Le Roi Du Sang

by Tiana Laveen

  “You have got to be kidding me… and how did you figure this out?”

  “I asked my client on our initial meeting about the case what his greatest fear was. His answer? ‘Being broke…’” Alexandre slowed his vehicle when he spotted a familiar man standing in front of his car as he sat at a red light. The two locked eyes. He clutched his steering wheel hard and revved the engine. His fangs descended and sank into the flesh of his lower lip. “Baby, I have to go. There’s some roadkill in the middle of the street.” Before she could respond, he ended the call, then rolled down his window.

  “Alexandre!” the man said with a roguish grin, his long white hair blowing in the wind. Two men joined the fucker by his side, seemingly coming out of nowhere. “Powerhouse attorney! Man on the move! And from what I hear now, vampire in love… So, are you just going to sit there, or will you invite your dear, younger brother Victor for a ride?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Brothers and Buddies…

  Alexandre’s lips kinked in a vexed smirk as he maneuvered his shiny white BMW over to the side of the busy road and parked it, ignoring the incessant honking and curses of passersby. Hopping out of his car, he locked it and approached his brother with his two rapscallion Turned Vampire slaves that stood on either side of him like a pair of broken-down French bookends. Slicking his hand into his jacket, he retrieved one of his favorite white and black striped cigars, brought it to his mouth, and lit it with his fingertip. Smoke eddied from his parted lips as his eyes hooded, regarding a motherfucker named Victor.

  “Well, to what do I owe the pleasure of getting an impromptu visit from my one and only living sibling?”

  “Ne t’ai-je pas manqué?” Victor chuckled. His platinum white hair fell past his shoulders, a deep contrast with his black leather trench coat. The man’s dark violet eyes twinkled with evil… the kind they were both made of.

  “Sure, I missed ya, little brother.” Alexandre took another draw from his cigar and tapped the ashes onto the sidewalk. “Missed you as much as a lion misses an antelope.”

  “Ahhh!”

  One of his brother’s bookends screamed when Alexandre flung his coat open to shroud him as he jammed his fist all the way down the bastard’s throat. The idiot’s skin around his thin, pink lips split open on both sides, ripped apart. The man’s struggles filled Alexandre with satisfaction.

  “Let him go,” Victor stated calmly.

  “You know I can’t do that, Victor. You came looking for trouble. Well, now you have it.”

  Victor’s smile slipped away as he watched him pull the minion’s throat muscle out from his body, and twist the tendon covered mass. When Alexandre released him, the weakling dropped to the ground like a heap of trash being thrown from a six-story window.

  He could only imagine the extreme pain the fucker was in, and that pleased him to the point of laughter. Alexandre looked down at the man who was bleeding from the mouth, lying wild eyed, unable to talk and focus. People moved about along the sidewalk, barely paying them any attention. They carried on their way, probably assuming he was drunk or high, going through withdrawals. New Yorkers for ya…

  “I am Count Alexandre Marseille.” Alexandre spat on the man and sneered before tugging at his coat collar with bloodied hands. “Don’t you ever stand that close to me again, acting as if you’re going to do something… lay a hand on me!” he roared. “I am your king, and you stand here with my brother in defiance! Treason!”

  He pointed to the other one who had now moved several steps away, but it was too late. He was not a forgiving Lord…

  Alexandre narrowed his eyes on the coward and in a flash, he forced the vampire to glide close to him. The weakling tried to resist, but he had no power… it was far too easy.

  “Scream, and I will murder you. Make even one noise, and I will cut your head off and shove it up your ass.”

  He grabbed the fucker by the gut and twisted the taut flesh, crushing the stomach muscles and intestines, causing the man to grit his teeth in pain. “I would disembowel you right here, right now for your lack of devotion; however, I need for you and your now voice-box-less friend here to return to Paris with the good news that Count Alexandre Marseille is alive and well.”

  He pushed the man down onto the concrete, walked around him, and opened his car door to get back in.

  Victor glared at him. “Your time is up, big brother. We cannot use the old laws to rule the new nation and then make new ones only to fit our own agenda!”

