He turned his attention to the mob boss, who’d abandoned his chair and now cowered in the far corner of the room, erratically waving his handgun. Malveaux gave the boss a suggestion that he couldn’t move his finger to pull the trigger. Pee Wee stood rigid, awaiting Malveaux’s pleasure, the almost imperceptible movements of his glazed eyeballs providing the only hint that he was still alive.
Malveaux had momentarily forgotten about Tempest in his feeding frenzy. He vaguely recalled hearing her scream as the frantic blood bath raged behind her. He shifted his gaze to the area in front of her and noticed the spatters of vivid red streaking Pee Wee’s clothes and the boss’s desk. He sniffed at the blood dripping down the back of Tempest’s hair as it created little crimson pools underneath her chair. He almost went mad with the thought of licking the blood from her creamy breasts as he pounded his always-hard cock inside her wet slit.
Shaking himself out of his bloody trance, he stood and strode over to the terrified mob boss. He kicked the gun out of the gangster’s hand, grabbed a handful of his shirt, and lifted him into the air. “You fucked up, Sal. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to piss off a vampire?”
Sal wasn’t a small man by any estimation, and the blubber he’d added to his midsection over the years gave him the appearance of someone who’d likely keel over from a heart attack with the slightest physical exertion. Being hefted into the air by a vampire must have qualified as a stressful event, because Sal’s usually olive complexion turned deathly white.
Malveaux locked eyes with his captive, whose face went slack. “I’m going to take a stroll through what passes for your mind, Sal, and find out what kind of shit you’re trying to pull. You be a good little murderer now, and the big, bad vampire won’t have to eat you for dinner.”
The muscles in Sal’s cheeks twitched, and saliva dripped from one corner of his mouth.
It didn’t take long for Malveaux to uncover the thoughts and memories he sought. After just a few seconds, he jerked his head to the side, effectively breaking the link between his mind and Sal’s. He slanted a dangerous smile at the mob boss, who dangled bonelessly in his grip.
“You must be kidding. You can’t possibly be that stupid!” Malveaux scanned the room until he found the stash of “vampire hunter tools” the boss had intended to use on him. He laughed out loud at the box of crosses, garlic bulbs, and bottles of holy water the human had secreted under the desk.
“So, you thought you’d subdue me with those superstitious relics, hold me captive, and sell me to my enemies? The very vampires you hired me to exterminate from your territory? Sal, you disappoint me. I’d have thought you’d at least have waited until I’d finished my job, but I have to hand it to you for taking advantage of an unexpected opportunity when it arose. And using the woman as bait? Well done, but I wonder if it was really worth losing two of your bodyguards, one of whom -- if I read your thoughts correctly -- was a relative? Foolish, greedy human. It’s a waste that you brought our association to this harsh conclusion.”
With a feral snarl, Malveaux bared the razor-sharp points of his fangs and pierced the large vein in Sal’s neck. He rode the struggling man down to the carpet and proceeded to drink him dry.
Having decided to eat the boss for dinner after all, Malveaux feasted, and then stood. He made a useless attempt to wipe away the blood covering the lower half of his face, partially retracted his fangs, and then turned toward Tempest. “He really shouldn’t have pissed me off. I mean, holy water? Please. What kind of way is that for an employer to treat a valued employee? Even though it wouldn’t have done anything to me, it was the intent, don’t you agree?”
She sat rigid, her brown eyes wide, her mouth open.
Locking his gaze on Tempest, he walked forward to stand next to the incapacitated psychopath. He pointed to Pee Wee as he lifted him by the front of his shirt. “Did he hurt you? I heard some of his suggestions for recreational activities, which were disgusting enough, but you need to tell me if he harmed you. If he did, his death won’t be quick and merciful.”
Tempest still hadn’t made a sound or moved a muscle.
Malveaux leaned down to stare into her eyes. “Ah, it appears you’re in shock. Let me just quickly scan your memories to see what our little friend here has been doing, and then we can find someplace perfect to pick up where we left off. You know, I don’t actually need to look into your eyes -- lovely as they are -- to know your thoughts, but it somehow makes the connection much clearer and faster. Hmm, yes. The little fiend didn’t get a chance to have his fun. I spoiled the party. Well, then.”
