by Kym Grosso
“Then I’ll visit with you. The best shot we’ve got to keep her safe is to work together. I want this guy and I plan on bringin’ him back.”
“Whoever even attempts to lay a hand on my mate will be going home in a coffin.”
“I hear ya, but all the same, I’m coming to help.”
“All right. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” Kade clicked off his phone and slammed it onto his desk. “When it rains, it pours.”
“I take it from your conversation the detective expects trouble. He worries too much.” Luca took a sip of his drink and continued. “It’s like you just told him; if anyone goes after Sydney, they won’t be successful. They’re mere humans. Criminals who’ve already been caught once. How bright can they be?”
“We should be cautious nonetheless. Sydney’s condition is precarious at best.” Kade picked up the bottle and poured another drink. “I’m worried about her. I know my girl. Something’s cooking in that head of hers. She’s going to strike out soon.”
“Perhaps. It’s to be expected, though. Even for a mortal, she was a fighter. She’s proven herself to be a fine asset.”
“An asset, huh? You do have a way with words. How I missed your candor.” Despite never being fond of humans, his friend had grown attached to Sydney.
“Miss Willows has always been stronger than most. Most humans are so very weak…a shame really.”
“They serve a purpose. You and I both know it.” Kade gave a small laugh, slightly amused with Luca’s condescending attitude.
“So what to do with the human who is no longer human? You must learn to share donors. It can be quite pleasurable.” A small smile crossed his face.
“She doesn’t want a donor, that’s the problem.”
“Perhaps try a donor who’d agree to have you drain them artificially? They exist.”
“No, it’s a temporary fix. Not acceptable.”
“But in the short term…”
“You and I both know she needs to learn how to feed on her own. I don’t think it’s the demon changing her. I’ve never heard of that happening. I tend to agree with Léopold. She’s got some kind of block going on. I’ll consider your idea about Wynter, though. I think knowing the person could make a difference. It’s worth a try anyway.”
“Did I hear the detective say he’s coming for a visit?” Luca raised an eyebrow at him.
“Yeah.” Kade stared into his glass, swirling the liquid and contemplating the bait his friend had laid on the table. Given the agony Sydney had caused her donors, he doubted she’d ever agree to feed from Anthony. He’d bet his life the detective would let her, however.
Sydney had confessed to him that, at one time, she’d considered dating Anthony, but never did so for fear of losing the respect of her peers. Kade had never been jealous of Sydney’s friendship with her partner, because he knew with certainty that no one else was her mate.
As Kade downed the last of his drink, he heard the squeal of wheels in the driveway. His eyes met Luca’s, anger flaring. As he’d suspected, she’d snapped; Sydney had left.
Chapter Three
Sydney had given it considerable thought. She couldn’t go one more day depending on Kade for her survival. Her life had become miserable. There was no reasonable explanation for why she couldn’t feed. If the demon had truly spawned her dilemma, then she was the only one who could regain control of the dismal situation. It had become a sickening ritual, watching Kade bite another woman, then dribbling the blood into her mouth as if she were a baby bird. A few tablespoons of blood hadn’t been enough to fully heal her from the attack. She’d rather die than be forever reliant on the demeaning process that had barely kept her alive.
Sydney stood in front of the mirror gathering the courage to do what needed to be done. She finger combed her curly blonde hair, observing the dark circles that rounded her eyes. With shaky hands, she applied concealer to her pale skin. Tears wouldn’t come, though her heart felt as if it had been shattered in a thousand pieces. She’d cried so hard in the past two hours that dehydration had set in, her mouth dried due to her stinted saliva.
Running her palm over the jagged scar on her abdomen, she closed her eyes. She resisted the temptation to stare at it one more time. The obsession to heal faster had done nothing but throw her further into a depression. Earlier in the week, she’d overheard Kade telling Luca that she should have been further along in her transformation. Her skin should have been flawless, yet everything about her was flawed.
