Hunted (The Tinder Chronicles)

by Land, Alexa

  That was all the time I needed. I dropped the knife, pulled my own gun from the waistband of my jeans, and fired a shot into his forehead. That wouldn’t kill a vampire, but it hurt like hell and definitely knocked them off their game for a few moments. While he yelled and raised both hands to his head, I jumped up and jammed the stake into him, and he disintegrated before my eyes.

  Before his clothes even settled on the ground, I was gathering them and his gun. These all went into a dumpster, along with a second armload of his buddy’s clothes. Then I shoved my gun back in my waistband, grabbed my knife and the stake from the ground, and took off at a dead sprint, stowing my weapons as I ran. My handgun was a small caliber and the sound it made was little more than a pop, nothing like the sound guns made on TV. But still, someone would probably come out to the alley to investigate, and I wanted to be long gone when that happened.

  I tried to look casual as I returned to busy State Street, but I was failing to blend in a big way. I’d already resembled a homeless person before rolling around in a filthy alleyway, and now the upper-middle-class masses were giving me a wide berth, as if my lack of wealth might somehow be contagious. Fucking rich people.

  I stopped short when I got to the block where I’d parked, down at the slightly less ritzy end of State Street. Half a dozen generic white cars were dotted along the curb. Gah! I pulled the keys from my pocket and took a look at the logo on the fob. It was a swoop…with another swoop through it. What the hell? Would it kill car companies to just use their damn name as a logo? Having ‘Kia’ or ‘Toyota’ or ‘Mitsubishi’ spelled out on the key chain would be a big help, especially since every car company seemed determined to produce totally nondescript boredom-mobiles these days. Ok, ‘Mitsubishi’ probably wouldn’t actually fit on the little faux-leather tag, but surely they could do better than a pair of bent lines.

  After unsuccessfully trying to unlock two other cars (and attracting even more attention, because I now looked like I was trying to commit grand theft auto on one of the busiest streets in the county), I finally found the right one and ducked into the (boring grey) interior. As I fired up the engine and pulled away from the curb, I watched my rearview mirror, half expecting the Santa Barbara P.D. to come rolling up on me. Attracting the attention of law enforcement when armed to the eyeballs was a very, very bad thing.

  It was a relief when I finally turned onto first one and then another major surface street, losing myself in traffic. When I stopped at a red light, I turned the rearview mirror toward me and muttered, “Awesome.” I picked a couple stalks of dead crabgrass from my shaggy black hair – probably a souvenir from the hillside across from Nate’s house – and scrubbed at a dirt smudge on my right cheek. No wonder people had been staring. I looked downright feral.

  After merging onto the 101 southbound, I settled in for the long drive home to Long Beach and played tonight’s hunt over and over in my mind. None of that had gone according to plan. Well, except for the part where I dusted two vamps. Why had Slick acted like he recognized me? As I’d said, this wasn’t even my usual hunting ground, and it wasn’t like vampires were organized enough to put out an A.P.B. on me.

  The fact that two vamps had teamed up to come after me was also unusual. Vampires were very solitary creatures – probably because they were so vicious that any contact usually resulted in them turning on one another. And yet vamps in Long Beach had started the same alarming trend of working together lately. The worst case was a warehouse I’d discovered with at least a dozen vamps on the premises. I still didn’t know what they’d been doing there, but I’d been trying to find answers over the last few days.

  I had a feeling Bane was involved with that warehouse somehow. Or even if he wasn’t, he probably knew why other vampires had an interest in that place. He wasn’t big on sharing information, though.

  And oh yay, now I was thinking about him again.

  God, why had I let him fuck me? I mean really, what a stunningly bad idea. And why the hell couldn’t I get it out of my mind? Why did I have to keep remembering the feeling of his big hands on my body, the strength of his arms around me, the way he’d whispered, “You’re mine,” when he was inside me, and how much I wanted it to be true – just in that one insane, lust-crazed moment?

