“It stands for Southern Decadence, a gay costume party that began in N’Orlins in the seventies with a small group of men who dressed up as a favorite decadent Southern character. It’s gone worldwide, and here it’s so big it rivals the New Orleans Gay Mardi Gras.”
“Do you ever go?”
“I have.”
“As who?”
“I am not telling.”
“I suppose the count goes as Belle Watling.”
Alex roared with laughter at the reference to the prostitute in a popular novel about the American Civil War, then quieted. “Despite the make up, Dante, he is a gay male who loves men, but who also feels and celebrates his feminine side.”
At home, Alex shut the alarms off after they’d entered, and then reset them. “I have been thinking I would feel better if you slept in my bed with the shutters and door locked. If I was away on a job, or busy somewhere else in the house or the courtyard and I did not hear an assailant, you would be safer.”
Dante turned his dark eyes on him. “I’d love to sleep in your room in your bed, Alexandros. But tonight you have to stay with me until I fall asleep. Which I’m about to do any minute. It’s been a very stimulating day.”
Alex crawled under the covers fully clothed in sports pants and a T-shirt. He held Dante in his arms until he fell asleep. He lay there for a time, savoring the wonder of Dante’s love for him and wanting to be here with him. Nothing and no one must ruin this for them.
He had to write up a report on their delivery of the ring, so he left the comfort and warmth of Dante and got out of bed and went into the office. The only bad vibes he’d received had been forty miles away, and the minor thing he’d felt at the SoDec Club had been the count. Being vigilant was the last thing on his mind.
Later, he was to realize there was a bitter pill to pay for his carelessness.
§§§§
Giacomo, dressed in casual clothes, handed his rental car keys to the valet and entered the SoDec Club. The clerk was away from the desk. Music roared out of the adjoining dance hall, and he could feel the driving beat through the floor under his feet. He planned to watch the erotic male dancers for the stimulation of it, then come down to the DJ area and dance in the hopes of picking up someone who wanted sex—quick and hard—in a back room. So he checked out some of the rooms he could rent for an hour or two.
The door of one of them was open, and as he stuck his head inside to see if it was what he had in mind, the hair on his neck and arms rose as excitement flooded him. Alexandros had been here! So recently that the smell of vampire, this particular vampire—all masculine musk and testosterone—almost overpowered him. Moving deeper into the room, he opened his senses to see if he detected the human, Dante Rocco. His nose led him to the small toilette and a pair of briefs in a white wicker wastebasket. He picked them up and inhaled. Spunk. Rocco’s spunk.
He almost masturbated to an orgasm right then and there.
Instead, his fangs came out as his lips curled. At last, he’d found Signor Rocco, and he’d fucked Giacomo’s bitterest enemy—the vampire who had betrayed him by rejecting him and fucking everyone but him.
The desk clerk had returned by the time he approached the front desk, and he arranged to rent the room for two hours just as it was. A heavy tip insured there wouldn’t be a record of him having rented it.
He went up the stairs to the erotic male dancers with light but slow steps as he ruminated on the pleasure of fucking someone—maybe even draining them if he felt like it—in the very room where Alex had fucked his latest lover. After that, he would locate the home of Alexandros Nicolaides. Then his revenge would be slow and deadly.
Life as an undead couldn’t get any better than that.
Chapter Seven
The summons from Count Jean de Bienville came at three o’clock that morning. Alex was in his office setting up business appointments and completing his report of tonight’s delivery of the ring when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Something urgent had come up, he was told, and he was to meet the count in the crypt in fifteen minutes.
“I will be there,” he said in a hard voice. Abruptly, he hung up; cutting off anything else the caller might have wanted to say. Curse it all to the world of the damned.
