The words hit Gabe in a spot more sensitive than he’d realized. They hurt, and he snapped. He sprang forward, but Joe was as fast as him, only bigger and stronger. Gabe caught the glint of metal barely in time. He jerked his hand up to block the blow, and the silver knife slashed through his palm. Loud pain shot through him, followed by the warm, sticky sensation of blood.
A feral growl made the presence of a third person known. Harvey stepped out of the shadows. Face hard like a porcelain doll, eyes burning deep amber.
Joe’s left hand, curled into a fist, struck Gabe in the chest. Gabe stumbled. Joe spun, knife slashing the air in a wide arc. Powerful and deadly.
The next second was a blur, and by the time Gabe got back on his feet, Joe lay crumpled on the dirty pavement, his head in an unnatural angle, lifeless eyes staring into nothing.
The fierce intensity hadn’t left Harvey’s face. With his eyes glowing and nostrils flaring, he was terrifyingly beautiful. A chill ran down Gabe’s spine, and the primitive part of his brain where instinct lived screamed:
Run!
However, his feet had turned into stone and stuck to the pavement. Harvey stepped over the lump of the dead body, till he was inches from Gabe. He took Gabe’s injured hand and unfurled the protective fingers. Finally taking his unblinking eyes off Gabe’s, he bent his head over Gabe’s palm. He pressed his tongue over the gash and glided it over its full length. Still holding on to Gabe’s wrist, he straightened up. His eyes were closed, as in meditation. His features went slack.
A strange tingling sensation spread from Gabe’s hand up his arm and through his body. The pain was gone, and so was the deep gash.
“Fuckin-A!” Denton broke the intense moment, appearing out of nowhere.
Harvey tensed and relaxed within a split second. He let go of Gabe and stepped aside. “Well, that could’ve gone better,” he said. He looked and sounded as his usual self, except for the fire that still hadn’t completely left his eyes.
“You think?” Gabe was grateful his voice sounded normal and he could move his feet again. Adrenaline still cursed through his veins, along with something unfamiliar. Was arousal a proper response to stress? To make things worse, he could clearly sense Harvey’s craving—it filled his insides with unnatural warmth.
The presence of another vampire getting closer drew his attention. He looked in that direction but knew it was Stan, even before the vamp got close enough to be seen.
Stan took in the scene with displeasure. “This is not good. Augustine won’t like this at all.”
“He was the murderer,” Harvey said, looking at the body without pity.
“And a slayer,” Gabe added.
The information seemed to ease Stan’s concerns somewhat. The three of them gathered around the body in a semicircle. Denton stood a few feet back, in a forced slouch, not looking at them directly. Odd tension zinged through the air. Gabe shivered, and it wasn’t even a cold night. Harvey shifted stiffly from one leg to another. Stan must have sensed it too, because his eyes darted from one to another. A moment later, recognition reflected in them. He reached a hand out and, with his thumb, wiped something off the corner of Harvey’s lips.
“You two take a moment. I’ll handle this,” he said, looking at the corpse.
“But—” Gabe started.
“You can make your report to Augustine later, but this is vamp business. Ray and I will deal with the body.”
“Where’s Ray?” Harvey asked.
“Back in the bar with Dill, of course.” He tipped his head in Denton’s direction. “Who’s he?”
“He’s cool. Works for Augustine too,” Gabe assured him.
Stan turned toward Denton. A muscle twitched in his jaw, but he retained his polite tone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Denton Mills, but some people call me Dead Man.”
“Fitting, but I’d rather not. Mr. Mills, give me a hand, please. I parked not far.”
Stan instructed Denton to pick up the silver knife, while he heaved Joe’s body over his shoulder and marched toward the parking lot.
Before walking away, Denton turned to Gabe. “It’s gone.”
“What is?” Gabe asked, perplexed.
“Your shadow. It’s completely gone.” Denton poked at the empty air with the knife, then shrugged and trailed after Stan.
Chapter Eight
Harvey grabbed Gabe by the elbow and dragged him into the shadows, all the way into a corner of two brick walls behind overgrown shrubbery. Gabe went with him more than willingly. Somewhere between Denton’s parting words and getting into the bushes, it had dawned on him that Harvey had drunk his blood. There was something about it, something he should have been aware of, but he couldn’t remember, as he was rapidly losing his ability to think.
