Crimson Ties

by V L Moon

  As the sun’s last glimmer of light dissipated, its reflection dimmed from the lines of ready glasses. The small hairs on the back of Copi’s neck bristled. Awareness raced down his spine. Slowly turning in his seat, he scanned the bar. Office workers milled around, unwinding with a drink after a long day. Families and young urbans shared space with band members preparing for the night’s show. The place was heating up and starting to hum.

  Copi didn’t recognize anyone except Marrett and a few waiters working a double shift. Roan Marrett riled him. Everything about the bartender screamed sex For Copi, the man didn’t add up; something about his whole persona was definitely off key. It didn’t help the situation that the man was staring so blatantly at him with an expression of outright lust. A flush worked its way from under Copi’s collar to sting the tops of his ears. Fuck, it was embarrassing.

  ~*~*~*~

  Vischeral stumbled when he took form in a small alley off of West 35th Street. He chastised himself for the weakness. The sun’s kiss coupled with his infrequent feeding spurred a double whammy on his body. He should have never let it get this bad. Chilled blood staved off blood lust. Fresh blood rejuvenated the body. Even if his body only wanted—hell craved—Copi, he still had to feed. He knew better.

  Movement at the mouth of the alley caused him to sink back into the shadows. A petite figure hesitated for a moment and then darted down the passage. Female, about twenty-five, his senses told him. When the woman walked within reach, Vischeral slid from the gloom. Surprise and fear played across her face. Before she could scream, he took control of her mind willing her to follow him deeper into the darkness.

  Ordinarily, he leaned against the wall, pulling the donor into the cradle of his hips and offered a small burst of pleasure in exchange for the rich, nourishing blood he took. With his back an oozing wound, ordinary wasn’t an option. Turning the female, he moved in close behind her and lifted her hair away from her neck. His height dwarfed the human forcing him to bend his knees to reach his prey. At his mental command, she tilted her head, exposing her vein. He struck lightning fast; his fangs sinking deep into her throat, drawing a gasp. Immediately, his soothed her with his mind.

  Instinct directed his hand to the apex of her thighs. He intended to provide a mind blowing orgasm, but found he couldn’t bring himself to touch her female flesh even through the jeans she wore. Instead, he took five long draws, all he ever allowed himself from one benefactor, before licking her wounds closed and sending her on her way. Vischeral ran his tongue over his lips. The fresh blood sped through his body. He actually felt the cells begin to repair themselves. But, he needed more.

  Again, he waited in the dark. Impatience skated along his nerves. Through the bond, Copi’s agitation clawed at him, calling him to the male’s side. A long twenty minutes later, another figure dashed into the alley, moving quickly. Vischeral’s mind collided with the hard running male’s thoughts—a botched drug deal—and Mr. Stupid fleeing the scene. It figured.

  Snatching the male into the darkness, Vischeral gave him no quarter. Incisors two inches long slid into the human’s throat. Terrified, the thug squirmed and beat himself against the brick wall trying to get free. Vischeral’s heavy palm over his mouth held his screams of terror locked inside his throat. Five long thirst quenching pulls and Vischeral withdrew, his black eyes glowing in the dimness. Forcibly stabbing deeper into the male’s mind, Vischeral erased the feeding, but left the fear, equating it with drug use.

  Stepping back, he released the human’s mind and stifled a chuckle when a look of horror crossed the male’s face. The baggie clutched in his fist hit the cement. Vischeral growled and with a shrill scream, the thug disappeared out of the other end of the alley. Vischeral dropped to one knee next to the forgotten drugs. A flick of a match and flames erupted on the alley floor. The baggie and its contents disappeared in a whorl of smoke.

  He rose to his feet and flexed his shoulders. Though his back was still tender, the blood had worked its magic. The oozing sores and welts were gone; the new skin tender but supple. Sticking to the darkened alleys and unlit streets, Vischeral wandered the bowels of Anchorage. Despite his bare chest, the frigid air had little effect on him. He relished the cold.

  Halfway across the city, the bond with his partner pulsed stronger and a familiar scent clogged his nose. His pissed off and way too sexy partner sat or stood somewhere in the vicinity. With a curse, Vischeral noted the Tap Root Café a few blocks down. He’d bet his next drop of blood Copi held down a stool inside the place.

