The Nightlife: Paris (The Nightlife Series)

by Travis Luedke

  Not knowing was the worst. She had no idea what had happened to him. He must have experienced the psychic backlash of her death, however momentary. Breaking their bond would have been extremely unpleasant. She had lost her mind when it happened to her.

  Never had she experienced this intense heartache and loneliness, the feeling of losing a lover, a man who held a part of her own soul. He was out there, just out of reach, untouchable. She needed Aaron like no other.

  A nagging insecurity festered. What if he thought her dead and enjoyed his freedom? Even if she could find him, would he have anything to do with her? She had always been so confident in Aaron’s presence. He had no choice in the matter. With their bond broken, everything had changed.

  The unbearable angst twisted in her stomach. She felt like a lovesick teenager, hoping against all odds that he still loved her, that they could be reunited, their differences magically resolved. She knew he had loved her, but now? Without their bond?

  She had enjoyed her power over him. Perhaps too much.

  The pain of her loss intensified with every passing night. She awoke night after night to blood stains on her pillow from crying herself to sleep. The note under the bedroom door indicated the ruined pillowcases had been added to the room charges.

  The lonely nights crept inexorably to the end of October, Halloween. She found herself standing in a nightclub, fulfilling the routine of survival. She forced herself to attend the wild festivities with a mind to find someone to take away this gaping hole in her chest and relieve the lump in her throat forever threatening tears of self-pity. She needed a diversion.

  “Hey there, looks like we found us a right vampire.” A tall, dark-haired man with an Irish-British accent slipped his arm around her. His fingertips brushed her left nipple. She had dressed the part – a short black Goth outfit, her eyes and cheeks darkened in the classic Goth-vampire look.

  “Oui, and what would you do with me, now that I am found?” She flashed him full-size fangs, enjoying the one night of the year she could flaunt her true nature.

  “Well, we have a VIP booth and a room at the Marriot. You should join us.” He pulled her along to meet three other men in the VIP section, all young, smiling brightly, probably college students.

  She sat with the men for a time, on the Irishman’s lap, letting his hands roam freely. The warm bulge in his pants almost allowed her to forget Aaron. Almost.

  Breaking all her rules, she enjoyed their company, laughed at their jokes. She connected with all of them, briefly. Normally, she had never allowed herself this simple pleasure. Too dangerous. But she had begun to question herself, her beliefs, her motives, her rules.

  Was it really so dangerous for them? Or rather was it too difficult for her? She never wanted the commitments, the expectations and trappings of relationships. Mainly she hated the guilt. She enjoyed playing with her food, enjoyed their fear, their excitement, their adrenaline rush from her animalistic needs. To connect with them made them something more than food. One should not love an animal you intend to consume.

  Aaron, in his crude and insensitive way, had been right. Though he may not have understood her as well as he thought, he pegged the truth. She avoided people by choice, not by necessity. She masked her choice in the color of necessity then convinced herself of the lie.

  She could easily feed from several donors nightly and never hurt them. But she refused to build those connections and face the problems when she failed to live up to their expectations. She was no one’s friend because she would not give of herself. Friendships are give and take. She always took.

  The Irishman pulled her from introspection with a passionate kiss. His hands slid up her dress to find her warm and wet. She kissed him back. But it didn’t work. They were not Aaron’s hands between her legs, not Aaron’s lips on her lips. This was not the man she loved, and though she had tried, she could never forget.

  Time to move on.

  She bit him, gave him a sufficient dose of her euphoria, took what she needed, and left her food shuddering in his VIP chair.

  * * * *

  Urvashi watched as Aaron’s raging fever threatened to boil his brain and thrust him into convulsions. He tossed and turned, thrashed. In his delirium he spoke the name Michelle, over and over.

  Always it was this damned Michelle. He loved his blonde leech.

  Urvashi had noticed the two of them together. His unique psionic signature grabbed her attention from several kilometers away. He was a very gifted telepath, scanning the city back and forth. His psychic probe flashed out to her, a powerful lighthouse beacon that drew her in. His indiscretion suggested he was oblivious to his psionic blasts zinging out in all directions as he perused the thoughts of people around him.

