It was a conundrum. He rose and went downstairs. Stepping into the courtyard, he extended his senses to see if Giacomo was near. He felt nothing but the humid night air against his bare skin, heard only an occasional night bird. He put his fingertips to his throbbing temples and massaged them.
Am I selfish to want Dante here with me in New Orleans? He didn’t ask to fall in love with a vampire or be drawn into my dark world. Maybe he would be safer if he returned to Florence and we never saw each other again.
Alex crossed his arms as pain seared his chest at the thought of never seeing Dante again, but he knew Dante needed to weigh in on this. Alex had no right to dictate their future together. In Naples, he’d kept his face wan and tight as they’d parted, manipulating Dante into agreeing to move to New Orleans. Enough of that. They needed to solve this puzzle together and survive. He’d bring it up tomorrow evening as soon as he wakened.
§§§§
Arriving in Baton Rouge, Giacomo smiled as he laid crisp, hundred-dollar bills on the counter to reserve a room for several days in the Starlight Hotel. The hotel catered to the undead, and their van had picked him up at the airport at dusk. Now, he was here in these beautiful, expensive surroundings, glowing with pride and almost strutting at his cleverness as he followed the bellman to his room. Even if the hated Alexandros suspected he might locate them, the eighty miles between this town and New Orleans would prevent him from sensing Giacomo’s presence—until he was ready.
Then, it would be too late. This time, the lovers would both die at his hand.
According to the brochure he’d picked up at the desk, in 1699, a French explorer had called this place Le Bâton Rouge—the red stick—because of a large cypress pole strung with bloody pieces of dead animals and fish that had been erected on the bluff over the river. It marked the border between the hunting grounds of two neighboring Native American tribes. Bloody bodies hanging from a pole appealed to Giacomo because there’d been times when he’d subsisted on animal blood. The Greek Alexandros had been too fastidious for that, and in their final breakup, he’d told Giacomo it had changed him mentally and he wanted nothing more to do with him. He’d said he was also aware of the deaths of several humans whose throats had been ripped open and their bodies drained and discarded.
Guilt had triggered his rage, and Giacomo had shouted, “Are you accusing me of killing them?”
“Did you?” Alex’s glaring emerald gaze had bored into his, but his voice had been calm and even.
The Greek had known he’d killed them. Of course, he’d known. Giacomo had launched himself at Alex, but a sudden, powerful force had flung him against a tree trunk. Stunned, he’d crumpled on the ground. Before he could regain his footing, Alex had drawn his sword and was preparing to slice off his head. That would have been the permanent end of him, and so Giacomo had turned and escaped.
Now, he shook the memories away. Truth be told, he still drank from animals from time to time, but not tonight.
“Monsieur?”
Giacomo focused his attention on the slender bellman who’d loaded his bags onto a rolling brass luggage carrier.
“If you wish to dine, room service will send a young human volunteer eager for your pleasure.”
Giacomo had never understood the proclivity of some humans to let vampires drink their blood. Were they too stupid to realize it was like playing Russian roulette? One ounce too much and you were either dead or turned. He shook his head and waved the bellman away after sliding a large bill into his hand as a tip.
Before closing the door, the bellman said, “Thank you. The hotel bar is stocked with whatever you need.”
It was too risky to drink fresh blood directly from humans. If he gave in to his cravings and lost control, he could kill them, leaving a trail of torn throats and dead humans. Since Alexandros would recognize this as his work and know he was in Louisiana, he made his way downstairs to the bar instead.
A bank of lilies scented the entrance to a room with soft lighting and the mellow background music of smooth jazz, not the raucous Dixieland Louisiana favorite. As he passed one of the decorative mirrors near the entrance, he saw his brown hair had gone curly in the pervasive humidity. Pleased with how he looked, he smoothed a couple of errant tendrils, smiling as the perfect diamond, acquired in Naples, in his gold pinky ring sparkled as it captured the light. It was a pity he’d lost an emerald that night. That had caused no end of trouble for him.
