by C. L. Quinn
“Yeah, that’s a pretty hot little aunt you got there, buddy. You give her some friction therapy?”
Marc’s fist crashed into the asshole’s face before he even realized it was on its way.
“Get the fuck out of here. I’m calling the cops right now.” Marc palmed his cell and hit 911.
Claude, a little shaken because he really didn’t expect the guy to punch him, slid back behind the wheel and peeled out. These Americans were such fucking hotheads! He knew when to retreat, and this was the time. He’d be back later to lead Lamont’s men to their target.
Breathing hard, Marc put the phone up to his ear when the operator came on.
“911. What’s your emergency?”
“Yeah, there was a man hanging around my neighborhood, but he’s gone. Could you send a car by anyway, just to check? It’s a silver late model BMW. Thanks.”
He wandered back to his bike and straddled it. At least the hard-on was going away.
Claude traveled to the next block and parked under a busted streetlamp, so it was dark enough that the car blended in.
“Fucking prick,” he whispered, his temper through the roof, his heart pounding.
How dare that vampire-fucking asshole challenge him! No one told Claude what to do and when to do it. Except Lamont, but that was a means to an end.
But this oversized bully, that he thought he could command Claude, this had to be answered. Claude considered himself the Alpha dog in any situation, and this guy needed to be taken down. Not only was he a vampire’s whore, but he was trouble anyway.
He pressed an autodial on his cell. When someone answered, he greeted him with a single word. “Cheeto.”
Claude smiled in the darkness as he made the arrangements. Tam’s sex toy would be spending a good fifteen to twenty as a guest of the state of California.
At LAX, arriving from Europe, the ten large men in dark clothes with heavy banding and military boots drew some attention. They made an impressive group moving through the terminal swiftly with purpose. The largest man, imposing, with thick dark hair and piercing blue eyes, obviously in charge, led them wordlessly until they arrived at the front of the building to a large black van waiting in the loading-unloading lane.
He’d already dialed his cell phone as three of the men who had peeled off from the group earlier, came out from luggage claims.
“Ready?” their leader asked one of them in French.
“We have everything.” The response, also short and clipped, was in French as well.
“Bon,” the leader replied, and then turned his attention to his call that had just connected, and said, in English, “Where do we meet you?”
Tamesine stayed awake until just before daylight, her mind locked on the mystery of how a mere human had been able to take mental command of a powerful first blood vampire. There was a reason, there had to be, she just didn’t know it yet. But she would find out eventually. It would probably include compulsion again, and she hated that, but this took precedence over everything else.
Exhausted, she polished off the rest of the wine, which let her relax enough to hopefully rest well. She was still feeling somewhat shell-shocked by the partially recovered memory in Scotland with her sister, and while she’d ripped them away, the brief image was burned into her.
“Let it go,” she whispered, as she tried to let sleep take her. While she knew at some point she would have to embrace her past and open her mind to viewing every moment, she wasn’t ready, not yet. Tonight proved that, when she was given the opportunity to confront her memories and couldn’t do it.
The wine finally did its job, and Tamesine drifted easily into sleep. Her last thought was that tonight when she woke, she had to get that blood meal, no matter what. Her body was feeling the neglect of blood starvation. It wouldn’t kill her, but it did make her less sharp, mentally, and the body less efficient as the organs worked too hard to help a vampire body function without nutrition.
The dream came again. Just as before, the weather unpredictably calm, but a storm brewing somewhere nearby. A sun was setting, leaving vermillion streaks in a pale blue sky. Dream-Tamesine could watch a sunset like this and let herself enjoy it.
“Beautiful,” Marc’s voice said, behind her.
She turned and looked at him. He wore the same thing he had before in the dream, and tonight in the real world, the jeans that fit too tightly then, and too tightly now, for the same reason.
“Did you take care of that?” she said, hoping his dream self would remember their real world meeting.
He nodded. “Yeah. Very disappointing, in spite of the orgasm. That’s why it’s back.”
“Sorry. We do what we must. Do you remember what we discussed? Why we’re here?”
Winds picked up and began to tear at Marc’s hair. He pushed it back.
“I remember what you thought that weird journey meant. What, you believe it? You think our pain brought us together?”
Tamesine nodded. “I really do. It’s a powerful force. Pain can destroy a body, a life. Have you ever been well since you got back from the war?”
“Never.”
“And I’ve been pretty much insane for centuries.”
Marc laughed. “You said something like that before. About your memories being centuries ago. I think you might still be a little insane, gorgeous.”
“Tam. You can call me Tam.”
“Yeah, I know. But every time I see you, all I can think of is how beautiful you are and how much…” Marc paused. “Sorry. I’ll try to improve.”
“Thank you. We can work through your issues now and see if we can help your waking self to accept and understand the tragic moments in your life that broke you so badly, you retreated from life.”
Dream-Marc didn’t answer. He just moved closer and slid his arms around her, lifted her and kissed her softly on the lips. Once he put her back down, he stepped back.
“I have other needs right now. We’re in a dream. How can it hurt if I take your clothes off of you and make love to you in here?”
