Balam grabbed his hand and led him into the bedroom. He followed eagerly. Two braziers burned beside sliding glass doors open to the chilly night air. The bed was a soft pallet on the floor covered with spotted animal pelts. There was no carpet on the floor just woven mats. Targ smelled incense, but not the kind you found in Indian temples and restaurants. The scent was spicy, like tree resin. Low tables held candles. Balam waved his hand and they lit. For some reason, this seemed perfectly natural to Targ. When Balam stripped off his clothes and stood proudly naked, Targ stared.
A tattoo of a snake with a human head rose out of a thicket of black pubic hair, coiled across tight abs where it turned into a human head with a topknot of hair reaching under Balam’s chin. The complex tattoo coupled with Balam’s long hair and dark skin combined to make a picture of raw, primitive sexuality. His huge cock, thrusting straight up, was strangely shaped, thick in the middle with a long, tapered head. “Remove your clothes,” Balam ordered.
Targ’s sweater and jeans were off in a second. Balam grabbed his boxers, tore them off and fell to his knees in front of Targ. He grasped Targ’s throbbing organ in both hands. Holding it reverently, he gently stroked the head as he kissed his thighs, moving slowly toward his aching dick. Balam lifted Targ’s balls and kissed under them. Targ felt a prick and then euphoria filled him. He grabbed Balam’s hair and groaned. He had no idea what Balam was doing but it filled him with intense pleasure.
Balam lifted his head from Targ’s inner thigh and shoved his cock deep into his mouth. Targ was so close to spewing, he had to clench his hands and dig his fingernails into his palms to keep from cutting this session of raw sex off way too early.
Balam felt his need and glanced up. His tongue laved the swollen head of Targ’s organ as he sucked and stroked it. Targ closed his eyes and Balam grabbed the cheeks of his ass, turned him and shoved him onto the bed. Balam knelt over him panting. When Targ opened his eyes, he saw Balam’s lips were red with blood and he had long fangs.
He felt a momentary pang of fear, but Balam stilled it with his voice. “You are mine, Targ Erikson. I am going to know you in every way one man can know another.”
He slid up Targ’s body stopping to caress Targ’s breasts and suck the tight nipples. Targ arched his back and groaned. He’d never felt anything like he was feeling now. Not just his dick, his whole body throbbed with need. Balam moved from his sensitive nipples to his neck where he sucked and bit the skin in the hollow of his throat and slowly moved to the back of his neck. Gooseflesh shimmered up and down Targ’s neck. He hesitantly touched Balam’s shoulders grasping the hard muscles. His partner’s penis was huge between them. The thought of it there, hard and pulsing, excited Targ even more.
In the back of his mind, Targ knew this was all wrong. But he’d never enjoyed sex with women like he was enjoying the act with Balam. Sex with women had always seemed so awkward and confusing. He’d never understood if he was doing it right. His partners had never offered any help. He’d never felt the reciprocal passion he felt now. He’d never felt so at ease. He knew Balam wanted him. His desire was pressing into Targ’s stomach right now. And this thought set him free. They were both turned on and they both wanted this. How could it be wrong?
Balam lay on top of him. They kissed and Targ wrapped his hand in Balam’s hair. Their tongues were aggressive, mating wildly inside their mouths. When Balam pushed his legs open, he allowed it. Balam knelt between his widely spread legs and stared at him. His eyes were half open and his fangs glistened in the candle light. Targ didn’t even think about what they meant. He was filled with fiery need only Balam could quench.
Balam opened a jar and scooped out a thick glob of cream. He shoved it into Targ’s anus. The feeling of being spread open and vulnerable only heightened Targ’s need. Balam slid a condom over his thick erection and held it in his hand. He guided the tip, which was suddenly pointed, into Targ’s passage. Did Balam’s cock actually change shape? The slender tip easily penetrated Targ. It gradually thickened as Balam put pressure on it to spear him.
Balam pushed his legs high. Targ rocked back, rolling his hips, which allowed Balam to enter him fully. Joined, Balam began fucking him. Targ screamed with pleasure as Balam grabbed his cock in a greasy hand and began stroking it. Grunting and rutting like two animals, Targ was totally engrossed in the act. His mind was blank of everything except the pleasure rushing throughout his body. When Balam flipped him onto his hands and knees, he went with it.
