Dark Salvation (2 page)

“Control, brother!” Anger marked his words, but Lysander’s face was calm as ever. “You act as if you’ll never find that verve for life again. We still own the night. And you still have the youth of body and immortality in your favor. As you have more than proven tonight.”

“I don’t feel it.” Nicholas’s shoulders slumped. “The years have taken their toll.”

“We’re done here. Go hunt. You’ll feel better.” Lysander bent to retrieve his clothes. He quickly dressed and headed up the stairs. He didn’t say as much, but Nicholas knew he should follow his leader.

Lysander stopped at the top of the stairs, in the open foyer. The three story row house had become home to the Peregrinus clan as well as a few members of the local wolf pack, the Olde Town, but at the moment, the place was almost empty.

A quick look back down the stairs confirmed to Nicholas that he was meant to follow, so he resigned himself to end his training and took the stairs heading up behind Lysander to the main floor.

”It’s not blood I need.”
It’s... bloodshed
. What Nicholas longed for most was a battle. One that might finally let him join his mate in the afterlife. And take more than a few Saints out with him.

“Perhaps not. But your mood here is affecting us all. Go out. Find yourself a pretty little distraction. Someone to re-awaken that youthful spirit. Or, at the very least, someone who’ll...get your blood pumping again.”

“Is that what Alyssa is?” Nicholas eyed his friend suspiciously. “A pretty little distraction from eternity?” He’d always wondered what had attracted those two. They seemed diametrically opposed. He was calm and wizened where she was naive and chaotic. Nicholas had heard that opposites attract, but never had it been so true as with Lysander and Alyssa’s pairing.

 “She and I have a special connection, but it does not hurt that she reminds me my body is still that of a young man. Whatever the years may say to the contrary.” A playful teasing glinted in his eyes.

“Well, I don’t need a ‘pretty distraction.’ My issues have nothing to do with my body feeling old.” Though at the moment, with the fatigue from his training session setting in, Nicholas felt every last century of his ageless body. A little blood would help that. It had been too long since his last feed. Another pleasure he had been denying himself. Getting some air and a fresh vein might not be that bad, but not something he wished to share with another. He’d attend to his needs later, in private.

“You need something. You cannot continue the way you are. This is not healthy.” Lysander crossed his arms in front of his chest. The playfulness had all but left his tone, only steely determination to get his point across remaining. “Rozaline would want you to move on.”

Hearing her name spoken out loud struck him as hard as a punch to the gut. Nicholas scowled. His lover’s death was still so fresh. The milky-white look of emptiness in her lifeless eyes still haunted his dreams, a constant and painful reminder of his failure. “Don’t talk about her.”

“I’ll do as I please, brother.” There it was, the authority that made Lysander the leader of their small clan. Nicholas had always envied the power in Lysander’s voice, but now that the hard, forceful tone was aimed at him, bearing with it the painful reminder of his mate’s passing, he cringed at the sound if it. “I have just as much right as you to mourn her. She was your mate, but she was as close to me as you are. I was the one to turn her, and I felt her death as if it were my own. I know your pain as deeply as you, Nicholas, but I will not let it consume me, and neither will you.”

Pain, raw and angry, shot through Nicholas like a streak of lightning. He clenched his jaw tight, biting back a cry of agony crawling up the back of his throat. He should have been the one to meet that terrible end instead of Rozaline. He should have protected her. “You know nothing of my sorrow.”

Lysander softened his hard gaze and relaxed his posture. “I know more than you can imagine. I’ve lost so many over these long years. Immortality may be a gift, brother, but it can be a curse as well.”

Try as he might, Nicholas could not hide the sorrow in his voice. “It is a sick curse from the gods! Why grant me immortality and the perfect mate, only to rip her from me before her time?”

“Forget the gods, they have never cared for us. It is you who must care for yourself. You have life, and should make the most of it. Rozaline will still be waiting for you on the other side.”

Nicholas curled his hands into trembling fists, trying to hold back the pain. “Please. Stop saying her name. It hurts too much.”

“The pain will ease. I promise. It will never pass, but the day will come when you can think of nothing but how lucky you were to have known her.” Lysander placed a reassuring hand on his Nicholas’s shoulder. “Believe me. I know what I’m talking about.”

