by V L Moon
Whatever sort of mood Vischeral was in, it wasn’t a good one. Copi almost tasted the dark energy surrounding the brooding motherfucker. He hoped to God no one pissed the big guy off when they reached their destination, because if they did, the dumb schmuck would probably be using his balls as a pair of paper weights come morning. Cautiously, he glanced to the right and sucked air as he met the other man’s stare. He became momentarily captivated by the density of Vischeral's fathomless eyes. Jesus H. Christ, the son of a bitch was hot.
Copi’s breath hitched painfully in his chest. He had to get his act together. Bourne would probably take great delight in dismembering him limb from limb if he knew what effect he had on Copi’s lower region. He flushed when his blood rushed south to further engorge the length of his cock. Shifting in his seat as much as he could, he tried to hide the bulge pressing hard against his pants. But, it proved futile as his body’s reaction intensified every time he breathed in Vischeral’s scent. Oh, hell yeah! He could breathe that shit in deep, lose himself in the heady aroma of his partner’s sex all day, because that’s what the big bastard was…sex. Pure dominance. If Copi was honest about how he felt, which he rarely ever was, he’d admit he wanted Bourne. Wanted him something fucking bad.
The notion that something more powerful than mere attraction loomed between them startled Copi. He’d always hidden his sexuality, refused to admit it even to himself. That made it entirely too real. But being so close to Vischeral Bourne, he couldn’t deny it, and it scared him shitless. The male exuded power, wore it like a God damned art form. And, that massive chest turned Copi right the fuck on. Oh yeah, he was hard; hard, throbbing and desperate to get his jollies off as soon as the fucking chance arose. And, whose face would he be thinking of? Motherfucker. Copi struggled against the ache in his balls and the relentless throb of his cock, but it was useless. He sighed defeated; the guy was just too damn much with all that size.
Copi felt like hitting his head against the steering wheel. Instead, he looked up to see Vischeral's startled, almost dazed stare. Copi swallowed, his throat was dry and his breathing deepened, turning husky as blood detoured from his cock to creep over his face. Quickly, he diverted his stare. His chest felt heavy and abated as the very air in his lungs seemed to diminish into nothing. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. He berated himself mentally. Copi ya sad shit, get a God damn grip already.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Vischeral tried uselessly to settle into the bucket seat of the Hummer. He was never comfortable riding shotgun, or in the backseat, for that matter. If forced to travel by car, he preferred to be in control. To complicate matters, the human’s scent, a mix of dark chocolate and hazelnut, sent waves of blood lust, sexual awareness and need spiraling through him. The close confines enhanced the effect, causing a reaction Vischeral found almost impossible to hide.
While Copi drove, Vischeral took the opportunity to observe the man whose concentration fixated firmly on the slick, icy road. The strength of his reaction to his new partner astounded Vischeral. In nearly three hundred years, he’d never responded or wanted someone as badly as he craved Cophious Dane. Darklon’s “attention” caused Vischeral to foreswear commitment of any kind to anyone, be they human, vampire or other. Vischeral refused to be owned, or to become submissive to anyone ever again.
After giving the inquisitive human a last glare, he turned to stare out the window. The dark thoughts, he tried to shove from his mind. He needed to focus on the murder investigation. The WST would be pissy when he and Copi arrived. They’d refused local involvement, hadn’t wanted any assistance at all, but Vischeral knew the area better. The APD won out for another reason; his record of capture, much to the WST Director’s dismay, far, far outmatched all of their own combined. And, in this instance, they had no idea what they were up against.
Vischeral knew the killer’s species. The slash marks on the chests were textbook, if the humans had a textbook on werewolf attacks. To date, he’d not been able to determine a pack, and he’d not heard any news of a rogue wolf, or any other lone shifter on the prowl. But, it wasn’t like he could turn on the local news and play catch up. His gaze shifted back to his partner. He wasn’t the only one that noticed the slash marks were all the same.