It must be about Dante. The count hadn’t lost interest, still wanted him, wanted to fuck him. Perhaps even to forbid Alex to see him ever again. As the leader of the Louisiana vampires, de Bienville could do that. If Alex had a choice, he would be a citizen of the United States. But he couldn’t, and in this dark world of the vampires, he was a subject of the leader where he lived; the law required he obey the count’s commands. He understood the importance of having a ruler to keep order and rein in the undead like Giacomo. If humans felt threatened, they would hunt down all the vampires and slay them. As evidenced when Jean had killed one in the cemetery, even immortals were vulnerable if they threatened the entire vampire race.
Forbidding Alex to see Dante again was one thing, but the possibility of draining someone else’s lover when you bit them during sex put the act clearly under the law of protection. Even the count couldn’t circumvent this law.
He laid his face in his hands on the desk as waves of despair washed over him. Finally, he sat up. He hadn’t expected this so soon, but moping wouldn’t help. Action was needed. He’d put his brain to work and find a solution.
Outside, he rose in the air and flew to the crypt, where he sank in measured slowness and silence to the earth in front of the door. He was ushered into the same room where he’d declared himself Dante’s protector.
The count looked every inch the stereotype of a vampire ruler as he sat on his golden chair. He wore the same makeup and hairstyle as he had at SoDec, but he’d changed into a black suit and a shirt that gleamed as white as snow between its lapels. A full-length black cape was fastened at his throat. Its stand-up collar lined with red satin framed his glowing pale face. His feet were clad in expensive black ankle boots. He sat forward, cape tossed back over his shoulders, his right arm across his abdomen supporting the elbow of the left. His chin rested on his left knuckles. Uniformed armed guards flanked him on both sides.
“You came. And on time. I commend you,” he said, as he sat back. “That’s very brave of you, my friend.”
This isn’t starting well, Alex thought. Lord knew he was not Jean’s friend. And what was this about being brave? “What can I do for you, my lord?”
Shit. That was a terrible choice of words. I gave him the perfect opening to say, You can give me your lover.
Jean glared at him, then surprised him by saying, “You can tell me why you bit and drained a human, then left the corpse in a room you rented at the SoDec Club tonight.”
“Wh…at?” He went to full alert and put his hands on his hips.
“That makes us look very bad. Makes me look bad. That kind of thing could mean all-out war on the vampires by humans. Unless I can bribe the right people with a mind-boggling amount of money or jewels, it’ll be all over the newspapers.”
“My lord—”
“Did you not rent a room there?”
“Yes, but I—”
“Did you not have sex there?” The count’s voice was like hardened steel, but there was a gleam of excitement in his eyes that Alex thought was ignited by the thought of him having sex there with Dante.
“I did that as well. Not with a stranger, but with someone I’ve known for some time. And I fanged no one—not even my lover—much less drained them. ” A picture of a sodomized corpse floated in his mind’s eye. Then fear tightened his chest. Fear for Dante, not just for himself. How would he survive if Alex was accused and convicted of murder?
“We let the search dog they brought in sniff the velvet bag containing the bracelet you gave me, and he picked up your scent on it and in the room.” Triumph and accusation rang in his tone.
Alex’s mind whirred as he fought to know the best questions to ask. “I’m sure they did. As I said, I was there. W
hat other scents were there besides mine?”
“Only that of the dead man.”
“I don’t know by what cleverness the killer blocked his skin cells or how he cleared out Dante’s from the room so the scent hound could not detect them, but Prince di Osci in Naples will confirm what I tell you. We know an evil, unstable vampire whose modus operandi is to rip open the throats of his victims, drain them, and cast their bodies aside. His name is Giacomo, and he has tried to kill Monsieur Rocco and me.
“The prince’s network failed to apprehend him, and I suspect he’s now in your territory. It would be just like his twisted thinking to have killed the human and left it in a room he knew I had occupied this evening—a room apparently not yet cleaned.”
de Bienville shuddered. “In Louisiana, you say?”
“Yes. Why was Monsieur Rocco’s scent not detected? You know he was with me tonight. We shared that room. This clever undead has tried to frame me by leaving only my scent and that of the murdered human.”
