Mystic Realms: A Limited Edition Collection

by Nicole Morgan

  “Great. Let’s go.” Abe pushed Harley forward toward the end of the counter where Betty stood with a worn, yellow parka in her arms.

  “You’re not dressed for this part of the country, child. Take this.” She held out the coat to Harley, then fussed and circled him until she had worked the too-big coat up his arms and over his shoulders, the leather biker jacket underneath. The coat still had room left in it.

  She zipped up the first few inches of the jacket. “My youngest left this behind when he went off on his own. Too small for him now. It’s been hanging on a peg by the back door for a year. Someone might as well get some use out of it.” She thrust a lidded Styrofoam cup into his hand and he smelled chicken soup.

  Speechless, Harley could only stare at her and wonder what had caused the act of generosity. He liked her scent, but he’d barely spoken to her. He managed a jerky nod of thanks, then wished he’d done better when that small gesture brought a huge smile to her weathered face.

  “You’ll find someplace to warm up soon.” Betty patted his cheek, then her fingers traveled upward to brush gently over the hidden bullet wound under his dark bangs. Harley couldn’t help but flinch at the unexpected sharp pain her light touch caused.

  Betty jerked her hand away and tsked, “Still too cold. Be careful, you hear?”

  Abe didn’t wait for Harley to find his voice. Coat back on and headgear in place to protect his balding head and exposed ears, he pushed Harley past the frustrated vampire at the door and straight out into the pale dawn. A wave of dizziness washed over Harley as he went out the door, but he kept moving.

  The vampire followed them out the door.

  Two feet from the exit, the clouds broke and sunlight bathed the whole area. Harley heard a hiss of displeasure from behind him that made him move faster into the light. Disintegrating in sunlight was still better than decapitation any day. Quicker, anyway.

  Harley yanked the parka over his head, rolled his fists in the fabric and out of the threatening beams of light. He raced to the purring rig Abe pointed at, hoping he didn’t leave a trail of smoke in his wake.

  Huddled in the shadow of the rig, he dove into the cab as soon as Abe opened the door and hunched down in the seat, coat still over his head. Sliding up until his eyes were level with the dashboard, he could just barely see into the diner window as Abe pulled out of the parking lot. He made out a pair of dark shapes standing off to one side in the shadows of the main diner, side by side. He was glad he couldn’t see their faces. He had enough nightmares as it was.

  Abe pulled the truck back onto the highway and geared up to running speed before turning his attention to Harley.

  By now, Harley was nearly on the floor, curled in a ball and buried under the baggy parka, in an attempt to avoid the beams of sunlight coming through the side window.

  “Why don’t you crawl into the back cab, son? There’s a nice sized bunk and lots of blankets.” Abe jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the opening that led to the sleeper compartment. “You look like you could use a few hours in the rack.”

  Eyes darting between the sleeper and Abe’s neutral expression, Harley let past experiences and exhaustion rule his tongue. “Alone?”

  Abe’s expression hardened. “Listen, son, you don’t have anything I want.”

  “Why are you doing this? You don’t know me at all.”

  “Where I come from, we stick together; take care of them that need caring for. Whether you admit it or not, son, you could use a little being cared for.” Abe’s voice was quiet and oddly sad. “Get some sleep. Go on. Get.” He made an abrupt shooing motion.

  Not having to be told twice, Harley dove for the bunk in an uncoordinated scramble that left him dizzy and nauseated, but comfortably secluded in the sleeper’s windowless nook. Without another word, he closed the curtain, shutting out the sunlight and the disgruntled look on the man’s face.

  He couldn’t believe these people. These human strangers had stood up for him, even protected him at the diner, without wanting something in return. Life, or living death, wasn’t like that. At least, not the existence he’d been leading.

  Shoving a scarred knuckle into his mouth, he bit down and tasted the blood, more out of habit now than real desire. Lulled by the rhythm of the road and the warmth of the blankets and bed, Harley fell asleep with a vague sense of contentment and security he couldn’t understand. He didn’t think he liked it.

