The Necromancer's Dance (The Beacon Hill Sorcerer Book 1)

by SJ Himes

  Simeon was quiet as if waiting for Angel to blow up at him. Angel turned his head a bit and looked up at Simeon. “I’m not mad you didn’t tell me. What would I have done with the knowledge? Not a thing, not then. But now I do know, and he is alive, this traitor, and coming for me for some reason. But why now, why me, and why is he afraid of me? August said it was for what I did that night. Deimos wants to know what spell I used to destroy the army of undead. Everyone with half a brain and no manners has wanted to know for the last decade.”

  “It makes sense for Deimos to want to know how you managed it that night. Such a spell would give the wielder great power. I suspect that is in part why no one has come after you. Fear of what you can do has kept enemies from your door.” Simeon stated proudly, and Angel smiled, surprising himself. “Even my master is most curious, a ghra, though I have ignored his polite requests for me to ask you. He understands loss, and grief, and was merely curious. Since they were requests, I did not need to press for answers.”

  “You’re a big softie, aren’t you?” Angel asked, chuckling. “I wondered why no one from the clan was asking me about it. I figured the Master either didn’t want me to demonstrate it, or wanted to be on my good side in case I felt the urge to do it again. You were protecting me all along, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, Angel, of course, I was,” Simeon said, simple and direct as if there was no other option. “I will always protect you.”

  “I believe you,” Angel said, and he reached up with a gloved hand, fingers carding through thick auburn hair and tugging Simeon’s head down. Their lips met, cold and wet, but the kiss quickly warmed. Angel kissed Simeon, doing his best to communicate how he was feeling—he was anything but mad.

  Need, want, desire—it was all one welling emotion, one instinct that kept telling him to take what Simeon was offering him. Love, affection, care. Not once in two years had Simeon been anything but gentle with him—even when he was maintaining a polite distance, Simeon was looking out for him.

  Tongues touched briefly before Angel pulled back, and Simeon let him. He wanted to crawl back into Simeon’s lap and stay there, sheltered from the world. He couldn’t, but the desire to do so was strong. “Why now? Why this, right now, and not then?”

  “You mean Deimos?” Simeon whispered back, licking his lips, hands cradling Angel’s face.

  “No—why us, this between us. Why now, and not the last two years? I know you wanted me when we first met. Hell, you had to notice I wanted you, too.”

  “Ahhh, yes. I was wondering when you would ask me,” Simeon said, arms going around Angel to pull him up and over his legs. Angel sighed, but let Simeon hold him in his lap. The vamp had to be able to read minds, or maybe he just knew Angel well enough by now that Simeon could understand what he wanted.

  “So?”

  “You came that other night, for Greg Doyle. You came in the middle of the night, nearly naked and exhausted, ready to commit murder you were so mad, but you came anyway. For him and the love your brother has for him, yes, but also for us. It was at my behest you came that night, and you were there instantly. The last two years, at my urging, my master has let you come and go freely from our headquarters, tending to our foolish young and helping them. You never asked for anything in return, even when my master offered to pay you for your skill and time. You came because they were sick, and needed help. You saved Mr. Doyle and exhausted yourself for us. Then you leaned on me and trusted me to keep you safe. I knew then that whatever hesitancy you had towards me, be it my nature or me personally, had worn down enough for me to show you how I truly felt without you withdrawing further.”

  Angel blinked up at Simeon, whose features were hidden in the dark, eyes catching the slim light that filtered through clouds and mist to where they sat.

  “I have lived four hundred years, my love. Two years to earn your trust was a price I was more than willing to pay.”

  Angel grinned, and his cheeks grew warm. “Oh.”

  Simeon laughed. It was a smooth rumble of delight that slid through Angel’s body and settled in his bones. Angel chuckled with him, and he put his arms around Simeon’s neck and hugged him. Simeon hugged him back, and they held each other in the darkness.

  “Are we going to need an alibi for tonight?” Simeon asked after a long silence.

  “Oh hell yeah, we are. Me at least, for sure. They won’t know you were there unless that guard can ID you?”

