Shave & Shimmer

by Alex Carreras

“No matter how hard I try, the image of Obediah reaching into James’s chest and tearing out his heart I can never forget.”

  “No, no, I suspect that horrific sight would be burned into your mind’s eye for eternity. I’m sorry.”

  Tory felt the need to apologize but wasn’t sure why, exactly. Tory was sorry for Ray’s pain, and for the injustice life had brought him. Tory had felt it, too, but not to the extent Ray had. “Do you know whatever happened to Obediah Monroe?” Tory asked.

  “For the longest time I stalked him, knew his every movement, what people he chose to spend time with. I tried my best to ruin him, but that proved impossible. Obediah was too powerful, socially and physically. When he finally lost his patience, he almost killed me. I can still feel his fists crushing into my cheekbones, his fingers strangling my larynx. He should’ve left me for dead, and for a long while after, I wished he had.”

  “Jesus,” was all Tory could say.

  Ray continued. “But as you can see, he left me in a state of limbo, heartbroken, which I suspect Obediah knew was a fate worse than death. He’s a cold-blooded bastard.”

  “I’d hate to meet this vampire. He sounds beyond terrible.”

  “You have.”

  Tory tripped in the sand and stumbled forward before Ray swooped him into his capable arms. “Did you just say that I have met Obediah Monroe?” Tory choked on the words, his face inches from Ray’s. “How? When? Where?”

  “He’s a client at Everlasting.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Tory wasn’t sure if he heard Ray right. “Everlasting?” he repeated back, now able to stand on his own.

  “That’s what I said.”

  “You can’t be right,” Tory challenged. “It’s not like Obediah is a name you toss around every day.”

  “I saw him sitting in Jerrod’s chair a few weeks back. I was standing on the street enjoying the cool night air while I was waiting on a client, and there he was. It’s not a face I’m likely to forget.”

  “That’s true.”

  “I left Sangre that night. I risked getting burned by daylight. I didn’t care. I just had to leave.”

  Tory raked his fingers through his hair, fear gripping him. “Do you think that Obediah knows you’re here, that that is the reason he’s here? Or do you think it’s a coincidence?”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences. Do you?”

  Tory cocked his head, thinking. “No. Not really.”

  “To answer your question, I don’t know why he’s here. I suspect he could be passing through. He could also be here to see how I’ve been, checking up on my misery, or finally feels the need to finish me off and eat my heart like he did poor James’s.”

  “Let’s hope that’s not the case.” Tory dared say what leaped into his mind. “We can’t wait for him to make the first move, hunt you like a wild animal. No, sir.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “If he’s a client of the salon, I have access to his home address.”

  Ray lifted his hands, palms out. “No way. I don’t want you involved in this. This is my fight, not yours.” He exhaled hard. “I don’t even know if this is a fight. Brother this is messed up.”

  “Really messed up.” Tory was never good at sugarcoating. “I’d really hate to be in your shoes, but I’ll do whatever it takes to help.”

  “Being here and listening is help enough. I don’t have many friends in Sangre, but I’d like you to be one.”

  Ray seems so fragile, Tory thought, a vast contrast from his strong exterior. “I’d like that very much,” he replied.

  Tory turned and looked out at the Gulf, thinking. “There must be something we can do to find out Obediah’s motives.” Then it hit him. “The Blood Ball!”

  “The huh whatta?”

  Tory spun and looked directly at Ray, on the brink of hyperventilating. “It’s a huge social event. The event of the season.”

  “Okay, and how does that affect us?”

  “Anybody who’s anybody in Sangre will be there. It’s for a great cause, all proceeds benefitting the Greater Sangre Blood Bank. The staff at Everlasting is going. Jerrod’s client, Madame Anoushka is the chairwoman every year and has a wry sense of humor. They go back centuries. Personally, I don’t see how he can stand that Ice Queen.” He shuddered. “You can feel the chill emanating off her from a mile away.”

  “And you think Obediah will be invited?”

  “If he’s as well-connected as you say he is, absolutely.”

  “He is in Washington, but I’m not sure about Sangre.”

  “Take it from me, if he’s a somebody from anywhere, he’ll be at the Blood Ball.”