  As quickly as he thought it, he stood across the street from the Café. Sure enough, Copi’s scent emanated strongly from inside. Weaving a thick cloaking mist around himself, Vischeral crossed the street and waited for a patron to exit allowing him to slip unnoticed through the door. With the haze in place, he was invisible to the humans and afforded the luxury of watching Copi without detection.

  His partner sat at the bar, empty glass in hand eyeing the bartender. The bartender practically drooled as he stared at Copi. A scent caught Vischeral’s nose, and his eyes widened even as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. The bartender was a fucking wolf, and lust dripped off of him.

  Vischeral’s eyes lit from within, and his hands curled into fists when the wolf leaned against the bar across from Copi. Their hands met and the wolf growled causing Copi’s eyes to darken. Fuck this. Vischeral flipped himself out of the building taking form again across the street. It wasn’t his business if his partner took a lover. Even if it was a wolf. Not wanting to see Copi exit the building with his new paramour, Vischeral took off at a jog for the nearby Cope Street Park. He’d feed again before heading home.

  ~*~*~*~

  As soon as he was done with the new influx of customers, Marrett approached him. His densely packed body rolled as he moved, and his gleaming white smile was very nearly animalistic. He closed the gap between them and sat a snifter of Jack in front of Copi.

  “Appreciate it, but I think I’m calling it a night,” Copi said, refusing kindly. He edged the liquor back across the bar. Big mistake. Roan reached out to push the drink forward and their fingers met. Copi’s eyes widened when Roan growled low deep within his throat and stroked his thumb invitingly over the back of Copi’s hand. Copi tugged his hand free and crooked a finger, beckoning the bartender toward him.

  When Roan’s ear was almost flush with his mouth, Copi spoke low, his voice full of menace. “You’re nice, but not nice enough.” Roan tried to back off, a wry expression on his face. Copi caught him by the collar. “Don’t touch me again, or I’ll shove both your hands up your own ass.” Not bothering to see if Marrett took the threat seriously, he kicked the bar stool backward and stalked to the door. Out in the cool night air, he hoofed it down the block, too restless to head home. Again, the feeling he was missing something important weighed heavy on his shoulders.

  A few minutes later, the unmistakable feeling of being watched sent a shiver down his spine. Spinning quickly, he half expected to come face to face with a very pissed off Roan Marrett. Instead, he met a whole lot of nothing. Unease tracked down his spine. How the fuck had he gotten so isolated so fast? He still felt the eyes on him. Their heat crawled over his flesh and gave life to goose bumps and a sick fear.

  The sitch was bad and getting worse. In all of his years as a cop, he’d never felt such a welling of terror. Hell, he was a grown ass man for fuck’s sake. Still, his hands shook visibly. He felt frozen to the ground. Chilling fingernails of death swirled an ugly pattern on his back, sending each little nerve into a spasm until his brain screamed at him to run. He didn’t look back. Instead, he bolted in a full out sprint, heading straight for the safety of the SUV. Deep in his subconscious, the monster from the alley in New York reared its nasty head.

  Copi ran. Rancid breath seared at his back, and then abated almost as if mocking his cowardly retreat. He didn’t care. There were times to fight and times when your heart just knew when shit was wrong. And this was some se
riously strung out shit. Hitting the Hummer at full stride, he stabbed the fob and nearly yanked the door off its hinges as he threw himself in and slammed it shut behind him. Automatically, he punched the lock mechanism and sat up. He flicked on all of the exterior lights, and a hulking figure on his left drew his head around. He turned his head to face the driver’s side door and stared into a glowing pair of blood red eyes.

  “Fuckin’ hell,” he spat and scrambled across the middle console as the shape of one motherfucking huge black wolf took form. Its paws easily rested on the roof of the truck. Its head dropped down between its flanking shoulders as he glared at Copi. A growling snarl exposed razor sharp teeth and its steaming breath sending rivulets of saliva and blood dripping down the sealed window of the SUV. Fuck him, but he’d found the source of all of those claw marks on the victim. But would he live to tell it?