Before Tamesine could answer, the wind began to shriek. It swirled around the two forms so quickly, neither could stand well without supporting themselves with the other.
“Bad timing.”
Marc looked around the dreamscape for somewhere they could go, but there was no shelter in any direction.
“Marc, let me take you into your dreams.”
He shook his head. “No. I can’t. Not yet.”
His dream-body faded, and Tamesine stood alone in the gathering storm.
Marc woke in a foul mood. With an erection. While he was happy to see that his cock remembered how good it felt to fill up, and he’d been able to take care of it, more than anything, he wanted to drop into his waitress and ride them both to an explosive orgasm.
Yeah, that was the reason for the foul mood.
As he finished showering for work, standing naked in front of the bathroom mirror, his fingers sliding lightly against his swollen cock, he smiled.
“You’re a charming motherfucker. Charm the girl. Make her want you so badly she can’t help but crawl on top of you.”
That was his plan, anyway. Should be possible to make her want him, right?
He wasn’t sure, but he’d give it the old college try right after they finished with work tonight.
The crazy stuff, the mind-walking shit? Sure, if she wanted to try that again, he was up for it. Whatever he had to do to make her happy, he was on. Just, please God, let her want him enough to let him show her what he could do for her.
Dressed in one of his nicest shirts, Marc bounced down the stairs from his third floor apartment, and had started his bike when he noticed a big stain on the cuff of one sleeve.
“Shit!” He wasn’t impressing her in a laundry reject. This was what he got for trying to look like he was trying too hard. Turning the bike off, he headed back up the stairs to grab his usual tee shirt. He’d just have to risk it that his personality would be enough.
As he approached the door to his apartment, he noticed immediately that it was slightly ajar. The door was pulled to, but it wasn’t seated in the latch. Someone had entered his apartment after he left.
Carefully, he pushed the door open, his eyes moving swiftly across the area well illuminated because whoever was inside had turned on the lights. A tall figure dressed in black was near the sofa, bent over it, as Marc came up behind him and grabbed for his arms.
The man whirled, pushing Marc backwards so hard, Marc crashed into the wall and his arm nearly went through the window. The intruder started to bend over again, and Marc charged him, using every bit of his weight behind the impact, as he shoved the black-garbed man once again. They struggled, throwing heavy punches at each other, before the intruder broke loose and headed for the door. Marc caught him right as he hit the doorway, and the man turned with a handgun and pointed it right at Marc’s head.
Stopping hard, Marc put his hands up, and the guy with the gun disappeared.
“What the fuck?” Marc turned, his hands in his hair, aware this could have gone all manner of wrong tonight. Was the guy just a thief looking to score a few items? Didn’t seem right.
Marc’s gaze moved to the area where the man had been bending over near the end of his couch. He walked over to the area, glancing around, but he saw nothing until he noticed a piece of clear plastic poking out from under one of the cushions. What the hell was that?
The answer was clear immediately when Marc tugged on it.
It was a large baggie filled with a white powder. Opening the Ziploc, Marc sniffed, then touched it to his tongue.
Cocaine. And a fair amount of it. What in the hell was happening? This wasn’t the coke fairy bringing free drugs.
There was only one explanation. Someone was setting him up.
Frank was waiting for Tamesine when she arrived.
“Hey,” he said casually.
“Hey,” she greeted him back.
“Uh, listen, I saw you go into The Iron Butterfly the other night. That guy bartends there, the one who was looking for you. You’re not seeing him, are you?”
Tamesine hesitated before she answered him, and he sighed and shook his head as she paused. “Aw, hell, you are, aren’t you? Look, I’m worried about him. There’s just something about him, when he came in looking for you a few nights ago, something off about him. I don’t think he’s good for you, Tam.”
“Frank, I’m not seeing him. Thank you for worrying about me, but I’m fine.”
“Good. Glad to hear it. I get a bad vibe, you should stay clear of the guy.”
“I will.” What Frank didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. And he certainly didn’t need to know what she needed the bartender for.
Frank returned to the grill and she headed to one of her tables now populated by a young couple with two small children.
Children weren’t her thing, never had been, not until Caedmon. Now, she found them delightful, creatures of light and hope. Smiling, genuinely this time, she went to the table to see what the couple wanted.
She’d taken half of their order when she heard Marc’s voice behind her.
“Tam, I need to speak with you.”
Swinging around quickly, her eyes went immediately to his face, handsome as ever, and it kicked up her respiration. She noticed a long cut along one cheek and his right eye was swollen.
“What happened?” She asked, concerned.
“Can I speak with you for a moment? Outside?”
After she’d nodded, and looked around for the other waitress to see if she could take over for her, she noticed Frank coming out of the back room too fast.
Shit! She did not need a masculine confrontation.
Frank approached too aggressively, and Marc, obviously off of another battle, came at him ready.
“You need to leave,” Frank demanded.
“You need to back off,” Marc responded.
Tamesine pushed between them and held both of them back, one with each hand.
