Crimson Ties

by V L Moon

  “You’re an asshole,” Copi bit out.

  “Got to maintain the reputation. Now, if we’re done communicating, Put. The. Bastard. In. Cuffs.” Vischeral ground out.

  Copi gave in on the battle of wills and slid a hand between the leather trench coat and Vischeral’s body. His fingers trailed across the low riding waistline of Vischeral’s jeans and unclipped the handcuffs fastened to the buckle. Vischeral’s breathing hitched very slightly when Copi’s fingers accidently brushed against his ass. Awareness zinged through Copi far stronger than any response Roan had elicited. Deliberately, he dropped his hand so it grazed the firm mound of Vischeral’s ass again. A wave of heat pulsed between them.

  Roan bucked in Vischeral’s grip and spat curses. Copi backed away fumbling with the handcuffs. Fear lurked in the barkeep’s eyes, but he regarded Copi with a nonchalant grin. When Copi yanked one of the man’s hands around to lock the steel around his wrist, Roan laughed, but the sound was so low he almost growled. He sneered and exposed razor sharp teeth jutting from his gums.

  Vischeral backhanded Roan so hard, blood spattered across the shiny polished surface of the bar. The few customers still in attendance slowly backed toward the exit fearful of a fight.

  “He will eat you, and leave your gutted remains for your boyfriend to pick through,” Roan muttered, his eyes locked on Copi. Blood rushed to Copi’s cheeks. Was he so transparent? Did everyone know he harbored lustful thoughts for his partner? He swallowed hard. The gulp sounded deafening in his ears. “That’s right, detective. Be afraid, because he’s coming for you.”

  Roan’s head imitated a basketball and bounced off the bar courtesy of Vischeral’s bounce pass. Vischeral leaned in and went face to face with the man. The blood leeched from Roan’s face and stark terror contorted his features as he stared into Vischeral’s face. Blocked by wide shoulders, Copi couldn’t see anything, and if his partner spoke it was far too low for him to hear. Roan whimpered and the acidic taint of urine wafted to Copi’s nose. Holy Fuck! Vischeral literally scared the piss out of the man.

  Vischeral returned to his full height and thrust Roan toward him. Any semblance of pity for the barkeep dissipated. The man assisted in the murders of dozens of people. He deserved whatever Vischeral dished out. Clicking the second cuff shut around his remaining wrist, Copi shot a glare straight at his partner.

  “As soon as the goon squad picks this fucker up, we head out. My place first, drop site second. I want this shit solved. And then, you’re going to want to talk while I listen,” he said. He twisted around to put space between them, but maniacal laughter from Roan stopped him in his tracks. He swiveled back around.

  “You were promised to me. You belong to me, never to him.” Roan whined. “You would have made such a beautiful….” Roan's words cut short when Vischeral ploughed his head against the bar again. Anger virtually flowed off of his partner. It slid over Copi’s skin like molasses, all smooth, dark and enticingly sweet. How the fuck did he keep doing that?

  Shaking off the intoxicating effect, he leaned in totally unconcerned by Roan’s pathetic threats. “No fucker owns me, you got that? No. One.” Copi glared at Vischeral, hoping the male was picking up what he was putting down. The sound of cars skidding, doors slamming and pounding footsteps alerted them the cavalry had arrived. Copi left Vischeral to do his thing; he was in no fucking mood for the beat cops or their prejudice.

  After the perp was handed over to the uniforms, he and Vischeral climbed into the Hummer. He glanced up and down the street and glared at his partner. “How the hell did you get here?” he asked.

  “Immaterial,” Vischeral bit out. “Let’s go before the fuckers at WST screw up our crime scene,” Vischeral said while fitting the seat belt across his middle.

  “You really are an asshole,” Copi muttered.

  “Get used to it, partner.”

  The drive to Copi's house passed in tense silence. Copi debated lowering the window and letting the chilled air sweep across his face. Hell, maybe if he stuck his head out of the window it would numb his motherfucking brain. Touching his partner had been a fucking big mistake. His entire body trembled with the need to continue that adventure. By the time they arrived, he was strung tighter than a bow string. He sprang from the Hummer before it was fully stopped and almost sprinted for the front door.

