by B. N. Toler
I sit silently, staring numbly at the television, pretending to be interested, but it’s Bridge I’m thinking about. He caught me off guard. That’s for sure. Now I need to gage what his gift is. Is he like Sarah and only sees the past? Is he a full-blown psychic? Thank God he’s not a dream walker because I hope to never meet another one ever again. Whatever he is, he’s a threat that could expose me as a liar to Daniel. I don’t want Daniel to find out about my past or my brothers. Plus I lied to Daniel about them being alive. It probably wouldn’t go over well if Bridge exposed me. Of course, I could deny it. Omitting and lying isn’t technically the same thing. I lied to Daniel. Not telling him about other things, like my gift to absorb information, is omitting. I’m not sure how I feel about that argument, as Rhett technically omitted the fact he knew I was a hybrid. I realize Bridge and I have just engaged in war—silently declared, with each of us sizing up our opponent. I can only hope his ability has limitations—like he can’t see everything—limitations. I’ll have to see what I can find out in my dreams tonight. I’m still wary from my hangover and it shouldn’t be too hard for me to doze off.
When Daniel returns, he’s wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms and a grey vest with jeans. His hair is down, accentuating his jaw and cheekbones. My mouth goes dry at the sight of him when his gaze meets mine and he smirks. I have to remind myself to breathe after a few seconds and snap my eyes away from him as heat flushes my face. He just caught me checking him out. What is wrong with me?
“You guys coming?” he asks Flynn and Eileen, a smirk still playing on his lips.
“In a bit,” Flynn answers with a nod.
“Come on, kitten,” Daniel orders as he feels his pockets for his keys.
“We’re going out again?” I ask deflated. I just want to go to bed.
“Time for another lesson.”
We head down the strip in the corvette and end up in front of some rundown hole-in-the-wall bar called Avery’s. The lighting is poor, and the room is made of dark wood from its bar to the stools to the walls. The smell of beer and stale smoke linger, and it takes me a minute to adjust to the pungent odor. Three middle aged guys sit at the end of the bar facing away from us, smoking cigarettes and drinking draft beer out of tall glasses.
“Nice place. You always bring ladies here?” I ask dryly.
He ignores me, and instead leads me to a table and pulls out a chair for me.
I stare at him, wondering where the chivalrous gesture he just offered came from.
“Sit,” he motions and takes a seat across the table from me. “Two beers,” he calls to the white haired bartender with a handlebar mustache.
“What are we doing here, Daniel?
“Take your coat off. Trust me. I’m going to get you something to eat,” he winks at me.
“We just ate,” I reply stupidly.
He gives me a pointed look when it hits me. “Oh, blood,” I say a little too loudly, nodding my head.
“You wanna say it a little louder? I don’t think they heard you on the West Coast.”
“Oh, sorry,” I whisper, my cheeks heating with embarrassment.
I sit down and shimmy my jacket off, hanging it on the back of my chair.
Daniel pulls out his cigarettes and lights one. He smokes like a real man. Everything about the act is pure male perfection, from the way he holds it between his thumb and index finger, to the way he presses it between his lips, never fully rounding them around the end.
“Smoking is bad for you,” I roll my eyes.
“So is unwanted advice.” He makes ‘O’ rings as he exhales his last drag.
“It can cause impotence,” I add.
Daniel laughs and my stomach curls at the sound. I don’t think I’ve heard him laugh before and it’s amazing to witness. He leans forward, his gray stare fixed on me, a smile still playing on his lips. “I’m touched you’re so concerned about my dick, kitten. Has it been worrying you? Keeping you up at night? The thought of it?”
Heat washes over my body and I have no doubt I’m so red I look like I just ate habanero peppers. I fumble for something else to say, to erase the image of his…oh God, I’m imagining it right now, shit! Images flash through my mind, images of Daniel. And he’s naked! Oh God, what is wrong with me? I close my eyes hoping to clear them. “Smoking is bad for you. Everyone knows that,” I mumble as I take the beer that was just placed before me and chug it trying to cool my body that feels like it’s on fire.
