by M. D. Grimm
I shook my head. He led me out of the club. I took a deep breath of cool air when we stepped outside. Cassius kept walking, guiding me to the limo parked on the street.
“My motorcycle—”
“Won’t be disturbed, I promise.”
“Cassius…”
“Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
He stopped us at the limo and turned me to face him. He set his hands on my shoulders. I stared at his chest, remembering how he’d looked sword dancing. Now my stomach jittered for a whole other reason.
“I am quite well, thank you.”
He opened the back door for me himself even as the driver stepped out. “Are you hungry?”
I took a deep breath and ordered my heart to calm down. Oddly enough, my stomach began to grumble. And I just wasn’t ready to be alone yet. “Yeah, I could eat.”
We didn’t talk during the drive, for which I was thankful. Cassius sat close to me, his hand touching mine on the seat. Just that barest, innocent contact settled me, reminding me I wasn’t alone. I had a fierce predator on my side. Despite the show of aggression, I wasn’t afraid of him.
We walked into the Versailles, a trendy restaurant tucked away on Hollywood Boulevard. Despite the lack of garish exterior, it was a classy place inside, with two levels filled with gleaming white tables and chairs. Candles, chandeliers, and white roses offered light and ambience, and lightly played violins, coming from seemingly nowhere, sang through the air. I’d been in here only once, since it mostly catered to vampires and the occasional werewolf when the truce between them was strongest. Her Grace owned it, and while during the day it was for humans, at night it was for her own kind.
A few other vampires with their thralls were seated around us. It was a perfect place for vamps without thralls, or those who wanted to give their feedbags the night off.
The pristinely dressed vampire hostess seated us and I got a menu. It felt a little weird and kind of nice. Steak, fish, even sushi was offered. Wow, I could even have tacos.
Still not wanting to discuss the fight, I asked, “So you sing?”
“Occasionally,” he said. “When the mood strikes. I apologize for Justin’s rudeness.”
I shrugged. “Not the first time. Won’t be the last.”
He frowned. “It shouldn’t happen at all.”
“Well, that’s what I get for being a mortal among immortals. Comes with the territory.”
He still frowned.
“You want to split the check?” I said, seeking to change the subject.
“It’s my treat.”
“Oh. Um, I don’t know—”
“My treat, Vulcan.” His tone brooked no argument.
I didn’t know how I felt about this… except to tell myself, again and again, This is not a date. This is not a date….
“I have to ask,” I said after I ordered and our chipper waitress skipped off. “Were the Romans really as preoccupied with, um, intimate relations as history says they were?”
Cassius smirked, eyes gleaming in humor. I could see the amusement despite keeping my gaze firmly on his nose.
“We weren’t ashamed of being sexual. Shame came with Christianity. Our festivals were a fine time, such as the Bacchanalia and Saturnalia, and prostitution houses were aplenty. I wouldn’t say we were preoccupied, but sex certainly played an important role in society. Our favorite decorative items were phalluses.”
I had taken a sip of water and now coughed at the image. My face heated, and I used the pristine napkin to cover my mouth.
Cassius chuckled. “If you want to consider Rome with modern sensibilities, we were certainly the capital of perverts.”
I snorted into the napkin.
Then he changed the subject, demonstrating consideration that didn’t motivate many vampires. However, he also appeared to enjoy my discomfort, which proved he wasn’t perfect. Thank God he wasn’t perfect.
He talked about the armor and weapons he’d used in other wars, not for Rome, but for other peoples around the world. He mostly wore mail armor and breastplates when he rode with various groups of warriors, and favored the sword and lance. He even joined up with the Normans when they invaded Britain, though he’d only seen William the Conqueror from afar.
“Britain was one of those places Rome could never fully conquer,” he said with a self-conscious smile. “I wanted to be part of a group that would actually do what Rome couldn’t.”
He certainly jumped headfirst into battle after battle. And I bet he was even more drool-worthy in mail while he slashed and hacked at the enemy from the back of a horse. Damn, that was an image. I knew how fearless he was now that I’d seen him in action.