  “Isn’t that called intelligence?” His brow arched. “Getting rid of what doesn’t work and keeping what does?”

  Victor grimaced and hissed, his already naturally flared nostrils elongated. “I heard she isn’t a Pure Blood. I heard she will destroy the little we have left!”

  “I have plenty and will gain more than New York’s finest wolfing down donuts. You have practically nothing and will lose the little you possess if you ever pull something like this again.”

  “She’s. Not. Fit!” Victor’s eyes glowed with rage, and his pale flesh flushed in shades of blue.

  “Whoever I chose as my mate is none of your fucking concern. My judgment is trusted for a reason. As far as everything else, unless you hear it directly from me, brother, it’s only a rumor. I’ll see you back in Paris soon. Until then, play nice or I will play dirty… actually, I won’t be playing at all, but whatever the game is, I am certain to win.”

  Victor turned his back to walk away.

  “Oh, one more thing before you fly away like the southern cockroach that you are… If you ever do this again, you know, try to bombard me and act as if I answer to you, I will kill you on the fucking spot, in front of the Coven and the Council. I will then go to our family mausoleum and dance on your grave. Perhaps the clouds will cry in your honor. Call me Gene Kelly, I’ll be singin’ in the motherfucking rain on that tomb. Rest in a millon bloody pieces.” He winked at the bastard, slid into his car, and took off down Broadway…

  Whiskey sat across the restaurant with a thick, charcoal gray skull cap pulled over one of his furrowed brows. His big muscles were wrapped around his wine sweater, not the other way around. He was a big brute of a man with warmth in his eyes. A black barbed wire tattoo surrounded the considerable circumference of his meaty neck.

  Venus had had about enough of the man following her. He hadn’t even tried to pretend he wasn’t. The day before, his big ass was there, behind her, pushing a shopping cart full of shit she was certain he didn’t need. He lurked around the university campus, even followed her to her old apartment where she went every now and again just to have a moment to think things through. Her mate’s home was beautiful, but with all of the servants, grandiose décor and what not, at times it was simply too much.

  She brought the martini glass to her lips and took a sip of the red liquor as she glanced briefly at her laptop screen. She looked up at him again, and the fucker had the nerve to smirk and wave.

  That’s it. I’ve had it.

  “Whiskey!” she called out, slamming her computer closed. “Come here, please.”

  The big guy slid off the barstool and came to the booth she was sitting in by herself inside the dimly lit eatery. He stood before her, his hands clasped over his gut. He would send chills down people’s spines from the very sight of him. Whiskey was huge… tall and wide, like some brick wall.

  “Why are you here?”

  The guy grinned and twirled a toothpick in his twisted mouth as he looked leisurely to his left, then to his right. “I like uh good steak… nice bottle of wine. You know, the usual bullshit one says when they’re babysittin’, but not babysittin’.”

  “Sit down, please.” She pointed to the seat across from her. He took his sweet time doing so, then folded his huge hands along the table. “Why does Alexandre have you following me?”

  “For protection.” He twirled the toothpick back and forth between his lips, like a pendulum.

  “Protection from what?”

  The man
stopped playing with the little stick and glared at her.

  “From yourself.”

  She glowered at him, not in the mood for riddles. “Look, Whiskey, I’ve got a lot of work to do. I am way behind because of the time I took off from work at my… I don’t even know what to call him.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Your mate. He’s your husband-to-be.”

  “Alexandre is his name, and that’s what I’ll call him.”

  The guy lazily rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Women are dramatic sometimes… whatever. You know what this is… he’s your lover. Your man. Your king. And you are his queen.”

  She ignored the man and continued. “Alexandre has kept me tied up—”

  “In more ways than one…” The guy grinned in a naughty sort of way, then chuckled as if the joke were hilarious… but it was true. The two had been fucking like jack rabbits. Alexandre was a beast in bed. He transformed pain into pleasure, and pleasure into pain… She craved him like opium; it was a matter of self-control, and at times, she struggled with it. “We can hear you two fucking every morning and night. Good for you.” He applauded. “You make him happy.”