  “Obediah was always a peacock,” Ray said, “and he does enjoy being on the highest rung of the social ladder.”

  “Well then, he’ll be there,” Tory said. “But just in case I’m wrong, I’ll ask Jerrod if he knows Obediah. Try to get the 4-1-1 out of the tight-lipped vampire, which I suspect will not be an easy job. That immortal will carry many secrets to his grave.”

  “Jerrod’s one sharp dude. Won’t he see right through you?”

  “More than likely.” Tory started to walk slowly, wet sand under his feet. “If he does I will have to come clean. Would you mind if I told him the truth?”

  Ray was silent for a few strides. “If you’re faced with that decision, I trust your judgment. You appear to not only have an attractive head on your shoulders but a smart one too.”

  If Tory were prone to blushing, he would have. “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll try my best not to be too forthcoming.”

  Tory felt the weight of Ray’s arm drape across his shoulders. The rush of blood sounded in his ears, drowning out the softly lapping waves. Suddenly, he grew nervous . . . and suddenly Tory simply grew, his underwear beginning to feel the strain. “You know when you asked me to be your friend?”

  “Yeah?” Ray pulled Tory closer, shielding him from the breeze that had kicked up, blowing off the water.

  “I’d like to be more than your friend. It doesn’t have to be now, but maybe someday.”

  In a heated rush, Ray’s lips sealed over Tory’s. Tory was lost in the feeling, in their shared mutual need for contact. Tory’s mind floated over the beach, over the water as if he had sprouted wings, soaring in delight. Lust coursed between them, love tugging on the outer fringes of Tory’s consciousness. Ray’s hands swept over Tory’s willing body, exciting him even more. “I want you to never stop,” Tory said. “I want to feel like this forever.”

  Coaxing him onto the sand, Ray tugged Tory to lie beside him. “You help me forget the pain,” Ray admitted angling over Tory. “Where have you been for the last century?” Ray peppered kisses over Tory’s forehead and trailed to his cheeks. “If I’d found you earlier, who knows how things could’ve turned out.”

  “The important thing is, we have found each other now.” Tory’s heart raced with possibilities of a new relationship, something he’d dreamed of for some time.

  Ray’s hands tore at Tory’s belt in a fevered frenzy, unfastening it. “I want to feel you in my mouth,” Ray said, his voice ragged with lust, “to taste your juices deep in my throat.”

  Tory helped move things along by wriggling free of his jeans, which had gone damp from the night sea air, pushing them past his knees as fast as he could. Who am I to get in the way of a man’s desire?

  “That’s better,” Ray said gazing down at Tory’s exposed cock. “You. Are. Beautiful.”

  Taking him by the root, Ray applied the perfect amount of pressure and guided Tory into his mouth.

  A strangled groan escaped Tory’s lips as Ray manipulated his lips over Tory’s throbbing shaft and cockhead. Tory had had his share of oral sex, but Ray excelled where others proved mediocre. Ray did something with his tongue that left Tory wondering . . . and begging for more. “Yes, oh, yes, oh, yes.” The words tumbled from his parted lips. Was he sounding desperate? Tory asked himself. But if truth be told, at this very second, Tory was des
perate.

  Over and over, Ray’s skillful manipulations drove Tory toward ecstasy. He wanted to hold back his orgasm, to experience such pleasure for as long as he could, but Ray was too good. In a heated rush, Tory signaled his release with a guttural groan that tore right through him, unloading his juice into Ray’s willing mouth. Slurps and moans of pleasure filled Tory’s ears as the waves of orgasm wracked his body. When his heartbeat finally slowed to a normal pace, Tory managed to say, “Thank you. You don’t know how much I needed that.”

  “Funny,” Ray said. “That’s what I was about to say.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Tory rushed into Everlasting, breathless.

  Asher was sweeping the floor, collecting hair that was left from the night before. He looked up. “What’s with you?”

  “Is Jerrod here yet?” Tory asked, heading straight for the appointment book. He flipped the pages back a few weeks and started perusing the columns for Obediah Monroe or anything vaguely similar.

  “He’s not here. You know how he enjoys making an entrance.”