  ~*~*~*~

  Vischeral raised his head from his fourth, or was it his fifth donor, and licked his lips clean. Carefully, he surveyed the small park around them. The brunette in his arms moaned and rubbed herself languidly against his straining erection. His body hummed; high on the blood he’d ingested. It was extremely rare for him to fully sate his hunger, but he’d fed to keep his mind away from Copi and what he might be doing with the wolf. Thankfully, nothing bled through the bond.

  The female palmed his cock through his leathers; her grip strong and sure. Vischeral’s hips bucked, drawing a throaty laugh from the woman. With deft moves, she had his pants open and his hard length exposed. She stroked him once and then again before Vischeral stopped her. His hand covered hers. She pouted prettily up at him while he pried her fingers loose from his flesh.

  “Not tonight, babe, but thanks. I’m sure it would have been sensational.” Lost in the sensual haze he’d gifted her, she grinned inanely. After zipping himself up, he plucked the memories of the encounter from her mind and sent her away. Stepping out of the cover of the trees, he adjusted himself before turning in the direction of the park entrance. He took two steps and Copi’s fear ploughed into his mind. The fucking wolf! Closing his eyes, Vischeral locked on Copi’s location and ported.

  As his body reformed behind the Hummer, Vischeral knew two things immediately. A fucking huge wolf braced itself against the Hummer where Copi sat locked inside, and it wasn’t the lusty bastard from the bar. The only thing separating the snarling, snapping jaws of the serial killer and his partner was a flimsy pane of glass and a thin sheet of steel. Neither offered much protection if the wolf really wanted at Copi.

  The bond roared to life and every cell of Vischeral’s body screamed at him to protect Copi. His nerves jumped, muscles spasmed, adrenaline pumped and his mind raced. Blood dripped from the wolf’s canines indicating a kill already made. So this was a scare tactic—a warning to back off? Too fucking bad the warning only intensified Vischeral’s determination to end the killer’s life. Copi was his, and any who threatened him… died. Painfully.

  Centering himself, Vischeral flashed to the front of the vehicle. He felt Copi’s eyes snap to him, but he only saw the wolf. “Hey fuck face; you want to play with your food? Why not try something with more kick?” The wolf’s head spun in Vischeral’s direction and Vischeral swore the bastard smiled. Yup, the wolf knew exactly who Copi was and what Vischeral was. The game took a crucial twist toward the personal.

  He backed away slowly when the wolf dropped his front paws to the pavement. The fucker was huge, nearly the size of the Hummer. Black fur rippled as he stalked Vischeral. The locks popped on the Hummer as the wolf tracked Vischeral.

  “Stay the fuck in the car, Copi,” he yelled while continuing to back away. Thankfully, the human listened. For a change. The wolf never wavered in his pursuit of Vischeral. Wanting the killer away from his bonded male, Vischeral whirled on his boot heel and took off at a dead run, knowing it would trigger the wolf’s instinct to hunt. He heard paws scrabbling behind him, but his preternatural speed gave him an edge. He stayed just out of reach of the wolf’s teeth, but close enough to keep the hunt instinct alive.

  At the city limits, Vischeral veered into the wooded roadside, his pursuer tight on his heels. Free of watching eyes or hidden cameras, he skidded to a stop and spun around, allowing the beast to slam into him. They tumbled backward, but he locked his arms around the wolf’s chest and began to squeeze even as he slid across the forest floor on his newly healed back. With the loud crack of his ribs ringing in the air, the wolf struck out with his hind legs and razor sharp teeth. Jagged claws scored Vischeral’s sides at the same time wicked teeth savaged his shoulder and neck.

  He smelled his own blood but didn’t loosen his grip. The creature, realizing the imminent danger of having his ribs crushed, planted all four feet on the ground and surged to his feet. Vischeral clung on like a leech determined to end the deaths and the threat to Copi. A howl blasted the air. The beast called for help. An answering howl echoed into the night. Vischeral’s arms tightened. Ribs broke. He heard the wolf’s heart racing, smelled his growing fear.

  Everything changed in a flash. Sharp teeth buried themselves in Vischeral’s still tender back and mangled shoulder when the wolf reared up on his back legs. Vischeral growled in frustration as he was snatched away from the killer wolf. With a thought, he ported free of the new assailant’s teeth, his flesh ripping still more. He took form facing the creatures, his eyes glowing and his fingers curled into fists. Immediately, he recognized the other wolf’s scent. The fucking bartender. Vischeral dropped into a fighting stance.

