Desires Unleashed (12 page)

She looked over to see Annette dancing with three men at one time. She knew Annette was the kind of girl some people used to hate in high-school, but wanted to be like. Natasha was never one of those girls. She was always the one that people liked as a friend and was well known enough not to be a victim of bullies, but never to be selected by the “in” crowd. Annette, on the other hand, was the leader of the “in” crowd. She played the pipe and others followed. She wondered if she had ever followed. Maybe she was following now, that would explain why she was drunk. The man she was dancing with looked toward Annette's group. He wanted to see the hot commodity and slowly started dancing over in that direction. Natasha became sober enough to become angry.
He
asked her to dance!
The night had just taken a turn for the worse.

Natasha went back to her seat and ordered another drink. She wanted to brood over all the men fawning over her friend. For some reason, when she received her drink, a little voice in her mind told her to chug it down. She did, immediately regretting it because the room tilted then straightened itself. Placing the glass gingerly on the bar top, she sat very still. She ordered a glass of water, deciding her night of drinking should end. She saw Annette walking toward her, sweaty and a trail of men behind her. All trying to buy her a drink, each hoping that she'd pick him for a rendezvous later that night or in the week.

“Bartender, I'll take another Long Island,” Annette said as she looked to one guy to pay for her drink. He gladly reached in his pocket, pulled out a ten dollar bill and handed it to the bartender, who gave him two dollars and fifty cents change. Annette smiled at the man as he drew closer, plainly claiming his spot as the dominant male who won the young lady's heart or at the very least, her full attention. Natasha thought it was like watching some strange mating ritual on
National Geographic.
She watched Annette seduce the man by running her fingertips down the front of his shirt, then circling one of his buttons. He smiled and sat down in the chair next to hers, chatting in her ear. Annette turned from him to look at Natasha.

“So Natasha, I saw you dancing with that cute guy. Are you having fun?” Annette asked, her southern accent slightly slurring due to the alcohol.

“No, I'm not. I think I had too much to drink, I don't feel so good right now, the room's spinning. I want to go home, Annette,” Natasha said as she laid her head on the bar top. Annette leaned over her friend and brushed some of her curls out of her face.

“Yeah, you do look a little green. Please tell me you didn't take your medicine. Do you feel like you're going to puke?” she asked, concerned.

Natasha nodded her head slowly. “The room won't stop spinning and this damn music keeps pounding in my ears. But I didn't take my medicine tonight.”

“Damn girl, you are a lightweight. I'm sorry I asked your ass to drink with me tonight. I didn't think you'd get fucked up like this,” she said as she noted her friend's damp, pale skin. She turned to the man next to her to tell him they needed to leave, that her friend wasn't feeling well right now. She finished her drink and rose from the bar stool. The man offered to take them home.

“Naw, that's okay. We'll catch a cab. I would hate for her to puke in your car. Look, let me get your number and we'll get together,” Annette said as she headed toward the coat-room to get their coats. The man gave her his telephone number, offering once again to give them a ride home. Annette refused, but thanked him for his kindness. She walked back to her friend, who looked even worse now than she had a few minutes before. Annette really started to worry about Natasha. She believed Natasha never finished her Long Island. She assumed she had a full stomach, or at least she hoped Natasha had eaten something before coming to the club. If she had not, it would account for Natasha's sudden sickness.

She walked back to the other woman. After assisting Natasha with her coat before putting on her own. Sliding her arm around her friend's waist, she led her out of the club. A drunk man bumped the two women, causing Natasha to stumble, but Annette caught her. The man dropped his car keys and Natasha picked them up. The world seem to spin but she kept her feet on the ground. She looked at the man, who seem to be barely able to stand himself.

“I can't let you drive, you're drunk,” she said, her words slightly slurred as she held the man's car keys in her hand.

“Give me my keys, bitch. I don't need no one looking after me,” he said, his speech heavily slurred. He angered Natasha; drunk drivers always did. She felt that if a drunk driver caused an accident, they should be charged with attempted murder. If they killed someone, they should get the premeditated murder rap for certain. They should be made to face the death penalty. She thought that might help with toning down people like the man in front of her.

“No, I'm not giving your drunk ass these keys. Annette, take these to the bartender, I'll wait right here.” Natasha handed the keys to her friend, who took them with a look of concern. She wasn't so sure she wanted to leave Natasha in the same area with this man. She knew Natasha was doing the right thing.

“You wait here, I'll be right back,” Annette said, disappearing into the club. The angry drunk man followed, cursing Natasha as he disappeared inside. Annette returned shortly, going to the side of her friend.

“Geez, what a jerk. I hate assholes who drink and drive,” Annette said as she flagged down a cab. Natasha couldn't agree more. They climbed into the cab. While Annette gave directions, the cab took off headed in the direction of their three-story apartment building on the southeast side of the city. The traffic was unusually heavy for that time of night and Natasha drifted off to sleep. They were about four blocks from the club when Natasha had a vision of dropping her keys on the ground, then fumbling for them. Then the next vision she saw, she was driving. The lanes seem to fade in and out. She had her lights on and the lights from the passing cars were so bright, so blinding. She saw a yellow car in front of her, not moving. The lane seemed to go on forever, then there wasn't enough lane. Her foot slammed on the brakes but not in enough time. She felt herself being propelled forward, then everything faded to blackness.

Natasha opened her eyes, unnerved by the dream. She looked up at the cab driver who seemed to be confused as he looked through his rear view mirror. She looked at the mirror and was blinded by bright lights. Seconds later, the cab was rear-ended and knocked off the road. The cab continued to fishtail until it hit a tree, knocking it over. The tree fell onto the cab, pinning both Natasha and Annette inside. Both women were knocked unconscious.