  When he woke, Harley was relieved the sun had disappeared and the truck was still moving. A faint decrease in their speed had awakened him, and he watched Abe gear down his engine speed as they approached the outskirts of a town. Reluctantly, Harley slipped out from under the warm blankets to see where he had ended up.

  After Abe announced what direction they were headed in, the trailing vampires wouldn’t be far behind them. That was once they were freed by the fading of the short-lived daylight. He was pretty sure their mood hadn’t been improved by the events in the diner. He was also sure he hadn’t eluded them by much. Harley would have to move quickly once the rig stopped if he planned on disappearing among whatever this new huddle of humanity had to offer him.

  He slid wordlessly into the passenger seat again; grateful Abe kept his greeting to a nod and a pleased-sounding grunt.

  The sliver of wood from the bathroom wall burned between his shoulder blades, unreachable by himself. His head still ached, and the smell of Abe’s warm skin awakened his appetite. Harley gnawed at the side of one finger until it started to bleed. Of late, that had been enough to appease the hunger.

  “This here is Kai. It’s little, but not too little. You should be able to find a place to stay on the north end that won’t cost you a lot. Try a place called ‘Sugar’s’. It’s clean.” Abe looked him over silently for a moment before asking, “Need some cash?”

  There was nothing suggestive or provocative about the question, just a note of concern that made Harley’s hackles rise. “Not staying long.” He sucked on the thin trickle of blood from his finger, trying to make it look like a nervous habit and not a distraction meant to keep him from piercing Abe’s jugular for a long drink.

  “You worried about those two we left back there at Betty’s?” Abe smirked.

  “Not exactly.” Feeling defensive, Harley was quick to point out it was the man’s fault he had to keep running. “They heard what you said about going west. They’ll be following us.”

  Abe’s smirk widened. “Figured as much.” He pointed up, gesturing toward the clear night sky full of stars. “That’s why you’re so far north they’ll need a whole season to find you. Even then it’d take a pack of bloodhounds to sniff you out, son. You might as well be on the dark side of the moon.”

  Stunned, it took Harley a moment before he could respond. “You lied about where you were headed?” He frowned, suddenly unhappy with all the effort this stranger was making on his behalf. He didn’t need looking after. “For me? Why?”

  “Don’t hurt a man none to be generous when it doesn’t cost him anything. I was headed this way.” Abe brought the truck to a smooth rolling stop at a momentarily deserted intersection. Nodding at the line of lights down the main street, he gave Harley an encouraging wink. “I’ll check back next month when I come through. See if you’re still here.” He grabbed Harley’s hand and shook it.

  A faint sheen of moisture transferred from the trucker’s sweaty palm to Harley’s dry skin. The salt in Abe’s perspiration seeped into Harley’s raw bite marks and made them burn. Abe squeezed tight before he let go.

  “Take care, son.”

  Rubbing his burning hand on his jeans to lessen the sting and the man’s woodsy scent, Harley tried to devise a way to seduce Abe into giving up some blood. He knew he might not have such an easy opportunity again for days. He gave up when he realized he couldn’t convince himself to make a move on the gruffly protective man.

  Frustrated and angry at this new streak of unwanted compassion, Harley threw himself against the door. He was out the truc
k without so much as a nod of thanks. He forced himself to not look back as he strode briskly away toward what appeared to be the heart of the little town.

  Half a block later, he heard the truck rev up and slowly purr away. He shrugged his shoulders against the cold. The movement suddenly reminded him of the wood splinter in his back. It stung; the skin hot and irritated. Alone now, he felt emptier and more restless than he had in ages. The shadows seemed darker here, and the air more frigid. Maybe he was on the dark side of the moon.

  The sounds of music and the smell of beer and sawdust reached him. A young couple emerged out of a building a few feet ahead of him, letting a blast of warmth grab Harley and tug him toward its source. He wanted to take advantage of his renewed desire for blood and he needed to find a willing bedmate to share the evening with. It was too late and he was too tired to find a room on his own tonight.