  In some ways she viewed him as an idiot savant, blissfully unaware of the immense power he held. Like a child with the keys to a Lamborghini – able to start the engine and rev the motor, yet unable to harness its full potential. The boy lacked training and discipline.

  The vampires were a disaster waiting to happen, but as she watched the tragedy unfold, she decided to step in. A shame to see so much potential go to waste. The boy had appeal. His company could have been a pleasant distraction for a few years. But he had to go and do the one thing to screw it all up.

  “I should just let him die, it would serve him right.”

  But in watching him, she couldn’t discount her intuition. This one was different. His part in the grand scheme of things could be unique and interesting. Worthy of a closer look, a little extra effort. That is, if he survived the ravages of infection her blood had unleashed on his body.

  The nurse Renault hired checked his temperature.

  The old French battle axe accosted Urvashi. “Madam, his temperature is 104. He should be in a hospital! I have never seen such disregard for a patient’s health in my twenty years as a nurse!”

  “I know what he needs. Do not question me!” She reined in her anger and impatience before she hurt the woman inadvertently. She grabbed the nurse and cut her wrist open with a sleight of hand gesture.

  “Ow! What are you doing? Stop! What are you doing to me?”

  Ignoring the woman’s protests, Urvashi forced the nurse’s bloody wrist up against Aaron’s mouth. She rubbed the flesh around, smearing red across his chin. After a couple seconds his jaw unhinged and sharp teeth clamped down on her open wound.

  The nurse cried out, struggled, jerking on her arm to pull away. Aaron’s bear trap grip didn’t relent. He held her arm tight to his mouth. He drank until the woman swooned, moaning and twitching. She flopped down onto the floor, her eyes rolled back into her head.

  Urvashi had to pry the woman’s hand from Aaron’s grip. “Now, that’s exactly what he needed.” She smiled at the nurse spasming at her feet. “See, he’s down to 99 degrees already.” She showed the infrared thermometer gun read-out to the twitching woman.

  “I don’t need a nurse. I need a couple of blood whores.” She spoke to herself. The woman had passed out, and Aaron was too delirious to understand.

  She smiled at the relaxed vampire. “I think we have a chance with you.” She flipped open her cell phone and hit an autodial button. “Renault, tomorrow night I want you to go to Pigaulle and find me two girls. Bring them here.”

  “You cannot be serious, Madam.”

  “I am serious.”

  “Is this my bonus? I would rather have the money.”

  “Ta bouche!” Shut up. “Just do it. And do not offer more than a hundred euros each.”

  * * * *

  Looking down at the city from the viewpoint on the second level of the Eiffel Tower, Michelle came to realize a certain truth. She no longer cared about her precious rules. Aaron had turned her simple existence inside out and upside down. She still believed spending any significant time with people could be life-threatening, for them, but it didn’t matter anymore.

  She just wanted Aaron.

  She didn’t care if he wanted a harem of bloods
laves. She would happily find him some isolated Malaysian island and watch him seduce all the topless native beauties he liked. Let them make a religion devoted to “Aaron the Almighty,” their own personal island deity. She only cared that he returned to love her for the rest of their long lives.

  Fuck the rules.

  She thought of what she’d do if she found him. Bribes? She had the money to offer riches, luxury cruises, vacations and expensive toys, anything he might want. If only she could regain what was lost between them. There was virtually no limit to what she’d do to have him back.

  She continued to prowl the Paris nightlife, seeking encounters with men here and there to stave off her depression, if only for a moment. She craved human contact, a kind face or warm hands close by. She needed the tactile sensation to keep her from the abyss, that terrible chasm of heartache and loneliness. Alone, without Aaron’s watchful presence to deter the aggressive men, they descended on her like a flock of birds to a ripe cherry tree. She danced with all types, Frenchmen, Spaniards, Russians, Italians, Scottish, British. She rarely turned a man away.