Malveaux grabbed the top of Pee Wee’s head, and twisted it roughly. The sick cracking sound gave evidence of a broken neck. The vampire threw the body to the floor. “He isn’t worth one more minute of our time. We have a much more important agenda for the evening.” He knelt in front of her. “Here. Let me release you.”
He effortlessly tore the tape holding Tempest to the chair and ripped the pieces binding her arms and legs. “There, now. Isn’t that better?”
He brought his blood-smeared lips near hers, and she jerked back, causing the chair to fall over. Rolling away from her rescuer, she speed-crawled a few feet, turned, and watched him, studying his ever-resilient erection.
“Malveaux?” she whispered, her voice trembling as she met his eyes.
He gave her a mega-watt smile, displaying a hint of fang. “In the flesh.”
They stared at each for a few seconds, and then Tempest let out a shriek that would do a banshee proud.
In reaction, Malveaux put his index fingers in his ears, signaling that he was waiting for the unpleasant noise to stop.
“Are you finished? We really don’t have time for primal scream therapy right now.” He strode toward Tempest, and she leaped up, backing away.
“What the fuck are you?”
Chapter Nine
Tempest stared at the bloody, naked man looming over her and tried to make sense of the weird shit that had just slithered into her reality. Her brain had thrown the covers over its head and wasn’t answering the door.
Malveaux obviously wasn’t dead, but he was seriously demented. Holy fuck. She’d seen him rip out the fat guy’s throat and drink his blood. His body was coated with the grisly, red stuff. What did this guy think he was? A frickin’ vampire? She shifted her gaze to his rigid cock. And what kind of schizo got a woody from killing people?
“My woody appreciates your rapt attention, I’m sure, but I think we’d better get out of here before the rest of Sal’s menials arrive. The command I sent to the building’s remaining inhabitants won’t last long, and I’d hate to waste more time disposing of them.”
Tempest lifted her head and met his eyes. What? How the hell had he known what she was thinking? She didn’t remember saying that stuff out loud, but in the midst of a hallucination, anything was possible.
She backed away a few more inches, forced to stop when she encountered a wall. She crouched there, wanting time to think, to make a plan. Something. She was in a room filled with dead bodies, which, now that she noticed, was already starting to smell like a slaughterhouse, and the demented pretty boy was talking about disposing of more. What the hell kind of bad acid trip was she on?
Malveaux stepped toward her, reaching out a hand. “Play time’s over. I need a shower, and if I might be so ungallant, so do you. I don’t know what all that dark stuff is you’ve got smeared all over your face, but I suspect it’s makeup gone bad. Very distinctive, but not the best look for you.” His tone, which had been friendly, suddenly changed, becoming more forceful. “Take my hand and stand up, Tempest. Now.”
Tempest was shocked to find herself doing exactly that. She didn’t fucking want to take his bloody hand, but she couldn’t stop herself. She had no intention of getting near him, but, as if she’d blacked out for a few seconds, she found her body jammed against his. In fact, he was stroking her ass cheeks and pressing her against his huge hard-on, and her body was liking it. He b
ent down and licked the side of her neck, then groaned.
“Oh, yeah. We’ve definitely got some unfinished business, beautiful offspring.”
Offspring? Jesus Christ. What was this guy into? Why wasn’t she kicking the shit out of him with her pointy boots? Why was she just standing there like a blow-up doll?
“Don’t make yourself crazy, Tempest. I do happen to be a frickin’ vampire, and as they say in all the old movies, ‘You’re under my power.’ Bwwwaaaa!” He laughed so hard his cock rocked against Tempest’s mound, and they both groaned.
“I’m going to see if there’s something convenient to wrap you in so you won’t be cold on your way to the Jag. Stand still.”
