42nd & Lex
Page 25
“Serge, what the fuck did you do you stupid bastard?” Mark called out, not wanting to go inside and risk further connecting himself to the murder. “So help me if you killed someone in here… I am so fucking screwed.”
Mark didn’t hear anything. He was going to have to go in. He tugged his gloves back on and stepped inside suite. He felt for the “Do Not Disturb.” sign and placed it outside before shutting and double locking the door. The lights were on as he walked into the main sitting room. “Serge?” he called out again.
The curtains were blowing in front of the open terrace door. It had been relatively sunny today so it wouldn’t make sense for Serge to have been outside. Another whiff of blood came in on the wind. There was no blood inside from what he could tell. Mark pulled the curtains back and froze in horror of what he saw. Serge was sprawled across one of the patio chairs. A puddle of dried blood surrounded the drain underneath him.
“Holy shit,” Mark gasped. “What the hell happened?”
“That fucking bastard Lucan O’Reilly happened,” Serge snapped. The wound on his throat was open again, leaking blood at what should have been a fatal rate and making his speech garbled.
“He ripped off your hand,” Mark said, mostly to himself, in disbelief.
“Yes, you idiot, he ripped off my fucking hand,” Serge snapped again. This time he held his left hand to his throat to close off the wound. “And, if you haven’t noticed, he’s gouged out my eyes.” Serge pointed at his face with the stump of his right hand.
Mark didn’t know what to say or do. He really just wanted to puke from the sight of it. He looked around for this missing hand and eyes. Maybe he could reattach the pieces somehow. “Uh, so, what can I do?” Mark asked.
“Help me inside. I’ve been out here all day and I’m so drained from the fucking sun and blood loss that I can’t move. Not to mention I can’t see, you stupid shit.”
“Listen, asshole,” Mark barked back. “I’m not just saying this because you can’t do anything to me right now, but you need to back the fuck off. I'm not your whipping boy. I will leave you here to rot.”
Serge conceded. Mark had a point. He was going to be completely helpless for a few weeks until he healed and would need Mark’s help in getting blood to regenerate. He would have been fine after his afternoon snack except the wound on his throat had leaked most of that onto the terrace floor. “I’m sorry Ainsworth. I’m just really on edge right now. You can understand that, right?” He paused for effect. “Please help me inside.”
Mark didn’t believe a word of it but picked Serge up anyways and took him inside least some Peeping Tom with a telescope see the bloody body sprawled on his terrace. That would be harder to explain than a missing maid. Mark laid Serge on the bed and got some towels to staunch the last of the bleeding. At least Lucan had left Serge over the drain so there wasn’t much blood to clean up outside. Mark sat down at the writing desk to think.
This day had to be one of the all time worst: losing in court, Sarah hating him, and now Serge. Mark scrubbed his face with his hands and reached for the letter he’d written Sarah that morning on the desk. It was gone.
“Did you take a letter I had here?” Mark asked.
“No. I came back this afternoon from the park and took a shower. I was on my way to work when O’Reilly ambushed me and kicked my ass. I’ve been laid out on the terrace ever since. Never mind why you think I’d take a fucking letter. Do I look like the fucking postman?”
Mark believed him. He was too far gone to lie about something as trivial as a letter. The maid must have taken it. After all, it had been sitting there all addressed, stamped, and ready to go. She was probably just trying to be nice after walking in on him this morning.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
When I come to again I’m on the couch and Zaid and Lucan are pacing the floor behind me like a couple of expectant fathers in a maternity ward. Lucan stops pacing when he hears by mental chatter and is by my side as I struggle to sit up.
“I doubt I will ever be in a maternity ward, but I was anxious to make sure you’re all right,” he whispers, kissing my forehead. I am glad he feels able to be close to me again.
“You better be glad I'm fast. I caught you before you bashed your head on that marble floor over there,” Zaid says, coming to stand next to Lucan. “I didn’t mean to gross you out, but it was a sure fire way to keep him home and inactive for a few days.”