Alex told the count what he’d felt halfway to Baton Rouge. “Unfortunately, I stopped being vigilant or I might have known he was coming.”
“Test now.”
“I must be outside.”
The count rose in a swirl of cloak, stepped down from the dais and followed him. “Proceed.”
Alex stepped out of the crypt door and into the mist that floated through the cemetery like a white shroud. The damp worsened the smell of decay usually present in the old burial grounds. Sadly, the stars he and Dante had enjoyed at SoDec were no longer visible.
Jean stood near him and waved his guards back. His heavy cologne clogged Alex’s nostrils, and the thought of him touching Dante in the act of sex made him shudder. Clearing his mind, he stood still and opened his senses. He staggered when a pulsating wave of sick darkness and strangled screams and gurgles assailed him.
“He is here. Giacomo is in N’Orlins,” he said through gritted teeth. He swallowed against the rising bile in his throat. “He killed your human. My senses tell me he is killing someone now.”
“Where?”
Alex shook his head. “I only know he’s in N’Orlins. I must get home to protect Dante.”
“Go, then.” The count stepped close and caught hold of Alex’s arm as he whispered, “Know that I will have your Dante. Making love to him will be quite refreshing. Stimulating, even.”
Anger he couldn’t control flared in Alex. “Remember the law—you must go through me first. Even you are under its constraints, my count, are you not?”
Jean let go of Alex’s arm, his face filled with shock. He looked Alex up and down, then his features hardened. “Very well, I will set the time and place.”
“No. The law reads that as the one challenged, that is my prerogative.” Alex stood tall and firm, towering over the slightly shorter count. He also had more breadth of chest and form.
Not intimidated, de Bienville threw his head back and laughed. “The devil, you say. You’re right. What were you before you were turned, an attorney?”
“No, I was an athlete. And a superb swordsman…as are you, mon comte,” Alex said.
“Go now.” He brushed Alex away.
Alex dipped his head in respect, but still upset, he rose and flew away in a rush of mist and wind that whipped the count’s cloak around his body and into his face.
Landing in his courtyard, Alex again opened his senses and knew nothing threatened them here. Inside the house, he reset the alarms before unlocking his bedroom door and slipping inside. In the darkness, he listened to Dante’s steady, even breathing and his knees went weak with relief because he was safe. He reached under Dante’s pillow and felt the fish server through its velvet bag. Good.
In his office, Alex faxed a message to the prince—Giacomo is here in New Orleans. On killing spree. Then he returned to the bedroom and lay down with Dante. Resentment that the prince’s vast network had been unable to detain the insane vamp gave him a headache.
When dawn neared, he woke Dante and gave him the bad news about Giacomo. Next came the news about the count.
“I knew it! He gave up too easily on the dance floor,” Dante said. “How can he do things like this?”
“Power. Surrounding himself with sycophants who don’t tell him the truth, won’t advise him correctly or stop him.”
“They probably fear for their lives if they do.”
Alex brushed his lips across Dante’s cheek, so warm and alive. Unlike the count, Dante smelled clean and free of cologne. “You have a point there. But I understand why he wants you. Any male—human or otherwise—would. You have such raw vitality and strength. He said having sex with you would be refreshing. I can attest that he is right.
“Also, you are open and honest; you do not play mind games or politics. Believe me, that in itself brings light into my dark world.” He slanted his mouth across Dante’s, and Dante opened to Alex, then he whispered, “I love your Italian accent. You are beautiful. And your cock is like a hot poker when aroused.”
Dante’s laugh was low. “A hot poker to a cold body, yes, I’m sure. But beautiful? No, Alexandros, you are the beauty—with your powerful body and golden hair, your luminescent skin, and eyes as green as rare emeralds.” His lover wrapped his arms around him. “Jean de Bienville, count or not, can’t have me. I belong to you.”
“And I belong to you. Only you. Look how many years it took me to find you.”
Dante’s face changed and Alex saw his mood had darkened. “I’m afraid.”