“I know you do.” He’d seen his friend and brother lose so many over the years. Each time, it had caused Lysander to become more and more reclusive, but never once had he lost control. Nicholas felt as if he were teetering on the edge of madness, every day waiting for the pain to pass – yet it never did.

“Will you come out if I join you? We’ll go out and rekindle our youth… like in the old days.”

If it had been anyone else to ask, he’d have turned the offer down immediately. Because it was Lysander, he gave it a moment to roll around in his mind before responding. “What would your pretty young distraction say about that?”

Lysander chuckled. “This will be a night for you and me. My ‘pretty little distraction’ will understand.”

Nicholas relaxed against the frame of the basement door, creating some distance between himself and Lysander. “You’re brave, calling her that when she can hear you. You do remember I have been training her for combat, right?”

“Oh, I’m sure she heard me, and she probably liked it. Get that woman riled up and she can be quite the—”

“Too much information.” Nicholas held a hand up. He really didn’t need that mental image. He cared for Alyssa like an older brother would, and imagining her naked edged a little too close to incest as far as he was concerned.

“Is that jealousy, old friend?” The sly old dog puffed his chest with pride. He really did love that little imp of a vampire, no matter how much trouble she caused. Nicholas wondered if that had been part of her appeal. Never a dull moment there. “Suffice to say, she keeps me young.”

“Enough.”

“All right. I’ll stop, but only if you come with me. The night is young, old friend. Distractions abound!"

Nicholas gritted his teeth. Lysander was beginning to push a little too hard. “I tell you, I don’t need a distraction.”

“Then at least some fresh blood. You need that, regardless of who it comes from.”

Before he had the chance to turn the offer down, Ian limped into the room. One of Nicholas’s least favorite residents of the supernatural hostel. Crippled vampire that he was, Ian embraced the prosthetic replacements for his missing arm and leg, adapting his own unique swagger with an outlandishly ornate walking cane. His overly chipper attitude had a way of grating on Nicholas’s nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

“Did someone say they were going out?” The gimp ran his good hand through his hair, ensuring every dark tress was pushed back into place, and flashed his trademark brilliant smile.

Nicholas cast a sidelong glance at the annoying gigolo on stilts. “Not with you, Gimpy.”

“Gimpy? Is that really the best you can throw at me? What about Pegleg, or Lefty? C’mon, be creative.”

“No, you’re not worth the effort.” In another life he might have befriended the overly cocky playboy. His never-say-die attitude was admirable, but Nicholas had no time for him or the constant barrage of women he brought home. It was as if the damn vampire was afraid he’d lose his dick too if he didn’t use it.

Ian smirked, clearly unaffected by Nicholas’s grumpy attitude. “Well, you’ll understand why I don’t run crying to my bedroom like a hurt child.”

“Can you run?”

“Yeah, I love you too, short-stack.” Ian plopped himself down on a couch in the adjacent parlor with a slight groan and leaned back into the cushions. “So, where are we headed tonight?”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Nicholas grumbled. He might have considered it earlier, but now the thought of Ian tagging along, attracting every doe-eyed woman in existence in front of him, had him second-guessing himself. Not that he wanted to entertain Lysander’s idea of finding a pretty distraction, but he didn’t need Ian rubbing
his
distractions in his face.

“You know what your problem is, Nick?” Ian said as he adjusted the fit on his prosthetic leg.

Nicholas hated being called that, but there was no point in correcting Ian; he’d find another idiotic pet name to call him.

“Here we go again. Spare me the pep talk, gimpy.”

“Call me a gimp as much as you like, Nick. You’re all frowny, I get that. What I don’t understand is why you wallow in it. Shit happens. Look at me. I’m going to be crippled for all of eternity. Am I letting that get me down? No. I’m still alive. That’s fucking awesome! And I’m going to enjoy every moment I’m alive until that changes.”

The cripple had a point. Ian should be pissed off at life for the hand he’d been dealt: missing an arm and a leg as he was. There were vampires who’d ended it all for less. Yet there Ian was, angling to tag along on a boys’ night out. Refusing to go now would seem like weakness, cowardice, or both. “Fine. I’ll go out. But you aren’t coming with me.”