“Were there many nighttime battles?”
“More than what the history books say, that is for certain. I often led a small contingent of fellow vampires with me, and we raided enemy camps when needed.”
I propped my chin on my fist. “How did you travel from place to place considering the, you know, sun?”
He huffed a laugh. “I had my fair share of thralls. They were only too happy to transport me where I needed to go. People in that day were more willing to accept the paranormal. Or considering us as gods.”
“And they didn’t try to destroy you for being a demon?”
His smile was positively feral and a red sheen flashed over his blue eyes. “Some tried.”
My own eyes widened before I let out a nervous chuckle. All right then.
“I wish I could show you my memorabilia,” he said a little later, sipping blood from a wineglass. “But all my more delicate pieces are back in Italy, and I don’t have pictures of them all.”
Interesting how watching vampires drinking blood didn’t make me squeamish anymore.
“Too bad.”
Cassius searched my expression. “Do you travel?”
I shrugged. “Um… not really.” Is that an invitation? “I mean, I did in my early years, but that was for necessity.”
He tilted his head slightly. “Why was it necessary?”
I took a drink of water. “Crappy childhood. Leave it there.” My tone conveyed my desire not to continue.
Cassius narrowed his eyes slightly but didn’t push.
My food was delivered—a steak with all the trimmings—and my first bite was heavenly. I couldn’t stop the moan. “Oh my God. This has to be illegal.”
Cassius laughed.
Yeah, I should get him to laugh as often as possible.
Chapter Five
“Thank you, Vulcan. You are a lifesaver.”
I laughed and shook my head. “I’m hardly that.”
I shook Catherine’s hand and she grinned at me. She was the alpha female of the Red Moon werewolf pack that owned part of LA. She was tall and broad, her hair long and golden. She wore simple jeans and a T-shirt, her painted toes matching her thong sandals. It was broad daylight right outside her mansion, about four in the afternoon. I was exhausted by the lack of sleep over the last several days but that was what happened when I bit off more than I could chew.
Werewolves didn’t change with the moon. That was Hollywood bullshit. They were another subspecies of humans, but instead of having once been human and then changing, like vamps, they were ordinary humans that could take the form of wolves at will. They had slightly extended lifespans, but nowhere close to a vampire’s centuries.
“You are very welcome. Look, if Ricardo wants to renegotiate—”
“I’m sure I won’t,” Ricardo said when he stepped up behind Catherine. He was a high-powered producer currently in demand in Hollywood and had the sultry good looks of a model. Catherine hummed lightly and curled back into him when he put his arm around her waist. He nuzzled her temple for just a moment. It was nice to see a couple in genuine love. I quashed the small spurt of jealousy.
“Well, if you do,” I insisted, “call me. I want both of us to come away from this deal satisfied.”
He held out his hand, and I shook it. “You a
re truly gifted, Vulcan. And your contacts are priceless. You said it was Dain who put together that catalogue?”
As always, my heart quivered at my mentor’s name. I smiled and nodded. “I like to say that he’d forgotten more about weapons than I’ll ever know.”
“May he rest in peace,” Catherine said tenderly.
My hand curled into a fist before I could stop myself. I doubted he would rest until the bastard that killed him was in the ground. I squeezed the catalogue tighter against my chest.
“I want this production to be as historically accurate as possible,” Ricardo said.
I nodded. “Trust me, the historian I recommended knows more about the Crusades than the people in the Crusades.”
Catherine chuckled.
“I heard you outbid the vamp’s production company to get this film,” I said, grinning.
He didn’t smile but his eyes flashed with satisfaction. “I might have.”
“Some hard feelings on their end, I assume. Hopefully it doesn’t bite you in the ass.”
Ricardo snorted. “We take turns showing each other up. But our truce still holds. In fact, I would appreciate it if you could give this to the duchess.” He handed me a large, thick manila envelope. “I don’t know if she’s told you, but a small family of slayers from Montana has started to make a name for themselves. The Ashwoods.”