Balam’s strokes in and out of his passage became more powerful; each one rocking Targ’s body. Balam’s hot breath on his neck and the man’s hand on his cock enhanced the moment of completion for both of them. As Balam buried his fangs in Targ’s neck, Targ’s cock bucked and throbbed in Balam’s hand. His body writhed beneath the double penetration. The pleasure was so intense, Targ passed out.
* * * *
Balam’s orgasm rolled through him and he grunted with satisfaction as he sucked the life blood out of Targ Erikson. The man was unconscious under him, still joined by his penis in Erikson’s ass. As he sucked Targ’s blood, he paced himself. He didn’t want to completely drain the sacrifice. He needed to take him into the altar chamber alive. When he cut out his heart and offered it to Ahalmez, Erikson must still be breathing.
He removed his fangs as he pulled his cock out. Erikson lay splayed on his face across a spotted jaguar skin. His white skin was the color of marble. The spark of Erikson’s life was very low. He’d almost drained him. As he shoved Erikson onto his back with one foot, he caught the faint scent of the feline shifter and remembered. This man could lead him to his last, most important sacrifice; the reason he’d traveled to Seattle.
Balam knelt on the bed beside him and lifted his head. It lolled back, loose and disconnected. Targ Erikson was very close to death. Balam weighed the significance of this sacrifice against the possible information he could glean from the man if he was alive. The door to his bed chamber opened and Moon Man stood in the entrance.
“Do you wish me to carry him to the altar?” he asked.
Balam’s fangs snicked out. “No, I must save him somehow.”
He lifted Erikson’s wrist and felt for the pulse. It was a mere whisper; an inconsistent bubble of blood passing through dry veins. He was too close to death. There was only one option. He bit his own wrist and pried open Erikson’s mouth. A drop at a time, he allowed his blood to drip onto Erikson’s tongue.
While he waited for a reaction in Erikson, he prayed to Kinich Ahau that he was in time to save him. He needed to know where the shifter was and who he was. There were more than enough humans in this town to sacrifice. He needed the knowledge trapped in Erikson’s mind. And he hadn’t made a child in centuries. It was something he didn’t believe in or care to do. He liked being the only vampire, the most powerful predator in the universe. His single-minded obsession drove him.
He had plenty of minions, but maybe it was time to make someone to whom he could leave his money and power. He planned to move on, make the big jump to the true death and enter heaven. It would be nice to have an acolyte, an apprentice he could train to take over after he was gone; to rule Tikal and the jungles of Guatemala as they should be ruled.
The blood dripping out of his wrist pooled in Targ’s mouth. He did not swallow. Balam feared he had gone too far, carried away on the passion that had blossomed between them. Sex with Targ Erikson was the best he’d had in many centuries. Something inside the big man had come alive when they coupled. Erikson must have a dark side, a repressed nature that had erupted during their passionate lovemaking. He’d seen the blood on Balam’s lips and his fangs and only responded with more desire. But Erikson was not swallowing.
He grabbed the man’s head and lifted his chin so some of his blood flowed down his throat. He placed his hand on Erikson’s heart and felt nothing, no beat. Targ Erikson was dead.
He dropped Erikson’s head. His mouth fell open, the tongue lolling loosely. Balam rocked back on his ha
unches pissed off at what he’d inadvertently done. He’d lost his only lead to the shifter. He signaled for Moon Man to come get the body. “This one is dead. We can’t even sacrifice him. Dispose of the corpse in the usual fashion.”
Moon Man scooped up Erikson’s limp form and turned to walk out of the room. He was in the doorway when Erikson suddenly gasped, his arms flailing as he gulped and swallowed the blood.
“Bring him back,” Balam screamed. “He’s coming to me.”
Balam stuck his wrist into Erikson’s mouth and the man sucked avidly at the two puncture wounds. As more blood flowed into Targ Erikson, his skin pinked and finally his eyes opened. They were no longer gray. They were red.
Targ Erikson was vampire.