Daniel sits back and nods before taking a sip of his own beer. “Thanks for the advice kitten. I’ll keep that in mind.” The same smile still dances on his perfect lips. He knows he just embarrassed the shit out of me.
The door squeaks as it opens and I turn as four large men wearing black leather and motorcycle boots walk in. I turn back to Daniel who smiles at me.
“What?”
“This is a game of cat and mouse. You’re the cat, but pretend you’re the mouse.”
I open my mouth to ask him what the hell he’s talking about, but I feel the presence of someone standing over me, their energy pulsating in my brain, indicating they’re having some sort of adrenaline rush maybe. I look up and see one of the bikers with his long, black hair braided and a red bandana tied around his head staring down at me. His eyes are fixated on my cleavage.
“How much?” He looks at Daniel. I quirk an eyebrow as my gaze moves to Daniel.
“Whoa, friend. Have a seat. Let’s try to be casual here and not draw attention to ourselves.” Daniel nods at the three old men still sitting at the bar. I’m stunned with shock. Is Daniel pimping me?
The biker pulls a chair from the table behind us and straddles it at the end of the table where we sit. His eyes are like tongues, licking me up and down and he nods as if thinking about what he’s going to do with me…or to me.
My eyes dart back to Daniel with the fury of hell, but before I can speak, he does.
“She’s a pistol this one. She could eat you alive.” Words on words, saying one thing, meaning another. Daniel loves this.
The biker nods his head approvingly.
“I need to use the restroom.” I go to stand, but Daniel grabs my arm and I feel it—the fizz, my blood reacting to his touch. When he looks at me, he says, “You will wait here until I tell you otherwise.” Although he is saying one thing, I hear something else. An echo of, trust me.
I sit back down as Daniel stands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”
“Marcus,” the biker answers in a husky voice.
“Marcus, let’s go discuss business. I don’t like to talk numbers in front of the merchandise.”
Marcus stands and throws another eye rape over me before turning back to his friends’ table.
“Stay here,” Daniel warns.
A few minutes later, Daniel sits back down and sips his beer casually, as if he hadn’t just offered me up for sex. He lights another cigarette and leans over the table toward me.
“You’ll go into the bathroom and wait. He’ll follow behind you after a few minutes.”
“Are you fucking crazy?” I practically yell.
“I won’t let him touch you,” he says with annoyance as if I’m overreacting.
“Oh, really?”
“I’ll fucking rip his throat out if he even gets one hand on you.” His expression is so serious it hits me in the gut. As if the thought of Marcus touching me would send him over the edge. I’m not sure what to think about it.
“You just sold me to him, and now you’re going to kill him for taking what he thinks is his?”
“Cat and mouse, kitten. Cat and mouse.”
“Stop calling me that!”
He ignores me and says, “This is your next lesson. This is how we lure our prey…to feed. Now go.”
Apprehension swells in my chest. “You swear you won’t let anything happen to me?”
“I swear.” It isn’t even the words that I believe, it’s his look, the promise i
n his eyes. I believe he wouldn’t let anything happen to me.
With a few curses under my breath, I make my way into the ladies bathroom and stand in front of the sink. Finally, Marcus enters and immediately begins unbuttoning his pants. My heart races and I back away as he steps towards me.
“It’s not often you find hookers that’ll take it up the ass.”
I nearly choke. Daniel is pimping me for anal sex? He probably thinks this is hilarious. I can see him now, still sitting at the table, chuckling to himself as he smokes a cigarette. Dick! The only thing going up anyone’s ass will be my foot in Daniel’s. Marcus steps toward me, and I back away again.
“Take your pants off, baby, and turn around. Let’s get this party started.”
My heart catapults into my throat as he pulls out his large erection. It’s not as much long as it is thick. I’ve never particularly thought a penis looked sexy, but this one looks pretty scary. I make a face and Marcus laughs. “Never seen one this big before, have ya?” He shakes it up and down, a deep laugh rumbling from him as he does.