  Alone in the bedroom away from Vischeral’s domineering presence, he made short work of changing into clothes that fit. He gathered his partner’s clothes pretending not to see the tee shirt balled up on his pillow. He’d made numerous trips home with Bourne in tow to retrieve clothes; however, he couldn’t bring himself to return the ordinary black cotton shirt. With an oath, he slammed from the bedroom and stomped to the living room where Vischeral waited. His partner stood at the big windows overlooking the back of the property. His eyes constantly swept along the solid wall of glass searching the shadows like it was his God damned sacred duty to keep Copi out of harm’s way.

  Striding across to the bar, Copi grabbed a tumbler and emptied the last of the Jack. He tossed it back, and its warmth spread, mellowing his insides a bit.

  “Are you going to stand fucking guard all night, or are we going to catch a fucking wolf? We have its owner, and if he’s not there at feeding time; maybe it might be hungry enough to take some bait. Roan seems to think the fucker has a taste for me.”

  Like a tornadic wind gusting through the room, Vischeral spun. Before he could blink, the man loomed over him, a mountain of muscle and icy fury. He backed Copi into the bar, and his massive body crushed so tight against Copi he felt every twitch of muscle. A riptide of desire roared through Copi, demanding a response. His cock twitched and started to swell. He tried to twist away, but even as fit and muscular as he was, he failed to budge his partner’s power house frame.

  Vischeral’s gaze raked over his face, but when those obsidian eyes rose to meet Copi's amber glare, he faltered. Copi’s mouth went dry at what he saw in the bottomless depths. Need flared in his partner’s eyes. Gone was the sardonic glare and feral sneer, and in its place lurked something different; a warmth Copi had never seen in Bourne’s eyes.

  His heart pounded against his chest when Vischeral's hands smoothed up the sides of his arms. Vischeral’s head lowered, and his lips brushed Copi's ear. His breath was hot and sweet against Copi’s neck. The same heady mix of his scent and overpowering eroticism flashed Copi back to his dream; the alley in New York where Vischeral pinned him against the wall. The mere thought of what came next nearly sent Copi over the edge.

  Vischeral stilled for a moment, and then his chest expanded as he inhaled strongly. A low growl rumbled into the room. Sensuously, he stroked his nose up the column of Copi’s throat. Surrounded by his dream lover and lost to sensation, Copi panted, burying his face in his partner’s hair. He breathed in Vischeral’s incredible scent. Undiluted lust spasmed in his loins. Vischeral responded to his arousal by grinding against Copi's hard dick. The heat of his slick, wet tongue licked up over Copi’s pulsing vein.

  “I can smell his scent all over your skin,” Vischeral murmured, his voice deep and low. It shook Copi to his core. Tremors of fear knotted in Copi's gut at the thought of the fangs he’d seen in his dream, but he stayed in place. He needed the closeness, craved the heat between them like a drug he refused to give up.

  “I can smell your fear, your lust. The wolf will smell it too. The perfect bait as the wolf has chosen you,” Vischeral continued. Copi froze as the impact of Vischeral's announcement sank in. He knew without a doubt his time was probably up. Until Vischeral spoke again.

  “I won’t let him have you.” Determination colored his partner’s voice, and Copi swore he heard him mutter ‘because you are mine,’ but the man twisted away from him as fast as he’d trapped him. The front door crashed open and Vischeral disappeared into the darkness outside.

  “We have a body to visit, and then a wolf to catch. Get your ass moving.” He flung back over his shoulder.

  Wit
h a shaky breath, Copi followed him.

  ~*~*~*~

  Driving through the empty streets of Anchorage, Vischeral fought to quell the hunger gnawing at his gut. The need for blood threatened to consume him. Locked in the Hummer with Copi, his will power was pushed to its absolute limits. He’d very nearly given in back at Copi’s house and that terrified him. If he lost control, if he hurt Copi, he’d never forgive himself. Added to the blood lust, the sexual tension thrumming along his nerve endings forced him to consciously hold in the change. The vampire wanted out and wanted Copi. His brutal nature was incensed the wolf dared try to claim what belonged to him. The wolf’s musk on Copi’s skin inflamed the vampire within. Darklon wouldn’t be so impressed with him if he could see how he struggled to contain his urges.