  “Speaking of making an entrance, do you plan on attending the Blood Ball this weekend?”

  “What kind of question is that?” Asher scoffed. “Yesterday I dug out my custom-tailored cape I had made in France over two hundred years ago in preparation for the big event.” He sighed. “They don’t have tailors like they used to. Pity.”

  “We wear jeans now, not capes,” Tory said. “You don’t need them to be custom made. There’s a fit for every size and a GAP on every corner.”

  “You know, sometimes you do take the fun out of things.”

  “Who has time for fun?” Tory returned. “I’m on a mission.”

  “I’m afraid to ask,” Asher said under his breath.

  Tory filled Asher in as quickly as he could before Jerrod arrived, leaving out some of the more intimate details of last night’s events.

  “Wow,” Asher replied. “First off, I’m happy you two finally talked it out and got together.”

  “Me too.” Tory couldn’t help but smile. “Ray’s great, and I really want us to work out.”

  “I do too, but we have to figure out this Obediah business first.” Asher rushed over, propped the broom on the desk and booted up the computer. “This whole predicament is very troublesome.”

  They watched as the computer came to life. Asher’s hands flew over the keyboard as he entered James’s killer’s name. “Nothing. No record at all for even the last name Monroe,” Asher exclaimed, disappointment in his voice. “Where do we go from here?”

  “I didn’t find anything in the appointment book either, at least not under Obediah Monroe.”

  “Why would he change his name or not use it to make a hair appointment?” Asher questioned.

  “Because he’s a killer and doesn’t want to be found.”

  “But if he did want to kill Ray, why wouldn’t he just do it?”

  Tory shrugged his shoulders. “Enjoys the cat and mouse of it all,” he mused. “To do what he did to Ray and James, Obediah Monroe has to be a sadistic bastard.”

  “I’ll say,” Asher agreed. “You know what’s bothering me? That he was here in this salon. We probably greeted him with a smile, treated him like he wasn’t a sick bastard.”

  “How many times has he been here? One. Five times.” Tory shook his head. “More?”

  “Gives me the creeps just thinking about it.”

  Tory closed the appointment book. “I have no choice but to tell Jerrod. I didn’t want to get him mixed up in my drama, but I don’t see any other way.”

  “What if they’re friends?”

  “I guess it will make him reconsider his friendship.”

  “Jerrod would want to know.”

  “Know what?” Jerrod asked standing in the center of the salon.

  Tory and Asher jumped.

  “We need a bell for that door,” Asher exclaimed. “If I wasn’t already dead, you would’ve given me a heart attack.”

  “Don’t change the subject.” Jerrod’s expression was impatient.

  Tory trod carefully. “We have reason to believe that you have a client who is a killer.”

  “We are all killers,” Jerrod reminded.

  “Yes,” Tory replied. “But this one murdered another vampire in cold blood. He tore his heart out and fed on it while his lover watched.”

  Jerrod pursed his lips. “Well, that is particularly heinous.”

  “Ray was the one who saw his lover die right in front of his eyes. He also saw the vampire in question sitting in your chair through this very window.”

  “I’ve been thinking about covering that window with some blinds or a shade or something.”

  “This isn’t funny, Jerrod.”

  “Do you see me laughing?” Jerrod paused. “What is the client’s name?”

  “Obediah Monroe.”

  “I don’t recall that name. It’s very unique and dated.” Jerrod started to walk the length of the floor, each step slow and methodical. “Now that I think about it, this name sounds vaguely familiar.” His heels struck the floor. A look of recognition flashed in his eyes. “Obediah is Oliver Moore. He’s Madame Anoushka’s cousin, although a distant one.”

  Tory and Asher released a collective moan.

  Jerrod continued. “Recently moved to Sangre. Seems quite the gentleman. Attractive too.”

  “I do remember now,” Asher shared. “He’s the male version of her. Tall, blond, good body, quite the imposing figure. Pretty darn hot, really.”

  “I didn’t see this coming.” Tory felt defeated before he even began. “We can’t confront him the night of the Blood Ball if he’s the chairwoman’s cousin, no matter how distant.”

  “Who is we?” Jerrod wasn’t pleased. “I’m sorry this happened to your friend, but this is not your fight. I know this is falling on deaf ears, but I’m going to say it anyway, please do not get involved. Please.”