  She flopped back in the booth and crossed her arms over her breasts.

  “What’s your story?” The guy slid his knitted hat off and placed it on the table. “Come on, Whiskey,” she pleaded. “I need help! I’m free, but also a prisoner… I’m lonely, but people are all around me. Alexandre has all of these individuals at my beck and call. He is spoiling me, but I’d rather have my questions answered and he spend time with me that doesn’t include screwing and training. He has a one track mind!”

  “He’s taking care of you, and he’s taking care of business. You’ll just have to trust him.”

  The man’s loyalty to the crazy king was unreal.

  “I’m in love with an insane zealot and half the time I have no idea even where the hell he is! This isn’t right. I’m trying to help Alexandre, Whiskey, but if he doesn’t talk to me about everything, how can I? I need to know more about him so I can be the best mate for him. Help a sista out.”

  He looked at her through half-lidded eyes. She wasn’t certain if she’d convinced him to give up the info or not—but she was leaning towards the negative.

  “He’s not insane…” the man said, drumming his fingers on the table. He glimpsed at the burning candle out the corner of his eye. Licking his fingers, he extinguished the flame with wet fingertips, then leaned forward, his eyes turned blood red. “Lord Alexandre Marseille is one of the smartest, most rational men I know,” Whiskey began, looking down at his hands for a second, then back into her eyes. “He saved me. I was on the streets.”

  He stared at her as if trying to burrow within her very soul. Sorrow and pain swam in his brown, syrupy eyes. “Nobody wanted me… He took me in. He saw potential in me. He trained me. We became friends. He’s the father I never had so when he says ‘Jump!’ I say, ‘How fuckin’ high?’ Yeah, he’s a control freak… he’s a predator, but all of us are. You’d be like him too if you ever had to live one day of his life.”

  Her heart beat faster at his words. She turned away and raised her hand for a waiter to return and give her something to make it go down smoother.

  “Hi, can I get another martini and… Whiskey, what do you want?”

  “What type of whiskey do you want, ma’am?”

  “Oh no, sorry.” She chuckled. “That’s my friend here’s name.”

  The waiter nodded in understanding. Whiskey laughed a little, the first time she’d ever seen him do such a thing. He had a nice smile.

  Whiskey was a Half Breed. He had the luxury of drinking blood and consuming food, and enjoy it as well. The flavors didn’t nauseate or make him sick; he had the best of both worlds. Her jealousy of the man was born right then and there, but she respected and admired him all the same.

  “A glass of Blue Moon beer would be cool, thanks.”

  The waiter disappeared with promises of bringing their drinks from the bar in no time at all. They sat there for a spell, neither of them saying a word.

  “Whiskey, I’m in a strange predicament.”

  “What’s that?”

  “My entire life has been turned upside down. Things are happening that I never believed possible. First and foremost, I moved in with a man after knowing him for only a short while… totally not my style. But there was fear, promises were made, as well as an undeniable attraction and connection, regardless of how many times I tried to convince myself otherwise. I knew it from the first moment he whispered in my ear… my insides screamed. He felt so familiar, and I felt so frightened and safe, all at once. I’d seen him in one of my dreams! It didn’t make sense.” She took a deep breath. “Secondly, he is teaching me things, incredible things… not just fighting techniques, but information about my kind, our history, that I never knew.”

  “He’s an excellent teacher.”

  She nodded in agreement.

  “I realize now though, all of this time later…” She lowered her gaze for a moment. “That I am not who I thought I was!” Her voice trembled. “Imagine thinking you are one way, only to discover it’s only half true? It’s devastating.”

  Their drinks came and Whiskey took his quickly, wrapped his thick lips around the rim of the bottle, and gulped down the liquid. His tan flesh flushed with color as the alcohol filled him.

  At first, he seemed uncertain how to respond, then he said, “I think none of us are who we believe we are, Venus. I think, ya know,” he said with a shrug, “we’re always evolving.”