I tightened my grip on the envelope. “Who are they targeting?”
“Take your pick.” A slight growl colored his words.
Catherine stroked his chest despite her own expression growing hard. “Even the quiet ones, like the merfolk and trolls aren’t safe. They barely interact with humans, yet the Ashwoods have a vendetta against anything nonhuman.”
“If only they would be useful and rid us all of the ghouls,” Ricardo said.
His comment reminded me of the strange incident at La Rose. I hadn’t heard anything more about it but I suspected there was more to that attack. While I didn’t appreciate being kept in the dark, I figured it was one of those need-to-know situations. Cassius had been out of town for the past week with the duchess, attending to coven duties. He’d even texted me some pictures as they traveled along the East Coast, and I found it a sweet gesture. I thought the distance was best for both of us even if I found myself missing him. Especially as I worked on his sword.
Catherine met my gaze. “Watch yourself, Vulcan. I wouldn’t put it past those brutes to target our allies.”
“Especially for information,” Ricardo added.
I stared at both of them before tucking the envelope under my arm.
“You can trust me. I can handle myself.”
“See that you do,” Catherine said firmly, as if I was her child.
Ricardo smiled. “Drive safely.”
I nodded to them before walking down the steps to the curved drive where my motorcycle sat. I paused to take in their mansion, the large sweep of it, and considered the wealth it implied. I wouldn’t be comfortable in such a place. Despite having my own small fortune, I was a simple man at heart. I put on my helmet and soon zoomed down the drive, out the gate, and toward home.
Beverly Hills was so different during the day. It always threw me to see so many people out and about, getting in my way and scowling when I roared past them. I always imagined flipping the bird at some of the snooty celebrities, but I passed them too fast to indulge.
September in LA was still too warm for my taste and made me crave the cooler nights. The sun was damn harsh and hurt my eyes. Once I hit the main roads—and gridlock—my thoughts turned inward. It was hard to cater to both species without stepping on any toes or revealing something confidential about one to the other. Dain taught me well, but I’d always depended on him to guide me through such transactions. Once I found myself alone, I watched myself even closer. There’d been skirmishes between random individuals from Ricardo’s pack and some of the smaller covens in the past, but it was usually resolved quickly. Nobody wanted the human authorities involved. As soon as hardcore proof of the bloodsuckers and shape-shifters surfaced, as well as the other paranormal creatures, humanity wouldn’t stop until they were all destroyed and/or captured and dissected. No, humanity was the nuclear bomb the supernatural community wanted kept in the dark for as long as possible.
The packs and covens were like mob families that worked with each other as long as it benefited both, but as soon as that stopped, it could quickly turn aggressive. The current truce had held for decades, but no one knew what the future would bring.
I rode a few bumpers before finally being free to zoom up the roads to home, taking deep breaths of fresh air. After locking up my bike, I headed straight to the bedroom. I needed a nap. I’d been working on Cassius’s sword most of the days and nights since his departure as well as seeing to the normal routines of life, and now Ricardo’s consultation. I was exhausted, and I promised to meet Cassius at La Rose around midnight. He’d returned the night before. If I was going to banter with a vamp I was starting to like way too much, I needed all my wits about me. It was a constant mission to keep my damn dick from doing more than twitch.
After stripping down to my boxer briefs, I slid into bed with a sigh and dropped into sleep.
The dream started not long after that.
“You know why you got no friends?” my father asks before belching. Not even four in the afternoon and already smelling like a seedy bar. I come home from school, and he immediately lays into me. I’ve heard it all before. I know I’ll hear it again tomorrow. And the next day. And the next.
“You got no friends,” he continues, “because yer a rat!” He laughs at his own joke before coughing, snorting, then wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He takes another drag of his cigarette.
I curl my lip at him.
“Get me another beer, Rat,” he says.
I don’t think he’s ever used my actual name, the name on my birth certificate. He’s only ever called me Rat. Or some other derogatory name.
