Chapter 2
THEY HAD a ticking clock from the tattoo parlor to the den, which was a renovated warehouse that on the surface looked abandoned, but inside was made up of high-end apartments and homey communal areas for Bash’s inner circle. Tonight, it looked like a garish haunted house, it was so covered in kitsch. Bash had tried protesting the décor, but he’d been outvoted, and he prided himself on keeping his pack a democracy.
Ethan could wake at any moment, but Bash was counting on his newborn status to keep him out long enough to get him secured. Only Preston, the pack’s Magister who monitored power in the city, and Luke, their Councilor who fostered relations with the community, were present when Bash and Deanna hauled Ethan inside through the back and headed for the basement. There was an old wine cellar down there that Bash had recently cleaned up. No windows and only one exit.
“Is someone already wasted?” Luke came over with a snicker.
Luke was a werecat, with wide blue eyes and pale ginger hair far lighter than Ethan’s red. He was tamer in personality than Deanna as a panther but equally as temperamental at times. His mate, Preston, was a Rat King, a rare type of wererat with magical affinity that meant he could also control vermin. Every rat or mouse that darkened their door was added to his horde. The rats shied from most shifters, but they all seemed to adore Luke.
“Have you lost your mind?” Preston said when he joined Luke and caught sight of Ethan’s fangs. The couple were the physically smallest members of Bash’s circle. Preston’s hair was sleek black, long, and tied into a bun, and he narrowed black almond eyes behind his glasses—as wererats had notoriously poor eyesight. “Please tell me that’s meant as a pinata and you’re about to disembowel it?”
“There will be no disemboweling,” Bash said, while noting the fear in Luke’s face once the cat realized what Preston had already guessed.
“A fanger!” Luke cried.
“His sire left him at the tattoo parlor. I intend to find out why. Keep going,” Bash ordered Deanna when she hesitated at the basement entrance. Once she continued with a grumble, Bash turned back to the others. “Keep watch and let me know the second anyone else comes home.”
“Boss.” Preston grabbed his arm. Being a rat didn’t mean he was meek or small of anything but stature. Preston was one of Bash’s smartest and shrewdest pack members. “The marriage negotiations, hello? Russell and his Second are still in the city. You meet with them again tomorrow. If they find out you kept a fanger instead of killing it—”
“I’ll look reckless and of poor judgment at best, I know.” Bash looked down at Preston’s hand on him, and Preston promptly removed it.
“We need this merger, Boss. Glenwood, Shorehaven, even Metro City are months from attempting takeovers.”
“Which is exactly why I need to find out how a vampire got into my city, who it is, how powerful they are, and why they left me a present on the night of my prophecy.”
Bash’s inner circle all knew about his prediction, but no one outside the people who lived in this house even knew that Bash was a Seer, and marriage or no marriage, Bash had no intention of sharing that information with Jay Russell.
Preston and Luke exchanged worried glances, but neither spoke at the reminder of what night it was and what that might mean.
“Let me know the second anyone else comes home,” Bash said again and swiftly retreated into the basement.
He found Deanna had already dumped Ethan in the cellar. The door wasn’t as secure as Bash would have liked, but it should hold if anything happened.
“Go back to the shop to clean up the alley, and then come straight back,” Bash ordered, reaching for the door.
“Bash—” Deanna stopped him. “—you aren’t going in there alone.”
“I’m getting rather tired of my betas challenging me.” Bash ripped his arm from Deanna’s grasp, and she had the sense to look cowed as Bash’s eyes flashed and his teeth grew sharp in warning. “Do as I say. I’m not going to be bested by a newborn, even one as strong as him. If there’s nothing of value to learn, I’ll kill him. Now, go back to the shop to clean up the alley. Grab the portfolio too. It may have clues.”
Without waiting for Deanna to reply, Bash entered the cellar and let the door shut behind him. He’d been planning on replacing the door with a glass one eventually and was glad he hadn’t gotten that far.
The room was cool and spacious, with various shelves and racks along the walls, all currently empty. On the floor, in the center, lay the unconscious vampire.