  Beside him, Copi squirmed in his seat never seeming to get comfortable. Vischeral knew the bond siphoned his own need into the man calling forth a strong response from Copi. The evidence bulged in Copi's lap, and the pheromones danced in the air around them. It couldn't be helped.

  Once established, the bond formed a link only the other's death would break. If Copi were aware of the link, he could, with practice, dampen the effects. Vischeral had no intention of having that conversation any time soon. On the flip side, if the blood lust wasn’t riding him so hard, Vischeral could dial down the effects. But for now, the male would just have to suffer right along with him.

  He couldn't risk telling his partner his secret, especially not with the wolf targeting him. He swerved around a curve a little to fast and fought the wheel. The heavy four wheel drive hugged the road. As the SUV straightened out, he caught the stink of death despite the miles still separating them and the sealed windows.

  The scent of blood hung heavy in the air heightening his hunger. His fangs slid through his gums forcing him to turn his head away. For his sanity and Copi's safety, Vischeral paced his breathing, one breath every mile. He prayed Copi didn’t notice, but the male appeared fascinated with the darkness outside the passenger window.

  At last, the flashing blue and white lights came into view and shortly thereafter the yellow crime scene tape. It twisted in the wind along the side of the road. The wolf hadn't bothered to hide the body; instead, he’d left it where it would be easily found.

  As soon as he put the SUV in park, Copi bolted from the passenger side. The smells battered against Vischeral simultaneously—blood, death, wolf and Copi's arousal. A snarl rumbled from his throat. “Get yourself under control you fucking dumbass,” he growled to the empty truck.

  Dropping his chin to his chest, he closed his eyes and dredged up an image of Darklon; the sadistic sneer on his face and the cat-o-nine tails in his hand. Raw hatred clawed up from the pit buried deep in Vischeral's gut. He let the hatred spread, freezing the hunger and need. When he had himself under some semblance of control, he swung the door open and slipped fluidly from the vehicle. His glacial gaze swept the area until he found his partner.

  Ignoring the WST officers, he strode to where Copi squatted beside the body. “Same slash marks as the other victims. Definitely our guy. Has the forensic team swept the area?” Copi bulleted the question at the officer hovering over his shoulder. Looking up, the officer's face went slack when his gaze met Vischeral's black stare. He swallowed convulsively. Fear expanded his pupils. Vischeral smiled menacingly, careful to keep his fangs covered. Copi glanced up when he received no response and cursed.

  “Oh for fuck's sake! Vischeral, stop looking at the kid like he's lunch. And you,” he pointed at the uniformed officer. “Answer my question.” Copi's comment snapped Vischeral back from the brink. His focus switched to Copi. He had been considering the kid as an appetizer, but how the fuck did his partner know that? Was the dream triggering memories?

  Vischeral glanced around surreptitiously. Besides Copi, there were only three other officers present. He could take a little from all of them and do a group mind wipe. There was one problem. He'd promised Copi not to dabble with his memories ever again. Blinking, he forced his gaze away from the patrolman and lifted his nose to the breeze taking little note of the snowflakes that hit his skin and melted.

  He knew the kill had not occurred at that particular spot. Though the ground sported a wash of blood, there wasn't enough present to be the actual kill site. He sniffed the air again, and his eyes narrowed. The wolf's scent led off to the right.

  Skirting Copi's stooped figure, he ducked under the yellow plastic boundary and followed his nose. A dozen yards away, he stepped off the path into the wooded area. The scent was maybe a half a day old. He easily followed the wolf's markers through the scattering of trees and underbrush. Blood dotted a winding path even an amateur could pick up. It gave Vischeral pause, and he scanned every shadow before taking each step. The wolf hadn’t had much time to rig up a trap, but he couldn't underestimate the bastard's intelligence. With Copi on scene, he couldn’t afford to get tangled up in a trap either.

  After a mile or two, the trees thinned and a rocky formation rose up before him. Just fucking great. Vischeral glanced behind him and then ahead. He sensed Copi, but attributed it to the bond. No hint of danger or fear leaked through their connection. Copi was safe among the other officers.

