A Deadly Masquerade: A Vampire’s Thirst

by Michaels, A K

  Victor dropped to his hands and knees, his nose hitting the oak floor as he inhaled as deeply as he could. An entire host of aromas invaded him, everything from the wax used for the wood to every single person who had walked down the hallway for days gone by…but…but…there! A hint of a familiar fragrance lingered, just a tiny suggestion of the bouquet which made up the one person in the universe who meant the world to him: Kimber.

  It was her. It was definitely Kimber’s scent.

  “It’s Kimber’s scent,” Victor whispered, scared that if he said it aloud it would disappear into the ether of darkness they were shrouded in.

  “We’re on the right track. Come on.”

  Flint was his bodyguard, his friend, but he was something more…he was a hunter. Victor prided himself on his sharp senses, but Flint’s were better. Victor knew that and trusted him to lead the way.

  “Not far.,” Flint whispered, his voice so low even Victor barely heard the words as they closed in on a door set into a dark corner.

  “What am I doing here?”

  They heard her then. Kimber’s voice as she indignantly raised her tone.

  “You’ve dragged me away from the party with some nonsense, and now I’m in this room and you’re just standing there staring at me. I am not amused. Give me your name right now because I’ll be speaking to Mister Alexander about your behavior.”

  “I had to see you up close. Had to see what the fuss was all about…a Bloodmate. And I can’t see it. You’re pretty, that’s for sure, but other than that you’re nothing special. Other than being a…what is it? A Dragon? You’re a Dragon, aren’t you? That’s quite something too, but again…I’m sure there are others around. So, I guess this is the part where I just finish this up.”

  “What the hell are you babbling about? You’re insane. My husband will not be happy about you…”

  “Oh yes, your husband. The mighty Victor Strong who has everything, including you. A Bloodmate…only he won’t. Not after I’m finished with you.”

  “You stay back. Don’t touch me or you’ll regret it.”

  Kimber’s voice changed. It was higher pitched. Victor shoved Flint out of the way and sprinted forward…smashing into the door and sending it flying back to splinter and break. Kimber screamed. She stood on the far side of the room, her hands out in front of her with Dawson closing in.

  “Do not touch her.” Victor slid to a stop, fury and anger boiling hot as lava inside him when he saw his love standing there as white as a sheet.

  He saw her tremble. Fear and anger started to fill her but she couldn’t transform here. Not inside Quinn’s castle filled with ancient artifacts and irreplaceable rugs …if her Dragon let fly with her fire she’d cause immense damage to the place. Not to mention the fact he and Flint would get caught in the crossfire. It wasn’t possible for her to transform and protect herself in that way, not here, not now…and she knew it.

  Her eyes flew to his. They were filled with unfulfilled fury as she realized the dilemma she was in, especially when he shook his head and warned her. “You can’t, baby. Not here.”

  “Well this just sucks.” She glowered, her eyes flashing with fire as her Dragon protested at being kept caged.

  Dawson took another step toward her and she mirrored him going back, hers a quick jump to keep out of his way, but she hit the wall. Her head banged off it and her hand shot up to rub at the sore spot. Victor wheedled his way forward, and Flint joined them, blades ready and waiting to do their damage.

  “He’s mine, Flint,” Victor whispered, holding a hand out to keep Flint away.

  Flint snarled, his top lip curling back to reveal that his fangs had descended and his eyes were completely red. “After what his men did to us…to Kenzie?”

  “He’s got Kimber, Flint…he’s mine.”

  Dawson took another step, throwing over his shoulder, “I’m not either of yours. I’m going to kill this beauty here and then I’ll…”

  “You fucking won’t, you fucker.” Victor couldn’t risk waiting any longer. He had no idea why Dawson thought he had the upper hand but he couldn’t risk him harming Kimber.

  Victor sprinted toward him and…bam…he smashed into an invisible brick wall and bounced back. He landed on his back with his head spinning and his face feeling as if he’d gone ten rounds with Muhammed Fucking Ali.

  “What the hell?” Flint fell down beside him, hauling him up. “You okay?”

  “A little magic trick.” Dawson laughed smugly, his arms crossed.