I step into the kitchen, which is only clean because I clean it, and get his damn beer. I carry it over to him. I think he might actually be glued to his damn recliner since I found him sleeping in it this morning as I left for school. But he had to have moved since he was drunk, a perpetual state for him. The TV is on, and I don’t need to look at the screen to know what he’s watching. Fox News. It’s either Fox News or sports. He doesn’t have a job right now; we’re living off the government. He berates those who mooch off the government. Hypocrite.
I set the beer on the table next to him and begin to turn away. But he grabs my wrist cruelly, and I wince. He yanks me down so I’m forced to stare into his bloodshot eyes. His rank breath forces me to hold my own.
“You think yer better than me, Rat?” he says, snarling at me. “You think ’cause ya go to school and sit in a fucking classroom, yer going to make somethin’ of yourself? You won’t, Rat. You won’t. Yer not worth anything. Just a waste of my money, eatin’ me outta house an’ home.”
“Since you only buy beer for yourself, I find that hard to believe,” I say before I can stop myself.
I see the hand coming. I don’t even try to stop it anymore. What’s the point? He’s bigger than me, so much bigger and stronger than me. I’m a stick figure because of my mom’s DNA and a nonexistent diet.
He slaps my face, and the impact causes me to stumble. But he doesn’t loosen his grip on my wrist, so my arm is wrenched painfully. Then he does let me go, shoving me away from him. I fall to the floor, hissing in air between my teeth.
“You think that’s funny, you little shit?” He heaves his girth out of the chair and stands over me.
My heart races and my breaths come short as I stare up at him.
“I’ll show you funny.” He kicks my ribs.
I cry out.
He kicks again. I curl up into a ball as he proceeds to use his feet and fists on me, amazingly coordinated for someone hammered.
I jerked awake, heart pounding, sweat soa
king my sheets, and stared at the ceiling, gasping for breath. Rubbing my hands over my face, I sat up. When I worked myself to the point of exhaustion, that was what happened. I would relive it all. I would relive my time with him. My fucking asshole abusive, alcoholic father who so enjoyed using me as a punching bag, both with his fists and his words.
Shaking and hating my weakness, I managed to stumble to the bathroom and yanked off my underwear before turning the shower on as hot as I could stand. I stood under it and closed my eyes, trying to wash it all away. He would say that a lot… call me Rat, say I was worthless, a waste of space. The name on my birth certificate was my mom’s favorite name, which was probably why he never used it. All the bitterness he had toward the world he dumped on my head.
My mother died in childbirth. He blamed me. My mother’s sister had cared for me as best she could, sharing custody with my father, but then she died when I was five. I barely remembered her. Beginning of story.
I ran away at sixteen. The next year I learned he died in the gutter after leaving his favorite bar. End of story.
That was then; this is now; get over it.
I felt halfway decent when I stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. Then I peered into the foggy mirror after wiping away the moisture. I turned my head to the left, then the right, staring critically at my face. Narrow and angular, with a nose slightly too long and brown eyes slightly too big. Brown hair I kept ruthlessly short because it tended to curl psychotically if it grew long.
My cell alerted me to a text. I glanced at the clock on my wall. It was ten. I walked out of the bathroom and to my phone where it lay on the floor, still in my pants pocket. I took it out and looked.
Are we still on? I can send the limousine for you.
I smiled. I liked that he spelled out the words, even freaking “limousine.” Texting encouraged misspelling and shortcuts. My thumbs hovered over the screen, and I was seconds away from responding. Then I froze, and my smile slipped.
What was I doing? Seriously, what the fuck was I doing? Getting a crush on a vampire, looking and thinking about him in ways I had no right to look and think. There wasn’t a chance in hell for anything to come of this association, and what the hell was I trying to accomplish? What was I doing with Cassius? What was he doing? What the fuck did he want from me? I was pathetic for even imagining something between us. A spark, a vibe, whatever romantics called it.