He finished off three bottles of A-positive. Thirst satisfied, he left the hotel for En Cuir, a leather club for the undead, and walked in the steamy air and moonlight as he followed the curve of the Mississippi River. The dank smell of the river was unpleasant in his nostrils. He’d seen photos showing its waters as muddy brown during the day, but on this blue and silvery night, it was dark and mysterious. He liked that. Tomorrow night, he thought he’d toss caution aside and prowl the grounds around the castle known as the Old Louisiana State Capitol to see who or what he might meet.
“’Evening, sir. Welcome to En Cuir.” The guard had been poured into Confederate-gray leather pants. His junk, the size of which was not to be believed, almost burst the zipper. On top he wore a Confederate uniform jacket with a yellow sash tied at his waist. Opening the door to the antebellum plantation-style house for the vampire, he gestured for him to enter.
“Thank you.” Giacomo smiled and shook his head as he stepped inside, wondering if the man had stuffed a wad of newspaper in the front of his pants. He signed the guest register and presented his credit card to the desk clerk.
After the clerk ran the card, he slid the credit slip, a quill pen, and an inkwell toward him. “You…you understand there is to be no blood sucking, monsieur?”
Giacomo squelched the temptation to show his fangs and send a jolt of fear through this dumb clerk. He replied, “I do,” picked up the quill, dipped it in the ink and signed the required form. The price he’d paid for the use of the room he’d rented for the next two hours was outrageous, but he accepted its big iron key without complaint.
The room had brick walls and antebellum style wallpaper. Waiting for him was a powerfully built Dom holding a whip and dressed only in a black leather mask covering his head and upper face and black leather swim briefs so tight his huge package was well outlined.
No newspaper wadding there, Giacomo thought. One look at him and terror mingled with arousal in Giacomo’s mind and crotch. Goose skin cropped up on his neck and arms as he waited for what he craved. Behind the man was a leather four-poster bed with cuffs attached. Above it hung various torture tools.
The whip cracked, and the man said, “Strip and get on your knees, head to the floor.”
Naked, his forehead touching the floor and his asshole in the air, Giacomo lay in submission, awaiting the next order of the master. When he felt the tip of a slippery butt plug touch him, he cried, “No!” because he wanted the man’s cock inside, not that piece of shitty plastic. When the plug pressed until it hurt, a wave of arousal flooded him. He relaxed his muscle and let it slide in, moaning at how good it felt.
The whip flicked his butt cheeks, and he felt tiny tears open in his skin. He choked as the whip’s tip caught one edge of his sac.
“Get up.”
A hot, wet mouth settled on his, and he returned the kiss hungrily. Big hands felt him up, pinching and twisting and rough, until he cried out from the pleasuring as nipple and testicle clips were applied and tightened.
He’d never been able to reach a full orgasm without some pain. He was so strong he dominated others, and it was rare when someone could make him submit. Alexandros had been powerful enough for that, but he’d never understood Giacomo’s need for roughness. Frantic to make him understand, Giacomo had hoped animal blood would increase his strength and wildness so much Alexandros would be driven to overpower and hurt him in sex so he could experience complete relief. Instead, Alexandros had thrown him out. And he had to use this artificial approach where fangs and sucking were forbidden. I
f he ignored the admonition and bit, whoever the ruler of the Louisiana vamps was would probably punish him severely.
His rage toward his former lover grew as the Dom increased the power of his whipping and he screamed.
§§§§
“I’ve arranged for you to deliver some gems this evening with one of our drivers,” Hank Walton, Global’s chief executive officer, said to Dante as they stood in his office. “It’ll give you a feel for our business and how it differs from the one in Italy.”
The door opened and, to Dante’s surprise, Alex walked in. He was dressed all in black, his blond hair pulled back at his eye level and braided in the back as usual. Something swelled in Dante’s chest and he drew in a deep breath when he saw him. Power and danger radiated from the dark figure, whose strides into the office were smooth and easy. He still moved like the young Greek athlete he’d once been. He locked the door behind him.