While Copi had been changing, Vischeral had flipped through the notes the human cop had made. A deep respect for the male’s intelligence emerged as the questions and observations written in the margins were dead on with Vischeral’s own, with the exception that Vish knew Weres existed and Cophious was trying to fit the marks to an animal recognized in the human world. He could not be faulted for that misconception…yet.
Was his partner up to learning about the paranormal community that lived and breathed alongside the humans? Could his partner accept Vischeral was vampire? Vish shook his head answering his own question, Copi would never know. It was a secret Vischeral guarded very carefully, and one he couldn’t afford to have known. He refused to live in an enclave, refused to have his name entered into the vampire databases. Darklon hunted him even after all the time he’d been away.
The email from the angel flickered to the front of his mind, making him grimace. Mal’s permanent sidekick rubbed him the wrong way. From the beginning of his relationship with Mal, the angel tried everything except outright torture to scare Vischeral away. When scowls, threats and intimidation failed to do the trick, Laziel settled into a reluctant acceptance, but never lost his razor sharp tongue. Too bad for the angel, Vischeral genuinely liked Mal. He smiled to himself. Mal, aka Malachi Denali, King of the Vampire race, and Vischeral’s one time best friend. The male was one of the few things Vischeral regretted leaving behind in Italy. He’d long ago resigned himself to never catching up with the King; the email had confirmed that knowledge.
As the miles flew past under the snow tires, Vischeral surprised himself by relaxing into the soft leather seat beside Cophious. The male’s hands, sure and quick on the steering wheel, handled the large vehicle with ease. The radio blared so loud the music hindered any conversation. Vischeral’s mind drifted forward leaving Mal in the catacombs of his mind.
Instead, he found himself once again back in the alley in New York. His new partner stood across the alley, his amber eyes locked on Vish’s ebony ones. The female dangled between them. Copi stepped forward and the female disappeared. The human drew closer and Vischeral’s already wetted fangs throbbed.
Vischeral’s head snapped up off the seat back and he looked around for a moment confused. Copi’s voice registered just above Manson. “The Sat...Nav says to turn, but there’s no road.”
“Just around the curve, you’ll see it.” Vischeral sat stunned in the seat for a moment. He’d never relaxed his guard so completely around anyone, human or vampire, not even after his body was sated with blood and sex. The insane urge to spit out the truth had Vischeral growling. What the fuck was wrong with him?
For the remainder of the trip, he kept his eyes trained out the window and his mind firmly on the details of the victims and crime scenes. As soon as Copi brought the Hummer to a stop, Vischeral sprang the latch and stepped from the truck. He barely felt the cold, but noticed Copi shiver and pull his jacket closer around himself.
“I told you to dress warm, don’t come bitchin’ to me when your nuts fall off.”
Copi responded with a smirk and a jaunty middle finger as he made his way across the uneven terrain to the command post set up by the WST.
“What’s new?” Copi asked the two troopers studying a map of the wildlife park. The “New York” was loud in his voice and the two troopers patently ignored him. Vischeral recognized them from the departments’ meet and greet. Stan Juneski and Lief Peltier. Just fucking great. Two local yokels who thought the WST badges in their pockets equated them with the Gods. Too bad for them, Vischeral wasn’t impressed with their credentials or their intellect.
“I believe my partner asked you twits a question.” The menace in his voice brought their heads up, and due to his enhanced h
earing, he heard them both swallow. Hard. “He’s waiting.” He avoided Copi’s eyes, but sensed the surprise radiating from the male. When the two fuckwits only stared at him, Vischeral cocked an eyebrow at them then swung his gaze to Copi.
“Looks like we have another investigation to conduct partner; got to find the cat that stole their tongues.” He gave his partner a sardonic smirk as the two WST officers started to sputter.
Without looking at Cophious, the taller of the two reluctantly began a rundown on the day’s events. “Another drop site was found about 45 minutes ago. Body’s in the same condition as the others. Site’s about two miles north of the Kantock scene. A hiker found it. Identification on the body says it’s Clara DeFoe, age 27. Address is 6500 Bubbling Brook Circle. The M.E. is on the way.”