“I am a little afraid too, but the count will come to our assistance if Giacomo threatens us. That is one good thing. He is enraged because Giacomo’s killing in the open and leaving clues that it is the work of a vampire. Logic convinced Jean I am not the murderer, so we are safe there. And I will think of a way out of this other business. I will not let the count have you.”
“The sun is rising.” Dante released him. “You must sleep.”
Alex led him to a secret button on each floor. “Press one of these and an alarm will sound in my hiding place. It will be hard for me to waken, but I will. And I will come to you. If something happens to me, contact Malcolm or Hank.”
“Enough. You’re scaring the piss out of me.”
“Come here.” Alex pulled Dante against him, hands tight on his ass, groins melding. His kiss was hard and demanding. He let him go with a smile. “Remember that today, monsieur.”
§§§§
Dante showered, shampooing his hair briskly and scrubbing his body with the scents of shampoo and soap that would remind him of Alex. Despite the threats, he sang in the shower. Most people would beg him not to because he did it so badly, but he was alone and so would offend no one. He sang because this very solid, very good non-human made him happy all the way through. Plus, he’d learned to like this city. He continued to sing even as he dressed.
After strapping on his ankle holster and gun, then slipping his silver server into his pocket, he checked his wallet to be sure he had a permit to carry a concealed weapon. Deciding to eat at the Café Du Monde again, he skipped downstairs humming. The walk would do him good, and neither Giacomo nor the count could accost him in daylight.
When he’d stuffed his stomach with beignets and added cream to his chicory-laced coffee, he took the streetcar to the Global offices and filled in an employment application. Next, he rode the streetcar to the soccer academy and browsed down the hallways, looking at the club’s trophies, posters, and other notices. Reading English was a struggle, but when a man in soccer clothes came out of the little office and introduced himself, Dante drank more coffee and ate more donuts at his invitation. The man seemed to understand his screwed-up spoken English well enough to know he wished to help in the youth program, maybe even to play on an adult team.
It was easy to locate a hardware store—they had proliferated since Katrina—and pick out a sharp wooden stake. He smiled as he thought of the weapon in his inside pocket, the one at his ankle, and now this one in an ou
tside pocket. A feeling of invincibility swept over him.
He ate Italian for lunch, and mild waves of homesickness rippled through him. He reminded himself he would have assignments there and be able to visit his friends and family members. I need to call my boss and hand in my resignation.
It was late afternoon before he returned to the house. Stepping inside, he realized how much the house smelled like Alex, a scent he’d come to associate with his big presence, his lovemaking. A scent that meant feeling settled and joyful. Upstairs, the fax machine dinged, and he took the stairs to the office and waited for it to come through. It read, Received fax. If assistance is needed, please inform. Your servant, Agapeto.
Hopefully, the matter of Giacomo will be settled without the need of their assistance, he thought. If the count needs to be informed of this message, Alex can do it. The less I have to do with that creature, the happier I’ll be.
§§§§
Alex slept restlessly—something unusual for him—but when he wakened, he knew he had a solution for their dilemma if the count would agree to it. The distaste he felt for it caused a mild nausea, but it seemed the best option. It would protect Dante, and it would save both his and the count’s life. He texted the count about a compromise before dressing. His phone flashed a prompt reply. He came downstairs feeling out of sorts.
“Alex, what’s wrong? Don’t you feel well?”
Alex realized he was brooding. “I have an appointment with the count. I do not look forward to it.”
“I don’t have to go, do I?”
“No, but would you please remain in the house while I am away? It will not take long. Stay out of the courtyard?”
“Of course. I have no desire to be outdoors at night without you.”
The de Bienville mansion wasn’t far, so Alex drove. The white Victorian seemed modern to Jean, and that always amused Alex because when you were his age, many homes even older warranted that description. Malcolm pulled in right behind him, and as soon as their cars braked, the doors to the house opened and they were ushered inside. When the count entered his ornately furnished parlor, Alex said, “How would you like to go dancing?”
Night Train to New Orleans Page 8