  My cock got hard just thinking about it, which pissed me off. By the time I reached L.A., I was in such a state that I took a somewhat familiar turn-off and wound through one of Los Angeles’ more seedy neighborhoods, the kind of place where the buildings all had thick iron bars on the windows.

  As I drove, I decided I might as well make myself useful, and engaged my sixth sense. The few people I passed lit up instantly as soon as my sight was engaged, a warm, rosy color. As pink as the cheeks of a sinner in church, as my Grandpa Reynolds used to say. He’d been a hunter, too, just like the rest of my family, and had died when I was eleven. The only reason he lived long enough for me to know him was because his hunting career had been cut short. He’d gotten injured in the line of duty, and had been confined to a wheelchair the last half of his life. The fact that my grandpa was partially paralyzed didn’t stop a vampire from slaughtering him eventually. Our home was breached, and in that same attack, I also lost my sister Meg. I’d had four brothers and sisters at one point. Not anymore.

  I tried not to think about that now, concentrating instead on scanning the people I passed. The pink was comforting for some reason, almost literally a way of seeing the world through rose-colored glasses.

  Man, what a stupid thought.

  Eventually, I parked in the cramped lot behind a black cinderblock building. The partly burnt-out sign on the side of it spelled out the second half of ‘Ed’s Mineshaft’ so that only ‘shaft’ was illuminated. Well, that was appropriate enough.

  I closed my eyes for a moment, then took a few deep breaths as I leaned back in my seat, steeling myself for what I was about to do. Every time I came to this dump, I vowed it was the last time. But here I was again.

  Eventually, I got out of the car and went around to the trunk. I offloaded my heavy leather jacket and about fifteen pounds of weapons, keeping just one knife and one stake concealed in my boots. On my way to the front door, I glanced at the garbage and a petri dish of a mattress leaning against the side of the building. I didn’t even want to contemplate the stains on that bed.

  Once inside, I scanned the crowd (pink, pink, pink) then disengaged my second sight – it was distracting. I’d barely downed my first whiskey before some random guy caught my eye. He cocked his head to the side, indicating the dark, dank room at the back of the bar. I gave him a small nod and slid off my barstool, leading the way. That was the good thing about this place – no one wasted your time with inane chit chat, we all knew what we were here for. Once he and I stepped behind the heavy black curtain, I dropped my pants and braced myself with my palms against the wall. Ugh, it was sticky. So gross.

  The guy deployed a condom before pushing into me. And damn it, even though he pounded me nice and hard, it wasn’t nearly enough. It wasn’t Bane. That thought made me want to whack my head against the sticky black wall.

  When that guy finished, another took his place, shoving his cock into me without a word. I let him. I’d always been promiscuous, but in the past week I’d become completely reckless, going out every night, losing count of the faceless strangers that I let use me.

  I kept thinking, if only one of these men fucked me the way Bane had. If only one of them brought me to life, made me feel the things he did. If that happened, then maybe I’d stop thinking about him all the time. Maybe I’d stop craving him with every part of me. But no one even came close.

  Sex had always been one of my only forms of release, a pressure valve against the overwhelming stresses of my job. And now, apparently, a goddamn vampire had ruined me for sex with anyone else. Fan-fucking-tastic.

  I stayed there though, up against that wall, as stranger after stranger used me over the course of maybe an hour. Even though it wasn’t all
that satisfying, it still quieted a part of me, a lonely, desperate part that I hated to even acknowledge.

  Eventually, a young blond was pushed up against the wall right beside me, rough hands unfastening his pants and pulling them down before a raw cock was shoved into him. He cried out as he braced himself against the wall, sorrowful blue eyes locking with mine.

  No, that wasn’t right. This guy was clearly underage, he couldn’t be more than nineteen. He shouldn’t be here. This bar attracted a really rough crowd, one that wouldn’t let a cute little twink like that go willingly when he decided he’d had enough of his walk on the wild side. Tonight was going to end really, really badly for this guy unless I did something.

  I started to stand up, but whoever was in me shoved my head against the cement wall, so hard that I saw spots for a moment. Asshole. I elbowed him in the stomach and yanked my jeans up when he doubled over. “What the hell?” he growled.