The CEO gave a low laugh, a satisfied one. “Remarkable, isn’t he? There’s no missing Alex when he steps into a room. His presence is a mystical thing that everyone senses, and they turn to see who has brought this into their midst.”
Oh, yeah, Dante thought. Warmth suffused him and his heart rate whipped up at the sight of his lover. What Walton had said was true, but Dante’s reaction was special because they were lovers. He felt caught up in an aura of blended passion and heat that culminated in ecstasy any time he was with Alex. Or even thought about him. Right now, his crotch was aching. He wondered if it would always be this way when they’d been away from each other for only a few hours. Probably it would wear off, but for now it was incredible that he could be so sexually alive with anyone, especially one of the undead.
Hank rose and leaned forward over his wide desk of cherry wood and shook Alex’s hand. “I’ve surprised Monsieur Rocco. He didn’t know you would be his driver this evening. Think he can tolerate you?”
Alex’s face broke into dimples on either side of his mouth in a mischievous smile. “I don’t know. Can you, monsieur?” The green in his eyes deepened.
Dante wasn’t sure how much Alex’s boss knew about their relationship, but he drew his eyebrows together in a fake frown and sighed. “I guess I’ll give it a try.”
Hank went to a huge black vault and spun the combination. When it opened, he entered and pulled a small jewelry box from a drawer. Alex motioned Dante inside with him. Hank opened the box to display a ring of white gold filigree bordered by yellow gold against a background of faded yellow velvet. Small diamonds surrounded a yellow sapphire in the center.
Dante inhaled in pleasure as he recognized the elegant craftsmanship. “Early Buceletti,” he whispered in respect. The Italian designer had first set up shop in Milan in 1750, and the business was still run by his heirs.
Alex examined the stones with a loop under bright light in the vault and nodded. Dante took the loop and reviewed the antique ring. It was the real thing. It would be valued in the tens of thousands of dollars.
Alex stored the box in his jacket pocket, but he hid the ring in a secret pocket near his junk.
Dante chuckled.
Hank addressed Alex. “I’ve informed your Italian friend I have an opening I could fit him into in a few weeks. That’ll give him time to be sure about changing companies and countries. Of course, if after tonight he thinks he can’t work with you…and Malcolm…then I’ll interview others.”
“I appreciate that,” Alex said as he unlocked another vault and studied the guns racked there. He pulled an automatic pistol from a drawer and loaded the magazine before putting two extra magazines in his jacket pocket. He anchored the gun into a hip holster and strapped it on.
He handed an ankle holster and a pistol to Dante, who checked the gun, loaded it and secured it in place.
“Ready?” Alex asked.
Dante nodded and stood. He went toward this being who not only fascinated him, but made every nerve in his body vibrate as it did now. Alex held the door, and as Dante walked past him, he let his gaze drop to the vampire’s tush. I wonder if Monsieur Walton has ever noticed Alex’s right butt cheek’s larger than the left. Turning to the middle-aged man with the sagging jowls behind the desk, he thought not. “Thank you. I appreciate your time.”
Walton nodded and waved them out the door.
In the hallway, Alex drew Dante to him and captured his mouth. Their tongues danced in primordial foreplay, until Dante realized how big his dick was getting and pulled back.
Alex gave a low laugh and reached down to reposition his own enlarging cock. “Good thing one of us has common sense. Malcolm is coming.”
Dante looked over Alex’s shoulder. “I don’t see—”
Alex wagged his finger. “What have we said about trust?”
Sure enough, the elevator door opened and Malcolm stepped out. He greeted them with a smile. “Did old man Walton sign you up?”
Dante hesitated at this lack of respect for the man who’d interviewed him, but Alex said, “No opening quite yet. Dante still has time to make up his mind.”
