Sixty-Nine Reasons

by Willa Okati

  Sixty-Nine Reasons

  Willa Okati

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2006 Willa Okati

  No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file copying or sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Changeling Press LLC. Willful violation of this policy will result in suspension of account privileges and will lead to prosecution.

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  ISBN (10) 1-59596-529-7

  ISBN (13) 978-1-59596-529-5

  Formats Available:

  HTML, Adobe PDF,

  MobiPocket, Microsoft Reader

  Publisher:

  Changeling Press LLC

  PO Box 1046

  Martinsburg, WV 25402-1046

  www.ChangelingPress.com

  Editor: Crystal Esau

  Cover Artist: Fabiano Fabris

  This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  Chapter One

  “Damn you! Damn you all to the pits of hell where you belong!” Reziel tried to stop the flow of blood from his nose. One blow from Draylen’s hand had sent him flying, and over what? An insult to the man’s pants.

  Granted, it had been a really good insult, one suggesting that Draylen had a codpiece sewn into his trousers so that he’d look like he was actually packing something. Draylen had not, however, found the joke funny, hence his walloping Reziel so hard that for a moment his vision had blurred out, and he’d come to with a split lip and a nose that was almost but not quite broken.

  “Fuck you,” he rasped, spitting more blood. “I was only joking, Draylen.”

  “Were you, now?” Draylen lounged in the opposite corner, leaning on an elegant sideboard and idly nursing his knuckles. Reziel felt a slight satisfaction at the sight. At least Draylen had banged himself up a little in sending Reziel flying. “You should know better by now, Rez. Never tease your master or your maker, or anyone stronger than you -- which would be everyone, needless to say.” He chafed his hand again. “You’ll only get beaten down, which is where you belong and where I should have left you -- in the dirt.”

  Reziel glared at Draylen. “I’m good at this,” he hissed. “I do just fine at being a vampire.”

  Draylen scoffed. “There’s a lie if I ever heard one. No, Rez, you’re a sorry failure, and you always have been.” A sly smile crossed his lips. “But, of course, you could prove yourself. Get up and come over here. See if you can please me. I might not hit you again next time your mouth goes wandering where it shouldn’t.”

  Reziel felt a stirring in his groin, which he instantly cursed and willed to lie still. While he’d been alive, he’d liked a little pain with his pleasure, sure. He’d gone to the “dungeons” and taken his turn at being a whipping boy, or being tied wide open for men -- or women, if they chose -- to take him from behind or use his clever mouth. A time or two, though, he’d been the one wielding the flogger.

  No matter what, though, he’d always known he could walk away. But now?

  “Fuck you,” he said, spitting again. The gob of crimson landed far short of Draylen, who only laughed and looked at Reziel with something like fond amusement.

  “You’ll never learn, will you?” he asked, then waved his hand and turned, presenting Reziel with one of the finest backsides the gods had ever seen fit to gift a man with. It was almost enough to make Reziel hunger for Draylen -- again -- but hells, no, not after the beating he’d just taken. He wasn’t as big a fool as all that. Draylen might take him, sure, but it would be hard, fast and rough, without any tenderness or appreciation. Reziel would be a hole for him to fuck, and Reziel wasn’t looking for any more reasons to have Draylen think of him as a toy.

  Ah, bugger, his chest hurt where one wallop had landed. Lying in the corner of the room where he’d been thrown, Reziel reminded himself he didn’t need to gasp for any breath, which could not have been knocked out of him, and fiercely told himself that he’d be damned if he’d give the slightest cry of pain.

  “And look how easily you’re beaten,” Draylen said, turning back toward Reziel, shaking his hand as if it didn’t even hurt any longer. “I don’t make mistakes, or I’d call turning you into one of our kind the worst thing I’ve ever done. You’re useless, Rez.”

  “Reziel,” the younger vampire growled, struggling to crawl to his knees. Better than just lying there. His bruised bones protested, however, and he sagged back into place. “You think you can beat me down forever? How long do you plan on treating me like this?”

