Rules Are Meant to Be Broken

by N. J. Nielsen

  sepia and showing an older man, probably in his late

  forties, dressed in a very old fashioned tuxedo. The guy

  wore a large ring on the third finger of his right hand. The

  stone was similar to onyx or some other dark jewel. He

  stood proud and tal , with his hand resting upon a carved

  walking stick. The walking stick itself was quite exquisite.

  The handle was a dragon and the length of the stick itself

  was the tail. Turning the photo over, he read a name and

  date, Sebastian Proctulay — 1925. Michael turned it once

  more to study the man’s face.

  “Who are you?” Michael asked the empty room.

  The journal itself was written in a language he didn’t

  understand. It was more symbols then lettering. His memory

  ticked over and he tried to remember where he had once

  seen something like it before, something he couldn’t quite

  put his finger on. Concentrating, Michael closed his eyes

  trying to remember. Before he knew it, he had fal en asleep

  on the dusty mattress with the journal and photograph

  grasped firmly in his hands. His dreams were fil ed with a

  past which was not his own. Michael found himself face to

  face with Sebastian Proctulay, and he didn’t like that one

  damn bit.

  Michael thought Sebastian could see deep inside his

  soul. It was almost as if Sebastian were twisting, changing

  Michael’s very way of thinking. It was so intense. Every

  time Sebastian spoke, all Michael could do was shake his

  head. He didn’t want to hear anything that fell from his lips.

  It would be all lies. Michael knew if he listened, the people

  he loved would only end up getting hurt. Sebastian

  seemed to be angry with him for changing things. What

  things, he didn’t know. Yet, as strange as this was, he

  wasn’t afraid of him. Deep down, he knew Sebastian held

  no real power over him.

  § § § §

  Sebastian wondered why Michael fought him so much.

  Why did he keep chal enging him? Didn’t Michael know

  sooner or later he was going to win? Sebastian knew his

  plan could not fail.

  He hated that, since Michael had joined the family, they

  had started to behave more human again. His subtle

  commands were being shattered and swept away until

  nothing of him remained. He couldn’t al ow this to happen.

  In his heart he knew Christian needed to pay for his crimes.

  To be able to move on, Sebastian needed retribution for

  what Christian had done to him, even if it meant destroying

  them al .

  Taking out Christian’s family wasn’t going to be easy,

  but Sebastian knew there had to be a way both he and the

  Eldren could get what they wanted. He realised that he

  needed to give it some more thought. Hearing footsteps in

  the hal he cringed in distaste — the bitch was coming. Oh

  how he hated her.

  § § § §

  Disorientation hit Michael as he woke many hours later,

  more tired than when he went to sleep. In his hands he was

  stil holding the journal and photograph. Two thoughts ran

  through his mind: First, Ambrose Street meant “The Street

  of the Ever-Living.” How appropriate was that? Second, he

  was thirsty. So goddamn thirsty his throat burned with need.

  He hated knowing he would soon have to do something

  about it.

  While he descended from the attic to the silent house

  below, Michael thought about his dream and what it al

  meant. It was now dark and he felt hurt that everyone had

  left for the night. Why hadn’t they come to find him? It

  pissed him off a little. Was this their way of saying he didn’t

  matter enough to even worry about? The silent house felt

  strange, yet in a weird way he relished the peace and quiet.

  Stripping off, he walked to the bathroom and stood

  beneath the stinging heat of the shower. His mind drifted

  back to the little he knew of Sebastian. He wanted to know

  more about the man because the more he understood him,

  the better prepared he would be to face him when the time

  came. Somehow he had a feeling the answers were

  somewhere hidden in the attic. But before searching he

  needed to feed.

  Returning to his room he sorted through Christian’s

  clothing until he found something suitable to wear. Inhaling

  deeply, he sighed as he tasted Christian’s lingering scent

  in the air. It drove him crazy with want. Dressing, he left the

  top two buttons at his throat of the red dress shirt undone.

  Glancing at himself in the mirror he thought he would do. No

  use complaining; who would listen to him? He would just

  have to live with al his flaws. It was just a pity there were so

  damn many of them.

  § § § §

  The Keyhole was ful of life when Michael walked in

  through the door. So many unsuspecting people mil ing

  around, not even realizing what stood among them.

  Standing off to one side he watched. He hated the thought

  of harming any of these people, yet he knew he must. Even

  he knew he needed to build up his own strength, because

  when the time came he needed to be at his best, not weak

  because of his dislike of what he had become. Especial y if

  he was going to keep being shunned by his new family.

  Would they even stil want him in the house? If they kept

  ignoring him he might just have to strike out on his own;

  there was no sense in staying where he wasn’t wanted.

  Time would tel he supposed. His gaze roamed over the

  crowd searching for what he needed, for what would suit his

  purposes the most.