Stand still, my ass. She struggled to break free of whatever he’d done to her, but it was useless. Her muscles wouldn’t move. She’d apparently had a stroke or something, and the signals weren’t getting from her brain to her limbs. As if she was just going to go somewhere with him in his car. But then she remembered her guitar and briefcase and figured it would be good to at least retrieve those before she escaped. He hadn’t actually hurt her. Yet.
He seemed to move faster than she could explain. She watched him rifle through some cabinets along the wall, finding several blankets. Suddenly in front of her, he wrapped two of the heavy wool squares around her, and she started making grunting and whining noises, trying to move her lips.
“What? You can talk,” Malveaux said.
Her jaw resisted, aching as if it hadn’t been used in hours rather than minutes. “My jacket! I want my dad’s jacket!”
He frowned. “Well, shit. Where is it?”
It felt weird that the only part of her capable of movement was her mouth. “It has to be in here somewhere because I had it on until they taped me to the chair.” She struggled to turn her head. “Hey, fuckwad. Unfreeze me, and I’ll find the jacket.”
“Fuckwad?” He laughed. “Ah, Tempest. So charming. How have I managed to live without you for all these years? All right. You can move.”
And she could.
Shaking herself to release the strange remnants of her catatonic state, she scanned the area and located the jacket draped on the back of a chair. She pointed, “There it is.” Shuffling in that direction, she found her path blocked by the twin corpses of Brown Teeth and his clone. Brown Teeth’s eyes were wide open, his face locked forever in stunned surprise. Even though they’d been assholes, her stomach lurched as she stepped over the annihilated bodies.
It wasn’t as if she were some fragile flower, always protected from the stench of death. She’d seen her share. Her band had even played in a club where a mob hit went down. With the first gun blast, the band members had all hit the floor. When the smoke cleared, the bloodbath was beyond description, but somehow this was worse. She’d had sex with the…thing…that did this.
Tempest grabbed her jacket and turned to gaze at The Thing. He smiled, still managing to look like some kind of dark angel rather than a psychotic demon.
“Brace yourself,” Malveaux said, shoving the jacket into her hands. The next thing she knew, he’d swept her up into his arms, and they were outside in the frigid air.
The snow had stopped falling, the wind had calmed, and stars sparkled in the cloudless sky. The full moon preened in the vast nothingness, its light reflected off the surface of the white-washed world. Tempest sucked in some air and was just about to complain that it hurt to breathe when they reached the car, and she was thrust inside. She immediately twisted her body so she could see the contents of the back seat and was relieved to find her missing possessions. How she was going to grab the guitar case and the over-stuffed briefcase in order to bolt from the car she had no idea. She shivered. It was so fucking cold that she dreaded leaving the blankets behind, but she’d do whatever she needed to. Getting away from the pretend vampire psycho was all that mattered.
Malveaux took his place in the driver’s seat, started the engine, and pulled away from the curb. She watched him for a moment, waiting for him to give some clue that he was freezing his ass off…his naked ass…and he was still sporting a damn erection. There had to be something seriously wrong with the guy. He had to be some kind of blood-drinking sex mutant.
He laughed and tipped his head in her direction. “Well, I guess that’s as good a description of me as any.”
She sure as hell knew she hadn’t said any of that out loud.
“What are you? Some kind of psycho mind reader? How do you keep knowing what I’m thinking? Did you get hit by lightning or something? Have you been abducted by aliens? Did you just guess I was thinking about you because you saw me looking at you?”
He chuckled, slanting a glance in her direction. “I already told you. I’m a ‘frickin’ vampire.’ I drink blood, read thoughts and emotions, and can change into other shapes. You know, like the movie guys in the black capes. Only my temper is much worse than any of them. I’m sure you noticed.”
“Yeah. I noticed a lot of things.” Tempest decided she’d be safe as long as the discussion remained calm and unthreatening, as long as she didn’t piss him off.
Fuck that. She’d never been known for her patience.
“So, where the fuck are you taking me? Are you going to kill me, too? Maybe you’re just going to let me freeze to death.”
He turned his head toward her, his eyebrows raised. He clicked the heater on, and the warm air flooded the car. “Shit, I’m sorry. Vampires aren’t overly sensitive to heat or cold, and I rarely have a human passenger. Is that better? Feel free to turn the level up or down. I really don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“Hmm. You don’t want me to be uncomfortable? I notice you didn’t answer my other questions.”