Vischeral immediately tensed. “How many have been on the scene?”
He demanded at the same time Copi asked, “Has anyone else been there?” Again, the two ignored Copi’s question.
“Only the hiker and the first on scene. The hiker didn’t touch the body, but he did upchuck his dinner.” Wheeling around, Vischeral punched Copi in the arm as he headed away from the command post.
“Let’s go. I want to see if I can catch a sce…” Vish cleared his throat and amended. “I want a fresh view of the scene before anyone else tramples around in it.” They had only taken a few steps when the WST officer’s comments reached Vischeral’s ears.
“What’s new?” Juneski mocked Copi’s New York dialect, causing Peltier to smother laughter. “As if I’d tell that pansy...assed, citified drunk anything. Did you see his file? They shipped him out here ‘cause he was a fucked up in the he…” Juneski’s words gurgled to a halt as Vischeral grabbed him by the collar of his uniform and held him suspended in the air at arm’s length over his head. His state issued boots uselessly searched for the ground a good two feet beneath the soles.
Terrified eyes met Vischeral’s frozen black stare. “That pansy...assed, citified drunk is my partner, shit...for...brains, and if you want to continue breathing from both lungs, you will do well to remember that.” Vischeral pulled the male closer so that their noses touched. “Are we clear?”
Juneski’s Adam’s apple bobbed against Vischeral’s knuckles as he nodded hard. With a disgusted sneer, Vischeral tossed the man away from himself and spun back to see the stunned look on Copi’s face. Well shit and damnation Vischeral. .what a can of worms you just opened.
Striding past his partner without speaking, he took several steps, and then stopped as Copi’s scent reached him and immediately soothed the beast raging for the trooper’s blood. With sudden clarity, Vish realized he had an enormous problem. There was only one reason the male’s scent alone soothed his savage nature. His vampire, the very essence of himself had bonded with the human. It should have been impossible, there had been no blood exchange, no sex…hell, they hadn’t even touched, yet it was there. That’s why he hadn’t been able to erase himself completely from Copi’s mind back in the alley, and why he dreamed of the male since that night. His vampire found the mate it wanted, and there wasn't a damn thing Vischeral could do to change it. With a sigh, he started down the rough hiking trail once again, wholly unwilling to deal with this revelation.
“Let's go, Copi. The moon's wasting.”
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Copi grimaced as he pulled his coat tight around his back. His spine seized and stiffened as ice cold tendrils sent shivers through each and every nerve. At Vischeral’s smart mouthed retort, Copi flipped him the bird and walked in the direction of Dumb and Dumber. Their animosity toward him clearly evident as they both ignored his line of questioning, which in turn seemed to piss Bourne right off. Copi stood speechless as Vischeral’s mood turned feral. Was that a fucking growl?
Copi watched open mouthed and totally in awe of Vischeral’s fury as he berated the WST agents, treating both with the same distaste they’d previously shown Copi. Vischeral openly belittled their intelligence until the dim witted duo stuttered out the news that a new stop and drop sight had not long been discovered. His partner turned on his heels and abruptly took leave of the two troopers. Copi tracked his movements instinctively recognizing the gait though he couldn’t exactly place from where. Had he ever seen anyone move in the same fluid way Vischeral did? Behind him, the WST cracked jokes about his transfer. Copi bit down hard on the inside of his jaw and tried to ignore them as he followed his partner deeper into the trees.
Another growl, and this time Copi knew without a doubt where it came from. His head snapped up, and he whirled back to face the two troopers when a third guttural snarl filled the air. Copi stood in utter shock and awe. How the fuck had Vischeral moved so fast? In what could only be described as a blur, Vischeral passed him and grabbed one of the troopers, Juneski, maybe, by the throat. “Fuck.”
Vehemence rolled off of Bourne as he effortlessly lifted Juneski up from the ground and held him face to face and spat in Copi’s defense. W.T.F.! Completely taken aback by his partner’s actions, he waited in shock, watching the color bleach from Juneski's face. Peltier paled and immediately backed out of the way just in time to catch Juneski’s crumpled body when Bourne all but threw him to the ground. If either had any intelligence at all, they’d stay and not provoke the hulking man any further.
