Long Black Cadillac

by BA Tortuga

He was going to rip the fucker’s throat out and make the bastard bleed.

  He could hear Clay, not out loud. In his head. Telling him to slow down, to stay calm so they didn’t get caught. So he didn’t get caught again.

  He stumbled a little and then slowed. Clay. Fuck.

  Who on earth would have thought he’d be willing to give up the sun for a man?

  Clay hummed for him, the sound settling somewhere deep in his belly. It didn’t ease the rage, but it helped him focus it.

  They bent low, heading toward the light. He couldn’t hear Clay or Gryphon move, but Remy, he heard. He’d never thought humans were so loud, so noisy, so alive. Hell, that heartbeat sounded like a drum in the darkness. Fuck, Vance was hungry. Clay veered off, one hand signaling that he was going to circle. That had been a bad thing last time, splitting up. They should go in twos.

  He followed, leaving Gryphon and Remy to go the other way. He needed Clay. Clay needed….

  Wait.

  What was that?

  He dropped to the ground as a huge searchlight swung around, sliding over the tops of the kudzu. Clay fell near him, crawling over to lie close, hand on his back. Damn it. Just God fucking damn it. Shit. He reached down for the piece that Remy’d found him, the weight familiar and comforting in his hand. Never again.

  He’d never let them have him again.

  They started moving as soon as the light was off them, low and fast. Remy was out of range now, so all he had was Clay and the fierce desire for revenge. They took two guards out in a flash of heat and blood and raw hunger. Then they took two more.

  The guns started popping, rounds pinging the ground behind him, kicking up clods of grass. Clay cursed, grabbing him and yanking him sideways, pulling him right out of the way. He rolled, started shooting back, the flare of the shot stunning him a little.

  “Look slightly to the side, honey. You got night vision now.” Moving in a blur, Clay slid away, shooting fast. Bitch. He was still getting used to all this shit. A bullet came whizzing by, just grazing his shoulder. Fucker.

  He took another down.

  Fucked-up as it was, it felt good to take them out, to just blaze a trail right up to the fucking compound, ready to pull the whole fucking place down.

  They made it as far as the edge of the clearing, the men in the place scattering like ants, when the explosion happened, the light stunning him, leaving him staring in the kudzu.

  Clay crawled to him, light blind as he was, clumsy as hell. “What the fuck was that?”

  “Looked like a fucking flashbang grenade. Did they get Remy?” Could Clay tell?

  “No. No, he’s….” Clay tilted his head. “He’s okay. We need to move.”

  “Then let’s move.” He had less than no intention of getting his happy ass blown to kingdom come by Colonel Howdy Doody and his band of mercs. They still raced toward the house, but now Clay was in full-on avoidance mode, zigzagging across the grounds, making it hard for even Vance to see him.

  He finally stopped thinking and just ran, following on Clay’s heels by instinct alone. Another bright flash had him screaming, the light and sound so close it all but knocked him off his feet. He heard Clay shout, heard a crash, but all he could do was spin in circles. He dropped and started crawling, his eyes squeezed so tight that his cheeks hurt.

  “Vance!” Clay reached out, hand falling on Vance’s leg, making him jump near a mile. “Jesus, baby. We’re… we need to get the fuck out of here.”

  “How? Which way? What about Rem?” Fuck. Fuck. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t fucking see.

  “We’ll find him. Hell, we’ll even bring the tall one….” Clay finished speaking just about the time a hole blew out of the back of the man’s shirt, those eyes going wide and red-gold in the dark before Clay toppled over.

  Fuck him raw.

  He grabbed Clay and ran, teeth snapping at anything in his way. The car was out there. Waiting. It had to be.

  It had to be there and okay.

  Just like fucking Clay.

  Goddamn it.

  Chapter Thirty

  FUCK HIM raw with a 1972 rebuilt Evinrude.

  There’d been a boom and a crash and a thud and shit, and he’d felt Douce’s arm around his chest like a steel band as they did them some running.

  Now they were in some sort of blown-up warehouse thing or something, all hid up in the top of the fallen-in roof where couldn’t nobody see them. Shit.

  Shit, he’d lost his shotgun somewheres, and his ankle was all ooky and swole, and Gryph was making these weird-assed noises. These folks was about as cracked as hatching eggs ’round here.