  “Uh-oh,” Asher said, eyeing Tory. “You know he’s serious when he says please.”

  “Nothing good is going to come of this, but I beg of you do not confront Oliver or Obediah or whoever he is at the Blood Ball. We don’t need to make an enemy of Madame Anoushka. She is loved in these parts, and if we don’t show her that love, she can make our lives an eternal hell.” Jerrod aimed his index finger at Tory, then to Asher. “Are you understanding me? Please say that you are.”

  Both nodded in agreement, but Tory had tuned out and was already devising a plan for the night of the ball. He had been right. Obediah was going to be at the ball but as Oliver Moore, a very memorable name. Yes, Madame Chill-Tits might be the toast of Sangre, but that didn’t allow Obediah to get away with taking one life and destroying another. Tory wanted Ray bad, and he would risk the wrath of Madame Anoushka, or anyone else for that matter for Ray’s love. Fuck her, and fuck them all.

  Asher waited until Jerrod was well out of earshot. Just in case, he’d prepared a test. “Didn’t Jerrod look fat in those leather jeans? He’s really been pounding it on lately.”

  “What?” Tory guffawed.

  Asher waited to see if Jerrod stormed from the back room or yelled in retaliation, but he was met with nothing. Satisfied, Asher began to spill. “Ignore Jerrod, because there is no way we can ignore the bomb that just exploded in his room.”

  “I am in complete agreement,” Tory returned. “Anyway, I was planning to go to the Blood Ball, and Ray’s coming too because he’s my date. Jerrod can’t object to that.”

  “He can and will, but forget about him.” Asher huddled up beside Tory. He lowered his voice. “I do agree with Jerrod that we can’t make a scene. Here’s the way I see it. When Ray recognizes Oliver, we separate him from the rest of the crowd, pull him into a side room, and then confront him.”

  “I sussed out that part of the plan already,” Tory whispered. “The problem I’m having is the part that comes after. What if Obediah . . . Oliver simply denies any involvement, or worse, admits to it and then
laughs in our faces? If that happens, I know that Ray will kill — or attempt to kill, that bastard. Talk about a party foul.”

  “Good point.” Asher imagined all the possibilities, speaking out loud. “We have to get him out of that bitch’s mansion and into the formal gardens where it’s secluded. Everyone will be celebrating inside, so if daggers begin to fly, there will be a lot less damage control outside rather than inside. Vampire’s blood can really do a number on marble floors. That stuff is sticky and hard to budge.”

  “I thought we came to Sangre to get away from all of the fighting and vampire drama. Six weeks ago it was Alderman, and now this. And why are we always involved? I’m a hairdresser, not a mercenary.”

  “We like the rough boys with damaged hearts,” Asher mused. “We also like muscles, and our boys have lots of those.”

  “Mmm,” Tory returned. “They really do.”

  “They also swing first and deal with the consequences later.”

  “Again, hot. But I can see where that can be a problem.”

  “We have to stand by our men, and that means standing by Ray this coming weekend no matter how it plays out.”

  “I intend to,” Tory said. “And I have the perfect plan.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “You look hot!”

  “Thanks, babe,” Tory said to Ray. “I feel hot too.”

  Tory decided on wearing his form-fitting, navy blue, velvet tux that had two panels cut out of the ass and covered by a thin veil of lace in the same color. His sheer white silk shirt was unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, accentuating his slim but still sinewy build. Black knee-high, riding boots added to the sexy ensemble. Tory had pushed this outfit to the back of his walk-in closet saving it for that perfect occasion, and the Blood Ball was exactly that.

  Tory spun on his spit-shined heels, gazing at Ray from head to toe in a classic tux, lust swelling deep in Tory’s gut. The chocolate-skinned vampire who favored black T-shirts and baggy jeans looked as if he walked out of the pages of a men’s fashion magazine. If Tory wasn’t already sprayed, powdered, and fluffed to perfection, Tory would have attacked Ray right then and there, but there was time for that after the ball. Tory strode right up to the handsome man, stood on his tiptoes, and planted a firm one on Ray’s succulent lips.