  “As long as I feel like it. Forever and a day, mayhaps.” Seemingly satisfied with the job he had done, Draylen turned away from Reziel as easily as if he’d just kicked a dog to the curb. Reziel was of no more importance to him than one of the hundreds of mongrels who roamed the streets with hungry eyes and sharp teeth, no threat to him and his kind. A nuisance easily disposed of.

  That was how little he thought of Reziel, and Reziel knew it. Glaring at the broad, linen-covered back of the master vampire who’d just tossed him as easily as a rag doll, Reziel heard Draylen say casually to the woman waiting on him in his bed, “Oh, him? Just a pest; knock him away and he’ll go lick his wounds for a while. We won’t be bothered. Now, come here…”

  Damn the vampire all over again! Struggling into a sitting position, managing to make it up this time, Reziel curled his hand into a fist and pounded his thigh, even though he knew too well it was a useless sort of defiance. Draylen wouldn’t see, and he would care even less.

  And Reziel had thought, when he was turned, that things were all going to be so different. If he had just chosen another tavern -- what was it, less than a month ago? -- none of this would have happened. He’d been sitting with the small handful of friends he possessed, none of them close or good enough to warn him of incoming danger, enjoying one of the pints of weak beer that was all he could get for his money. His back had been turned to the doorway and he hadn’t seen the big vampire enter, but he had noticed a subtle stiffening in backs and shoulders all around them.

  Damn his friends, too. They’d known, and hadn’t warned Reziel. When the vampire’s big hand landed on his shoulder, those so-called friends cleared out like misty ghosts. Reziel had been surprised at their choice to leave en masse and so quickly, but then Draylen had been there, all friendly camaraderie and smiles, careful not to show his fangs, buying Reziel a tankard of the best ale, and then another, and another.

  By the time Draylen had leaned in to whisper at Reziel’s ear, “Shall we go? There’s a place I know of where no one will bother us, and we can be alone…” Reziel had been drunk enough to agree.

  If anyone had asked him, he’d have said that at heart he preferred women, but he didn’t mind bending over for the occasional man, and this one? Draylen, with his shining black hair and deep, dark eyes glittering with mischief? Reziel would have gone with him sober.

  He’d let Draylen lead him out of the tavern and around to a small stable that smelled of horses and there, while the animals neighed and whickered in fright, he’d been drained of his blood and changed into something else altogether…

  And now he was nothing more than a toy. A game. A puzzle, assembled with care, but easily broken into a thousand pieces. Draylen had barely given the confused Reziel time to realize he was dead -- un-alive -- before he’d been dragging him back to the apartments Draylen owned and booting him into a corner for a ne
st of female vampires to coo over and pet.

  Still dizzy from the change, Reziel had taken a fancy to one vampiress in particular, Anastasia. She was a little cold and more than a bit cruel, but she had a sensible, thrifty way about her, and saw no reason to waste a good vampire for the sake of games. She’d defended Reziel against the others when they would have hurt him.

  Reziel cursed himself for his foolish, easily-given heart, because of course he’d fallen in love with Anastasia right away. All the same, he couldn’t see anyone failing to succumb to her spell. A man couldn’t help adoring Anastasia’s fall of silky golden curls and lambent blue eyes. She looked like a china doll come to life, except for her dainty, wickedly curved fangs. It was she who’d taught Reziel how to use his own. Anastasia who’d been by his side when he made his first kill -- one of those so-called “friends” who’d left him to Draylen’s mercies.

  Reziel would have forgotten Draylen in one of the heartbeats he no longer had and followed Anastasia anywhere. But where Draylen, the ultimate Master went, she walked in his footsteps… and now, she lay in his bed, waiting for him to come and fuck her while Reziel would supposedly have no choice but to watch and listen.