  “No, he did not see my face. He may have heard you use my name, but it’s doubtful. He most likely has a severe concussion.”

  “Any ideas then? I was just going to head home and bluff my way through this, but I don’t think BPD will buy it. I wasn’t planning on adding body theft to my list of felonies tonight. I erroneously assumed that August would have been prepped for cremation already or at least autopsied, and no one would notice my spell-work. Stealing August’s remains will lead them right back to my doorstep. I was the one to ID him.”

  “I have an idea then, my love,” Simeon said, kissing Angel on the lips, a hint of fang making him shiver. “We need an alibi, and I can provide one. Shall we go?”

  “What?” Angel asked, suspicious. His place would be safer, considering his wards and the sunlight runes on the windows, but the cops would probably come armed with a warrant and break down his door. Depending who they had on their practitioner payroll they may or may not be able to get through his wards. He would know if the wards fell, but he didn’t want to be there if the cops showed up. They wouldn’t find anything in his place that could be used in a resurrection, but that didn’t mean the cops wouldn’t look everywhere, destroying his things and making a fucking mess.

  “Where’s your courage?” Simeon asked with a grin that Angel could feel against his lips, and he growled in reply. Simeon held Angel tight about the waist, and stood up, smooth and sexy and without a stagger. Angel gave a short laugh, appreciating the solid strength in the Elder’s frame. He never enjoyed being manhandled, but with Simeon, it wasn’t annoying as it could be. In fact, it wasn’t annoying at all, not that he would ever say so. He gave Simeon a sneer, fighting back a smile, and winked. Simeon saw it and growled, teeth clenched, fangs glinting in the low light.

  “Fine, let’s go. I’ll show you courage.”

  “You have already, my love.”

  The walk to the edge of the park was done in silence, Angel’s hand in Simeon’s. The Elder made a call, and they waited in the shadow of a bare-limbed oak for ten minutes until a sleek black limousine pulled up to the curb. The street was empty, dark, and the rain forecasted finally began to fall in heavy sheets as Angel got in the back, Simeon sliding in behind him and shutting the door.

  The muffled sound of the rain falling on the roof of the limo and the sluicing of tires through puddles lulled Angel into a detached calm. Simeon went back to holding his hand, and Angel, in one part of his mind, was amused by how rapidly the vampire’s hand warmed in his own. It was as if the vampire was aluminum, absorbing heat rapidly, then losing it just as fast once removed from the source of heat.

  “Why were you in the tux, again?” Angel asked, eyeing the rumpled and stained ensemble Simeon still wore. He would have given Simeon something clean to wear before they left his place, but Simeon was a foot taller than he was and outweighed him by a lot, and none of his clothes would have fit the Elder.

  “There was a welcome dinner for a visiting dignitary from the Atlanta Bloodclan. An older master, without rank but many fledglings and substantial wealth, wishes to join our clan. The other night was merely an informal function, where the foreign master presented his tithes and his request to join our clan. There will be a gala tomorrow night when my master either accepts or declines his request to join.” Simeon looked down at Angel and shook his head as Angel opened his mouth to question him. “That was my thought as well—the vampire Deimos is, according to your departed comrade, an older vampire—what are the odds two old vampires come into Boston in the same week? Yet William Bridger
ton is known to my Master, and has been a member of Atlanta’s bloodclan for the last 100 years.”

  “Shit,” Angel cursed. “That would have been too easy.” Though that really didn’t discount Bridgerton from being Deimos—the older the vamp, the more names they had. He kicked back and slouched on the butter-smooth leather seat, and his head found Simeon’s shoulder on its own, and he thought about it. “Maybe one of his fledglings? Or entourage? Old masters travel with those, yeah?”

  “Yes, Bridgerton has an honor guard and blood donors, along with his eldest fledglings. One of them may be the one we seek. I can discreetly inquire.” Simeon was quiet for a moment, then seemed to make a decision to continue, his tone cautious. “They are all staying at Bloodclan Headquarters, my love. They will also be present at the gala. I was going to invite you if you took to my courtship favorably. Do you wish to go somewhere else, in case the one hunting you is there?”