“Lucan, I never fainted once before meeting you and that makes like three times now.”
“Sorry, love,” he apologizes. I scoot over giving him room to sit next to me.
“Thanks for catching me Zaid. I’ve had enough head bashing to last me for a while. Say, how come you don’t amp me when you touch me? Not that I'm complaining, but I thought it was some kind of automatic response for you guys?”
“Good question, Mitra,” Zaid says. “It is an automatic response, but it can be controlled or blocked. It’s how we keep others from stealing what’s ours, if you want to put it in caveman terms. Another vampire won’t be able to amp you into submission because you belong to Lucan.”
“Oh lord, here comes a Finding Nemo flashback,” Lucan groans next to me. I toss a couch pillow at his head. “An-ane-anemone…” he pretends to stutter from behind the pillow.
“So I’m immune to other people’s amps because we’re Sodali? How is that fair that Lucan can still shock the crap out of me?” I huff. Zaid turns his focus from me to give Lucan a concerned look. Obviously, he’s never seen Finding Nemo. “And what is it with all this bonding and power sharing stuff with you guys?”
“Cruel joke of the gods?” Zaid offers with a shrug. “No one knows how or why, but at least Serge can’t amp you, right.”
“True. He did the first night we met, when he helped me out of the car, but not in my apartment. I guess it’s because we’d already moved to the second round of the trifecta by then.”
Lucan stops laughing.
“Oh please! Zaid is how old? Like he hasn’t already figured out we’ve done it?” I give Lucan a ‘get real’ look.
“She’s got a point there, mate. I have been around the block a time or two. I’ve never heard it called a trifecta though,” he smiles wryly. “You should enjoy it now. Later, after the—” Zaid lets his words fall away. “Sorry, phone call.” He takes his phone from his pocket and leaves the room.
“What does he mean enjoy it now? Does it change after the ceremony or something?”
Lucan shrugs and plants a kiss on my neck. “I hope not.”
Zaid is back before Lucan can go any further. “Well, it seems Amelia is hungry and tired of waiting on me. So if everything is all right here, I think I will leave you two and go take care of my starving wife.”
“We are fine now brother, thank you. I will see you tomorrow,” Lucan says. “We can work on our report to the Council and I’ll take you to that pizza joint in Brooklyn.”
Zaid nods and makes his exit, thundering down the stairs the same way he came in.
“So what do you want to do tonight?” I ask.
“I think I’d like to just take a shower and go to bed, if you don’t mind.” Lucan rises from the couch. “It’s been a rather trying day.”
“Agreed.”
Lucan motions for me to follow him to the bathroom. “Are you sure? I mean my foot may still be bleeding a little. It was a pretty nasty cut.”
“I'm fine now. I won’t hurt you. Even if it bleeds, I will be okay,” he assures me. He turns toward the bathroom again, taking off his sweater and undershirt as he goes. He flicks the stereo on as he passes the console. The Sweet Remains’ Dance with Me fills the air.
Now I have no choice but to follow him. Lucan is filling the tub and lighting a few candles in nothing but his jeans. They hang low on his hips and I want to bite that sexy, muscular ‘V’ peaking out above his waistband. Dear God, I think he’s going commando. “I thought you wanted to take a shower?” I ask, unabashed by my thoughts.
Lucan walks behind me and lifts the edges of my shirt to pull it over my head. I raise my arms in response as his fingers skim the tender flesh of my sides. The goose bumps rising on my skin have nothing to do with amps or cold air. I am electrified by his touch. He kisses my shoulder, leaving a little tingle behind, and unclasps my bra. I lean back against his solid body, trying not to think of the violence he committed with it earlier that day. “Shh,” he whispers, sliding my bra down my arms and to the floor. “Don’t think about it. Just know that I will never do anything like that again unless it is to protect you. Never.”
