybe learn something more about his new houseguest, but when his fingers brushed the paper—no, he’d leave the man a little privacy.
He turned his focus back to tending Jason’s injuries. The moment he pulled the gauze away, he saw Jason had been right. Serena hadn’t planned on letting Jason live. Damn good thing he’d knocked on the door when he did. Now it’d take a good bit of effort to get Jason healed up enough to survive. First, he set about cleaning the ragged wound. Then he used butterfly Band-aids to hold the edges together while he focused his energy on encouraging the wound to heal. Usually this kind of skill was used to seal up small punctures left by feeding, but this wound was far beyond the usual. His pale skin had lost the slight flushed look from earlier.
How could that female throw aside a human life so easily?
Soon enough she’d pay for her choices. How much she suffered would depend on if this man lived through the night.
He’d done as much as he could for the wound. He should go out and feed. If he called his brother now, he could meet him in whatever bad neighborhood was being patrolled tonight. Dillon stood to go, but couldn’t make it past the doorframe. What if Jason wakes? What if he needs me?
Feeding would wait. He sank into the bedside chair to watch over the human. The long day, needed feeding and the expended energy used to get Jason’s healing underway caught up to him in minutes and his head nodded against his chest.
He was back in his brother’s laboratory, flat on the floor and wondering what had knocked him there. He forced himself up despite rubbery legs and swelling nausea.
“Easy my brother…” Johnathan caught his arm in a surprising strong grip and helped him balance.
“What happened?”
“What do you remember?” There was a wariness in Johnathan’s tone that was unusual and unexpected from his brother.
Memories flashed over him but they didn’t make sense. A dark stranger in the lab… Johnathan’s sudden interest in the properties of blood. Then his disappearance. And return with the stranger. “I don’t know what happened. Tell me.”
“We are vampires now. You and I both are.”
The walking dead… “What does that mean? Why did this happen?”
“I met a man who was willing to change me. I couldn’t bear to lose you like we’ve lost everyone else in our lives. Now we can continue my work together.”
Slowly the meaning of his brother’s words sank into his mind. They were now damned for all eternity so that Johnathan could continue his work. “How could you?”
But he’d known even then that it was his own fault. He remembered Johnathan asking him seemingly pointless questions about staying safe from disease and death, but he’d taken them for the usual ramblings of his far too smart brother. The very last thing he remembered was Johnathan asking if he trusted him… and he did.
He might be older and better at many things, but Johnathan was a genius and would never have risked his life above all others.
Why were they both now the cursed undead?
“I saved us. Now we will not fall to the illness sweeping the city. If I could have saved our mother I would have, but now we will be safe.”
“What would our devout mother have said to us falling from God’s light?”
Johnathan straightened and met his gaze. “I don’t believe that is so. Indeed we are different now, but how could it happen if not God’s will?”
It made no sense to Dillon and for once he hadn’t wanted to hear an explanation from Johnathan. Instead he’d left, walked out and attempted to find his way in this new and horrible existence.
Dillon woke with a groan. He knew what would be next in the dream and wanted no part of it. Instead he checked on Jason and found him greatly improved. Then he moved silently back to his own room. After a long shower, he sank into his own bed. Maybe he should pray for strength. How irreverent would it be to beg God to keep away his nightly penance?
No, he wouldn’t pray for that. The dream would come. He would die a little more and then wake again one step further into hell.
Dillon lay back and drew up the blanket, letting the high sun force him to sleep… and immediately fell back into the dream that was in truth a memory and all the evidence he would ever need to see how black his soul had become.
The night he left Johnathan and every one after, he was assaulted by depraved needs and desperate hungers. And within a week he killed.
The man stood in the darkest of dark shadows, but Dillon’s improved night vision had no trouble picking him out. He saw, too, the knife at the man’s side. He should have crossed the street and left the villain to find another victim. Instead he walked too close and waited for the inevitable end of his undead life.
Each breath he took as he passed the shadows might have been his last.
Yet when he was finally jumped and dragged back into the dark, he lost himself and became the monster. His hunger rose up and commanded his muscles. With the background orchestra of the man’s pounding heart and rasping breath, Dillon overpowered him, accepting the knife wound and tearing into the man’s throat, gulping down the warm life of him. With the blood came the man’s consciousness. He saw clearly how poor, young Georgie had come to the streets to find money to feed his family. How he had hated his thievery as much as Dillon hated the killing.