  A young man was staring at him from across the room.

  The guy couldn’t be any older than Michael himself. With a

  curt nod of his head Michael smiled, trying to be seductive,

  and waited for him to respond. Hopeful y he pul ed it off

  without looking like a complete idiot. A grin touched his lips

  as the stranger bowed with mock formality. Michael knew it

  wouldn’t be long before the young man would cross the

  room to join him. Someone was staring at him, he could

  feel their gaze boring into him, so Michael let his gaze

  wander. He was surprised to see Charm, Kerr, and

  Christian were sitting in the same booth he, Doyle, and

  Christian had once shared. It wasn’t long before he spotted

  Doyle walking toward the table carrying drinks. His

  attention focused back on Christian’s face — he seemed

  confused, hurt, and it made Michael’s heart ache.

  Tearing his eyes away from Christian he refocused on

  the approaching stranger. If he was going to do this then he

  was going to do it his way.

  “My name is Rhys. And you are?”

  Taking the offered hand Michael brought it to his lips.

  Rhys trembled in what Michael thought might be

  anticipation as his lips pressed to the back of the hand he

  held. Lust rushed through him when Rhys groaned as the tip

  of Michael’s tongue darted out to taste his skin. It was al so

  very intoxicating.

&n
bsp; “Michael,” he answered softly. It took al his wil power but

  Michael’s eyes never wavered from his face. This trusting

  guy was beautiful in his own way. Michael would have

  preferred a woman, but beggars couldn’t be choosers

  when his need for nourishment was this strong. He just

  didn’t like the family watching him. It felt kinda weird.

  “Would you care to dance or have a drink?” Rhys asked

  nervously.

  “Both.” He answered huskily, never relinquishing the

  hand as he led the way onto the dance floor. Humming

  along to the music, Michael pul ed Rhys in close. He

  breathed in deeply as the scent of warm blood drifted

  toward him. Soon. Rhys rested his cheek against Michael’s

  shoulder and his arms came up to wrap around Michael’s

  waist. It felt good and he couldn’t stop himself from

  wrapping himself further around Rhys’s body. It was so

  warm and vibrant.

  Grinding his teeth in anger, Christian watched the

  dancers on the floor. He knew Kerr hadn’t wanted to come

  to the Keyhole, but had been persuaded just so Christian

  would shut the hel up about it. At first, he was mildly

  surprised by Michael’s appearance, and was even more

  astonished by his choice of dance partners, seeing as he

  declared to the family he wasn’t gay. Now Christian was

  angry and confused. Hatred bit deep as he studied

  Michael’s dance partner. Was this also one who would also

  be al owed to remain alive? Earlier Christian had pointed

  out the drunk to Kerr. The man stil seemed to be perfectly

  healthy and positively human. Christian couldn’t take his

  eyes off Michael as a whole world of pain crashed through

  his soul. It hurt even more when at that exact moment

  Michael chose to look straight at him.

  “It seems our Michael has made a new friend,” Charm

  murmured in Kerr’s ear, “and such a pretty one.” Her

  fingertips brushed the back of his bald head. “Christian is

  going to get his heart broken tonight. What do you think?”

  Pretending not to listen, Christian was even more

  confused by this conversation than he was by watching

  Michael’s behaviour. Why was Charm tel ing Kerr his

  business and how did she know watching Michael hurt

  him?

  “Yes,” Kerr replied softly.

  For some strange reason Christian couldn’t dislodge the

  feeling that tonight there was something different about

  Michael — besides the fact he was wearing his clothes.

  Something didn’t seem right. Was it just in his imagination

  or was Michael pul ing away from the family? Pul ing away

  f r o m him? His concentration final y broke as Michael

  pressed his lips against the guy’s throat. Not wanting to see

  anymore, Christian stood up so fast he knocked the drinks

  out of Doyle’s hand. Trembling as hurt and anger waged a

  war inside him. Christian stared at Michael for but a second

  before he turned and walked away without saying a word to

  Charm, Doyle, or Kerr. He didn’t want to have to watch

  Michael like this. This was not something he needed in his

  life. He knew he was pissed at Michael but he wasn’t

  exactly sure why. It wasn’t as if Michael had ever declared

  undying love for him or anything.

  Doyle sat down in the seat that Christian had just

  vacated. He was mesmerised by the sight of Michael and

  the stranger he held in his arms. Turning he watched Charm

  and Kerr to see what they thought of it al .

  “Leave him be.” Charm’s grip tightened on the nape of

  Kerr’s neck as he went to fol ow Christian. She, on the other

  hand, was stil staring at Michael.

  Doyle returned his gaze to Michael, who in turn was

  watching Christian’s departure.

  He was only half listening as Charm continued talking.