“Like what you see, kitten?” Daniel appears out of nowhere and Marcus turns, dick still in hand.
“What the fuck man? You said I had ten minutes.”
“I said it shouldn’t take more than ten minutes.” Daniel winks at me.
Marcus and I both stare at Daniel when he pulls Marcus with such force he drops to his knees. Daniel stares down at him and his eyes flicker. “When you leave this room, you will feel extremely satisfied. You will feel you got your money’s worth, and you won’t remember her or me, or what we’re about to do to you.”
Daniel looks up at me, his expression fierce, like a beast about to feast on its prey. His fangs pop out and the sight of them creates a frenzy within me. My heart pounds and my blood rushes, causing my fangs to erupt as well. We stare at each other, an intense moment of lust. Not for each other, but for the blood and the conquest. With one quick move, Daniel leans in and seizes Marcus’s neck.
Marcus groans quietly until Daniel finally raises his head and reaches out for me. I approach him and stare down at Marcus who looks as if he’s in a trance. His pants remain down exposing his still very erect cock.
“This is wrong.” I shake my head trying to fight the urge to lick the blood off of his neck.
“We won’t kill him. He’ll be fine. Trust me. Drink.”
I lean down and place my mouth where Daniel’s was. My fangs push into the soft flesh of Marcus’s neck and his warm blood trickles into my mouth. Euphoria bursts through my body and I suck harder, pulling him closer to me. I can feel his erection pressed against my shin, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m too lost in the taste, the energy in his blood that makes my taste buds tingle.
“Now listen, kitten. Listen for his heartbeat, his energy. When it slows, you must stop.”
I listen hard and when I hear his energy dropping I try to pull away, but the hunger is so strong I can’t. I panic as I moan, realizing I have no control over myself in this moment.
“Focus, Aldo,” Daniel encourages me. Did he just call me by my name? Not important right now. I focus harder, screaming inside my head to stop. My inner self shouts at me, but it has no effect. A tear breaks out of the corner of my eye because I know I’m going to kill this man when I feel Daniel’s hand on the back of my head. He bends down behind Marcus.
“Look at me.” I do and his eyes are calm. There’s no panic. Just calm. “Let go.” And just like that, I release Marcus and he flops to the ground. I fall back on my ass and scramble backwards away from him as sobs escape me.
“He’s fine,” Daniel assures me, half smiling as if my emotion is humorous to him. He pulls Marcus up and places his hand over his neck. Our bite marks are gone when he removes it. Marcus lulls a bit but grins at Daniel like he’s half asleep.
“You’ll wait here five minute then return to your friends feeling extremely satisfied.” Daniel smiles genuinely and pats him on the arm before turning to me with an I told you so expression. “Well, let’s go.”
Standing, I barge out of the bathroom. I grab my coat off of the chair and slip it on while Marcus’s friends whistle at me. By the time I’m out the door, Daniel is beside me.
“You did good for your first time.”
“I almost killed him!” I hiss.
“No, you didn’t. I wouldn’t have let that happen, although one might question if he didn’t deserve to die.”
“Do you decide that, too?”
“He hit a family in a head on collision after a night of drinking. He survived and fled the scene. The family of five died.”
“Why don’t you turn him in?”
“Because he’s useful to me.”
“For feedings?”
“And other things.”
“Vague much?”
“That’s a lesson for another day.”
“Can we go home? I’m beat.”
“Yes.”
As soon as I fall asleep, my dreams come quickly. I create the white dome, like the one Rhett had created the first night he walked my dreams—or rather the first time he made me think he walked my dreams. I need to focus tonight and creating one of my usual scenes will only distract me. The white glare of the room makes my eyes water at first, but they adjust quickly. I get down to business and begin pulling images, sifting through information. I need to know what Bridge is and how much he knows about me.