Yet he could not stop. Did not stop, until Georgie hung limp in his arms, beating the last of his life away one laborious thud at a time.
Dillon jerked awake to the feel of a body in his arms, and the sound of a slow heartbeat, pounding against his side. “What the hell?”
The exclamation woke the human. The man’s heartbeat increased and his body tensed for a moment before snuggling in tighter against Dillon’s body. One lazy hand stroked over Dillon’s bare chest. The motion sent a shiver of awareness coursing through his body.
How long had it been since he’d taken a lover? More than a year at least. Releasing one desire was too dangerous when the very act of pleasure awoke all his darker hungers as well. This man must understand that after living with Serena. Why then did he risk so much by arousing a vampire’s passion?
“Why are you in my bed?”
The man sighed, blowing his warm breath over one of Dillon’s bare nipples, which puckered at once with the formless caress. “I awoke and felt your need.”
“Since I was asleep, that is unlikely.”
The human tilted his head back enough to look up at him with those fathomless blue eyes. His expression clearly called Dillon a liar. “Even now I feel your hunger beating at me. I’m yours now, so here I am to serve you.”
What the hell was wrong with the fool? He didn’t have enough blood to keep his own body thriving and still here he was offering to be dinner… “You’re willing to offer your blood that easily?”
“Yes.”
The fact that the human had crawled into bed with a blood-sucking vampire and then had the balls to snuggle up to said monster indicated one of two things. Either Jason had been brainwashed by Serena or the guy was seriously cracked. Perhaps both.
Jason’s hand continued circling, drifting lower to Dillon’s abs. “Are you going to feed?”
“No.” He caught the hand, torn between temptation and torment. He was hard and aching and was bound to do something stupid if he didn’t get some space. He pulled free and slid away from the human.
Jason couldn’t hold back the slight whimper. “Please do. I can feel how much you need to take blood. Please take mine.” He propped himself up on one elbow to face the vampire who had put the space of a pillow between them. The horror in the vampire’s eyes was both confusing and shaming. Here he was begging to be bitten and obviously he wasn’t wanted.
“I don’t want a damn blood slave.”
Jason caught his hand before the vampire untangled the blanket. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even ask your name.”
His cold gaze jumped from their linked hands up to Jason’s face. “No sweat. You weren’t exactly in a position to be congenial.” His voice was deep and icy, but the vampire wasn’t nearly as unaffected as he pretended.
Jason saw the small sharp tips of his fangs, slightly overhanging the vampire’s lower lip. The vision was sexy and offered exactly what he needed if he could only convince the male to feed. “Please don’t let me chase you from your bed. Will you tell me your name?” He tugged at the wall of strength, until the male sank to the edge of the bed. Then he released him.
“Dillon.”
“Thank you for taking me from the Mistress. I will serve you loyally in any way you wish.”
“I don’t want a slave.” Dillon’s voice dripped with disgust at the word. “Once you’re recovered I’ll help you find work and a place to live. Consider yourself free.”
Free? The concept was thrilling and terrifying all at once. Now he would have choices in his life and control over his future. Yet he was still fucked. Because of the Blood Kiss, a prison of desire...he’d never truly be free. Perhaps if he offered enough temptation, he could convince Dillon to feed. “Can I stay here with you for the rest of the day?”
Dillon hesitated then relented with a short nod.
Although the shuttered windows closed out any light, a glance at the bedside clock showed it was barely past one. Dillon must not be a new fledgling or he would be practically forced to take daysleep. But, however old Dillon was, he was still affected by the sun’s peak. He yawned, covering the motion with one large hand.
“You should go back to the guest room. It’s safer.”
“I’ve been bitten before.”
“I noticed,” Dillon growled. “Perhaps I don’t trust you.”
“That would not surprise me, but where would I be without you?” Dead. Discarded with countless other bodies wherever the Mistress disposed of them. “I owe you too much to be a threat.”
“Why did you stay with her? Legally she couldn’t keep you against your will.”
Damn. He would ask that. Maybe it was for the best. If he revealed his shame, maybe Dillon would understand how they could be good together. “The bars of my prison were woven by the Blood Kiss.”
“What the hell is a Blood Kiss?”