She felt them push against her, harder and harder, until they both looked at her. Neither one of them had been able to push forward even an inch. Neither one knew she could overpower both of them together with just one hand. Pressing against their chests, she forced them back several feet, so hard they were stunned.
“That’s enough. Frank, go cook. Beverly, could you please take this nice couple’s order? Marc, come with me.”
Beverly, the other waitress working tonight, had nodded from behind the tense trio, so Tamesine grabbed a handful of Marc’s shirt and dragged him out of the diner. She continued around the corner and into the alley that separated the diner and the bar where Marc worked.
She turned on him once they were alone, shoving him back lightly as she released his shirt.
“What the hell, Marc?”
“I needed to speak with you. I didn’t know your boyfriend was going to assault me.”
“Frank? Hardly. What was so important you needed to stop me in the middle of taking care of my customers?”
“I was attacked. I came into my apartment and found a big guy had broken in. Tam, he targeted me. He waited until I left and entered immediately.”
“Why? What did he want?” Now she was extremely interested in what he had to tell her.
“Why he was there, I don’t know. But what he was doing, that was apparent. He was framing me for drug possession. I found a bag of cocaine he’d tucked under a cushion of my couch. I believe coincidences happen, but I believe they aren’t likely. Something weird has been going on since I met you. Is there anything you need to tell me? Something I have to know to protect myself, and protect you, if necessary?”
“That’s sweet, but no. It couldn’t have had anything to do with me.” But as soon as Tamesine said that, her mind began to consider possibilities. Was there someone who knew what she was? Could someone have found out she was vampire and…
No. As soon as she began to wonder, she realized that even if someone knew what she was, Marc would not be involved. Why would someone want to frame him for a drug crime? It made no sense.
“If someone has targeted you specifically for this event, you need to look at those who might have something against you. Have you pissed anyone off? Is there perhaps a woman you’ve betrayed? Or worse, ignored?”
“I fly so low under anyone’s radar, I don’t exist at all for most people, so, not likely.”
Tamesine tilted her head and let her eyes roam over Marc’s body. She began with his deep, troubled, gray eyes set in a face that would launch plenty of erotic dreams, down a body that promised sexual prowess, to the place just beneath the zipper of his jeans. Her eyes traveled back to his.
“Not so low, buddy. You work in a place where women go to find sexual partners. I guarantee many have noticed you and desired you. Perhaps someone you’ve spurned?”
Marc thought about the little redhead. Would she have done something like this? He shook his head.
“I’ve given no one encouragement. I haven’t been able to.”
“Really?”
Marc felt the tightness in his jeans that announced he was wrong.
Smiling suddenly, he looked into her eyes again. “That’s all you, lovely lady. For whatever reason, and I suspect it has a lot to do with the fact that I’ve never seen a sexier woman, you’ve done the impossible. You’ve made me a man again.”
Tamesine stilled, barely able to breathe. Moments later she stepped forward and pulled his head down to hers. Her lips touched his, softly, and that was all she meant to do, but things changed when Marc’s arms went around her and he picked her up to set her on an abandoned storage container. She pulled him between her legs and grabbed the center of his shirt, tearing the two sides apart, buttons flying every direction.
“Sorry,” she whispered, her lips back on his.
“That’s okay, it had a stain,” he said, his voice husky, and dropped his arms away so she could shove the shirt off. The light in the alley bled from two dim bulbs high up on the brick walls, and made the contours of his muscled chest even sharper.
“Really, really nice for a human,” Tamesine murmured, caught up in the moment.
Marc caught her hair tightly in his hands as he laughed, and nipped under her hairline, his tongue traveling to her earlobe.
“Yeah,” he barely got out between the journey, “For a human. All I care about is that you like what you see.”
Tamesine stopped moving, her hands at his waist.
“Damn it, dream-walker. I more than like what I see.”
The vampire desire was trying to assert itself. She was hungry, for blood, and more than that, starving for sex, but with this man, no other. If he hadn’t slipped into her life in her dreams, she could have remained celibate, she knew that. Just as she knew that now, with him in her arms, his cock pressed up against her womanhood, she was going to have to take him.
Marc thought he was in control, and for just a moment, wondered if he was pushing her beyond what she wanted with him. Seconds later, he knew better.
Tamesine slammed him down onto the coarse pebbled pavement and straddled him. Leaning forward, she ran warm, smooth fingers over every inch of his chest, over his arms, curving around his pecs, as her lower body pressed against him.
Marc thought he was going to go mad. He needed to get inside of this woman worse than anything in his life. All the fucking clothing between them had to go, and now.
When he felt her fingers move to his zipper, and felt it give, he could barely breathe and started to push her up, to lift her so he could get her out of the alley and inside of the bar to the storeroom where they could finish this.
But when her fingers found his cock and lifted it free from the strangulation of tight denim, he dropped his head back. Her fingers danced across the head and he thought he was going to come right there, right then.
God. Had anything ever felt this good? Not yet. Getting inside of her, he knew that would. But he wouldn’t mount her here on broken concrete in a dirty alley. She was better than this, better than him, but he couldn’t stop himself.
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