  “I grew up in the middle of a war,” Angel scoffed, chuckling. “I’ve never run from a fight or a vampire. A party, though. I hate parties, but I’ll not run. I’m not about to do it now. Bring it on, and if Deimos is there, then I’ll offer my apologies to your Master after I’ve made a mess.”

  Angel must have dozed off, as he came to when the limo entered the underground parking garage used by the vampires who lived in the Tower. Simeon lifted his arm from Angel’s shoulders, and Angel hid a smile. What a difference a few days and a life-threatening situation make…

  It was Angel’s first time in the Tower, as the high-rise attached to Vamp HQ was nicknamed. The elevator from the underground garage had its own guards, in the car and outside the doors at each floor. Angel recognized the guards as vampires right away, which was logical since it was still night, and the daytime guards were probably human. Dressed in nondescript black suits and earbuds, and an intimidating bulge under their arms from weapons, they made an impressive sight. Angel was watching the guard in the elevator from the corner of his eye, and saw the vamp tense when he got a good look at who exactly his Elder was with. Most vamps in Simeon’s bloodclan now knew Angel on sight after the last two years. Simeon put a hand on Angel’s shoulder possessively in a clear sign for the guard, and the vamp relaxed with an abrupt nod, moving away from the floor panel.

  Simeon keyed his floor in by pressing his free hand flat on a sensor pad, and that lit up the numbered floor buttons on the panel, and Simeon then hit the button for the 9th floor. Not the penthouse, but the next level down. The penthouse was for the Master then, and as Simeon was an Elder, it made sense his room would be on the floor below.

  Or suite, as it turned out.

  Angel lost his brows in his hairline when Simeon escorted him into the foyer of an impressive suite, marble walls with gray veins snaking through them and brass lines cut through shiny black tiles gave a cool yet oddly welcoming impression, and the walls were covered in oil paintings, many of which Angel could guesstimate to be worth an absurd amount of money.

  The foyer opened up into a wide living space, the rug a deep red, the furniture a soft buttercream that balanced out the dark hue of the carpet. A spacious seating area was strewn with chaise lounges and low, wide couches, and deep recliners big enough to hold more than one person. It was obvious that space was meant for entertaining, and from the faint depressions on the cushions, it was occupied often. Simeon was an Elder and over four centuries old; he probably had fledglings of his own, and numerous blood donors, unless he drank from bagged blood units, but somehow Angel had trouble seeing Simeon doing that.

  Angel gave Simeon a weak smile, realizing that while the Elder knew almost everything about him, he knew so little about Simeon. The disparity was jarring and made him feel selfish. He banished it as best he could—he had a feeling where the night was heading, and feeling guilty was not the best way to make a decision.

  “Pardon me, a ghra, I must change. The bar is there along the wall, please help yourself. I will be back shortly,” Simeon murmured with a short bow of his shoulders, before slinking out of the room.

  Angel followed Simeon deeper into the living space, before stopping next to a long, low couch. He examined it suspiciously before sitting, and was surprised by how comfortable it was. Considering the overt wealth of his surroundings, he could well imagine all the seating was much the same. He would bet the beds were even more luxurious.

  Just thinking about the bed somewhere in the suite sent his eyes searching for Simeon. The Elder had vanished into the depths of the rooms, and Angel closed his hands, fists tight, his thighs tensing. He was alone with Simeon, in the Elder’s space, in the depths of vamp HQ. He may be safe from being bitten, but not against physical violence or human blood slaves. He was trusting Simeon now more than he had ever done before. If he was forced to defend himself, Angel had doubts he would be able to get out without casualties and collateral damage. Simeon was an Elder, but that meant nothing if the Master, whom Angel had never dealt with directly, objected to a necromancer’s presence in his domain. Simeon was honor bound to obey the Master; if Simeon was ordered to act against Angel in any way, Angel worried which side the Elder might choose. Simeon could speak of love, and call him all the endearments he wished, but Angel was too wary to not, at least, think about the worst outcomes of his sleepover.