He glanced at her, his expression serious. “Where are we going? We’re going to my secret lair, the one nobody knows about. It’s a few minutes out of town. Am I going to kill you? Well, that’s a tricky question.”
Having let the warmth and the illusion of safety lull her into a false sense of security, Malveaux’s words hit Tempest like a bucket of ice water. She sat up rigidly and jerked her head in his direction, her stomach knotted with anxiety.
“What? What was that you said about killing me? What’s tricky?”
She’d met plenty of society’s dregs in her time, but something about the insanity of this situation threatened to turn her bowels liquid. Something about him. After what she’d seen him do, she understood that she was in dangerous territory. Who knew what would set a psycho off?
She eased her hand onto the door handle and estimated how fast the car was going. Malveaux didn’t seem to be in any great hurry to plow through the packed snow to reach their destination. He kept the speed at about around twenty miles per hour. She could just lift the handle and roll out. The snow would cushion her abrupt exit. She’d be a human Popsicle, but at least she’d be alive.
Slowing her breathing, she darted a glance at him to find him studying her. Shit. Could the asshole really read her mind?
Apparently.
“What about your guitar? And your cherished briefcase? I thought those things were important to you? How will you take them with you if you just leap out of the car right now? It’s so cold out there; your gorgeous little ass might freeze right off.” He smiled, resting an arm along the back of Tempest’s seat. “But by all means, try the door. Satisfy your adorable curiosity. I’ll let you.”
The combination of fear and anger made her feel wired and exhausted at the same time. It probably wouldn’t be good to launch into a feminist discussion of the “I’ll let you” thing. She doubted if bloodsucking monsters worried about being politically correct.
If the psycho found the idea of her opening the door entertaining, that meant he was up to something. He probably had it locked, or booby trapped, or some weird-ass thing. But she couldn’t not try, damn it, even if the asshole got a rush out of it. Shit. She was thinking again, and he was probably listening in.
He smiled, gently nodding his head
. “You have the most amazing mind, Tempest. We’re going to make such a marvelous team. And, yes, of course the door is locked.” He tapped a button on his door. “I wouldn’t want anyone to reach in and pluck out my precious cargo.”
She swiveled her gaze to the window, almost expecting to see plucking hands reaching out for her. She released the breath she’d been holding and pulled the blankets more tightly around herself. It figured that Malveaux’s ride would have locks that only he could open.
“Okay. I get it. You’re all-powerful, and I’m trapped in the car. Go back to the ‘killing me’ comment. Why is it tricky? Either you’ll kill me or you won’t.” Her eyes shifted down to his lap. “And why the fuck do you have a continuous hard-on?”
He smiled, the blood spattered all over his face and clumped in his hair making him look like one of the Scottish warriors in Braveheart at the end of a losing battle. “My continuous hard-on is the reason you’re here, but not in the way you’re probably thinking. And you actually won’t be dead. Well, maybe you will be, technically, but not in the quantum sense.”
Anger and Impatience wrestled down Fear and took center stage.
“What the fuck are you talking about? Why are you doing this to me? What did I ever do to you? I’m just a struggling musician, paying my dues. All I want is to sign a recording contract, have a great band, and get laid when I get the urge. Just your ordinary, everyday American gal. Why would you target me for this kind of perverted psycho-shit?”
Tempest couldn’t believe it was possible for this sick whacko to still be gorgeous while covered in gore, but Malveaux was. It should be against the rules for a fiend to come in such a perfect package. He met her gaze with wide blue eyes, looking as innocent as a blood-covered demon could.
“I didn’t target you. Meeting you was actually a stroke of monumental luck. I had just eliminated a couple of newborn vampires in an alley down the street and chose that bar because it was close. I didn’t know that particular establishment had entertainment, at least any kind that involved people wearing clothing. I’d just been thinking about my need to find a permanent sex partner, and there you were.”
Undead in the City Page 8