  Flint stepped to the side, growling like a wild animal and tossed first one then another deadly dagger straight for Dawson’s head…both of them flew straight for the man but neither hit their target. The daggers stopped dead right where Victor had and dropped to the floor, completely useless.

  “Oh my Goddess!” Kimber shrieked, backing into the corner, her eyes wide and wild.

  “What the fuck do I do, boss?” Flint scrambled around, looking at the room as if he’d find an answer to the problem.

  “Step aside, boys. I’ll take care of this.”

  Mila? Was that Mila?

  They both spun around and sure enough there was the diminutive Blood Fairy standing with her hands on her hips and a deathly stare in her eyes.

  “Mila? What…”

  Victor got nothing else out as she strode in, hips swaying, and her eyes glued to Dawson. “So you’re ArthurDawson? The one we’ve been looking for, and you’ve resorted to a measly magic spell to keep these two love-birds apart? Hmm…I don’t think so. Get ready to be taken down, and I suspect Victor here is not going to do it softly.”

  “Mila?” Kimber was looking as confused as both he and Flint were.

  Mila shoved Victor out of the way.

  “Step aside, boys. I’ll take care of this.”

  Dawson eyed her with caution, his reaction was one of annoyance rather than worry. “And who are you?”

  “Me? I’m nobody important…not really. Well, if you don’t count my being able to take down that measly spell you’ve got up important…if you do, then I am. Because…” Mila’s hands moved in a fast dance in the air as she muttered softly…a purple haze appeared around her and floated toward Dawson. It slowly faded away where Flint’s daggers lay on the floor. “I’ve just destroyed your magic. So, I guess I am important…Victor, Flint, go get this fucker.”

  Chapter 16

  Mila stepped back, all the way to the door while Victor sprang forward but Dawson had other ideas…he went for Kimber.

  Victor watched in horror as Kimber tried to dodge out of his way, her hands bunched into fists, pummeling the fucker as he crowded her in the corner. Victor’s entire being filled with raw, unadulterated hatred and wrath like he’d never before felt for another living being. He wanted nothing more than to rip Dawson apart but he had to take care…had to ensure he didn’t hurt Kimber. He couldn’t risk that…he’d rather rip out his own heart than hurt her.

  “Fuck!” The roar that tore free from him was tortured and filled with terror for his wife, while he felt her fear seeping out of her and flowing towards him.

  Flint darted to his side, two deadly daggers in his hand, and his eyes pinned on the struggle before them. “Trust me, Victor…please, just trust me.”

  Victor glanced at his friend, watched as he raised his hands and knew Flint was about to launch those razor sharp blades. Flint looked at him briefly and Victor gave him the go ahead. “Do it. I trust you, Flint. Make them count.”

  Flint turned his full attention back onto Dawson and Kimber who was still struggling. His friend’s attention intensified as his eyes flashed briefly with loathing, and then his hands let his weapons fly. Victor watched as they arced through the air with a speed only Flint could garner from his blades, over and over they glided until they found their targets. One hit Dawson in his shoulder, sinking right up to the hilt, and the other was a bullseye on his neck.

  Dawson jerked back, roaring and snatching at the blades to tug them free…he
ll, they must’ve been dipped in silver…but he’d released Kimber, and she made a dash for freedom while Dawson was otherwise engaged.

  “Get her to safety.” Victor pulled her behind him.

  Mila rushed to take Kimber from the room.

  Now that Kimber was gone, Victor could concentrate on the perpetrator of all the attacks. The person who’d hurt Flint…Kenzie…Kimber. Who was behind the attack on Quinn and Amaya. Who’d tried to hurt their guests, who was behind everything.

  “Let’s do this,” Flint growled, stalking toward the man who was already healing before them.

  Dawson held Flint’s weapons in his hands and threw them before either Victor or Flint could stop him. Dawson was fucking fast…before they knew it, they were embedded in Flint. One in his belly and one in his thigh. Fuck. Flint howled, as he went down. Blood pouring from both injuries. The dagger in his gut came out quickly but the one in his leg did not.