Sydney reached for a t-shirt and tugged it over her head. She slipped into a prairie skirt, and stole a glance at the woman she didn’t recognize. The tight fabric constricted her torso, showing her ribs. The weight loss only reminded her of how weak she was. She needed to drink more in order to recover.
Sydney rummaged through her purse, looking for her keys. As she did so, she was reminded that she no longer had a badge or gun. Her superiors had told her she’d been placed on sick leave but she knew it was just a matter of time before they fired her. Only humans worked on the police force. Supernaturals worked for P-CAP: Paranormal City Alternative Police, an organization she’d grown to tolerate but hadn’t quite accepted. When she’d lived in Philadelphia, she and Anthony had worked with them on occasion on cases where human and supernatural crimes crossed paths.
As a police officer, she’d never gone out without a weapon. She thought it ironic that as a vampire she should be stronger than any human, yet she was the most vulnerable she’d ever been in her life. She closed her bag, resigned to the fact that she’d have to go without protection. At this point, it mattered little. The only thing she needed where she was going was cash. As she made her way to the car, sneaking by Kade, she knew what she had to do, and the only way she could do it was alone.
Sydney took a deep breath as she stepped onto the sidewalk. Gas lamps flickered overhead, their flames dancing to the bass that bled out into the street. The shuttered doors had been held back by brass hooks and eyes attached to the brick outer wall. Laughter spilled from a young couple exiting through the blue satin drapes that hung in the vestibule. A black wooden sign carved with gold calligraphy greeted patrons with a single word, Embo.
It wasn’t as if Sydney hadn’t been to clubs that catered to humans and supernaturals, places that allowed them to share blood and sex. Both Philadelphia and New Orleans hosted establishments that fostered the symbiotic relationship. But Embo was special. It was the only place she knew that had been restricted to vampires and humans only. No other supernaturals were allowed entrance. Of greater interest to Sydney was the purist nature of the feeding arrangements. Every human who stepped foot inside had unequivocally given their consent as a donor. And every vampire knew it. More importantly for Sydney, it was the only place in New Orleans where they provided the kind of food she sought.
Sydney grasped the curtain and pulled it aside. Her heart pounded against her ribs, the scent of incense in the air. A tall man dressed in a black suit fiddled with a reservation list, busily checking off names. She steeled her nerves as the maître d turned his attention to her.
“Good evening, detective,” he said from behind a podium, not making a move to unchain the red velvet rope that stood in her way.
“No detective here. You see a badge?” Sydney opened her arms wide.
“Really, Miss Willows, then please tell me why you’re here,” he asked, a snobbish tone to his voice.
“The same reason everyone else comes here.” Sydney resisted the urge to punch the arrogant ass as he rolled his eyes.
“This is no place for someone like you. Unless you have official police business, I suggest you return to your car. I’d be happy to have someone escort you.”
“I just want a drink. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“No offense, but I’m aware you’re bonded to Mister Issacson. All of New Orleans is aware, as a matter of fact. There’s no way your fiancé would allow you to come here by yourself. Besides, all humans who come to our club a
re donors. You and I both know that you cannot be a donor to another vampire. Anyone who looks at you is as good as dead.”
“Do you want me to call him? I’m sure he’d love to know who denied me entrance.” As she spoke, she deliberately took slow breaths. Her mind swirled in chaos, but he’d never be privy to the conflict inside.
“I don’t think that…”
“Sir, take a look at me,” Sydney demanded. She didn’t have time to mince words. Despite her efforts to avoid Kade, she knew when she’d taken the car, he’d hear her leave. She suspected he’d activate the stolen vehicle tracking and quickly learn of her location. “I said, ‘look at me.’ Do I look well? Better yet, do I smell human to you? I know you can smell me…just do it.”
Sydney rooted her feet into the ground as he leaned toward her, coming within inches of her face. She fisted her hands tightly, readying to strike if he came any closer. Her nails dug into her skin, reminding her that even though she was now immortal, she could still very much feel pain.