  The guy screwing the little blond wasn’t going to stop because I asked him nicely, so I physically pulled him off and told the teenager, “Get dressed, we’re leaving.”

  The twink stared at me wide-eyed, but did as I said. Meanwhile, the big, hairy dude that had been topping him took a swing at me, which I easily dodged. I grabbed the blond’s hand and dragged him after me as a fight broke out, the bar’s bouncer stepping in and immediately agitating the guy that had been in me.

  Somehow, we made it to the parking lot unscathed, and as we ran across the asphalt the guy asked softly, “Why did you do that?”

  “Because you don’t belong there. Do you have a car?”

  “No.”

  “Come on then, I’m driving you home.” I found the rental car on my second try and he got in the passenger seat, still staring at me a bit fearfully. “Where do you live?” I asked, and he recited an address in a cringeworthy part of L.A.

  “He wasn’t raping me,” the blond said as I pulled into traffic. “I was letting him do that to me.” His voice never seemed to rise above a whisper.

  “That’s crazy. What were you thinking? He wasn’t even wearing a condom.”

  “But you were doing the same thing.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m over twenty-one, what I do is my choice. You’re what, eighteen? Nineteen? It’s not even legal for you to be in that place.”

  “I’m older than I look.” Still that soft little voice. He was quiet for a while, then finally said, “I’m Tyler. What’s your name?”

  “The same, actually,” I muttered distractedly, reading the street signs and trying to navigate a part of L.A. I didn’t know very well.

  “Most people call me Ty,” he said. “You can call me that if you want to.”

  “Promise me you won’t go back to that place, Ty. If you want to get laid, there are dozens of nicer, cleaner, safer gay bars in Southern California. That place is a shit hole.”

  “Then why were you at there?”

  “In my case, it doesn’t matter if it’s dangerous, because I can defend myself if I have to.”

  He fell silent for a while, before admitting, “I was there because I want a new master, and that seemed like a good place to find one. Mine was killed a few months ago, and I hate being on my own.” Oh man, so he was one of those D/s boys that thrived on abuse. He asked, his voice softer than ever, “Do you think…do you think maybe you might want to keep me?”

  I glanced over at him. His huge blue eyes were so hopeful. It was absolutely heartbreaking. “Ty, you don’t even know me. Do I really need to tell you what a bad idea it is to go around offering yourself to total strangers? That’s a great way to wind up in the morgue.”

  “I know you’re a nice person. You wanted to save me from that place.”

  “I could be a total psycho, for all you know. You need to be more careful.”

  “I am careful. And I know I don’t seem like it, but I can defend myself, too,” he said, looking down at his hands, which were folded in his lap.

  “No offense, but I really doubt it.” Then I asked, “Am I going the right way?”

  “Yeah. Just take a left at the next light.”

  When we pulled up in front of his building, I muttered, “You have got to be kidding me.” It was a total dive. In fact, the word ‘dive’ wasn’t nearly strong enough to describe it. Some whole new word would have to be invented to really capture the essence of this place, something like ‘terrifying-hellpit-shithole-of-retched-fuckedupedness.’ Ok, that was more of a phrase. And even that didn’t cover it. I looked at my companion and said, “How have you not gotten murdered twice a day, every day, living in this place?”

  He grinned, just a little. “Like I said, I can defend myself.”

  “Christ,” I muttered. This had to be one of the roughest neighborhoods I’d ever been in – and I didn’t exactly spend most of my time in Mayberry, if you know what I mean.

  “Will you come inside with me? Please? I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.”

  Man, this guy was one huge cry for help. “Oh come on!” I exclaimed. “It’s like you’re trying to get murdered! Never say that to a stranger. Never! Do you hear me, Ty?”

  “You’re really sweet,” he said. “Thank you for caring about what happens to me.”

  I normally didn’t stick my neck out for other people like this. But God, this guy was like a tiny newborn kitten playing in traffic. Not even the most heartless asshole could leave him out there to get run over. “Look,” I said, “let me drive you to a motel, someplace where the murder rate isn’t measured in deaths-per-minute. My treat. At least that way, I know you’ll be somewhat safe for a night or two.”