Shutting the mental door on those thoughts, I turn around to face Lucan. My left hand traces the tattoo on his bicep while the right reaches for the button of his jeans. I tug at the fabric to slide it over the button. Lucan gives a languid swivel of his hips against mine and the tension pops the button free. My fingers move down to the zipper and he leans just far enough away from me to counter my force so that the zipper gives away as well. Another subtle shift of his body against mine and the jeans falls to the floor. I am correct; he is going commando.
“Come.” His voice is husky and low. He steps into the tub and holds his hand out to me.
I make quick work of my pants and underwear, leaving them in a pile on the floor, and take Lucan’s hand. I am craving his touch after the intensity of this day. We are safe from the amps in the water and I take the opportunity to wrap my body around his. The stereo switches songs and I recognize Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran as it begins.
Lucan dips his head down and starts to kiss from my neck to my shoulder and back again. I gasp but not from fear. “Please,” I say, not really knowing what I’m asking for.
I run my hands down his back. He moves down to take my nipple in his mouth and I feel his fangs graze the sensitive skin. I am squirming against him now. I push him down to the wide step that runs around the tub and straddle his lap before offering him my breasts again.
After a few minutes of grazing fangs and his strong hands kneading my ass, I can’t take it anymore. I place his hands of the edge of the tub and hold him in place with my own. I could never hope to restrain him but he allows me this measure of control. It’s my turn to run my tongue over his nipples and nip at his chest. His body stiffens under me and he gaps; this is obviously a new experience for him. I run my tongue up his chest, to his collarbone, and then his neck. He groans as I rake my teeth across the sensitive flesh of his jaw. He’s barely able to keep still at this point and I release his hands as he captures my mouth with his.
He enters me and I throw my head back in ecstasy, every doubt and fear from earlier today erases itself from my mind. I can feel the tension leaving my body. It’s replaced by an absolute certainty that I am where I should be. Several songs later, we lean against the cool marble of the tub in sated relief. The glass is fogged a little around the edges and the automatic faucet has kicked on again and is quietly replenishing what we’ve sloshed out onto the floor. I’m so blissed I can hardly remember why I was stressed out this evening.
“I love you Lucan, know that.”
“I love you too, Abri. Always.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
“Can you ‘effing believe this Abri?” Sarah is shouting into the phone. “What the hell is wrong with him?”
My morning had started out so nice: there had been coffee and a pastry with Lucan, reading the paper before I headed down the elevator to work, Max ready with today’s files and more coffee. But now Sarah’s call sends my day in a completely different direction. Mark has decided to let the vampire bat out of the bag and throw me under the bus in the process.
“So how did the letter come to you?” I ask.
“Just in the regular mail. It was on stationary from the Essex House where he’s staying. At least I know he didn’t lie about that to the judge. It looks like he mailed it the day of the hearing, probably after I refused to listen to him.”
“Well, it sounds like he’s just desperate for you to listen to him and he’s trying any crazy thing he can think of to get your attention. You haven’t called him about it have you?” I hope there is no panic or undue concern detectable in my voice. In any other circumstance, this wouldn’t even be enough to warrant a call to my opposing counsel. Divorcing parties and hastily thought out letters of apology go hand in hand. Unfortunately, this was not a typical case or a typical letter.
“No, I decided to call you first. I had half a mind to go over to that hotel and let them know they have a crazy person living there that thinks he’s a vampire half-breed, but I figured that would just get me arrested for being a nut.”
“Good choice. I doubt they would believe you anyways.”
“What do you mean you doubt they would believe me, Abri? It’s completely ludicrous.There is no way anyone would believe me.” She is silent for a few seconds. “Right?”
I open my mouth but nothing comes out. I hate to lie to Sarah but this is so not something I want to explain to her. Now I’ve gone and possibly hinted at something after she just read me the closing line of Mark’s letter: “Ask your attorney. She knows.”