CHAPTER
8

D
arian walked down the dimly lit hallway until he reached a huge tapestry on the wall. He brushed the tapestry to the side to reveal a small sensor in the wall. He pressed his hand to the sensor. As the red light at the bottom of the sensor turned blue, a hidden door slid open exposing an elevator. Pulling a key out of his pocket, Darian stepped inside, inserting it into the slot on the elevator panel to start it downward. One level down, he exited and walked down another short L-shaped corridor to his private skybox overlooking an octagon shaped arena. He settled into one of the four comfortable leather chairs facing the clear glass paneled wall. He looked around the arena to see that the soft cushioned seats were already full and everyone was anticipating the tournament. All the bets had been made. One could bet on a fighter per night, thus increasing their chances of winning. Or they could pick a Champion to win the whole tournament and receive one lump sum. There was a little under one hundred million dollars to be won this night, which was very good for an opening night. Darian had already placed his bet on the fighter known only as Draco. Xavier had been most impressed by the fighter's skill, so Darian had chosen Draco as his champion.

It never ceased to amaze Darian that the human race would, no doubt, do just about anything for money. They put a price tag on their own lives. Darian had never met one vampire that would name the price of their own immortality. Darian figured mortals thought they were immortal, that life will always grant them another day. Until, of course, their last day came before they could blink their eyes. Darian no longer worried about having his life snuffed out so easily. It would take a lot more than a virus to kill him, of that he was pleased.

The announcer came out through sliding double doors with two beautiful female vampires. Dressed in red sequined bikinis and top hats, white sequined bow ties and matching six inch heels, they stood by his side, hands on their hips. The announcer wore a red sequined tux with tails, matching hat and a white silk shirt with matching gloves. He was a tall male with black hair and pale skin. Though he wasn't a vampire, he could easily pass for one. Vampires are always pale before their first feeding. Then when their bodies are filled and warmed with blood, they can pass easily amongst the human race. A very observant human can detect the subtle differences in skin and hair textures and the shine of a vampire's eyes.

The announcer ordered some film footage of the fighters to be run on the huge television suspended over the arena. The crowd 'oohhhed' and 'ahhhed' as they witnessed the talents of the new tournament fighters. There were a mixture of female and male martial artists and grappling street fighters. Darian could hear a few murmurs of those who wished they could change their bets. He smiled.
Too late,
he thought. The footage ended, the crowd hushed, everyone waited for the theatrics the announcer provided. The lights dimmed to darkness, leaving only one spotlight on the announcer. He looked around the crowd as he raised the microphone to his mouth.

“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight you are in for a treat. Once again, we have gathered all of the world's best fighters to battle it out over the next three days, for a total grand prize of five million dollars!!!” he said with raised hands. The crowd cheered and applauded. Darian laughed and clapped as well. He liked the energy from the audience. It was an appetizer to the hunt, or in this case, since he had fed already, it was more of a dessert.

“Tonight, we begin a new tournament with twelve vicious fighters, all willing to tear each other's hearts out for that money. I hope you have placed your bets, ladies and gentlemen, and I hope you have placed them well, because there is no way of telling who will win the
'Champion of Gods Tournament!!!’”
Once again, the crowd cheered and applauded. “Now, without further ado, let us begin.” He turned to face the sliding double doors as they opened, and a female walked out into the arena. She was tall, about six-feet, two-inches. She reminded Darian of the fabled “Amazon” women. Her dark olive skin was scarred. She had two large scars, one on each cheek. A long, ragged looking scar trailed her left shoulder, down her arm to her wrist.

She carried a chain as her choice of weaponry. Her hair was cut short, just an inch shy of a “buzz” cut. Her brown eyes reflected only two things: greed and confidence. Darian couldn't wait to see her opponent. He never saw any of the people chosen for the tournament. He left the hand picking to Xavier. He seemed to enjoy the auditions more so than Darian. The announcer began to give her statistics.

“Coming to the arena, is a behemoth of a woman, standing at six-feet-two-inches, one-hundred and eighty-five pounds of lean mean muscle. Her weapon of choice is a chain whip. She vows to rip the skin off of her opponent with her trusted weapon. Put your hands together for Viper!!!” He yelled her name to pump up the crowd. It worked. The crowd cheered, stamped their feet and applauded. Viper held her hands in the air and whipped her chain around one good time before the crowd hushed, all eyes on the door again and the announcer.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the arena, a man that stands at the staggering height of six-feet, six-inches, two-hundred and sixty-nine pounds of hard hitting muscle. He has no weapon, the only weapon he says he needs are his bare hands. Please put
your
hands together for Draco!!!” The arena burst with cheers and jeers. Darian settled comfortably in his chair, putting his feet up on the leather footstool. The lights illuminated, filling the arena with brightness. The announcer and female vampires (that had gestured to each entering fighter) left the arena floor. At the sound of a buzzer, the two fighters circled each other like two lions preparing for battle.

Darian suspected that was how every living being prepared for battle. He had caught himself doing it in the past when he had been challenged for territory or another vampire wanted to take him to make him their slave. They soon found out he was not an easy target. Darian leaned forward to get a better view as the two fighters collided, the taller man knocking the female to the ground. She regrouped quickly, rolling away from his huge foot which was trying to follow up the first blow with another. She swung her whip, catching Draco across the face, slicing open the skin, blood started to ooze from the wound. Darian caught the first whiff of that succulent scent, and was thankful he had fed already.