Grunting, he adjusted his weight on his palm, his voice a low growl.
“I was kind of pissed at both of them, to be honest… Nick and Jem. But with Nick, I really think he meant to make something work with Kiko. It was Kiko who saw through it. She told me she knew Nick wasn’t really interested in her… not really. She didn’t come out and say why she thought that, but I knew what she meant, and I agreed with her. I was honestly relieved she intuited that, and didn’t go along with it.”
Scowling, he glanced up at me.
“Kiko wasn’t able to have that kind of clarity with Jem. For a lot of reasons. He’s a fucking seer, for one, and she’d never been with a seer before. Humans don’t exactly find our kind easy to read, and Jem’s ex-Adhipan for fuck’s sake… and probably well over three hundred years old. Kiko wouldn’t have been used to the light component of sex. Humans can get addicted to that, just like seers… he probably blew her doors off, sex-wise. She couldn’t see him clearly because of that, not to mention just being kind of overpowered by his light.”
Hearing the real anger in his voice somehow calmed my own.
I was still frowning, but I found myself thinking about his words.
Jem had a thing for Nick?
Weirdly, it almost made sense.
I hadn’t seen it at all at the time, of course.
I’d seen Dalejem look at Nick here and there, but a lot of seers did that, just stared at people, I mean, especially seers who’d recently come from Old Earth. It was one of the hardest habits to break them of, when it came to assimilation. Seers, in general, had a tendency to stare in ways that freaked a lot of humans out.
“Jem definitely wanted Nick,” Black grunted. “Believe me. I accidentally tapped into one of his fantasy sessions about it… it was explicit. Technicolor explicit. He might have even been borderline fixated on him, from what I saw. I’m actually surprised he didn’t act on it, whether Nick was straight or not. After I saw that, I was worried I was going to have a problem with him… as in, he might use his light to try and get Nick to sleep with him anyway.”
Wincing a little at the unwelcome images, I smacked Black’s chest.
“Okay,” I said, grimacing. “I get the point.”
He looked up at me, his brow furrowed.
“I don’t think you should have married Nick,” he growled, his anger rising. “Jesus Christ, Miri. Nothing like voicing my worst fucking fears aloud. I just think you feel what could have been there, and a part of you feels guilty about it. Not only for Nick, but because you know it would have worked, in a different world.”
Gripping me tighter, he yanked me up against him, pressing his erection against me.
“A world I’m not in, doc,” he said. “I’m in this one.”
I let out an involuntary laugh, curling my hands around his shoulders.
“I’m very aware of that,” I said.
“You’d better not forget it,” he growled. “You better not forget I would have fought him to the death for you, doc, if it came to that. I like Nick. More than liked him. I really cared about the son of a bitch by the end, but…”
Falling silent briefly, he clenched his jaw, looking out the window.
When I wrapped my arms tighter around his neck, he looked over at me.
“I’m sorry, doc,” he said, gruff. “I’m really sorry about Nick.”
Fighting a tightening in my throat, I nodded. “I know. I know you are.”
His arm squeezed me tighter against him.
He looked up almost apologetically. Pain wafted off him as he did, even as he pressed deeper against me.
“I really want to fuck,” he said. “I wanted to fuck when I came back in here and found you here. You scared the shit out of me.”
Coiling my arms and legs around him tighter, I leaned into his chest.
I’d definitely noticed our sex urges hadn’t lessened any, since we left Thailand.
Apparently that wasn’t part of the whole “completing the bond” thing.
Black grunted, clearly hearing me.
“Did you think it would be?” he said.
I shrugged. “I didn’t know. But yeah… if I had to guess, I thought it would have calmed us both down some on that front.”
“Nope,” he said.
He still sounded distracted, despite the pain I now felt twisting through both of our light. He was still looking out the window, frowning, when I nudged him.
“What?” I said. “You want to ask me something. What is it?”
He looked over, and I saw worry skate across his expression.
For the first time, I really noticed that I could see him better. The sky was lightening outside the window. When I glanced over, I saw pink and gold streaks brightening at the horizon just past the Bay Bridge.
“I know you and Nick… you had a connection,” he said, his voice hesitant.
Feeling me react, tensing in his arms, he shook me a little again, his voice lowering back to a growl.
“Fuck, Miri… I’m not saying anything about that. Not like you think. I’m just saying… the screaming. The disappearing in the middle of the night. That ‘darkness’ you’ve been feeling. Do you think you’re feeling him? Nick?”
I thought about his words.
My jaw hardened enough to hurt, but I tried to think, to give him a real answer. Turning, I gazed out over the pre-dawn sky of San Francisco. I tried to reconcile what I’d felt, the pit of dread in my gut when I woke up, the panic, the darkness. I tried to wrap my head around the screaming Black heard, what Black said about me disappearing in the middle of the night.
Still staring sightlessly at the brightening sky, I frowned.
“I fucking hope not,” I said finally, turning to look at him.