  “Yes, I suppose that’s one way to look at it. Sorry to bombard you with all of this, but I have no one to talk to, Whiskey.” She rubbed her head. “I can’t talk to my friends at work, obviously. They’d have me committed in a mental hospital if I ever contemplated telling them what I really am and what I’ve been up to for the last 200 years. I have no family, my mistress is gone, I hop from place to place to place… I feel… I feel lost.”

  Something about Whiskey made her feel comfortable, like she could spill her guts with him. But the way he was looking at her had her second guessing her instincts about him.

  “You can talk to your mate about it.” He exhaled loudly as he looked down at her.

  “No, I can’t. Alexandre is full of secrets. I ask him something and if he believes I don’t need the answer right then, he says I’ll know in time. He keeps telling me I’m different, but I have no idea what that even means.” Her eyes glazed over. She felt so unsure, so silly. “Sorry.” She smiled nervously as she dabbed the napkin against the corner of her eye. She had so many emotions within her—secrets, lies…

  “Nah.” He waved her off. “It’s all right. Look, Venus, I trust Marseille, okay? If he tells ya that he will tell ya what’s going on when it’s time, then trust that he will. Just do what he says and don’t cause any trouble.”

  “But I can’t be that way, Whiskey. That’s not who I am.” She shrugged. “If Alexandre says or does something I don’t agree with, I tell him. I am not a ‘yes’ woman. No offense to you and the rest of his assistants and guards, but I just can’t do that. Right is right, and wrong is wrong.”

  “Nah, rules are different in our world, Venus. See, the Count thinks you’re playin’ with your food.” She looked at him curiously. “You talk about your friends ya can’t talk to. Well, maybe they aren’t really your friends then?” He threw up his hands. “Maybe you need to make new friends, all right? Humans, like my mother for one, are not on your level. I cared for my mother, don’t get me wrong, rest ’er soul, but she couldn’t understand things the way I could, the real way of the world. It went over her head, despite her havin’ a sexual tryst with a vampire one day and gettin’ pregnant with me. Now, I obviously have nothin’ against mankind in general—my existence depended on it—but I can tell you this much, humans have treated me the worst outta anybody. I don’t wanna be friends wit’ them. Not now, not ever!” His eyes grew dark.

  “I see you’ve
been reading from a page in the Count’s playbook.” She grimaced and shook her head. “He’s a bad influence on you, Whiskey. He’s made you see this as all or nothing. Not all people are bad.”

  “He hasn’t turned me against anyone. These are my own beliefs.” He pointed to himself. “You’re gonna have to learn the hard way if you’re not careful. If you can’t be yourself with someone, all the parts of you, how can you say that they’re your friend? You have to pretend to be one of them, Venus, in order to be in their world. Can’t ya see how fucked up that is? With Alexandre, you can be yourself! In his house, you can feed in plain view. You can do whatever the fuck you wanna do. You might be a smart cookie to the humans you teach.” He pointed to her laptop. “But you’ve got a lot to learn, Venus. You’re too trusting; you believe in the goodness of humanity and that’s a fairytale. With the Count, he is true to himself. He doesn’t give uh shit what anyone thinks about him. He’s just doin’ what he has to do. He didn’t become king just because… trust me, he earned it.”

  “Earned it how, though? That’s the problem. Killing all day and night! I know that I’m no saint. What I’ve done was a matter of survival. The cravings must be fed but my mate has donors and still stalks prey!” She rolled her eyes. “Look, I understand where you’re coming from but to take pleasure in suckling from newborn babies and the elderly is going too far. Vampires are evolved and yet we hold on to this wicked way of life! We should be—”

  “Lady, you gotta let this go. That good heart, give peace a chance bullshit ain’t real! From what I know about your background, you of all people should know better!”

  His words stung. She was suddenly flooded with images of her racing about on the plantation, hating her life, hating the pale fleshed people who looked down upon her. He was right. She’d been tricked by her own delusions. These people didn’t give a fuck about her. They hated her when she’d been a Black slave girl; they’d hate her if they found out she was a vampire. She’d been looking for love the entire time; perhaps the people she’d expected to provide it to her were incapable of doing so…