  “Remy?” Okay. Okay, there was noise he understood. Gryph was, like, talking and shit.

  “Uh-huh?” See him, see him be reasonable and responsive and all.

  “Are you…? Umph.” Douce rolled over to him, hands moving on his skin. Couldn’t the guy just sniff him to know if he was hurt?

  “You okay?” He didn’t have the super-amazing vampy sniffer; he had to use shit like words and looking.

  “No.” Gryphon laughed a little, the sound kinda odd. “But I shall heal. I was more concerned for you. And a bit toothy.”

  “Did the light get you?” He rolled closer, wincing as his ankle screamed.

  “It did. I imagine I look somewhat leprous. What hurts, sweet? I can feel you all tense.”

  “I’m good.” Okay, first, get the strong one healed up, and then deal with the rest. He’d been here. He knew this. Remy got close, let Gryph sniff his neck.

  “Stop, Remy. You’re hurt. I have no wish to make you weaker.” He could hear the longing, though. Feel the need vibrate through Douce for sure.

  “You don’t want me, Douce? I don’ taste so good to you?” If he was going to fucking get caught here, he was going to get all he needed.

  “Oh, sweet. You taste like heaven and I am a damned man. But I would not hurt you for the world.”

  “It don’ hurt. I know.” There was a sting and then a heat that felt like the best drunk ever.

  “No, I can make you love it. But it will leave you woozy.” Lord, Douce liked to hear himself talk. What was he gonna have to do? Run and jump on those fangs?

  Now that was a funny fucking thought. Him with a cape and a beer, flying through the air, landing on teeth.

  Christ.

  “Now you’re laughing at me.” But Douce was laughing too, giving his mental cape a little Elvis sparkle, making the beer a bottle of Dixie Voodoo. Remy applauded, tickled bone-deep. There was something about Douce that just suited him down to the ground somehow. Either that or he was just real tired and horny.

  “Or both. Tilt up just a bit more, sweet.” Gryph nuzzled at his throat, teeth scraping his skin like to make him holler.

  “Mmm-hmm.” Douce. Please. He lifted his chin, offering himself right up like he’d known Gryphon as long as the boss.

  Delicate needlelike fangs slid right into his throat, breaking the skin with the fiercest goddamn pleasure he’d ever had. Ever. He wrapped around Gryph with a happy cry, hands tangling in the long hair, holding his Douce close. Every pull just made him throb; every little moan against his skin made him groan. Gryph didn’t take much, but he could almost feel the energy spring back into the man.

  Vamp.

  Whatever.

  He’d just go with his.

  Oh. Man.

  His.

  Lord, Lord.

  “Remy….” Those fangs slid out of his skin, Douce’s rough tongue licking the wounds. “Yours. Mine.”

  “Yeah.” The chuckles bubbled out of him, less amused than just fucking happy, which was weird as fuck, but true—he so needed to get home.

  “Now, we just have to decide how to get out of here, hmm? Let me look at your leg, sweet.” Yeah, Douce could look at shit in the dark.

  “Don’ touch it now. Just look.”

  “I won’t make promises I won’t keep.” Gryph bent and sniffed at his leg. Weird. “It’s torn but not broken. Let
me wrap it.”

  “You’re not going to kiss it better?”

  Sniffing.

  Bizarre.

  “Once you let me fix it, I’ll let you drink from me, sweet. That is far better than a kiss.”

  He’d seen it with the boss, how a vamp could drink, heal, and then give away blood like a Red Cross.

  “I ain’t ever done that, Douce. You sure?”

  “I am. I need you strong and ready to run, sweet. Ready?” Those long-fingered hands fell on his ankle, ready to twist it back to right.

  “Uh-uh.” No. No, he wasn’t. No way. He. “Ow!”

  “There. Let me wrap it.” Cloth tore and those hands wrapped his throbbing ankle, making the pain ease a little.

  “You’re a cruel, cruel man. Vamp. Whatever.”

  “No. No, sweet Remy. I am kind. You will see.” Gryphon pulled him close, holding him against that long, lean body. “Come drink, sweet.”

  “I….” He didn’t know about this part. “You sure, Douce? I don’ wanna be hurting you….”