They fell on each other, eager and impatient. When the frantic rubbing and groping wasn’t enough anymore, Harvey fell on his knees and yanked Gabe’s jeans open and down his thighs. The tight, wet suction of Harvey’s mouth engulfed Gabe’s cock, focusing his entire being on that one spot. He didn’t think he’d ever been so turned on in his life.
Before long, Harvey pulled Gabe’s jeans and briefs all the way down and spun him around so he faced the wall. It happened so fast Gabe didn’t have a chance to protest. When Gabe’s cheeks were parted and Harvey penetrated Gabe’s hole with his tongue, the wave of sensations washed away Gabe’s rising objections. However, when Harvey’s slicked fingers pushed into him too, an unmanly whimper escaped his throat, and he tensed up. Harvey didn’t stop; moving his fingers inside Gabe, another hand over Gabe’s cock and balls, he persevered till Gabe gave in, and his muscles gradually relaxed.
Harvey straightened up, arms around Gabe, his slender, slippery shaft pressed between Gabe’s ass cheeks.
“I want to fuck you,” he whispered.
“I don’t…” Gabe’s words dissolved into a groan as Harvey stroked Gabe’s cock while canting his hips.
“I want you.” Harvey’s voice was low, pleading, trembling with want held barely in check. His hand stroking Gabe’s stomach was unbelievably tender.
Harvey kissed Gabe between the shoulder blades, then rubbed his face against the same spot and moaned softly. Harvey’s desire and longing swept through Gabe in an aching wave. His defenses crumbled, leaving him with that vulnerable feeling he feared so much. It was different, though, with Harvey wrapped around him—it was possessive and protective both. Gabe could hardly breathe from his heart thrumming in his throat. He couldn’t tell if it was more from fear or from his secret desire to surrender.
Gabe widened his stance and braced his hands on the wall, and let his head drop between his shoulders. Harvey pushing into him hurt, but even as the pain rippled through him, it mingled with sharp spikes of pleasure till he didn’t know where one ended and the other began. By the time Harvey’s cock was fully in him, Gabe was panting heavily, and he attempted to dig his fingers into the unyielding concrete wall.
Harvey pulled out and thrust in again slowly, but he held Gabe’s hips in a death grip.
“More,” Gabe demanded through clenched teeth, and Harvey obeyed, chanting Gabe’s name and nonsensical little words.
Their rhythm built from raw desire and deep longing. It was sweet agony singing in Gabe’s blood. He gave in to it, gave himself, let go, let Harvey take him.
When Harvey bit the back of Gabe’s neck, it wasn’t hard enough to break skin but enough to make the pain-pleasure surge through him. For an instant, he and Harvey were one—he’d never experienced anything like it before. Then, as if every muscle in his body contracted then released at once, he came, and his jizz splattered all over his hand, his shirt, and the wall. Harvey’s thrusts became erratic, and a couple of seconds later, he climaxed, calling out, “
Angel!”
It took Gabe minutes to get back to a semblance of normalcy, even after Harvey’s cock slipped out of him. He made a halfhearted effort to pull his jeans back up. He managed, more or less, before sliding down along the wall, to sit on the grass. His legs were not up to the task of holding him vertical. Harvey followed him.
Gabe took deep breaths, and every lungful cleared his head a little. The sexual rush left in its wake languor and confusion. He was just like Dill now, wasn’t he? A mortifying thought.
“You okay?” Harvey asked.
“I’m good,” Gabe replied, although the word proved woefully inadequate to express the complexity of emotions whirling around in him. He wasn’t exactly weirded out, but in the neighborhood. “Tired,” he said.
“Me too.”
“Long night.”
“Yeah.”
They sat in silence.
“We should go. There’s still much to do,” Gabe said but didn’t move a muscle.
“Yes, we should,” Harvey agreed, as he remained leaning against Gabe.
They finally got a move on twenty or so minutes later.
No matter how tumultuous the night had been, Gabe had to report to Augustine before dawn. Stan had been right—Augustine wasn’t pleased. “Perhaps I haven’t been clear. When I request you bring someone in, I expect the person to be alive, more or less. I have no use for corpses.”
Gabe stood his ground. “I’m sorry, there was no alternative.” It had been Gabe’s decision to keep Harvey’s role out of his accounts, and he’d pressed everyone involved to do the same.
“Your propensity to eliminate useful sources is rather disadvantageous. There are more important matters at hand than one deranged man.”
It was news to Gabe. “There are?”