  He turned his attention back to the looming pile of stone. A frown darkened his face. When the fuck had it started snowing so hard? A white blanket covered the rocks ahead of him. He’d been concentrating so hard on the musky trail; he’d failed to notice the weather had shifted. The snow was quickly building up. He scented the air again. On top of the wolf's musk, he caught the bitter bite of a coming blizzard. Exactly what they didn't need, the snow would obliterate the blood trail. He debated returning to the drop site, but decided to push on ahead. He could transport himself back to the SUV.

  Looking up the face of the rocks, he took off. In the blink of an eye, his enhanced speed delivered him to within feet of the summit and right to the entrance of a cave. Fuck! Dropping to a crouch, Vischeral carefully sniffed the air. Separating each scent, he closed his eyes to concentrate. Finally satisfied the markers were old, he stood slowly and crossed into the dark entrance of the cave. His extrasensory abilities determined the cave was much bigger than he would have thought. Cautiously, he eased down the narrow corridor five, ten then twenty yards. A slight draft brushed over his skin, and he paused and then inhaled. Blood. Lots of it.

  Free of prying eyes, he let the change take over. Scent, sights and emotion swamped his senses. Evil lurked in the cave and reigned over the fear and death that clogged his nose. Chills raced along his skin as he strode deeper into the cavern. The glow of his eyes lit up the blood spatter painting the walls. Vischeral's gut churned. All of the victims had been killed here. And there were more out there; victims they hadn't found.

  Overcome by the smell, Vischeral's lower jaw unhinged allowing his fangs to lengthen further. Clenching his fists, he fought the beast as he circumvented the room cataloguing the bones and the mauled and decaying organs and body parts. They had all suffered terribly at the monster's claws. Vischeral could even now smell their pain, their fear.

  He knelt beside a small skeleton. A child, maybe six or seven, dead for a month or two and completely devoured, even the bones licked clean before being perfectly arranged, possible for his benefit. Rage burned in his chest. The bastard had to be stopped. Fuck the human guidelines and policies. Vischeral covered the small set of bones with his large leather coat before he surged back to his feet.

  A scrabbling sound caught his attention near the entrance. He spun cloaking himself in the shadows. A growl of frustration throbbed in his throat when Copi, flashlight in hand, stumbled in through the narrow entry.

  “Vish. You here man?” Copi called.

  Vish? What the hell, and was that worry in his voice?

  “Holy fuck!” Vischeral's thoughts were cut off by Copi's curse. He'd spotted the carnage. When the flashlight swept the room, Vischeral dropped the cloaking so Copi could see him. He didn't blink in the glar
e of the light, but he did step forward.

  “You shouldn't be here. You were safe back at the crime scene…” Vischeral growled.

  Copi cut him off. “Safe? I was fucking safe? You're my damn partner, you asshole. You walked off alone in the woods where a known killer is roaming around. It's my fucking job to come after you.” Before Vischeral could answer a rumble sounded deep within the rock. The ground shook and the roof above Copi’s head cracked. A fissure snaked along the ceiling. Vischeral saw the rocks break loose directly over Copi. A fucking trap after all. Flashing across the room, he wrapped his larger body around Copi and locked his arms seconds before the falling stones hit.

  ~*~*~*~

  Chapter Nineteen

  ~*~*~*~

  Dust and debris filled the air around them as the cave imploded scattering human remains, blood and bone in every direction. The cave-in buried massive amounts of evidence under a concrete tomb, but more than that, it sealed Copi and Vischeral within the cavern. Shielded from the onslaught by his partner’s body, Copi lay within the enveloping embrace of Vischeral's arms.

  As the earth settled around them, Copi tried to breath, but Vischeral’s weight combined with the rubble and remains made the simplest of movements feel like a knife in his chest. Added to the fact, Copi's body responded to the closeness of his partner's hard firm body despite the gravity of the situation. It drove him to distraction. He forced his lust away and concentrated on the man sprawled over him. Was Vischeral breathing? Was he hurt? Fucking hell. His partner had protected him, likely saved his life and all he could think about was the heat emanating from the heavily muscled man stretched out on top of him.