  “I am sure.” He could feel Gryph vibrate, the scent of him suddenly strong and heavy. Okay, with that prick poking at him…. Yeah, Douce was ready.

  “Smell you.” He groaned, eyes rolling with a sharp, sudden need.

  “Yes. I need this.” The scent of blood came strong too, just right there, and he knew Gryph had opened a vein for him. Guiding him right to that throat, Gryph moaned, settling against him.

  The first taste on his tongue surprised him bone-deep. He’d been all ready to be disgusted, but this….

  Goddamn.

  This was like a fucking orgasm in the first sip. The power of it ran through him like good moonshine, like the stuff that made you cough and hallucinate. Remy reached down, rubbed the heel of his hand against Douce’s crotch. Nothing so good should be one way. Nothing.

  “Oh….” Long, low, that moan made him feel tall as mountains and ready to leap right over them. Damn. Just damn.

  His own dear Douce. Yes. His own. Remy moaned and sucked a bit harder, the electric shock spreading through him. The blood poured over his tongue, seeming like there was a lot more than there probably was. It made his heart race, made him feel like he was gonna explode.

  He pulled back, staring at Gryph, seeing his Douce in the dark. “Please.”

  He wasn’t sure what he was begging for.

  “Yes. Whatever you want, sweet. I want you.” The trickle of blood had all but dried up, but Remy figured he’d be jazzed for days on just what he had. No wonder Boo had attacked the boss for it.

  Remy nodded, grabbed Gryph’s hand, and tugged it down to his cock. He’d never been so fucking hard. Growling, Gryph opened his jeans, pulling him out and stroking, really giving him what for. It was electric, like biting down on a live wire.

  His head snapped back, whapping against the ground good and hard. Need. Need. Shit fire, he could just turn over and beg for it like a French whore.

  “Is that what you want, Remy? You want me to take you? I will. Oh, I will.” The raw desire was right there. Right there in Gryph’s rough growl.

  “Need.” He nodded, nails sliding on Gryph’s shoulder. He’d beg for it, if he had to.

  “Then you shall have.” The man was fast, moving them in the blink of an eye so he was on his back and naked and all spread. Then that mouth was on him, tongue pushing into him.

  Remy could hear his heart pounding like a voodoo ceremony in the bayou, complete with drums and sacrificial chickens and…. Oh.

  Oh, right there.

  Gryphon opened him right up, pressing in, letting him feel every bit of the stretch. Then the man was on him, cock against his hole, not giving him any time to think at all. Oh, sweet fuck. He rolled up, shoulders leaving the ground as he pushed back, took his Douce in. Lean hips settled in between his thighs, Douce hovering over him, eyes just fucking glowing. Beautiful bastard. Every inch slid right in, and it felt like a lot of inches from his seat.

  “Full.” He almost hooted. “Fixing to get blown to bits by the soldier man and I ain’t never been fuller.”

  A soft chuckle ghosted over his throat. “I do love you, sweet. I am keeping you.”

  “Promise?” He was all about that, somehow. Hell, he could fucking feel Gryph all through him.

  “It’s a promise.” Bending, Douce bit right into his neck, hips pounding that prick into him. Lights sparked even in the dark, and Remy just let it go, let his body rock between cock and teeth. Fuck him. Yes. Douce was just gonna take him to heaven. Or drag him into hell. Either way, he’d go happily.

  Good thing he was easy.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  CLAY WAS tired of getting his ass kicked.

  They’d lost Remy and the big guy somewhere, and he and Vance were both burned, both shot through. They’d crawled somewhere to recover, spending the day curled together in a fugue. The sun was going down, though, and Clay was itching to find Remy and ready to take this fucking Colonel down once and for all.

  “What’s his weakness, honey? What is it that drives him?” He’d never thought to sit and think it through.

  “He hates y’all. Us. Whatever. He’s fucking scared.” Vance sat, eyes closed. “He was always business—he paid big money….”

  “Scared of what? Did he ever give away anything that might say why? Think, honey.” He needed every scrap. Just to plan.

  “He’s Southern. He hired me to move y’all on. Every time he asked if I’d got bit. I said no, even if I had….”

  “So he’s trying to rid the South of vampires? Man, he’s a weird one.” Clay grinned a little, feeling Vance pinch his ass.