The delicate fangs visible due to his slack mouth were almost cute, considering the size Bash was used to from shifters. The young man’s face really was handsome without any rage to mar it. Bash would need to feed him if he wanted to talk. He needed to know everything about the vampire who had turned Ethan.
Was Jay responsible? Had he hired a vampire to upset the negotiations?
No. He wasn’t the backstabbing kind.
Jay’s Second, Maximus, trying to undermine his Alpha? Also unlikely. He was loyal, even if he didn’t care much for Bash or Centrus City.
A third party, then. But who? One of the other city’s packs? This didn’t feel like them. But if a vampire was acting on its own, what did it want?
Lack of breath made it difficult to tell when Ethan would wake, so Bash sat cross-legged a few feet from him to wait. He might have tied him up if he had anything to use, but he didn’t anticipate trouble subduing Ethan. Once he woke, Bash would carefully feed him just enough to get him coherent, get what he needed, and if Ethan proved a disappointment, killing him was still on the table.
Feeling his phone buzz, Bash took it from his pocket and grimaced.
Jay.
I know negotiations are on hold, but if you’re free later this evening, perhaps we could get to know one another better, leave our Seconds behind. Max can entertain himself.
This vampire business couldn’t be Jay’s doing. He was a romantic, hoping to find love where Bash merely saw a political arrangement.
Apologies, Bash texted back. I need tonight to myself. Tomorrow, though, I would be happy to talk more casually over lunch without Deanna or Maximus before we resume negotiations.
Bash didn’t want to seem unreasonable, and if Jay got something he wanted, he might be more inclined to give in to Bash’s demands.
Yes! Absolutely. Just tell me when and where.
Where indeed? What would be appropriate to seem amiable without feeding too much into Jay’s illusions about—
Bash froze. Something was off. The room had been quiet ever since he entered, but it felt eerily silent suddenly, like the calm before a predator pounced.
Reaching out with his claws, Bash discovered—nothing. Ethan wasn’t there.
Ethan wasn’t anywhere.
Bash leapt to his feet and made to spin around, but a force rushed him before he could complete the act, slamming him sideways into the wall as two fangs pierced his neck. He’d been sloppy, assuming he’d know once Ethan roused, but the newborn was even more formidable than before.
No matter. Bash was stronger and would hardly be affected… by….
A numbness overtook his body as though he were dozing, enjoying a lazy morning in bed with soft sheets all around and a nimble partner rolling on top of him.
He was being laid on a bed, weight settling on his hips as his partner sucked firm and hot on his neck, making him shiver. Bash had never felt such indescribable pleasure from someone giving him a hickey, but he was already hard, pawing upward to hold that lithe body in place.
Who was this mystery man? Bash couldn’t remember, but he didn’t want the rivulets of contentment to stop. He started rocking up into the body above him, though he felt hazy, like he might fall asleep at any moment. The last thing he wanted when he felt this good was to sleep.
The mouth on his neck latched on tighter, and Bash shoved his hand down between them to feel himself—achingly hard now—and then the man, who needed assistance. Bash sli
d his hand into the other’s jeans and started stroking, feeling him thicken and grow hotter at his touch.
Why were they still wearing pants in bed? They were in a bed, weren’t they? But it felt too firm, like a floor. Had they passed out somewhere? Where… where was Bash…?
Reality snapped back to him with a jolt.
Ethan. Bash was being hypnotized by a vampire’s thrall! It shouldn’t have worked on him, especially not from a newborn. He had to stay focused before he lost too much blood.
“Stop…,” he rasped, moving his hands to Ethan’s chest and pushing.
It felt like he weighed a ton, totally immovable, and while Bash had stopped giving in to the passion between them, Ethan reached down now and started stroking Bash through his slacks, even as he continued to drain him.
The combination felt incredible.
And that euphoria was going to kill Bash if he didn’t stop it!
“Ethan.” Bash pushed again, feeling tired and feeble. What was this man that he had so much power so young?