  “You don’t need to do that. But you can walk me inside if you want, Tyler,” he said, his grin graduating to a very cute smile. He hopped out of the car and stood waiting for me on the sidewalk. It was surprising that he didn’t get murdered in the four seconds it took me to jump out and come around the car to stand beside him.

  “Ok. Let’s not waste time out here,” I said, and shepherded him into the building quickly with a hand on his lower back.

  His room was on the ground floor, and contained only a rickety twin bed and an old, beat-up backpack. When we stepped inside, he turned to me and put his arms around me. He was only about five-six, and fit perfectly right under my chin.

  “You’re like a superhero,” he said as I sighed and hugged him, “out there saving people. I didn’t actually need saving, but I think it’s sweet that you tried anyway.”

  “Maybe we both needed saving tonight,” I murmured, and he looked up at me. I was kind of surprised I’d said that out loud.

  He led me over to the little bed, and tugged on my hand until I gave in and sat on the edge of the mattress with him. “I’m not going to fuck you, Ty,” I said. “I’m actually a bottom. Maybe you noticed, given what I was doing back at that bar.”

  He was still holding my hand. And I was letting him, because it was kind of nice. “I was going to ask for something else,” he said, a faint blush rising in his pale cheeks as he looked at our joined hands. “You’re going to think it’s really weird. I wouldn’t even ask if I didn’t desperately need it.”

  I hated to think what that could possibly be. “I’m not going to smack you around, or spank you, or whatever Dom/sub shit you’re into,” I told him.

  He grinned again. “It’s weirder than that.”

  “Awesome. So, I’m probably not willing to do that to you, either.”

  “It’s not what you’d be doing to me. It’s what I’d be doing to you,” he said.

  “Um….”

  “Can I just show you? Please? I’ll stop the moment you tell me to, I swear.”

  I knit my brows at that. “If I say no, you’re going to go right back out there, to another bar just as bad as that last one, aren’t you?”

  He nodded. “I really need this tonight.”

  “What is it?”

  “I guess…I guess I shouldn’t try to describe it. I just need to show you.”

&
nbsp; I stared at Ty for a long moment. He looked so incredibly innocent. What the hell was he about to spring on me? A torture device? A farm animal? What? I was curious, wondering what brand of depravity could possibly lurk beneath that angelic exterior. “Ok, show me. But if I say stop, we stop. Got it?” I said.

  “I will. I promise.” He pulled the hem of my t-shirt up to my shoulder, holding it balled up in his small hand. “Wow, you have a lot of tattoos,” he murmured, gently caressing my chest with his other hand before sliding it around my shoulders to embrace me. Then he leaned in and took my nipple in his mouth, and began suckling.

  Was that it? This wasn’t particularly weird. It was kind of pleasant, actually.

  After a minute or two of this, Ty bit down. I gasped as he murmured, “Sorry,” and went back to sucking on my nipple. Ok, that was slightly weird. He’d bitten me fairly hard, too…probably hard enough to draw blood.

  Reflexively, I switched to my second sight, and Ty lit up in pure white light. I froze, my breath catching in my throat, fear and panic flooding me. Oh God. Vampire. Seriously?

  How was I going to get out of this? Could I reach my stake before he tore my throat out? He might be small, but he was absolutely stronger and faster than I was, all vamps were. His hold on me was relaxed now, but the moment I started to make a move he’d probably tear me limb from limb.

  He gently licked my nipple a couple times, and then sat up and took my hand as he said, “I’m sorry. It got scary for you all of a sudden, didn’t it? You stopped breathing and your heart began racing. Why didn’t you tell me to stop, Tyler?”

  I pulled away from him and jumped off the bed, then grabbed the knife and the stake that were concealed in my boots, pointing them at him with shaking hands. “How the hell can you be a vampire?” I exclaimed.

  Ty looked absolutely astonished, wrapping his arms around himself. “How do you know what I am?”