“Right, Abri?” she repeats. “He says to ask you, that you know. And now you’re saying you doubt anyone would believe me, like you know something. Please tell me it’s crazy.”
“It’s crazy Sarah,” I reply without hesitation because that part is at least true. “It’s crazy and he’s crazy. He’s just trying to get to you. Can you fax me a copy of the letter?”
I am texting Lucan as I talk, asking him to come to my office stat. He and Zaid are just upstairs working on their investigation.
“I'm faxing it right now,” she says. “Abri, you’d tell me if there was something to this, right?”
“Of course,” I lie. This is for her protection I tell myself. “I know you want to confront him on this but just let it be for now. I will call his attorney and tell him to get Mark in check or I will have a restraining order entered and use that letter as proof that he’s off his rocker.”
“Thanks, Abri. I really appreciate all of this. I just hope he can find some peace soon. I love him and I really wish there was an explanation, even a crazy one like this, for his behavior. Maybe then there would be a chance.”
“A chance?” I ask. “You’d take him back? Even if he’s crazy!” Totally unprofessional and at the risk of losing my biggest client, but I need to know—just in case.
“I know this sounds stupid, but yes, that I could deal with. Like if I found out he had some incurable disease. I did promise in sickness and in health, didn’t I?”
Sarah’s resolve is wavering. I can tell she loves Mark as much as he seems to love her. If I can accept Lucan being a vampire, why can’t Sarah accept Mark? Vampirism is sorta like an incurable disease, especially being a Halfling. I try not to sound hopeful or encouraging with my next statement, “Well, for now, just leave him alone and I’ll make sure he does the same.”
I end the phone call just as Lucan rings my cell. “Holy shit!” I whisper. “Mark wrote Sarah a letter telling her everything.”
“Everything. As in everything?”
“Everything. And he sums it up with telling her to ask me because I know. What should I do?”
“Can you send me a copy of the letter?”
“She’s faxing it right now. I'm sure—” Before I can even finish my sentence Max walks in, letter in hand, with a look of disbelief on his face. Clearly, he read it before he came in. I’m glad he’s the one to retrieve it off the fax and not one of the other secretaries.
“I know,” I mouth.
He shakes his head and hands me the paper. “What’d I tell you about getting involved in all this B.S.?” he hisses back before storming out.
“I take it Max does not approve?” Lucan says in my ear. Damn vampire hearing.
“Not at all. I’ll scan
and email you a copy as soon as Max isn’t looking.”
“Thank you, love. I’ll see you tonight.”
***
Lucan and Zaid spend the better part of the evening finalizing their report on Serge and Mark for the Council. Mark’s letter is now part of a growing stack of exhibits against them. It has all the makings of an OJ-worthy murder trial. Personally, I think my broken cell phone and the gash on my head should be the only proof necessary, even if they are proposing a death sentence for Serge for his actions. I guess even vampires believe in due process.
They are going before the Council in the morning to present the evidence and gain permission to finish Serge off. Lucan has promised me that he will not be the one to do it, but I suspect he’s just said that for my peace of mind. Then again, Zaid is a trained professional itching for a fight.
They are so engrossed that Lucan appears completely unaware of my mental chatter. I test the connection by letting my thoughts wonder to last night in the bathtub. I am replaying how our voices sounded as we found release. Lucan drops the stack of papers he’s been shuffling through with a curse.
“Sorry,” I call from the couch. “My bad.” I can hear Zaid laughing softly.
“Well, my brother, I think it’s time I called it a night. Amelia should be back from her trip to the Hamptons. She insisted on visiting with a woman we know from Venice. She’s renting a house here while she’s on some kind of sabbatical. Who goes on sabbatical to New England in the winter from Venice, I’ll never know?”
Zaid is waiving his goodbyes and flying down the stairs before either of us can respond to his question.
“Miss Cole,” Lucan chides. “What am I going to do with you?”