  The sign in the front window proclaimed the bar to be the suggested “Sugar’s”. Harley captured the door as the couple slipped by him and wandered into the inviting depth of the small town bar, complete with beefy bartender, big screen TV and pool tables. It was nicely lit, not too dark, not too bright, and it smelled of oak, cue chalk and beer. Peanut shells littered the floor here and there and the jukebox played a slow country and western song Harley didn’t recognize but liked. The singer’s voice was low, deep and sensual, just the kind of voice he preferred.

  He took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the room then wandered to the end of the bar and jostled between two guys to reach an empty stool. As he sat, he looked at the palm of the hand that Abe had shook, surprised by the burning sensation that still lingered on his skin. He sniffed his hand, perplexed by the strength of the earthy odor of the trucker.

  Ordering a bottle of beer to keep up appearances, Harley slipped off the parka and then his leather jacket, letting them both fall over the low back of the barstool. Men on either side of him jostled his arms in an effort to grab their ordered drinks from the bartender, then drifted away to the pool tables and vinyl booths.

  Tired, filled with a hunger that he couldn’t name or quench, no matter how hard he tried to feed, Harley felt his whole body slump. His remaining energy drained away until he was boneless and empty. He wondered if he should just sit here and wait for his execution squad to find him. He just wished he didn’t have to spend whatever was left of his life alone and feeling so…hollow. He knew he’d never have a chance at real love, but this was even worse— feeling nothing but emptiness.

  He leaned against the stool’s backrest, but the movement just intensified the burning between his shoulder blades. Instead of shifting forward and relieving the pressure on the wound, he pushed back and concentrated on the sharp stab of pain his action caused.

  Eyes unfocused, staring blankly at some vague point across the room, mind lost in the numbing comfort of the wood-induced pain, Harley nearly fell off his seat when a silky voice rumbled near his ear.

  “Yellow is a good color on you. Brings out the gold in your eyes.”

  The voice was so deep it vibrated all the way down to Harley’s toes. The heat from the man’s body actually reached out and touched Harley’s chilled skin. The radical change in temperature, coupled with the man’s heady scent, gave Harley gooseflesh.

  “New in town, huh. Looks like you could use a friend.”

  The ailing vampire felt his ass clench and his cock stir from real desire for the first time in weeks. Before he turned his head to get a look at the stranger, he heard the man inhale deeply, sniffing Harley’s hair and neck. Harley’s cock hardened to a full erection and he fought the urge to reposition himself in his pants right there and then. He was surprised at the man’s brazen actions in a public place, surrounded by neighborhood bar patrons, but delighted all the same. His fantasy lover from every wet dream he had ever entertained himself with over the decades danced through his mind. The image heightened his already stiff response.

  Harley enjoyed the vision a moment longer then looked up, prepared to have his fantasy dashed to bits. No one could look as good as that voice sounded. His gaze met a brown flannel shirt spread over a well-formed chest that led to broad shoulders, a thick corded neck and one of the most attractive faces he had ever seen on a man.

  The stranger was tall, brawny, and thirty-ish. His dark hair was neatly trimmed and his blue eyes were a pale shade that matched the turquoise thunderbird pendant that hung around his neck. The silver and stone piece lay against the tanned, supple flesh of the man’s chest. The metal caught the light in brief flashes when the man breathed.

  Harley lifted his gaze higher until it locked onto turquoise eyes. Like one of his own victims, caught in his vampire’s thrall gaze, he felt unable to glance away.

  The man was so close, Harley could hear the blood pulsing through his veins. His hunger rose and he licked his lips, automatically shoving his scarred hand into his mouth to stem the rapid rise of desire. He was just about to pierce his flesh when he realized there was no need to dampen his arousal.

  Pretending to wipe away a phantom itch on his upper lip, Harley dropped his hand to his lap and shifted his hips forward. He’d practiced the move thousands of times and knew the pose defined the bulge of his erection against the threads of his tight jeans. He watched the man’s gaze follow his lowering hand, pleased when the glance lingered at his crotch.

  “Name’s Matt. Matt Rush. I’m glad I decided to stay a little longer tonight. I was just on my way out the door.”