Newborns were reckless, untrained, and unable to use their saliva to close their victims’ wounds as an elder vampire might to avoid leaving bodies with bite marks. Bash would heal where a human could not, but only if he stopped Ethan in time.
Oh, but it felt amazing—Ethan’s hand and the suction of his mouth. Bash shivered again as he twisted his fingers in Ethan’s shirt.
“Ethan!” he growled and threw his momentum to the side until they rolled, dislodging Ethan’s fangs at last and ending with Bash on top. “Stop.”
Ethan looked dazed from the feeding, enamored with Bash and the taste of him, and clearly aroused as he growled back more like a pleased purr and kept stroking through Bash’s slacks. Bash couldn’t help how he moaned, noticing Ethan’s yellow eyes, sated finally but darkened with lust.
This was not the time for a dirty fuck on Bash’s basement floor, but his head felt like it was floating above him. Even as he began to heal, the loss of blood, the dizziness, what remaining blood he had heading swiftly south, trapped him in response to that hand, those eyes—gold more than yellow—and the fangs with Bash’s blood staining them had him ready to throw away rational thought completely.
Surging down, Bash caught Ethan’s drunken, fanged smile in a kiss, only faintly tasting the tang of his own blood since Ethan was absorbing every drop. His mouth felt divine, his body divine, like they’d been built to slot together.
The jeans and slacks had to go.
Bash fumbled to do so while maintaining their lip lock. His instincts stirred, fangs and claws lengthening, but no more than that, just on the edge of primal while still in control. The click of their teeth whenever they got too into it only made Bash more desperate to get their pants down.
He felt the scratch of his own claws against his skin in his haste, but not enough to draw blood. He urged Ethan to coil his fingers around them instead, pumping them together, slick and hot as Bash canted his hips into the touch.
Ethan broke from the kiss with a whine and lunged for Bash’s neck again, making Bash flinch, ready to fight him off like before, but Ethan merely lapped at the wound.
Relaxing once more, Bash gave his own desperate whine at the attention. Ethan pulled his hand away and started rutting. Bash wanted to roll Ethan’s hips back and connect them more deeply, but he was content enough to thrust into the wetness between them and end this quickly, not having to care about being gentle like he would with a human.
If this encounter had happened when Ethan was human, an artist ex-con looking for a job, Bash would have been hard-pressed not to hire him on the spot. Maybe he still would—if he didn’t kill Ethan when this was over.
That thought sobered Bash just as his release burst and Ethan bucked up harder to follow him. They panted, the aftermath leaving Bash exhausted enough that the wolf inside him had retreated by the time he lifted to look at Ethan.
Ethan’s normal eyes were green, just like Bash had envisioned, his face breathtaking with a dazed smile, with or without the fangs showing. Bash didn’t care how much Deanna yelled at him or what happened next.
That had been worth it.
Chapter 3
WOW, THIS guy was beautiful. His eyes almost seemed to glow golden brown, his whole form like some bronze statue.
Had Ethan gotten drunk after the interview? It was Halloween, and he thought the interview had gone well. Maybe he went for a drink after. He just couldn’t remember where or when he’d gone home with this stranger. He could only picture a dark figure pulling him into the alley and then….
Then he was here, with a hard cock in his hand and a warm body atop him.
Who was bleeding! Why was the man bleeding?
Ethan tried to ask, but his words came out garbled. He felt the man shift and start to tuck himself away. Then he tucked Ethan away, which was slightly uncomfortable given the mess, but Ethan felt so out of it still, he kept waiting for the hangover to hit.
When it didn’t, he tried harder to focus. There was a wonderful taste in his mouth he couldn’t place, something he wanted more of as he licked the traces from his lips. He watched the man slowly grasp his wrists and pin them above his head. If the stranger hadn’t been bleeding, that would have been intensely hot.
“Would you like to try that again, Mr. Lambert?” the man’s low, lilting voice asked, strained but exuding authority. Ethan thought he meant the rough and messy sex, which yes, they could do that anytime, but then he realized he probably meant the gibberish.