Still frowning as I studied his gold eyes, I felt that pain in my chest and gut worsen. “I really fucking hope none of what I’ve been feeling is Nick, Black. I hope he’s alive. More than anything, I hope he’s alive… but I don’t think that’s what I’ve been feeling.”
Black frowned back at me, his face tightening at my words.
He didn’t say anything.
He didn’t even nod.
He didn’t emit anything with his light, or change expression, but somehow, I felt him wince at what I’d said anyway. I could feel he had his own opinion around all of that, somewhere in the back of his mind. I even had a pretty good idea of what that opinion was by now, although I didn’t let myself think about it very deeply, or for very long.
Whatever it was, Black wasn’t ready to share it with me.
More likely, he knew I wasn’t ready to hear it.
I wanted to disagree with him.
I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that he could just tell me, whatever it was.
I wanted to tell him I could handle it.
The problem is, I was pretty sure he was right.
I was pretty sure, whatever it was, I couldn’t handle it.
Not yet. Maybe not ever.
14
Newborn
BRICK WALKED INTO the sleeping apartments, unannounced.
He didn’t knock.
He didn’t make a sound, but simply entered, swinging open the door and scanning the first room of the three-room suite, looking for movement. It was his right to walk into any room or apartment or dwelling here––any living space belonging to one of his own––but it was a right he seldom exercised, particularly with his higher-ranked lieutenants.
This time was different, though.
It had been over two weeks.
He’d indulged this silence for over two weeks.
Walking into the common area of the suite, he frowned faintly, knowing immediately that this particular room was empty. He glanced out the open drapes at the sunlight-kissed balcony and knew the room had likely been vacant at least since the night before.
Passing through the living area with its small kitchen, distressed leather sofa set, and the industrial-style desk with a brand-new laptop open o
n top, he glanced around the thick carpet, and the wooden floor beyond it.
No bodies.
That was something, at least.
Then again, Dorian had always been fastidious, particularly around the disposal of his kills. Even more than most vampires, Dorian hated the smell of dead things. He generally removed the remains within minutes of having killed them, particularly if he brought them back to wherever he regularly worked and slept.
Brick pushed open the bedroom door, which also made no sound.
He knew Dorian would have seen to that immediately upon moving into this space. Excess sound was another thing his friend couldn’t tolerate; he would have greased and aligned every hinge on every door in the room, as well as the shutters, windows, drawers. He would have done everything he could to make them silent––to human ears, at least––to make his presence here ghost-like.
Walking into the room that felt larger, the one to the left of the main door into the wider building, Brick scarcely paused as he entered the overly warm space. He did not stop until he stood on a thick, plush rug that stood between the fireplace and the four-poster bed.
An iron cage stood on that floor, just as Dorian told him it would.
Nothing lived inside it now.
The door hung slightly open, and it was empty.
Dorian could smell blood, but nothing marked the off-white rug where he stood, or the hardwood floors. The fire had burned down to embers, but the room was sweltering, almost uncomfortably warm, even for him, and vampires generally ran cold.
No bodies on the floor in here, either.
Brick’s gaze shifted to the bed.
He’d known that’s where his search would end.
He’d suspected as much before he arrived, but he actually knew the instant he walked into the three-room apartment, and sensed both of them in the largest room apart from the common area. He could find any of his children, if only he looked for them.
The near-silence that greeted him told him most of the rest.
Even so, he’d taken the time to survey the rest of the vampire’s living quarters anyway, maybe in part to brace himself for what his eyes would find when he finally laid eyes on his two missing vampires.
He still grimaced faintly when his stare found them.
Dorian lay there, naked and sprawled, eyes closed, one arm and one leg wrapped possessively around their newborn.
As for Naoko himself, he hardly looked averse to the contact. Rather, he leaned into the taller male, his hand wrapped around Dorian’s pale arm where he was held.
Naoko’s face winced visibly while Brick watched, his eyes rolling under his lids, his chest moving in phantom pants. He grimaced, tensing, his expression changing in a complicated and articulate series of facial tics and twitches, like an animal hunting or fighting in its sleep.
When Naoko growled, low in his throat, the vampire lying behind him wrapped his arms around him tighter, crushing him to his chest. He wrapped his leg more tightly around him, too, sinking his fangs into his shoulder, which he’d already marked extensively, along with the newborn’s arms, neck, back, ass, side, his one visible leg.
The bite wasn’t aggressive.
That time, at least.
The sinking fangs stilled Naoko instead, reminding him.
It reminded him to obey.
It reminded him who was in control.
More than any of that, it reminded him he was safe.
A stronger vampire was there. Nothing would happen to him, not on that vampire’s watch. Not without that vampire’s say.
They weren’t asleep.
Vampires didn’t sleep.
Brick frowned, looking between the two of them, trying to decide if he should snap them out of this now, or if he should call in some of the others to help him do it. He knew the state they were in. He recognized it, as well as the dangers that accompanied it, if he tried to break them apart in the wrong way, or if he did so without first making them coherent enough to see him clearly.
They were gorged on one another’s blood.