  “It’s in my fucking bone.” Flint snarled, tugging on the handle of his own weapon furiously. “Just end this fucker, Vic.”

  Victor couldn’t waste time helping him, so he focused back on Dawson. The man was sniggering like a schoolboy who’d heard his first dirty joke, one hand covering his mouth while his other held his belly. “That’s funny. Taken down by his own silver blade.”

  Victor couldn’t take anything further from this guy, and he harnessed one of his abilities, building it up, building it…and finally, he launched a bolt of pure white power straight at Dawson. It caught the man off-guard and right in his chest which sent him flying up and back into the wall. His clothes were burned off completely, leaving his skin bare…or what was left of it. His chest was burned raw, showing his ribs in several places.

  Dawson fell to the floor, gasping and moaning, but he wasn’t down…or out.

  His head flew up, and he came back with something Victor wasn’t expecting. An ability of his own…which showed he was as old and powerful as he was…a bolt of flames came straight for Victor. Dropping down, Victor tried to avoid the direct hit but it still caught him, burning his shoulder and left arm. It hurt like a fucking bitch, causing a roar of pain to erupt from him and echo around the room.

  Again, Dawson laughed manically, which pissed Victor off. The guy was just crazy…or insane…or both.

  Dawson hauled himself up, bared to the bone chest and all, his face white but looking ready to harness more flames. Victor couldn’t allow that. If he was encompassed in fire he’d be out of the game until he’d healed…or worse. That would leave Flint at the mercy of this fucker, and Victor couldn’t tolerate that so he did the only thing he could; he charged Dawson.

  Using every last ounce of energy he had, Victor sped across the room to barge into the madman. His body rammed against Dawson, his hands grasping the man around his throat as they crashed against the wall…shattering the oak paneling and crumbling the stone beneath. Shards of wood and pieces of rock fell over them as they grappled, his foe’s face bloody as he writhed and bucked to break free.

  Victor’s injuries stung painfully. The stench of his burned flesh caught the back of his throat as he opened his jaws wide and released his fangs. He couldn’t give Dawson a second longer because if he did he’d strike back with fire, so he attacked…diving forward and tearing at the man’s throat with deadly precision. Victor tore his head back and took Dawson’s neck with him, spitting it out with disgust as his blood spurted everywhere and his hands shot to cover the wound.

  At the same time, Victor released one of his own hands, pulled it back and glared into his eyes, spitting into his enemy’s face. “Now you die.”

  His arm shot forward so fast that Dawson never saw it coming. Victor drove his hand right into his chest, seeking, and finding, his target. As soon as his fingers closed over the cold, dark heart, Victor snarled viciously. He destroyed the organ with one crushing blow, wrenching it free to drop it on the floor at Dawson’s feet.

  Victor released the man and stepped back, watching as he crumpled to the floor. He looked like any other corpse. Small, weak, and insignificant. Yet he’d caused so much fear and heartache. Sorrow and anxiety to those he loved. For a split second, Victor wished Dawson was still alive, so he could kill him all over again…this time slowly and more painfully.

  “Hey, can you fucking help me?” Flint growled up at him. “This ain’t budging. It’s stuck tight, and I need a hand here.”

  Victor spun around to find his friend sitting up, hands covered in blood and still trying to pull the blade from his thigh.

  “Sorry. Here, let me.” Victor kneeled down, looked at the handle which was slick with Flint’s blood and tugged his friend’s jacket forward to clean it. “It’s too wet with your blood. My hand will just slide right off it. Hold on.”

  Once he’d cleaned the dagger, he held onto it tightly and looked at Flint. “Ready?”

  “Yeah, just do it.”

  “On three, one two.” And he pulled hard. The blade was stuck tight, and it took him a second or two to get it free but finally it popped out, with Flint not muttering a sound.

  “Thought you said on three?” Flint grumbled, holding a hand out for him to help him up.

  “I did.” Victor smirked, tugging him up.

  “Thanks.” Flint shook his head. “You should learn to count…if you can’t get to three.”