  The other part of him, the quiet and reserved man who spent his nights alone and his heart guarded behind precision sarcasm and snark, kept finding his focus sliding from exit strategies to a mental image of himself naked on satin sheets, fingers clawing at Simeon’s pale shoulders as the vampire drove into his body over and over, pinning him to the mattress with his cock and hands.

  Ages since he last got off without involving his right hand, Angel cursed under his breath when his cock hardened, painfully pushing up against his zipper, and his heart began to beat with an eager tempo. Mentally castigating himself for winging his plans and ending up in a position where he would be forced to make a decision—whether a relationship with another man, let alone a powerful vampire, was something he could do. He didn’t do relationships—they were outside his experience. Simeon’s regard—if sincere, and he had no reason to doubt it wasn’t—left him with the very clear impression that the vampire cared for him deeply, maybe even to the point of love—surely that meant a relationship, something more permanent than the meager exchange of first names and a decision on who was bottoming for the night.

  Angel needed to decide if that was something he could give Simeon—if he could give himself to such a depth. His body was an easy answer—but giving his heart to another left him as terrified as it did needy. A keen sense of want ran through his chest, making his eyes sting. He wanted, despite his best efforts, to lean his head, heart and troubles on the broad and strong shoulders of the Elder vampire, and just let himself simply exist.

  A fine layer of sweat gathered on his brow, and his pulse danced merrily as his thoughts went increasingly haywire with lust. His fingertips were buzzing, and Angel breathed in slow and even, eyes locked on the floor, trying to control himself. Making a decision in his current state was such a bad idea.

  “I hear your heart racing, Angel. Such a furious pace and your scent set my nerves aflame.” Simeon spoke quietly from nearby. “Will you look at me, my love?”

  Angel looked up at Simeon and nearly swallowed his tongue.

  The Elder wore a simple black tee that hugged every ridge and bulge of carved muscle, and the pajama pants he wore were dark gray and silky, clinging to his lean hips and powerful thighs, perfectly outlining the bulge at his groin. Barefoot and sexy, the vampire padded across the thick carpet, coming to stand just out of reach of where Angel sat.

  “I…” Angel lost whatever words he was going to speak, his tongue refusing to cooperate. His body knew what it wanted. His heart did, too. It was his mind that left him struggling.

  “Yes?” Simeon asked softly, hands resting at his sides, green eyes bright, a patient smile on his lips.

  “Did you mean it? What you said, a
bout your heart being mine? Did you mean it, Simeon?” Angel asked, and winced. Tears came, stinging his eyes, yet he clung to what control he had left, despite his tongue blurting out the question his heart wanted to hear the answer to.

  “Angelus Salvatore, I lost my heart to you the moment you threatened my life. So brave, so capable and enticing.” Simeon replied, a smile lifting a corner of his mouth, a shiny fang glinting. “I meant what I said earlier, as well. I have lived a very long time, and two years were nothing to wait when the prize was your heart in return.”

  Angel pressed a hand to his mouth, breathing hard through his nose. His own heart was screaming at him to get up, to take what was offered and never let go.

  “What holds you back, my love? You’re so torn, it pains me. Tell me what holds you back when you so clearly want the same as I do. Is it because I’m a vampire?”

  “YES!” Angel shouted, face burning, hands coming away from his mouth as if searching for something to hold. Simeon took a step back, shocked by his outburst.

  “Do you hate my kind so much? For what was done to your family?” Simeon whispered, handsome visage torn by pain and regret. Simeon’s pain spurred his own, and Angel couldn’t stop himself from speaking.

  “No! No, Simeon.” Angel stood, at last, hand outstretched to Simeon, hoping the Elder would take it. “I don’t hate your kind. Those that came for us that night were all enslaved, their wills stripped. Vampires were not my enemies then, and your people are not mine now.”

  “Then… Explain, please, my love.” Simeon took the hand Angel held out, his cool, strong fingers squeezing hard, giving him something to focus on.

  “It is a matter of hate, but not mine for your kind…. How can you not hate… me? Why don’t you hate me for what I did?” Finally voicing his innermost regret ripped a hole in his control, and his other hand came up, seeking comfort. The vampire pulled him forward, and Angel found himself in a powerful, all-encompassing embrace, shielding him from the world.