Or, much more likely, Brick thought with a grimace, Dorian had gorged himself on Naoko’s blood, feeding the newborn throughout the night on humans to keep him from getting too weak. If that was the case––and Brick knew with almost no doubt that it was––Dorian was now completely immersed in the mind and the memories of the newborn, exploring every detail of the life he could coax Naoko to recall.
Whatever the precise truth of it, they were both clearly drunk on the connection.
If they’d been going at this all night––or for several nights, if not several weeks, which Brick deemed far more likely based on the silence he’d observed from Dorian since at least the middle of the month––they were probably far gone enough by now that Brick could have set off a firearm in the room without disturbing them.
Well, perhaps not.
With any vampire but Dorian, that likely would have been the case; with Dorian, a different outcome was more likely.
With Dorian, he’d probably end up having to fight the other vampire off as the blood-drunk male protected his newborn fuck-toy from what he perceived as a dangerous intruder.
Brick’s annoyance ratcheted up a few notches.
He watched the two of them a few moments longer, noting the unmistakable expression of contentment on his friend’s face.
Brick had known Dorian was infatuated with the newborn.
He’d known it might even have been Dorian’s real reason for asking to train Naoko, whatever Dorian told himself about why he’d made the offer. If the infatuation hadn’t started before then, it definitely started after, when Naoko not only attacked him ferociously and tried to bolt, but eventually outsmarted him.
Brick had given his approval anyway.
He’d done it more out of logic and expediency than out of deference to his own feelings, which had been decidedly more mixed on the subject. In fact, he’d specifically ignored his personal feelings in this, much as it pained him to do so. He’d tried to do what was best for Naoko, and well as what was best for his people as a whole.
He found himself almost regretting that now.
He would have preferred to have been Naoko’s first.
He more or less told Dorian that, even as he gave him permission to do what he did.
Again, he could rationalize that decision now.
He’d known Dorian was right. Dorian really was the best choice for this.
Lucia was out of the question. Nairobi would have been too rough with him. Naoko simply hadn’t been afraid enough of Brick himself.
The implications of that last irritated Brick, too.
Subconsciously or not, Naoko saw Dorian as an alpha in their little pack, even more than he saw his rightful king that way––whatever lip service he might pay to Brick’s role and title. The fact that Brick had power over Dorian himself likely mattered little in that assessment, since it was wholly subconscious anyway.
Of course, Brick knew it wasn’t that simple.
Dorian seemed to think Naoko saw him, meaning Brick himself, as a kind of benign father-figure, not unlike how he saw his human father. Naoko had apparently been quite close to and fond of his human father, both as a child and an adult.
Whatever the precise case, Dorian clearly was the better choice for breaking in Naoko while he still needed a firm hand. Brick saw that, even before Dorian outlined his reasons in painstaking and maddeningly logical detail.
Still, Dorian didn’t have to so enjoy his self-appointed assignment quite so much. He’d obviously enjoyed it––and continued to enjoy it––with enough enthusiasm that Brick felt an overwhelming urge to break his friend’s neck where he lay.
Still, Naoko’s obvious compliance with Dorian’s sexual demands told Brick nothing concrete about whether Dorian’s attempt to train the youngster had been successful––meaning if he’d actually managed to bring Naoko somewhat to heel.
Looking at the two of them, Brick found himself t
hinking Dorian would probably say that he had, at least in the ways that mattered.
Brick wasn’t even sure he would disagree with him.
Naoko would have developed more of an understanding of the vampire mind from so many days spent sharing an elder’s blood.
That understanding alone would make him more compliant.
Dorian’s mind was logical. Through his blood, Naoko would have gained a firm and thorough grasp as to why their laws and rules were necessary, and why those laws would help to keep them all alive, especially now.
Moreover, Brick could see the submission on him, even from where he stood.
Dorian clearly had him trained to respond to his teeth and touch, at least to a degree. Of course, whether that would translate into Naoko being receptive to their words might be another matter entirely, especially once the novelty of getting properly fucked by a vampire who knew what he was doing wore off.
Still, Brick had to grudgingly give his friend credit.
Dorian had apparently done what he said he would.
Moreover, he’d managed it within the one month deadline Brick gave him.
At the thought, and the memory of what brought him here, Brick frowned again.
He also made a decision.
“Get up,” he snapped. “Now!”
He banged his Anubis-headed cane on the hardwood floor.
Naoko frowned, receding deeper into Dorian’s arms.
Dorian coiled those arms around him tighter, a bare flash of fang visible as his expression tightened, shifting to a near threat. His eyes still closed, he snarled softly, deep in his throat. He gripped Naoko even more tightly as Brick watched, his body coiling around the newborn’s with an overt protectiveness, mixed with a possessiveness Brick could not fail to notice.
As Brick suspected, Dorian would likely try to kill anyone who got too close to either of them right then––even Brick himself––unless Brick managed to snap him out of his drunken state prior to approaching. If Dorian remained too far inside Naoko’s blood, the older vampire would likely attack anyone who even might be a threat, especially to the newborn in his arms.
TO BLACK WITH LOVE: Quentin Black Mystery #10 Page 19