  “Yeah, maybe I should.” Victor grabbed his shoulder, holding him in place. “Thank you. For what you did earlier. If you…”

  Flint pulled away, canting his head to the side and giving him a frown. “Don’t you dare, Vic. Brothers. You’ve said it to me before, and I’ll say it now. We’re brothers and we do whatever we can for each other. Kimber was in danger. Plain. And. Simple.”

  Victor’s throat closed up. Completely. So he nodded back to the man he called brother, the one whose hands he would place his life in…and the man who he’d die for.

  Flint returned the action then grinned at him. “We’re both banged up a bit. I don’t know about you, but I could use a fucking drink.”

  Victor couldn’t agree more…the only other thing he wanted right then was Kimber in his arms, so he could check she was unharmed.

  “Let me go. I need to see he’s all right.”

  “I will, once I’ve checked it’s safe.”

  The first voice was Kimber’s…and the second was Mila’s.

  “What’s happened here?”

  And that was Ace. The cavalry had arrived…finally.

  He and Flint walked to the door and met Mila, who was peeking inside. Her inquisitive eyes taking in the mess and Dawson’s dead body as well as their wounds.

  “Hmm, do you want a hand with those?” She waggled her hand first at Flint’s bloody injuries and then at Victor’s burns.

  “You can do that?” Flint queried, frowning and not looking too convinced.

  Mila stepped inside quirking a perfectly arched eyebrow and cocking her hip. “Are you questioning my abilities, Flint? Or just outrightnsulting me?”

  “Hmm…neither?” Flint backtracked with a cocky grin.

  “Good, because I wouldn’t be happy if you were. Now, do you want my help, or do you want to suffer until you can suck down enough blood to heal yourselves?” She paused dramatically, tapping her toe and also her chin with a painted fingernail. “Hmm, decisions, decisions. I know which one I’d choose.”

  “You can fix me up right now,” Victor said. “I’d rather Kimber not see me like this.”

  “Good choice.” Mila turned to him, grinning for a brief second before her hands started to do the magical dance in the air he’d seen her do earlier.

  Her lips moved but he could hear nothing as she worked. This time, a soft blue hue surrounded her before she opened her arms wide and it made its way toward him. Victor held his breath as it closed in on him, wondering what it would do or if he’d feel its effects once it hit him. Would it be painful? Would it…and then it covered him, and he felt…nothing. Not a dang thing before the cloud dissipat
ed. When he looked down at his shoulder and arm it was completely healed with not a sign of the burned and charred flesh that had been there.

  “Well, what can I say but thank you, Mila.” Victor reached over with his hand to feel the flesh that was visible through the holes in his clothes. His skin was unmarred, and he felt no hint of pain whatsoever.

  “You’re welcome.” Mila turned to Flint. “What about you?”

  “I’m in.” Flint held himself stiffly as if he expected to be attacked while Mila carried out the same healing spell on him. When it was done, he felt himself all over, not just where his wounds had been, as if he expected the magic to have affected him somehow.

  Mila shook her head at him, sighing. “I’ve not done anything to you other than heal you, Flint.”

  “I’m just checking.” Flint felt himself again before he gave her the thumbs up. “Thanks.”

  “I’ll take it.” Mila turned on her heel and left while Kimber and Ace rushed inside.

  “Are you both all right? There was a lot of noise, Victor! I heard you release your power and I could smell burning flesh, but Mila wouldn’t allow me in. She said we could get in the way and cause you both to get hurt if we did.”

  Ace was looking around the room, taking in the devastation and the body lying on the floor. “We’ll need the decorators in.”

  “We’re fine.” Victor held open his arms and Kimber fell into them. “I’m more concerned about you, baby. Are you okay?”

  “Don’t worry about me.” Kimber held onto him tightly for just a brief second before stepping back to look him over. When she saw his burned and charred suit she fingered the material and scrutinized the skin beneath. “What happened and how have you healed so fast? What’s going on, Victor?”

  “Dawson had powers too. He could release fire bolts, but it’s okay, Mila helped us out and healed us. We are both just fine.”

  Ace whirled around to check them out then back at Dawson’s corpse then back at them again. “Shit. I’m glad you two are okay and I’m sorry he got past me and my men. I’ve no idea how he did it.”