  Harley leaned closer to the man and covertly inhaled, drawing in the scent of male arousal mixed with an odd smell that he couldn’t quite place. It was a little like Abe’s but not so close that he would ever mistake them for each other. This scent turned him on and excited him, almost like a rush of fear did. Whatever it was, he craved it.

  “You definitely give me a rush, I’ll say that much for you, Matt.” Harley looked up through the spiky fringe of his dark brown bangs with his best playful smile fixed on his lips. “My name’s whatever you want it to be. And I can be very friendly.”

  He slowly thrust his pelvis forward another inch, spreading his thighs and forcing his jeans to pull more tightly across his lap. He could feel his cock jerk. Matt’s sharp inhale of breath told him Matt had seen it.

  “Just got into town. Looking for a place to stay.” He rubbed his hand down his lap, letting his thumb run along the outline of his cock. “You know a place I can bed down for a night?” Matt’s gaze followed every movement of Harley’s hand, the stare so intense, Harley thought he could feel the heat from it on his groin. His desire stirred deeper, making him lightheaded with need and hunger.

  “I might know a spot, maybe, yeah.” The declaration from the big man was almost shy.

  Warm puffs of air blew across Harley’s cheek in rapid succession, making him realize that Matt was panting. The smell of arousal and need from the both of them was intoxicating. This was going to be quick and dirty, just the way Harley liked it. An attractive john and a warm place to sleep for the night. Things were looking up. Maybe his hunger would even last long enough for him to feed properly from this hunk of raw, walking sex appeal.

  “I can pay.” Harley slowly batted his long dark eyelashes at Matt. “Don’t have much money, but,” he flexed his thumb against the swollen head of his cock and felt the spot of wetness that had seeped through his pants. The movement drew Matt’s gaze back down to Harley’s groin.

  A shiver of desire raced through Harley when he saw Matt’s nostrils flare as if he had actually smelled the wet pre-cum the way the vampire could. “We could work out something, don’t ya think?”

  Matt snapped his gaze up from Harley’s crotch, a soft, secretly amused smile on his lips. “Yeah, we could.”

  “Let’s go then.”

  Like a light switch being flipped, Matt suddenly radiated an aura of confidence and authority. He took Harley by the arm and pulled the vampire off his seat, grabbing the falling coats and thrusting them to Harley’s chest before t
he vampire’s feet hit the ground.

  “I’ve got a little place the next piece over. We can walk. Not much but it’s quiet and it’s mine.” He eyed Harley from top to bottom and back again in a slow, sensual glance. “I know just the spot where you can stretch out.” He turned toward the back exit and Harley hurried to follow, vaguely wondering who had just picked up whom.

  Unlike most bachelor places, Matt’s house was clean and neat, furnished in genuine log cabin style with rough-textured wooden tables and sturdy, over- stuffed furniture. It smelt of apples and Matt’s distinctive scent, one that Harley still couldn’t place.

  It was warm, cozy and made Harley wish he could leave. He didn’t want to get comfortable here. Matt made him feel restless, aroused, and nervous, like a cornered animal. At the same time, he felt protected by the larger man’s presence, something he’d never experienced before. It was amazing how being stalked and hunted like an animal by your own kind would make changes in the way you think.

  As a vampire, he’d never needed protection or help from anyone else. At full strength, he could take on any john, even the ones twice his size. He could handle any problem. Any problem until a gun showed up as a new kind of sex toy.

  There was a line of yellow symbols painted on the floor just past the entrance. Harley carefully stepped over them to grab hold of the back of a chair to steady himself as a wave of dizziness and nausea rippled through him. It was gone as fast as it hit. He leaned against the supporting piece of furniture and gestured at the floor paintings.

  “The cafe where I got a ride had those same decorations on their floor. What’s it mean? Some kind of Eskimo welcome?”

  “There aren’t any Eskimos here.”

  “You know what I mean, smartass.”

  “It’s a kind of a local goodwill chant.”

  “Like a house blessing?”

  “I guess you could call it that, yeah.”

  “Nice. Homey touch.” If it weren’t for the sarcasm, it would have been a nice compliment. Matt didn’t seem to hear the intended insult or if he did, he didn’t care.