  Except for the Germans.

  Their auras evidenced good, honest, trustworthy men, smiling and jovial, but she could not overcome her prejudice born of those wicked nights a lifetime ago. She refused to dance with them, and she definitely avoided feeding. Her bigotry made her dangerous to German men. Just to hear their barking speech brought back memories of death, screams, and slaughter, and how much she had enjoyed it. They didn’t deserve her wrath for the crimes of their elders.

  * * * *

  Urvashi saw the fear of uncertainty in Sophie’s eyes and read it in her mind as the prostitute considered this strange situation. Sophie pointed to Aaron, naked, lying half submerged in the bathing pool, seemingly asleep. “You want I should bathe him, Madam?”

  The scrawny crack whore looked like the type who would do virtually anything for the price of a hundred euros. Sophie looked to the other girl, Dulce, to see if she was brave enough to go first.

  “Both of you, strip, get in with him.” Urvashi had been forced to keep Aaron in the water most of the time to control his raging fever. And it would be easier to clean up the mess if he killed one of the girls.

  She flashed the prostitutes a stunning smile, the very same one that had enchanted Emperors of Persia millenniums past. “He will take turns with you.”

  Sophie shrugged and gestured to Dulce. “You first.”

  Dulce, also too skinny for proper health, stripped her clothes fast and efficient and slid into the pool naked. Her nipples stood erect in the tepid water. Aaron didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. Looking up at Urvashi for guidance, she grabbed the bar of soap and began working a lather on Aaron’s chest.

  “Keep going.” Urvashi winked at her.

  Dulce worked her way below the waterline and began massaging his cock in the soapy water. He grew full-size in her hand. She looked back and forth between Aaron and Urvashi, “Do you want me to wake him?”

  Urvashi smiled knowingly. “He is awake.”

  Dulce glanced back at Aaron to see his eyes pop open, a feral gleam of anticipation. She squeaked in fear and tried to back away. He tackled her into the water and latched onto her neck while he buried himself between her legs.

  She fought her way back up to the surface of the pool, spluttering. She brought Aaron with her, his cock thrusting into her like mad. “Help! He is crazy!”

  Urvashi watched the woman’s reactions gradually reverse. Instead of fighting, she embraced Aaron, moving in time with him as he pounded her silly, never once releasing his bite on her neck. Her aura screamed as loudly as she did – ecstasy, euphoria, and orgasm after orgasm.

  Urvashi considered letting him kill the prostitute, take all her blood. Not a bad way to go really. Probably better than the woman should expect with her lifestyle. She would die in the next few years of an overdose or venereal disease. But then Aaron stopped. He cradled the woman in his arms delicately as she gurgled and convulsed.

  How interesting. The beast had some modicum of control, even in his fevered, delirious condition.

  She turned to Sophie who had slowly backed away, her eyes wide in shock. “It’s your turn.”

  “I don’t need the money that bad! Non merci!”

  Urvashi snagged her by the arm, “He’s not finished. Get in the water or I throw you in.” Her grip dug in tight, and her eyes spoke of things better left unsaid.

  “Two hundred euros.” Sophie’s bottom lip quivered. Her nerve barely held as she negotiated to sell her body to the wild man in the pool.

  “I will put you on the street naked if you don’t get in the water, now.”

  “One hundred fifty euros.”

  Urvashi spun and flicked her wrist, sending the blonde prostitute flying through the air to land in the water in a perfect belly flop. Then she pulled Dulce from Aaron’s embrace and dragged her from the pool.

  “That one.” She directed Aaron to Sophie who emerged from the water full of spitfire and cuss.

  Aaron growled at his new victim, eyes glazed with fever. He glided through the water towards her. His growl cut short with a word. “Michelle?”

  Sophie backed up, scrambling towards the tiled steps of the pool, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her in. “Michelle?”

  His captive stiffened as he sniffed at her neck like a dog.