  “Come on motherfuckers. Let’s dance the dance of death.” The bartender wolf lunged. Vischeral’s fist connected with the side of his head, eliciting a yelp of pain and sending the smaller wolf sailing sideways. Vischeral never took his eyes off of the black wolf.

  “Come on you big bastard. You scared to take on someone that can fight back. That’s the way of most killers. Cowards at heart.” The black wolf snarled and dropped into a crouch. He wanted to engage. Vischeral clearly read the hatred in his eyes; the thirst for the kill. The beast stalked closer unable to conceal a pained whine.

  “Busted ribs hurt like a bitch don’t they, lei il bastardo. Come closer and I will ease the pain. Permanently.” The other wolf chose that moment to pounce again. Vischeral caught him easily around the throat and slammed him headfirst into the closest tree. The creature fell limply to the ground. Vischeral swung back around prepared for attack, but the black wolf had vanished.

  “FUCK!” Vischeral spat, his eyes tracking the area. Nothing. Abso-fucking-lutely nothing indicated the wolf’s passing. The lingering scent trail beckoned him, but Copi waited for him back in the city. A proverbial sitting duck for the killer. Torn, Vischeral cursed again.

  He left the unconscious wolf where he lay; he knew where to find the bastard, and willed himself back to the street behind the Hummer. Relief shot through him when he spotted Copi seated behind the wheel. He strode up to the SUV’s driver’s side window and knocked on the glass, and smothered a smile when Copi jumped.

  His partner’s head swung around and his amber eyes widened as they raked Vischeral’s body. Looking down at himself, Vischeral winced. Deep gouges from the wolf’s claws stretched from ribs to hips on both sides. Dried blood caked his chest, abs and leather pants. His shoulder looked like fresh hamburger where the beast had chewed his flesh. No telling what his back looked like.

  “Seems he did want to play with his food,” Vischeral shrugged nonchalantly at his partner and stepped back as the truck door swung open.

  ~*~*~*~

  Chapter Ten

  ~*~*~*~

  Panic, fed by pure adrenaline, ran through Copi’s veins. “Shit!” His body trembled, causing him to reach out and grip the hardened leather of the steering wheel to stop the shakes. The only audible sound in the interior—the deafening beat of Copi’s heart hammering against the wall of his chest.

  What in God’s name was going on in Anchorage? Copi’s whole body jumped when something slammed against
the bloody mess of the driver’s side window.

  “Fuck!” He shouted. “What the hell?” His eyes widened at the sight of his partner.

  Resembling a victim from a blood and gore horror movie, Vischeral’s body was a mass of raking claw marks running down both sides of his muscular torso. Without a second thought, Copi nearly tore the door from its hinges to get out of the Hummer and tend to his partner. The sarcasm flew over his head as he studied the wounds up close.

  “Holy shit, Vish. We have to get you to a hos…,” his voice ground to a halt when his hand latched on to Vischeral’s arm and turned his partner forcibly to inspect the ravaged state of his back.

  “No fucking way. You or I can stitch this shit up.” Vischeral’s voice emerged a low unearthly growl, sending shock waves of fear and lust rippling through Copi’s already ramped up nervous system.

  Backing off slightly from the menace in Vischeral’s tone, Copi felt compelled…yeah…compelled to punch the sardonic motherfucker’s lights out and to kiss him at the same time! However, something about the way Vischeral had appeared from out of nowhere and lured the wolf away, and then returned unflinching and resembling a walking slab of raw steak screamed at Copi. Something wasn’t right. He didn’t know what, but there was a darkness in Vischeral that didn’t ring true. And, it was abundantly clear his partner was not doing the hospital bit.

  His scent, whatever the fuck it was, hung pungently in the air, so thick it saturated Copi’s senses until all he smelled or tasted was the dark erotic blend of vanilla and wood smoke. Breathing heavily, Copi fought the rising tide of emotion that always seemed to go hand in hand with Vischeral’s prominent scent and dominant mood. Given his partner’s current state, he clenched both of his fists and his jaw as he tried hard to keep his smart-ass remarks to himself.