“Afraid I’ll ruin your game, short, dark, and mopey?” Ian taunted.

Nicholas sneered. The cocky bastard was really beginning to get on his nerves. “There is not now, nor will there ever be, game between us. Let me make that perfectly clear.”

“You’re right there. There is no competition between us. I mean, just look at me. Who could resist?” He gestured with his good hand to his flat stomach. “Once they go vamp, they’re eternally damp.”

And that right there was exactly why he couldn’t stand Ian. One minute he sounded like a smart individual, someone with a head on their shoulders, a vampire worth respecting. The next, he was back to talking with his dick.

“Go enjoy your pity fucks, Ian.” He turned away from the cocky sonofabitch and inclined his head toward his friend. “I’ll go with you, Lysander, if for nothing else, to get away from this idiot.”

“I think I have the perfect place for us, brother.” Lysander smiled.

 A sea of undulating bodies crashed into each other like waves beating against the shore. They moved with the rhythm of the House music piped in through speakers strategically placed around the club. Strobes and gel-covered lights glowed green and blue around the dance floor, casting the whole room in an ethereal light. Most people, humans, would find this atmosphere fun and even thrilling. For Nicholas it was an obnoxious barrage of noise pollution. He’d expected his friend to take him out to someplace with personality, a jazz club where live singers poured their souls into their music. Somewhere they could enjoy the richness of humanity, not this unwashed mass of inebriated idiots dry-humping each other on the dance floor. He hoped Lysander wouldn’t force him to endure this for too long.

A bar along the wall was illuminated with rope lighting. Behind it, bartenders wore glowing necklaces and bracelets as they slung bottles of beer and handed out drinks to a seemingly endless stream of thirsty patrons. Though standing room only, the bar area seemed noticeably less crowded than the dance floor. He’d already had his toes stepped on twice since walking through the front doors, and his patience was paper thin. Nicholas began the slow weave through the crowd, pulling Lysander in tow.

“Why did you bring us here, of all places? Wouldn’t someplace quieter provide enough entertainment for you?”

Lysander sighed impatiently. “No. You are in need of nourishment.”

“I can get that in any back alley in Boston.”

“True, but the kind of sustenance you require will only come from a place like this.” He waved his arms wide.

Nicholas eyed his friend suspiciously. Lysander was a sly old dog. His methods were often too subtle for most to see, but Nicholas had known him long enough to know better. “I only require blood, and then peace and quiet.”

“You need drive and purpose; more than a just a hot vein. Sometimes the best places to hunt for the dregs of society are in the same places you’d find the most innocent. You need that marriage of both to satisfy you tonight.”

More than a millennium spent together and still the man had to preach to him. If it were anyone else, Nicholas would have shut them down, but for Lysander, he’d at least pretend to listen.

Sweat, spilled drinks, and the bare flesh of scantily clad women all around assaulted his senses. Nicholas had long since overcome his bloodlust. Centuries of practice helped him battle the hunger pangs, but for some reason beyond Nicholas’s control, tonight the tempting roar of heartbeats called out to him. His fangs itched to sink into tender flesh.

“This is ridiculous,” Nicholas grumbled. “I’m not going to play into your mind games.”

“No game. This is simply what you need.”

“To be surrounded by idiots.”

“You need to regain your confidence.”

“I have plenty of that,” Nicholas scoffed. “What I need is a fresh vein and a good day of sleep.”

“You have had plenty of those.” Lysander patted him on the shoulder and then pointed to the bar. “You see her? Over there.”

Nicholas glanced in the direction Lysander pointed. The bar was surrounded by people clamoring to get a drink. A few stood by chatting, but none aroused any suspicion.

“There are many women over there. What’s your point?”

“The dark-haired girl.”

Nicholas spotted a woman with shoulder-length ebony hair. She smiled as she chatted with a cocky looking male. “She’s occupied.”

“Yes, that’s the one. Go rescue her from the fool trying to pick her up.”

“Why should I bother? If she falls prey to his advances, then she’s a fool too.”

Frustration stole the patient tone from Lysander’s voice. “If she falls prey to his advances it is because he just put something in her drink.”