  “He thinks you are his lost love!” Urvashi laughed out loud, clapping, highly entertained.

  “I don’t care what he thinks!” Sophie sputtered.

  Then he kissed the prostitute, cutting off any further protest. He pulled her up tight against his chest, his hands roaming over her body, slipping off her clothes as his relentless kiss deepened.

  In a moment he had Sophie’s skirt hiked up and pinned her against the side of the pool. “Michelle!” He cried out in anguish and slammed his cock all the way into her.

  “Mon dieu!” He slammed her again and again, lifting her into the air with each thrust. “Bon sang!”

  Urvashi considered that he could feasibly break the woman in half if he treated her like his precious Michelle. Humans were not as resilient as vampires. She watched, fascinated, wondering if he was strong enough to fuck her to death. It looked like he just might.

  She screamed and clawed at his back as he rammed it in harder and faster, all his wonderful tightly defined muscles flexing as he fucked her stupid. But he wasn’t feeding.

  “Just bite her and get on with it!”

  He glanced at her. His eyes seemed to focus for a second, a moment of lucidity. He looked back to the woman in his arms. Urvashi read it in his mind, the spike of disappointment at his realization that this was not Michelle.

  She spoke directly into his mind.

  He bit Sophie hard in the neck and buried his cock to the hilt. Mercifully, the woman passed out. Once more, he backed off from his feed after a couple minutes, showing a strangely uncharacteristic self-control. What a curious creature, an apex predator with restraint.

  He held her close, delicately, as if he really cared about this woman. Urvashi touched his shoulder, imparting an empathic sedative. He looked up at her, the depths of his despair evident as tears of blood slid down his face.

  “Give her to me. We are finished.”

  He handed the woman to Urvashi, and she pulled Sophie from the water.

  The drenched woman awoke to mutter something slurred, heavily drugged on his bite. “Il n’y a qu’un bon heur dans la vie, c’est d’aimer et d’être aime.” There is only one happiness in life, to love and be loved.

  “How quaint, a prostitute who quotes George Sand.”

  Urvashi laid the woman on the bathroom floor and hit the autodial on her cell phone. “Renault, please remove the women. And tomorrow night, no blondes.”

  This obsession of his could not be allowed to continue.

  * * * *

  Chapter 23

  Aaron awoke to a bed shroud brushing across his chest, the
soft fabric billowing in the night breeze. The sliding glass door at the other end of the room stood open to a balcony and the sounds of the street below drifted in. He sat up in the king-sized bed and realized he had no clothing.

  “Naked. I hate waking up naked in strange places.”

  A white terrycloth bathrobe lay across the nearby chair. He slipped it on and tied the sash.

  The room looked very expensive, some kind of commercial designer thing. He could almost smell the wads of money spent on interior decorating.

  “What the hell did I get myself into this time?”

  Questing for answers, it all came back in a flash. Michelle’s mutilated body in his arms, his helplessness, a terrible sense of loss and grief, then pain and confusion. He slumped into the chair as the memories assaulted him. The grief squeezed his heart, bringing a choking sob. It was almost like losing her again.

  He needed fresh air. The balcony had plenty of it, and a phenomenal view to boot. Gripping the stone railing, watching cars slide by and people strolling along the streets, he recalled shadowy memories of how he came to be in this place.

  “Urvashi.”

  The moment he spoke her name, his mind reached out to her, several miles away. A vision flashed, dark plush leather seats, the interior of a moving vehicle, a limousine. The lights of the city swept past the windows in a streaky blur. Urvashi traveled down the Rue Etienne Dolet on her way back home, to him.

  She spoke directly into his mind.

  “Holy shit!” His mind snapped back as he held tight to the railing to keep his balance.

  The implications struck him like a splash of ice water, chilling in its startling truth. They had a psychic bond. How else could they connect over such a distance? But what did it mean? Had he become her slave, like with Michelle?

  “Out of the frying pan and into the fire.” He physically jerked back, hardly able believe it. “You fucking idiot! I’m such an idiot!”