Copi had known it wouldn’t take long before the stories behind his transfer reached his new precinct, but he hadn’t expected it to be so fast. The shame he tried so hard to keep at bay over that night threatened to rear its ugly head again. He’d hoped to make a new start up here away from New York and the nightmares, but apparently someone else thought differently. The only way any motherfucker could have found out what happened was if they had pulled his file.
“Great. Just fucking great!” To make matters worse, his partner obviously already knew and never brought up the subject. The motherfucker probably thought his new partner was a French fry short of a Happy Meal and definitely on his way to being sidelined under the mental health act, and apparently believed Copi needed fucking babysitting from the yokels, too. Damn it!
He froze, lost in a quandary as to what to do next. A quick glance behind him, and he saw both troopers back on their feet and casting looks of disbelief in Vischeral's direction. There was no fucking way those numbskulls were going to show them the dump site. With his mind miles away, lost in his own ponderings, he failed to notice Vischeral’s approach. The hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention, and even though it was cold enough to freeze the balls off of a brass monkey, a trickle of sweat snaked down his spine. Bourne growled as he stalked by Copi, causing a sudden rush of absolute terror to surge within him. The way the man moved; the way his eyes, so black and emotionless, homed in on his, unmanned Copi and had him reeling in fear.
From out of nowhere, his mind spiraled back in time and he was there, back in the alley where that…that…
The word screamed in his head, but he refused to say it for fear of it becoming reality. He breathed long and deep trying to calm his overwrought brain. Mentally, he scolded himself for being such a stupid fucking dick. The soft, damn near erotic, scent of vanilla and wood smoke filled the air around him as Vischeral’s low husky voice demanded Copi haul ass.
Instinctively, Copi turned to follow his partner’s authoritative command. With Vischeral taking the lead, Copi hung back, watching the way the mountain of muscle glided instead of walked. Dark thoughts crept into the depths of his subconscious. Vischeral was dangerous. Fact. He felt it, and for some unknown reason, he liked the fear his new partner struck into the hearts of the people he worked around. One thing was for sure; no one… not the Chief nor the fucking welcoming committee of yokels… dared stare the big bastard in the face, let alone stand up to him. And why? Because every one of them were scared shitless of him.
He trailed behind as Bourne headed back toward the Hummer and gave the brooding male a heads up before tossing him the keys. Without hesitation, Vischeral took the driver’s seat. Copi
laughed to himself. After where his head had been on the journey up, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to concentrate enough not to get them killed, especially with all that tight leather sitting next to him.
He stayed quiet on the journey to the dump site; he was infuriated with himself for letting the likes of Juneski and his sidekick get under his skin. Hell, if he’d still been in New York, he’d have roasted their balls with a smile on his face. But, things had changed; he’d changed. Relief from his churning thoughts came with the sound of Vischeral hitting the brakes as they came to a stop alongside a rough dirt track. Three officers stood together most likely waiting for the M.E. One of them was so green he was bent over delivering up second helpings of his dinner.
“Nice going, rook. I hope like hell you stupid fucks haven’t screwed up my God damned crime scene with your fucking department issues. If you’ve contaminated any evidence so help me you’ll need a surgeon to remove my boots from your asses.” Vischeral's voice trailed off as the young officers hastened to assure him the scene was intact.
Without pausing, he passed the uniforms and took a well...worn dirt path that wound up through the tightly knit forest of pine trees. Torch light in the distance gave away the location of the body. Officers milled around the edge of the crime scene. Vischeral glared at them before exchanging glances with Copi. They both knew that the more people there, the more chances of cross contamination. Luckily enough for them, the two officers taking the hikers’ statements and follow up addresses had also taped off the scene. Copi guessed Vischeral’s reputation must have preceded him because neither one questioned it when he ducked under the tape and slowly stepped into the footprints of the firsts on scene. Once again Copi found himself following his partner’s lead.