“Vampire,” he whispered, reaching for the brass clip on the end of the rope. “I’m very sorry, Miss Willows. I was not aware Mister Issacson had turned you. Please forgive me.”
“Forgiven,” was all Sydney could manage as a rush of breath hissed from her lips.
“Perhaps I should call your fiancé. This really is no place for a lady.”
“As you so eloquently pointed out earlier, I’m a cop…was a cop. I think I can handle it.” Sydney’s eyes fell to the barrier and then met his. She wouldn’t be intimidated from entering, dissuaded from her task.
“As you wish,” he replied, ushering her into the foyer. “If I can get you anything at all, please let me know.”
“Thank you but I’ll be fine,” she insisted.
Sydney never looked back as she moved toward her destination. The small foyer led to an arched hallway. Pinpricks of light poured from the unusual lighting fixtures, making it look as if the ceiling were made from stars. She pushed through a waterfall of bamboo beads, finally arriving in the main room of the club.
A fusion of Caribbean and new age décor surrounded her as she made her way toward the bar. Palm tree leaves appeared to sway, reflecting the soft flicker of tea lights. Traditional jazz music filtered throughout the airy space; a live band played in the far corner while patrons danced. In her peripheral vision, she caught sight of a tall brunette pinning a muscular man against the cream-colored wall. His torn shirt lay on the floor, a stream of bright red blood trailed down the side of his abs while he shook in a delirious state of bliss.
Sydney approached the bartender. He slid bottles of beer toward a group of twenty-somethings who nervously played with their hair extensions and chatted incessantly. Observing their behavior, she suspected it was their first time donating. A month ago, Sydney would have intervened, possibly used her police authority to escort them out of the club. Tonight, she felt nothing for the neophyte humans who sought the thrill of vampires. They’d committed, now they’d have to learn to deal with the consequences of their decisions. Whether they embraced or despised the experience, it was of no concern to Sydney. Like a speck of sand, they were insignificant in the grand scheme of things. People lived. People died. And some, like the immortal predators in the room, simply survived.
Sydney eyed the crimson tubes connected to large oak vats, disappointed that she simply couldn’t drink it like water from a spigot. While the imported, aged blood was a delicacy, it wouldn’t suffice to provide the nutritional needs of a vampire, especially a newly-turned one such as herself.
She caught the eyes of the attractive barkeep, who smiled at her. Shirtless, his loose white linen cargo pants hung precariously low on his hips. A flimsy drawstring, tied casually, swayed as he worked. Sydney noted there wasn’t an ounce of fat on his artificially tanned chest. As he drew closer, she forced the corners of her lips into a friendly grin, and readied herself for the conversation that led her one step closer to her goal.
“Hello there, blondie. What can I getcha tonight?” His grey eyes twinkled as he spoke, and Sydney resisted the urge to ask him if he was vampire. “Drink? Donor? Sex? All of the above?”
“Donor only. No contact.” Sydney wasn’t sure what they called it; she only knew what she’d seen when she’d been in the club months ago. Working a case, they’d searched the bar for a suspect. That was when she’d discovered the special draining rooms, one for donors who sold their blood, but refused to be bitten. At the time, it struck her as perhaps a fetish. Clinical as it was, apparently the desire to drink from a glass appealed to some in their community. Likewise, squeamish humans who sought monetary compensation for their bodily fluids, had found a niche in the underground ecosystem.
“No contact, huh? You must be referring to our siphon specialty. It’s extra, you know?”
“Cost isn’t an issue.” Sydney retrieved the cash from her wallet and slid ten one hundred dollar bills across the bar. She glanced over her shoulder, making sure she hadn’t been followed.
“It’s five hundred. This is too much.” He counted out the bills and offered her back the extra money.
“Keep it for my tab,” she told him. “How long will it be? I, um, I’m kind of in a rush.”
“We usually have a wait, but,” he picked up his iPad and began pecking at a scheduling app, “we can squeeze you in with number eleven. She just got in. Hold a second.”