How could he not know? How many visiting vampires had the Mistress shared him with and nearly all had offered the Blood Kiss while feeding. “When feeding, don’t you offer pleasure to your source?”
“No, I don’t.”
“You don’t? How do you keep them from screaming or remembering your attack?” Holy shit! The thought of having this one feed on him churned his stomach. All there would be would be pain and no pleasure. There was only one reason he would let his victims suffer so much. It was another sign of how vicious vampires were. “You kill those you feed from.”
Dillon didn’t respond. Instead he settled back onto the bed and drew the blankets up enough to cover his boxers, leaving his chest bare.
How fitting was it to be rescued by one of the coldest killers among the vampires, one who killed and offered nothing in return? But how could that be? Most vampires fed daily. Surely that kind of body count wouldn’t go unnoticed. So he didn’t kill all those he fed from. Either he was lying about not using the Blood Kiss to subdue his prey or he had some other way of concealing the deaths.
“I suppose I should expect to be staked sometime today.”
Actually the thought hadn’t crossed his mind, but something in Dillon’s voice said he might welcome a good staking. “Since I don’t see any handy stakes lying about, I guess it will have to wait for another day.”
Dillon arched a dark eyebrow at his sarcasm. Then he glanced toward the open door, an obvious hint for Jason to leave.
A hint he chose to ignore. He’d awakened filled with need and even if he couldn’t force Dillon to feed from him, and maybe shouldn’t try to, he needed to be close to the vampire anyhow. The male’s strength flooded outward and helped him find balance. It didn’t end the aching need but did something almost as good. He felt safe. Which was completely ridiculous. He was now at the mercy of an unknown vampire who as much as admitted to being a cold-blooded killer.
None of that changed the fact that he did feel safe and after a life with Mistress Serena, feeling safe was a precious thing. He reached up and touched the gauze bandage at his throat. He’d been lucky to be saved by Dillon. Now if only he could escape the dangerous bonds he still wore. If only he could get Dillon to feed, to offer the Blood Kiss he so badly needed.
The thoughts swirled in an endless chaotic circle. His need to be safe battled with the desperate all consuming addiction.
“Turn the lights off. If you change your mind about the staking, do it in the dark.” Dillon settled deeper onto his side of the bed.
Jason turned off the lights and returned to the bed. He tried to keep to his side, tried to force his mind to sleep, but it was all in vain. This was what he hated, this weakness. How could he lose control over his own body? Even now when he was free from the Mistress, even now he sought out the horrors she had raised him on. This male was offering him freedom and all he could do was despair because, as much as he wanted to be free, he had to have the Blood Kiss.
The Blood Kiss…
The feel of fangs sinking into his throat, taking his vein… The drawing of his blood…the feel of his life feeding another, of his purpose, his perfection and joy… The need was too much.
The next he knew he pushed against the vampire, pressing his lips to the cool comfort of Dillon’s flesh, trailing his tongue over puckered nipples and trailing lazy nips down his chest. He ignored the hands holding him back and used his hands to reach lower, stroking over rippling abs so hard they felt like granite, lower to wrap fingers around another hard piece of man, of vampire…
Dillon’s cock arched up against the boxers. Taking only a second to push the cloth free, he stroked hard over the erection and down to cup and gently scrape his balls. Whether by shock or acceptance, the vampire’s grip loosened, releasing Jason to fall over his body. The blankets were pushed back and their skin connected like fire and ice. And then he found Dillon’s lips, kissing him deeply, licking over his fangs, loving how they throbbed at every touch.
Dillon’s hands gripped his shoulders and then gentled, sliding down his bare back with a delicious brush of his rough palms. He gasped, breaking the kiss. “I can’t do this.”
What couldn’t he do? Jason paused for a heartbeat. Perhaps Dillon didn’t do men. Most of the vampires he’d met seemed to revel in any form of pleasure, at least once they were past the newness of fledglings. What if Dillon didn’t?
The push of Dillon’s cock, aroused and hard, pinned between them negated any concerns about what Dillon wanted.
“If you can’t, then let me.” He kissed Dillon, more gently this time.
END EXCERPT
Buy The Vampire Oracle: Love ebook on August 1, 2008 with Cobblestone Press. http://cobblestone-press.com
Learn more about the Steel City Vampires at http://lshannon.net
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