“Who… who are you…?” Ethan slurred, pushing past the unfamiliar sensations coursing through him. He wasn’t drunk, so what was this feeling? Had the man given him something? Was that why Ethan felt so strange?
Maybe he didn’t like this position anymore, or his lost time.
“Where am I?” Ethan demanded. “What’s going on? What happened to your neck?”
After scrutinizing Ethan for several seconds, the man sat back and released his wrists. “Give it a minute. It’ll come back to you.”
Ethan opened his mouth to counter that, but as he looked again at the blood on the man’s neck and recalled the delightful taste on his lips, he suddenly remembered everything. “Oh God….” Scrambling to get out from under the man, Ethan rolled to the side and vomited blood all over the floor. “Oh God.”
“Stop that. You’re wasting it.”
“Why doesn’t it taste the way blood should?”
“Because you’re not human anymore.”
“Wh—?” Ethan’s question was stolen as firm hands grasped his jacket and yanked him into a sitting position away from the splatter of blood.
“You’re a vampire. And I need to know who turned you.”
“Who…? What? That’s insane!”
“I don’t have time for your existential crisis.” He released Ethan to topple back to the floor and stood, starting to remove his jacket and shirt.
“What are you doing? I—”
“Sit still and pay attention. You’re a vampire now. And I’m a shifter, like many in this city. A werewolf, to be exact. And before you scoff at that… watch.”
He dropped his clothes to the floor—piece by piece—even more beautiful than Ethan had realized, save the angry bite mark on his neck. He had scars, a multitude of them, but Ethan had never found scars ugly.
Once the man was naked, his skin still stained from their rut on the floor, he said, “Stage one,” and his eyes glowed.
“Stage two.” He took a step toward Ethan, opening his mouth to show fangs growing from his canines, with shorter ones along the other upper teeth, and similarly along the bottom. Claws grew from his fingernails, and his skin took on a dark grayish tint as silvery fur sprouted along his cheekbones and the edges of his body.
“Stage three,” he said with a rumble, rendering Ethan paralyzed, because how could there be more?
The fur thickened across his body and the entire shape of him shifted, looking painful, yet he made no grimace or whimper
as his spine and legs and skull cracked, reforming into a large wolfish creature that the movies never got right. He was beautiful for how strange and deadly he looked.
Taking another step toward Ethan, just as his transformation completed, it began again, faster now, shrinking him down but not losing any of the fur or wolfish visage. This time, when it was over, he might have been a normal timber wolf in the wild.
“Stage… four?” Ethan asked meekly.
The wolf padded closer to him, and Ethan dared outstretch his hand to stroke the beast’s fur. It was far softer than a wild wolf’s would be.
“Wow,” Ethan gasped, smiling as he petted the remarkable creature, even though he knew he should still be afraid.
The wolf retreated, and once he was far enough away, he shifted back into a man as easily as shedding another layer of clothing. While Ethan stared on dumbly, the man started to dress.
“I’m sure you have questions, but mine come first. Do you believe me now about what you are?”
With the magic of the moment gone, Ethan tried to reconcile wanting to be sick from having drank someone’s blood while not being able to deny how good it felt flowing through him and how amazing it had tasted.
He nodded.
“Good. Now, who turned you?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“A man? A woman?”
“Man. I think? No—yes. Definitely.” Ethan righted himself and started to stand, causing the other man to… flinch? But why, when he was so impressive?
He finished putting on his clothes and stalked toward Ethan with renewed confidence, making Ethan back up for the other side of the…. Were they in a wine cellar?
“What did he look like?”
“I-I… I don’t know! I never saw him clearly.”
“Did he say anything to you?”
“I don’t think so.”
The man’s gaze hardened.
“No.”
“That is… unfortunate.” With a sigh, he looked at Ethan for a long time, even more difficult to read than before. “You need to understand, your kind aren’t looked upon favorably in my circles. Anyone from my pack, any shifters at all, would kill you on sight in the streets.”
By the Red Moonlight Page 2