I try to sort everything on a timeline, putting his obvious earliest memories and information first. The first thing I discover is he’s really old; born sometime in the 1800’s. An image of his mother wearing an elaborate dress with dilated hips and a corset appears before me. She must’ve been a healer that was turned while she was pregnant with him. I fight the momentary self-pity that my own mother wasn’t turned, but murdered. She kisses him and spins him around. The memory sends chills through me, and I realize it’s because it’s Bridge’s only memory of her. I can’t find any other images of her besides that one. What happened to her? As a child, Bridge looks so sweet and innocent, making it hard to believe he’s such an asshole now.
In the next image there’s a beautiful girl with long, red hair. She’s young, maybe sixteen years old; quite a few years younger than Bridge. Bridge dotes on her, bringing her gifts and giving her poems he wrote for her. His desire is consuming, and I feel the ache he felt in my chest. She toys with him, knowing he wants her. Image after image plays out before me when I find one that stuns me. An unsuspecting Bridge catches the red beauty kissing a classmate of hers behind the schoolhouse. His rage surges through me making my blood boil. He attacks the boy who is kissing the redhead, knocking her down. The two males roll around when Bridge ends up underneath the other boy who pounds fist after fist into Bridge’s face. Bridge, in desperation pulls a knife from his hip and stabs the boy. He didn’t mean to. It was in the heat of the moment. I know this because I feel his shock and regret and can see his eyes widen. My ears feel an immense pain when the red haired girl lets out an ear piercing scream. Bridge stands, his chest heaving as he stares down at his blood drenched hands. And there it is. The hunger. I know that exact feeling. He didn’t understand why he craved it. He didn’t know what he was or what his mother was. She was a blood healer, bitten before he was born and able to live as a human. How could she have never told him?
He looks to his love, trying to calm her, but she keeps screaming something at him. Her words are shrill, cruel, and my heart aches as I feel Bridge’s own pain. She hurt him.
“You fool. Who would want you? You killed my love!” she cried as she knelt down over the lifeless body of the young man Bridge killed. Bridge’s fury surged, and I find myself wanting to punch something, or someone just to rid myself of the hurt I feel. I’m feeling what he felt, experiencing it just as he did.
“Look at me,” Bridge says to her.
Fierce blue eyes draped behind a curtain of fire-red hair move up to meet his. As Bridge holds her gaze, he lifts the knife to his mout
h and licks the blade, his eyes rolling back in his head as he savors the blood. This is when he transitioned. He licked the blade for effect, to torment the girl, not realizing he just set in motion his transition.
“I like how weakness tastes.” He watches her lose her mind, screaming and shrieking, but she is quickly silenced when he pulls her up by a fistful of hair and plunges his new fangs in her throat. His thirst burns in my stomach, and I feel her heartbeat slow as her life seeps out of her with each pull he takes from her neck.
When the image disappears, I stand frozen. What the hell do I do with that little chestnut of information? Great. I’ve managed to make an enemy out of a freaking psycho. Clearing the images, I make myself focus. I only need to know one thing right now. How does he know about my past? I dig deep, searching for anything, but come up empty handed. The one thing I want to know isn’t here. “What is his gift?” I groan as I close my eyes and stomp my feet like a child about to have a full-fledged tantrum. When I open my eyes there are only words before me.
In lies, he sees truth.
Staring at the words, I twist them around in my head. He can sense a lie? Or, if I lie he automatically sees the truth? I quickly rewind and replay every word we’ve spoken to each other. He asked if I had family I’d left behind, and I said no. So he saw Lucy and my brothers. But why would he see the fire?
One thing is for sure, I will avoid talking to him at all costs and if I have to, I will be very careful with my words. There is an art to lying. A truly gifted deceiver can lie right to your face, but you could never prove it. It’s all in the wording. I hate to lie. I really do. I’d rather evade the truth than flat out lie. I can do this. Bridge thinks he has the upper hand here, but he’s dead wrong. For once, I feel like my gift to absorb information is a blessing. It may very well be my ticket to controlling Bridge. But I can’t help but wonder, can Bridge really be controlled?