Sydney struggled to conceal the relief that overcame her. It wasn’t ideal by any stretch of the imagination, but siphoning could be her salvation. As she waited for him to finish the arrangements, she scented the tinge of the iron delicacy in the air. Hungry, so hungry. Her hands shook and she steadied them onto her purse.
“This is Elia.” He pointed to a petite woman who hurriedly strode across the dance floor. Her crushed black velvet dress reflected specks of silver under the black lights. “She’ll escort you to your donor.”
“Thank you,” Sydney replied.
“No problem. Hey, listen, my name’s Gil. If you’re looking for some fun afterward, I’ll be here for a few more hours.” He winked.
“Um, thanks but I don’t think…” She didn’t bother finishing as she gave him a small wave.
Her guide gave her a nod and gestured toward the back of the room. Without speaking a word, Sydney obediently followed her. They weaved their way through the crowd of dancers, and her stomach clenched in anxiety and starvation. As they pushed through a set of swinging Cypress doors, the din of the club ceased. The calm-inducing spa-like atmosphere was a stark contrast to the actions transpiring behind the walls. As they made their way down the quiet hallway, she noted the sequentially numbered rooms. Elia abruptly stopped at eleven, and with a gentle knock, opened the door.
“Hello,” a perky woman greeted them from inside. Lying comfortably on a dark leather chaise, she rested a paperback on her lap.
“Um, hi,” Sydney answered. She looked to Elia, who continued to ignore her. “I’m not sure where you’d like me.”
“She won’t speak to you.”
“Excuse me, what?”
“Elia is our technician for today but not present.”
“But she kind of is present….she’s right there.” Sydney glanced to the woman who had begun to arrange the sterile dressings and tubing.
“Is this your first time?”
“Yes, sorry.”
“I’m Mya,” she said, offering her hand.
“I’m Sydney.” She shook the woman’s warm hand and quickly released it. Feeling disoriented, a wave of dizziness threatened to topple her.
“Hey, you okay? Here, sit next to me.” Mya pointed to a soft cushioned chair.
“Thank you.” Sydney quickly sat, placing her bag on the ground. She found comfort that the donor appeared entirely content, but Sydney still felt out of place.
“Siphoning really isn’t as bad as they make it sound.” Mya glanced toward Elia and then back to Sydney. “This experience is for you. I merely provide your foo
d. And Elia, she’s not present as in she’s deliberately silent and will leave immediately after your blood is prepared.”
“Why?” A part of Sydney just wanted to feed, but curiosity got the better of her. The human part had to know why they’d pretend as if someone wasn’t even in the room.
“Not all humans and vampires publicly feed or have sex. Many of the vampires who seek the siphon option prefer the privacy we offer. While the intimacy of the feeding is removed, we can artificially provide the one-on-one interaction. When a vampire feeds from a human, they go unassisted. Therefore, it is just you and I. Elia is merely an instrument to our interaction. Therefore, she isn’t present. She’s not allowed to speak, because this is our experience. Your experience.”
“I see,” Sydney said. Admittedly, she’d never asked Kade about the rooms she’d seen here or why vampires would need blood this way. All she’d ever known was the bond that had existed between them.
“I know siphoning is a novelty for some vampires, but I do have some regulars. I mean, not all vampires want or need to…you know, make humans feel. They just want to eat, plain and simple.”
“You mean sex?”
“Well, yes.” Mya fingered the single braid that brushed her waist then raised her gaze to meet Sydney’s. “It’s none of my business why clients come to me but I suspect it’s the same reason why a human wouldn’t want to seek pleasure from another person when they’ve already committed to someone else. Even single people don’t always want sex. And what are vampires really?”
“What do you mean?”
“Deep down, somewhere inside, they are human. Okay, well, I’ve met a few who really are no longer in any way human. But most have a tiny part of them that remembers.”
“Why do you do this?” Human, Sydney thought. It hadn’t been that long since she’d been turned. She swore she’d never become a monster, forgetting who she’d been, but she knew the truth. Her response at the bar demonstrated that she’d already changed.