Nicholas’s mouth hardened. He should have spotted that himself. Not only had Lysander found him dinner for the evening, he’d pointed out how rusty his skills had become.

“Bon appétit.” Lysander patted him on the back and turned away.

Ready for a little fun, Nicholas swooped up to the bar and bumped into the woman just as she as lifted the glass to her lips. It fell from her hand but no one heard it shatter over the loud music.

“Sorry,” Nicholas shouted to the girl, and then turned his attention to the bartender intending to appear as if he was rushing to order a drink.

“Jerk!” The dark-haired woman shrieked as she frantically tried to wipe the liquid off herself without stumbling on her heels.

Half of the drink had landed on her too-short dress. He hadn’t intended that to happen, but at least to him, a dress was a minor casualty considering other things that might have been ruined for her this evening.

“You got a problem?” The male next to her, a tall blond with a large gold cross around his neck, shouted at Nicholas.

“It’s fine, Paul,” the dark haired woman huffed. “Just get me another drink.”

The blond man, Paul, refused to listen to his… date. He crowded in close. “I said, you got a problem?” He shoved Nicholas but failed to budge him.

Nicholas fought back a smile, noting the intriguing piece of jewelry round Paul’s neck. He’d seen something similar somewhere before, but he couldn’t quite recall at that moment. 

The angry blond man glared at him as if waiting for some snappy comeback. Nothing ever changes. Give a man a drink and he’ll fight anyone. That made things easy. He’d have his dinner and be back home in no time.

“You want to try that again?” Nicholas taunted. He knew it wouldn’t take much to egg the testosterone-ridden and alcohol-soaked man into a fight.

“You’re gonna pay for my girl’s drink.” He rose to his full height in a vain attempt to intimidate Nicholas.

A wasted attempt. But it made the game all that much more fun for Nicholas. “Why? Can’t afford to do it yourself?” He plastered a smile across his face, careful to keep his fangs hidden for the moment. “You want me to take her home and fuck her for you too?”

“What?” It took a moment for the drunk to register the insult Nicholas had lobbed his way. But when he did, rage filled his dark brown eyes. “You’re dead, asshole!” He shoved Nicholas again, but failed to move him even an inch, which enraged him further.

It was all Nicholas could do to hold back his laughter. The drunk’s choice of words was quite amusing. Dead. Right idea, wrong person. The urge to feed grew within him. His fangs practically tingled in anticipation. Not only was this Paul guy a complete ass, but he was also intending to do something nefarious with this innocent, albeit very angry-looking woman. The latter was something Nicholas simply couldn’t abide. He planned on taking great pleasure while ending Paul’s existence. But not before he had the chance to embarrass him further.

“You want to take this outside?” Nicholas’s words came out calmly despite the beast within him nagging for the coppery-sweet elixir.

“I’m about to fuck your world up, man.” Paul balled his fist. He puffed out his chest and closed the gap between them. He was so close Nicholas had to hold his breath to avoid his stomach turning from the acrid stench of his breath.

He clenched his fist to help hold back the urge to snatch the man where he stood. “I wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself in front of your…girlfriend?” Nicholas cast a sidelong glance at the dark-haired woman seething with anger, her eyes shooting daggers in his direction. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but angry looked adorable on her. Something about the crimson flush to her cheeks and the way it played off her brown eyes. He’d love to stay and piss her off further, but he had a dinner date outside that he just couldn’t miss.

Angry, drunk, and stupid, Paul was a stellar combination of fail. In his blind rage he threw his fist, but never landed the punch.

Nicholas grabbed him by the wrist and twirled him around. “Outside, now!” he growled, and forced Paul out of the back door.

It didn’t take much effort; blondie was just as willing to fight as Nicholas was to let him try.

Alone in the back alley, it was Nicholas’s turn to strike. Paul’s six-foot, one-inch height was no match, even with his alcohol-fueled rage. Before he could utter another word, Nicholas had Paul pinned against the wall and his teeth sunk deep into his neck.

Rich and thick, the blood flowed into his mouth, warming him, fueling him, and at the same time soothing his own anger.

The right prey was always too easy, but nothing satisfied his thirst for blood like an arrogant bastard, and that prick had practically begged for death.