  Even as he struggled with the rapidly-healing pains in his body and wiped blood off his face, he could hear her tinkling laugh. “Did he take his punishment like a man?” she asked. Reziel heard the sound of a long, deep kiss. Anastasia chuckled at the end of it. “If he did, I’m surprised. He doesn’t have enough backbone to stand up straight.”

  “Damned right,” Draylen said, apparently not caring that Reziel could hear him. “Come here and spread your legs for me, you little slut. That’s right, open yourself up wide. Oh, yes, you’re wet for me, aren’t you? Tell me, did you ever fuck that little lapdog crying in the corner?”

  Anastasia scoffed. “As if I’d let him do what -- oh, Draylen, Draylen! -- what you’re doing to me -- oh, Draylen!”

  “Good,” Draylen said in what sounded like deep satisfaction. Reziel heard the sticky, slippery slide of flesh upon flesh begin, the sounds of Draylen fucking Anastasia, who was no doubt as drenched with juices for him as she claimed to be. He’d called her a slut, and she was -- a pain whore. She got off on being beaten, and she liked to use her fists her own self. Her weapon of choice was mind games, though, not brawling. Hadn’t she gotten to Reziel easy as breathing?

  The betrayal stung like a slap. Even though he sure as hell didn’t want either now, to have both of his new-found lovers taken from him at once… by the gods, it wasn’t fair! A man needed little more reason to protest as strongly as he was able, and of all men, Reziel decided he had a right to complain. Cuckolded twice!

  Reziel struggled upright, holding an arm to cracked ribs that would soon be mending, holding back any sounds of pain. He didn’t want Draylen coming after him again -- although it was all he could do not to hurl himself at the big vampire with fangs and nails, in mid-fuck no less, taking him down to the ground. He knew that, being smaller and new to life as a vampire, and Draylen a damned big bully, he’d probably get beaten into a jelly, but fuck, would the fight be worth it!

  He was gathering himself, ready to make just such an assault, when he heard another vampiress’ giggle ring out, and saw Andreia, of the long dark locks, pause before him, hands already at the fastening of her bodice, framing her luscious breasts. She looked down at Reziel, cupping the swell of her cleavage, taunting him. “These are for Draylen tonight,” she said, her voice slurring with an odd, old accent the like of which hadn’t tainted the city’s voices in years. Reziel knew Draylen’s favorites spoke in that manner to remind Reziel of how old they were, and how powerful.

  “So? You don’t have to rub my face in it,” Reziel shot back, almost immediately regretting his choice of words.

  Draylen appeared, cock hanging out of his trousers, wet and shiny, and laughed, showing his sharp, wicked fangs in harsh relief against the candlelight. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You were all but ready to go down on your knees for me in the stable I chose, but I took your blood instead of your spunk.” He fondled his dark, swollen organ. “If you don’t mind sloppy seconds, you can taste her on me after I’ve finished.” His very voice mocked Reziel. “If I’m not busy otherwise, that is.”

  Anastasia and the other woman laughed, their voices a silver cacophony of mockery. Fuming inside, knowing himself too weak to take on the whole household but unable to stay and bear this mockery another second, Reziel did the only thing he was able to -- despite his pains, he stalked to the door, flung it open, and fled out into the night.

  If a man ever had any reason to leave his home, he had them. He had a hundred reasons, or at least sixty to sixty-nine.

  1) He’s a bastard.

  2) She’s a bitch.

  3) They’ve hurt me.

  4) They’ve beaten me down.

  5) I won’t stand for it any longer.

  6) They can’t stop me, can they? Not really.

  Reziel left to the sound of great amusement, but after all, he left, and by the gods, he was so very not sorry.

  He’d just have to see what he could find for himself in the way of a new life.

  Chapter Two

  As he stomped down marble stairs covered in slush and muck gathered during the day, Reziel shoved his hands into his pockets and thought furiously. This was not the first cut from Draylen, but oh, it was the deepest. Reziel could not then and could not now understand it. Why create a male vampire instead of another saucy wench, and then cast him aside? Why give him this un-life at all?