Chapter 9
Jax called Captain Martin after his conversation with the two bartenders and the dancing couple and filled him in on what was happening. Martin’s voice reflected his concern and told Jax he’d put out an APB and have someone check car registrations in the area for a black Jaguar.
“The guy said his name was Balloon? What kind of name is that?”
“It’s what I was told. Hey, at least we have a name. Run with it, will you? Use it to cross reference with the black Jag.”
Martin snorted. “Yeah, I’ll check if any Balloon’s own a Jaguar.”
With nothing left for him to do, Jax needed to see Shelly, so he went home. Shelly was asleep, but welcomed him to bed with open arms. As they lay holding each other, he told Shelly about Targ’s disappearance. Shelly immediately sat up. Jax stroked Shelly’s back, enjoying the feel of his skin.
“No, Jax,” Shelly pushed his hand away. “We need to go to Pia. She’s by herself and probably freaking out.”
Jax rolled onto his back and put his forearm over his eyes. “You’re right. And maybe Targ went home. I should have gone to his house immediately. Get Emmy dressed and we’ll drive to Everett.”
It was almost midnight by the time they pulled into the driveway of Targ’s small house. The lights were still on. Jax climbed the steps to the porch and knocked. Pia Erikson peeked out the window next to the door. When she saw Jax, she opened it, her eyes wide with fear. “What’s wrong? Where’s Targ?”
The girl was as tall as Jax. He put an arm around her. “We were out hunting for the killer. Targ left one of the bars in Capitol Hill with someone we are labeling a person of interest and we can’t raise him on his cell phone. It could be nothing, Pia, but we’re worried and frankly, I don’t think your brother is coming home tonight. You shouldn’t be here alone. Shelly and I are going to take you home with us.”
Pia shook Jax’s comforting arm off. “I don’t want to go home with you two. I’m fine. I stay by myself all the time. I have to be here in case Targ comes home. He might need me.”
Jax shook his head. “I think it’s more serious than that, sweetheart. Come with us.”
Shelly climbed out of the front of the Camaro. “Come on, Pia. You can sleep in the guest room.”
She backed slowly away from Jax, her eyes tearing. “No, I need to be here.”
“Pia, darling,” Shelly said. “We’re worried the bad guy might come after your brother’s family, which is you. You should go somewhere safe. If Targ needs anything, Jax will know. They’re partners now because Martha is at home.” Shelly paused. “I know. We’ll take you to Martha’s. You’ll be safe there with her. She’s very pregnant and could probably use your help.”
Pia allowed Shelly to put his arm around her and urge her toward the car. “She’s pregnant? How far along?”
“Ready to pop at any moment,” Shelly said as he pushed her into the back beside Emily who was zonked in her car seat, snoring softly.
As they drove toward Martha’s new townhome in an upscale part of Bothell, Pia tapped Jax on the shoulder. “What’s going to happen to Targ? Will he be okay?”
Jax shrugged. His heart ached for the girl. Her brother might be lying in some alley right now with his heart cut out. “We’re looking for him, Pia. We know the make of the car he left in and we’re trying to find out who owns it and where he lives. Don’t worry. We’ll find him.”
Shelly turned in his seat and patted Pia’s arm. “Jax will find him. I know it in here.” He tapped his chest.
Shelly called Martha as they drove to give her a heads up. She was awake and complaining of deadly heartburn. Jax could hear her with his enhanced hearing. “I think it’s gonna kill me. I can’t stop burping and the baby keeps pressing his head on my bladder. I have to pee every five minutes. God, I’m miserable.”
Shelly smiled. “Take a Tums.”
“I already ate the entire bottle. You got any?”
Jax motioned to the glove compartment. Shelly opened it. There was an old roll of Rolaids laying on top with two left.
“I have two.”
“Bring ‘em,” Martha said. “You could be saving a life.”
Martha wore a shapeless house dress and bunny slippers when she answered the door holding her hand out. “Gimme.”
Shelly dropped the two antacids into her hand. Martha popped them and crunched. She closed her eyes and sighed. “Who’s the girl?”
“Martha, this is Pia Erikson, Targ Erikson’s sister. Targ is missing and I’m worried about her. She didn’t want to go home with us, but for some reason, seemed to want to come here. She doesn’t need to be sitting home alone, that’s for sure, so we brought her over.”