  “I…. I think.” Vance tilted his head, looked over. “Why would he care if we got bit?”

  “I don’t know, babe. It’s not like you can catch it that way….” Unless the Colonel thought so…. Maybe he thought there would be an epidemic.

  “I don’t know. He…. He took my blood when he had me trapped, but that doesn’t have anything to do with us. He just said he wanted to move you on, to make sure no one got settled.”

  So maybe it wasn’t about him at all. Or about vamps. Maybe it was about the soldiers…. He stopped, looked at Vance for a second, comparing his lover to the others he’d seen. Stocky, shorter, scarred—every single one of them—shit. Shit. What was that weird son of a bitch doing with those boys?

  “So…. So, you’re his weakness, then….” Shit. Shit. What the hell was this all about?

  “Me?” Vance looked confused as all get-out.

  “You. The others like you.” There had to be something about… Jesus. What if the Colonel was doing something vamps would be able to sense? To smell. It sure made sense when he thought of his instant attraction to Vance.

  “Like me? I don’t….” Vance stopped, frowned. “He got me in the hospital. He found me there.”

  “After you got torn up, right?” That was it. Oh, holy fuck. It was like some kind of freaky movie with Dolph whatshisname.

  “After they cut me. They thought I was going to die. I’d lost almost all my blood. The infections were eating me up, but I survived.”

  “So he filled you up with all sorts of shit. Fuck, Vance. He’s been using you all this while. Like bait or something.” Clay marveled at the sick logic of it.

  “Is that…? Oh fuck.” All sorts of shit was racing through Vance’s mind, Clay could see it—shame and fury and being taken for a fool again, and then the what-ifs started.

  “No. None of that. We would never be together.” He’d never be sorry for that.

  “Is it real?” Like it wasn’t now, no matter how they started.

  “Mine, honey. All mine. Real as anything you can imagine.” He took a hard, deep kiss, his teeth sinking into Vance’s lower lip. Vance wrapped around him, needing this, needing something to fucking believe in and God knew, Clay was right there and willing to be believed in.

  Clay hauled Vance up against him even closer, his hands learning that strong body all over aga
in. They needed this, needed to get settled and ready and pumped up all at the same time. He traced scar after scar, petting each one, letting Vance know how they fascinated him.

  He pushed his fingers down, into the loose pants, cupping Vance’s balls, the heavy cock. “Love how you feel.”

  “Perv.” Vance laughed at him, licked his lips, and nipped them just enough to draw blood. “Don’t let them take me again, yeah?”

  “No. Not gonna do that. Not ever.” He’d kill them both first, ’cause he’d seen what they did to Vance, knew that old bastard Colonel was a mean one. “We’re gonna take him down this time, honey. We got to get Remy.”

  “Yeah. I wouldn’t leave him here like this.” No, Vance was a good guy, no matter what they said about him down at the jail.

  “Then we need a plan. Flying in with no rhyme or reason ain’t working.”

  “You go get Rem. I’ll go get the Colonel. We meet back at the car and drive.”

  His hackles rose. “That whole splitting up thing has done us so much good….” Damn it, he wasn’t going to leave Vance for love or money.

  “You know that your eyes get all glowy when you’re pissed?”

  That had him snorting. “So do yours, now. What did he used to do in the way of bolt-holes? How likely is it there’s a way in underground?”

  “Here? Fucking unlikely. This place looks like an old campground. There’ll be storage buildings, maybe some with storm cellars, but they haven’t been here long enough to build shit.” Vance chewed his lips, thinking. “If it was me, I’d’ve spent the day tearing anything and everything down that the bloodsuckers could use for shelter come the dawn. Then set a shitload of fires for the dark and wait it out. They know they hurt us. They just don’t know that Rem’s human and that we got us a new friend.”

  “Well, then, we have to figure out how to use that.” Damned if his brain was giving him anything. His connection with Rem was all but closed on one end. He knew Remy was still alive, but that was it.

  “How long do I have in the sun?”

  “You’re stronger than most your age, but I’d say maybe a minute or so tops before you start to burn third degree. If you had eaten….” No, he was the one who would be better off braving the sun. Or that Gryphon. He was old, wasn’t he?