  “They wil come together when and if the time is right. For

  now they must do what they wil . Michael stil doesn’t know

  who he truly desires.”

  Stunned, Doyle stared at her and wondered what the hel

  she was talking about. The dreams had told them al who

  Michael bloody desired.

  Kerr seemed to relax at her words. Doyle knew Charm

  was right even if what she said made absolutely no sense.

  He felt at a loss as to how much the family had changed

  since Michael had come to them. It felt like he was losing

  control of everything he held dear to him. The toughest

  times were yet to come and he wasn’t sure how long he

  was supposed to wait before he told them he knew who

  Michael’s third and greatest love would be. It felt a little

  weird tel ing them now, when Michael hadn’t even started

  the first relationship.

  Shaking his head, he sat back and watched Michael and

  tried to figure him out just a little bit more.

  § § § §

  Christian didn’t take much notice of his surroundings as

  he walked home; his mind was occupied by other more

  important things. He felt angry because Michael either

  didn’t know — or if he did didn’t acknowledge —

  Christian’s feelings for him. He realised maybe his feelings

  for Michael truly were one-sided. He just knew he couldn’t

  sit there and watch Michael anymore, couldn’t watch him be

  with someone else. What the hel did Michael think he was

  doing? If he was going to be gay then Michael could have

  least been gay with him. Not that Christian had ever been

  gay with anyone else, but he knew he would make an

  exception for Michael. Somehow it just made sense for him

  and Michael to be together. They shared a room and a bed

  for crying out loud.

  Al along the dreams had said Michael would love him. If

  it was true then why was he now back at the night club in

  someone else’s arms? How were they supposed to have a

  relationship when Michael was already lying to him?

  Straight my arse! He should just go straight back there and

  thump the pair of them. Michael and the fucking stupid

  hooker boy who was probably even right this second

  seducing Michael away from him. Laughing out loud at the

  stupidity of his messed up thoughts he startled a couple

  passing by.

  “What the hel are you looking at?” He demanded as they

  stared at him.

  Hurrying along, he stopped a few blocks over when he

  came upon a baby owlet that must have fal en from its

  perch. Staring up, he couldn’t see where it belonged.

  Helpless like it was, he didn’t want to leave it here to

  become the prey of something else. Picking it up and

  cradling the tiny trembling creature to his chest he hurried

  home. He realised it didn’t seem to be hurt as he gave it

  the once over when they were safely home. He grabbed the

  smal stepladder on his way past the laundry and took it to

  his room. It would do for a perch until he found something

  better. Leaving the baby bird huddled on the top tread,

  before heading back to the kitchen to find something to

  feed his new found friend. He s
miled when he saw his

  charge was exactly where he left him. “I think I wil cal you

  Drack. You look like a Drack to me. Do you like that name

  my pretty baby?” Christian said softly as he gently stroked

  the feeding bird. He was amazed the bird let him touch him

  at al .

  As he lay upon the bed Christian poured his heart out as

  he watched the glittering eyes of the owlet as it stared at

  him in the dark. “I don’t understand what he thinks he’s up

  to,” Christian spoke softly to the bird. “I mean, he could

  have at least asked me to dance. I wouldn’t have minded

  being in his arms… he’s in my clothes after al . It would

  have only been fair, don’t you think?”

  Sighing, Christian scratched his chest. “Now he’s just

  going to be covered in stink from the bloody stupid hooker

  boy he just picked up. We’l never get the smel out of the

  fricken bed.” The owlet shifted on the perch. “Stupid

  Michael … If he’s straight then I’l kiss my own arse. Or his, I

  don’t mind… Either way somebody’s arse should be

  kissed. What do you think?”

  § § § §

  As difficult as it was, Michael ignored Charm, Doyle, and

  Kerr. He knew they watched him from where they sat. Were

  they judging him? Honestly he didn’t care, except for the

  little nagging voice who told him Christian had never

  returned, and it was entirely his fault. Somehow he had hurt

  Christian. Brushing his doubts aside, his mind fil ed entirely

  with the thought of feeding.

  His gaze focused on Rhys’s face. He admired the way

  Rhys’s skin blushed under his touch. It made his scent so

  much stronger and so much more tantalising. His finger tips

  traced lightly over his cheek and his thumb caressed the

  corner of his mouth. He wanted Rhys to feel at ease. He

  wanted him to feel desirable. Most of al , he had to get Rhys

  to give him what he wanted — what he needed — without a

  fight.

  Reaching for his hand, Michael entwined their fingers as

  Rhys spoke against his ear, “We could go somewhere if

  you want; somewhere a little more private.” He sounded as

  if he didn’t expect Michael to agree so readily. Maybe he

  was imagining things but Rhys seemed slightly

  embarrassed as they left together. Michael thought maybe

  Rhys was stil deep inside the closet.