Martha leaned back and put her hands on her hips. She was a short woman with spiked blond hair, a pierced eyebrow and a huge belly filled with a half-vampire infant sired during their recent adventures in Russia. The baby was a boy and none of them knew what to expect.
Martha stood with her hands on her back and examined Pia while Pia checked her out. They seemed to come to some sort of favorable mental understanding. “Come on in, Pia. I have an extra room. You can rub my feet.”
Pia smiled. “Do they hurt?”
“Constantly.”
“When are you due?”
“Yesterday.”
“Really, that’s so cool. Who’s the father? Is he around?”
Shelly lifted one finely-sculpted eyebrow. Jax shook his head. “Leave them alone. They’re doing great.”
Martha led Pia into the spacious living room. “He’s dead. Shelly killed him.”
“What?”
“I’ll tell you later. Come, put your stuff in the spare room.”
“You gonna be okay here?” Jax called after them.
Pia turned and grinned, a lopsided smile that seemed more sad than happy. “Sure, Martha’s cool. Call me if you hear anything.”
“I will.”
As they were heading back to the car, Jax’s phone rang. He grabbed it, saw it was the dude from Guatemala and answered. “We’re in Seattle,” Tuco Valdavar said. “We found an earlier flight.”
“Can you catch a cab to a hotel? It’s almost two. I’ll pick you up first thing in the morning.”
* * * *
Targ woke with Balam cradling him in his arms. He felt cold all over. He tried to take a deep breath and found he couldn’t breathe at all. “What’s happened to me?” His voice was a rasping croak.
Balam brushed his cheek with the tip of one finger. “You are my child. I have made you vampire, as am I.”
Targ groaned. “Did you say you made me into a vampire?”
“Yes, I had to do it to save you. I’m afraid this is all my fault. I got carried away. You have delicious blood and your body…” Balam sighed. “…is more than adequate, much more.”
Targ turned his head. His vision was unbelievable. He could see out the glass doors all the way across the lake to the far shore. He could smell the lake, dead fish, strange incense, musty carpet and blood. Someone was walking in the house. “Who’s here?”
“Do not worry. It is just my servant, Moon Man. He is bringing you something to eat. You must feed or you will not survive.”
The door opened and a short Indian entered carr
ying an unconscious man. “Dinner has arrived.”
Balam let Targ’s head fall against the pillows of the bed and in a blur of speed, snatched the unconscious man and tossed him next to Targ. “Feed.”
Targ’s felt his teeth elongating. He touched one of his canines with a tongue. It was sharp and much longer than he remembered. Balam must be telling the truth. He was a vampire. He shook his head to clear it. Couldn’t be true, there was no such thing as a vampire. But the scent of the unconscious man’s blood filled Targ’s nostrils like perfume. Suddenly, he was filled with a strange need that had nothing to do with his stomach. He craved blood deep in his soul as though he was an addict jonesing for a hit of heroin. “I can’t kill. I’m a cop, for God’s sake.”
Balam grabbed the victim’s wrist and opened it with one bite. He shoved the bleeding wound into Targ’s face. “Eat, or you will die the true death.”
The taste of warm, fresh blood running into his mouth was too much for Targ to resist. He sucked and felt it run into his stomach like a stream of lava. Burning all the way down, its heat spread through his body, giving him the warmth he lacked. The taste of the man’s blood was better than the finest sirloin steak. Ashamed of his weakness, he closed his eyes, drank and grew strong.
Eventually, Balam snatched the bloody wrist out of Targ’s mouth. “Too much will make you ill. You must now go to ground with me. It is almost dawn.” Balam shoved the man off the bed. “He is still alive, Moon Man, put him in one of the basement rooms and care for him. Targ will need him again when he wakes.”
When Targ was able to stand, Balam supported his first wobbly steps. They entered an elevator and went down. The doors opened and they were in a dark room, but Targ could see as clearly as though the sun lit it. A stone sarcophagus decorated with Mayan glyphs sat in the center of the room. Balam helped him into it, got in with him and pulled the lid closed before taking Targ in his arms. As soon as Balam gathered him close a strange fatigue encompassed him.
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