  Not that Reziel regretted having been changed into what he was. Everything had become crystalline-clear to him after his death as a human, purest water of knowledge flooding into him. He knew the difference between Good and Evil, knew which side he came down on, and he didn’t regret a second, or a single kill he’d made to feed his new appetite for blood.

  Now, there was pleasure, if you liked -- hot, salty blood with a coppery tang that slid down the throat like no other nectar. In life all but a virgin, Reziel now knew the bliss of sliding deep and tight between female thighs. Only humans, though. Sweet Anastasia, or at least once sweet, now having her would have been bliss. Fucking her tight, wet cunt was likely to be cold, to be sure, but then let heaven be made of ice. His soul slept tight in one of the seven hells already, and he did not care, for he went on in body -- didn’t he? And on, and on, and on, with no way out…

  Ah, and there was Draylen’s joke at his expense, wasn’t there? Reziel could stomp out of the house in a temper, he could roam the city, but in the end, where else would he have to go? He’d have to crawl back to the nest, the only place he knew to keep safe during the daytime, and no doubt he’d have to listen to Draylen and Anastasia going at each other again and again, tireless, as were most of their kind.

  Be damned if he would, though! Reziel tightened his hand until the pale knuckles shone white. The two of them had chosen his fate for him. If they wanted to abandon him to their own pleasures, then he would discard them as well.

  Why not? There had to be a place for him. The city was full of warrens and tunnels, and surely he’d be able to find an empty hut to wait out the deadly sunlight when day broke again. He didn’t care how dirty or run-down the place would be. Anything had to be better than going back to Draylen and his cruel games.

  The vampire had made Reziel, but he did not own him. And Reziel would show him. Yes, he would.

  “Flower, sir? Flower for your young lady? A pretty flower for a single copper, sir.”

  Reziel stopped in surprise, drawn up by the sight of a young woman, barely out of her teens, carrying a tray of posies around her neck. She had a small, thin purse at her waist, and most of her wares were wilted. The puffy white cap she wore atop her tangled red mop was in no better shape, sagging sadly downwards.

  “It’s late for you to be out, isn’t it?” he asked in curiosity before he remembered she was human, and therefore food, while he was a vampire, so far a
bove her they should never talk like ordinary folks.

  The woman sighed and tugged a wisp of hair the color of the coppers she collected away from her cheek. “It is late, it is that, sir, but I’ve got to sell these all. I’ve got to, or I’ll be punished something terrible, I will. My master --” and there she stopped, looking frightened, as if she’d said too much.

  “It’s all right,” Reziel said, forgetting himself again. It was too easy to think like a human, not as a predator, and something deep inside felt sorry for this flower-seller. He’d been like her not so long ago, trying his best to earn a meager living, and the master he’d had back then was barely better than Draylen -- in his way. “I won’t tell. You’ll be punished if you come back without a full purse, is that the way of things?”

  The seller nodded, looking embarrassed. “I’m not very good at this,” she admitted. “I was brought up proper-like, in one of the better schools, even if I was a charity student. But when I turned eighteen, my friend’s brother made advances, and when I turned up with child, who was to blame? Not him, oh, no, sir.” She shook her head, red curls flying.

  Reziel had the oddest urge to touch one of those red strands. “And what of the child?” he asked softly, although he was fairly sure he already knew the answer.

  “Taken from me, or I should say, I was forced to give her up. I’d no money for my own food, and I was so thin that I had no milk for my little one. The man who did this to me, he took her in, and no doubt she’ll grow up like I did -- a bastard, barely acknowledged, made to drudge and serve and --” She covered her mouth with a hand to stifle a sob. Reziel held back the urge to take her in his arms and comfort her. He had to remember himself. He had to.

  “It’s a hard world,” he said soothingly, recalling in time to be careful not to show his fangs. There was a trick to the art, and at least Anastasia had taught him that one thing before tripping off to Draylen’s bed and leaving him alone. “Things aren’t fair here, are they?”