Dante realized Alex had sensed his reluctance to commit to moving here. He’d convinced Alex of his love, but his vampire was smart enough to know he wasn’t committed to moving to New Orleans. He would understand how the incident with the count and the threat of Giacomo would have made him uneasy. Still, Dante felt there was something more behind his comment, but this wasn’t the time to find out what it was.
“Good enough,” Malcolm said before entering his boss’s office.
Alex called the elevator and they stepped inside as soon as they determined it was empty. Alex used a key to send them directly to the parking level. Before they reached their destination, Alex halted the elevator and pulled a black velvet bag from an inner jacket pocket and handed it to Dante. Thinking it was a gift, Dante started to open it.
Alex’s hand was a steel vice as it clamped down on the bag.“Your fish server. It frightens me if it is uncovered, but it is only dangerous if you pierce me with it or it touches my skin. I want you to carry it with you always.” Then, as if he realized that was an order, he softened it to, “Will you do that, please?”
“Of course. That’s why I bought it.” Dante slid it into the inside pocket in his jacket, but the presence of the fish server resting against his breast was an ill omen. Alex was telling him the two threats they faced were all too real.
Alex restarted the elevator, and when they entered the parking garage, he said, “My car is too conspicuous. We’ll drive one of the company cars.” He chose a nondescript black car with tinted windows and a police band radio. A shotgun rested in overhead mounts, and Alex pointed to it. “Although this vehicle is bullet-resistant and armored, please rack the shotgun and place it between the seats. Tomorrow, the car will be moved to a new office and traded for the car they use. Malcolm drives the armored trucks we use for multi-deliveries. On rare occasions, I accompany him. I’m sure Hank will ask you to make a run with him as part of your orientation, too.”
Once they’d left the garage and were on the road, Dante asked, “Why have you asked me to carry the fish server?”
Alex’s sigh caused Dante’s heart to turn over. This is going to be bad. I know it is. He braced himself.
Chapter Six
Sadness flooded Alex at the thought of the turn the conversation might take, but he knew this was not the time or place. He squeezed Dante’s firm thigh and said, “Right now, I need to keep my eyes open and alert for anyone who might be following us. I would like to discuss the silver piece when I take you to dinner. Is that okay?”
Dante’s voice was hesitant, but he agreed and asked, “Where are we going for the delivery?”
“To one of the few surviving plantations privately owned between here and Baton Rouge. The owner purchased the ring at a Christie’s auction. We have a contract to make some of Christie’s deliveries.”
“The plantation sounds interesting.”
“The slave quarters have been demolished, but much of the
grounds remain. The owner still grows cotton, although he pays the workers these days, most are white men and they don’t sleep on the property. However, you’ll get an idea of what life was like here before and during the American Civil War. I believe there are fourteen rooms in the house, which Monsieur d’Iberville has fully restored. It’s a walking treasure trove of antiques and valuables.”
Halfway to Baton Rouge, Alex turned off River Road and the car went through the plantation’s iron gates onto the approach to the house. Towering oak trees, their leafy branches meeting above the long drive formed a lacy tunnel to a graceful two-story home painted in white and turquoise. The roof of the verandah across the front of the house was supported by Corinthian columns. Floodlights cast their strong beams on the house, highlighting its striking beauty.
“Those lights must discourage anyone intent on robbing this house.”
“They do, but they’re only on now so we can enjoy the sight of this historic home. In addition to the lights, which are attached to motion sensors, the home is also surrounded by security cameras. The Dobermans have been penned up because of our visit, but once we’re back in our car after we’ve turned over the ring, they’ll be released.” He felt Dante shudder when he mentioned the dogs.
“Dobermans? I hate guard dogs.”
Alex laughed. “So do I. They could kill me just as readily as they could you. They could rip me apart so much I could not heal fast enough to stop eternal death.”
When Alex banged the big doorknocker, a uniformed security guard stepped out of the house to check their credentials, then opened the door for them and directed them to the library. He took his position outside the door.
Night Train to New Orleans Page 6