Augustine’s pale gaze felt like it was cutting him open to see what was inside. He adjusted his collar, hoping it covered the bruise Harvey had left. His ass was still sore, and a flash of memory made him flush.
“Sit,” Augustine said without taking his eyes off Gabe.
They settled in their usual chairs.
Augustine studied his perfectly manicured nails for a moment. “Those vampires you encountered in Europe—they are what happens when the transformation goes wrong and the person doesn’t die. Some call them ferals. They are mindless creatures, dangerous even to us. It’s a rule to put them down immediately. Fortunately, they are rare. When the process goes awry, the subject almost always dies.”
“The ones I saw were no accidents,” Gabe speculated.
“No, I don’t believe they were.”
“Somebody made them on purpose? Why?” None of this made any sense to Gabe.
“That’s what I’d like to know.”
“And you think Joe had information?”
“I think he might have possessed knowledge your uncle didn’t share with you.”
“But he was a slayer, not a vampire. How could he be involved?”
“We won’t know that now, will we?” Augustine’s words snapped like a whip.
Gabe bowed his head in a show of acquiescence. “I’ll be more careful in the future.”
“See that you are.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes. You will find out everything you can about the late Joe Vadas.”
“But with your connections—”
“Yes, yes. Of course, I will do what I can through my own channels, but you have an in. Maybe even an instinct for this work, despite your lack of impulse control.”
And with that, Gabe was dismissed.
By the time he got into bed at the crack of dawn, Gabe was bone-tired. All he wanted was sleep, but his thoughts kept spinning in his overheated brain. He stared at the ceiling as an army of silent minutes marched by.
Harvey had waited up for him and now lay next to him. “What’s wrong? You smell troubled.”
“I
smell
troubled?” Gabe asked.
“Yes, you do. It’s what Joe said, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Gabe admitted. That was part of it anyway.
After several beats passed, Harvey spoke up. “Tell me.”
Right. Communication. And why not?
Gabe dug down to the root of his unease. “He made it sound like he and Miklos had something to do with my parents’ deaths.”
Harvey’s whole face morphed into a frown while he thought it through. “But that’s not possible. Your cousin might have been a deranged killer, but he couldn’t possibly pull that off. You’d need a vampire to do it. An experienced one too. You think…?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything, but I can’t shake the thought they somehow got a vampire to do their bidding.” The thought troubled him deeply.
“But that’s crazy!” Harvey’s words pretty much summed up how Gabe felt about it.
“I know. Augustine wants me to find out whatever I can about Joe. Maybe I’ll dig up something.”
“We will,” Harvey said encouragingly.
“We?”
“Sure. We’re good together.”
“That’s true.”
Harvey arranged Gabe’s arm to serve as a pillow and fidgeted around till he got comfortable. “Tell me about your parents.”
“Okay.”
Gabe told Harvey all about his immigrant parents, how they’d never completely lost their Old Country ways or their accents, about the smells of his mother’s kitchen, their Sunday dinners that had always finished with a traditional Hungarian dessert. He confessed how embarrassed he’d been of his folks as a kid, to the point that he didn’t invite any of his friends over after a while, and how ashamed he’d felt about that later. He told Harvey about the little store his father poured his life into, and how Gabe had ended up selling it after his parents had died. The hardest part was to talk about the accident, the impotent rage he’d felt over losing his parents to such a senseless act, how he’d used to stake out the overpass in hopes the perpetrator would return. Gabe admitted having fantasized about catching the guy and beating him to death, bashing his brains out. Learning that Uncle Miklos might have somehow been involved in their deaths felt like the ultimate betrayal.
Harvey listened without interrupting. Once Gabe stopped talking, they both sank into a contemplative silence for a long while.
Harvey spoke first. “Why do you think Joe killed Paul and Chrissy?”
Gabe had wondered about that too. “Probably because he was a hate-filled, psychotic bastard.”
“Yes, but it would’ve made more sense for him to go after vamps.”
“He wouldn’t have had a chance against one of you. The vampires Miklos and I battled in Europe were different—lots of brute strength but not fast. The speed you move is a whole different ballgame. I’m guessing he knew it too, so he struck out to those he could easily overpower. Maybe after Miklos died, he snapped. I don’t know. If you know and accept vampires exist, it’s not too hard to figure out who they feed on. No matter how much Joe rationalized his actions, he was a bully and a coward.”