It was one thing to be an asshole – Nicholas himself had been guilty of that on many occasions – but to harm an innocent, that he could not accept. Who knew what atrocities he had planned for that woman inside? Nicholas wondered how or why anyone would stoop so low. The thought was beyond him. Could anyone be that desperate for sex? He’d never had trouble with that in his time, never needed to resort to drugs to get between a woman’s legs. They’d always been more than willing.

Whatever this man’s reason, or lack thereof, he’d never be able to do it again. Paul’s heart began to falter and the flow of blood slowed to a trickle. His body slacked in Nicholas’s arms. Death came too quickly.

Nicholas dragged in a deep breath and let out a sigh of pure satisfaction. Heat coursed through his system, starting with a tingle at the base of his neck and then spreading all the way to his extremities, bringing with it new vigor and energy. Fresh blood heightened his already acute predatory senses. Though sated, he instantly locked on the scents of pedestrians passing by on the near street, fangs tingling to sink once more into hot tender flesh. As an ancient of his kind, fresh blood was an indulgence. He’d long since grown out of the need for nightly feedings. That was something fledglings required. For him, once a week was more than enough, and lately he’d gone beyond that, not bothering to leave the house for lack of care. Tonight, however, he found himself strangely unsatisfied. Perhaps he’d take a second soon. In a city like Boston, prey like Paul were never in short supply. Sadly, in these modern times, scumbags and predators were common. Easy prey for him, but unfortunate for the rest of society.

 Nicholas disposed of the body, snatching the gold cross that had been around the man’s neck, and a ladies’ wallet that had fallen from his back pocket.

“A rapist and a thief,” he scoffed as he stalked back toward the bar.

The woman was still there, looking quite dejected, half soaked in whatever concoction she was drinking, and all alone.

Nicholas smiled as he approached, catching a whiff of her perfume. Soft, pleasant; a sweet orange scent that smelled natural and fresh, unlike the cloying chemical-ridden concoctions most women bathed themselves in. There was a note of vanilla in there as well.

He caught her heated gaze for a moment and flashed her a cocky smile. She really was quite adorable with that angry pout on her lips. But he wasn’t interested in the woman, cute or not.

“You’re welcome.” Nicholas said and placed the wallet he’d retrieved in front of her.

“What the hell is that?”

“Your boyfriend was holding on to it. He’s not coming back.” Nicholas turned to walk away.

“This isn’t mine!” she huffed.

That made him pause. He wondered at the fate of the previous owner. The poor woman who’d not been able to see him for the snake he was. At least now he’d not be able to hurt anyone else. Still, he didn’t appreciate the dark-haired woman’s haughty tone. He had saved her, after all. “Then I guess you were his second choice tonight. Lucky you. Imagine what must have happened to the first. You should be more selective next time.”

“Go fuck yourself.” She glared at him with hate-filled eyes.

“Thanks for the suggestion. I just might.” She had some spunk, that was for sure. Smiling to himself, Nicholas continued to walk away without a second glance at the woman.

He found Lysander sitting alone at a small table along the wall pretending to nurse a beer.

“That is the old Nicholas. I have missed you, friend.” He held up the bottle in salute.

“Don’t patronize,” Nicholas retorted.

“Well, at least for a few moments, you appeared to be happy. What about the girl? Did you not like her?”

Nicholas heard the wary edge in Lysander’s voice. It annoyed him that his friend would try so hard to force him to meet a woman. He wasn’t ready, might not be ready for centuries. Why wouldn’t Lysander just drop it?

“I don’t like ignorance,” Nicholas grumbled under his breath. A lie, really. His reasons for not pursuing the woman had nothing to do with her perceived intelligence. He found her to be quite attractive, even if her taste in men was questionable, but he was just not in the mood tonight.

“Come now, that is hardly fair. Look at where we are. Alcohol is in abundance and inhibitions are low.”

“Then I hope for her sake that she’s learned to watch her drink. Why are you pressing the matter?”

“Because she is staring at you.” Lysander nodded in the woman’s direction.

“Really?” Nicholas’s voice was laced with sarcasm. “She told me to go fuck myself.”

“Then she must really like you.” Amusement lit in Lysander’s eyes as he stared over Nicholas’s shoulder toward the dark-haired lady.