Thicker Than Water (16 page)

W
ind whipped along the wide and deserted streets of Brooklyn, ruffling Kia's hair, stinging her eyes and making them tear. Her feet pounded the broken pavement as she hurried away from the trendy streets toward the desolate area near the river where the clubs were. Her ears tingled with cold and from the strain of trying to hear the music, her body aching with the need to cut, the need to dance.

That's the fastest I've ever made it here from the subway,
she thought, arriving at the entrance to Vampyre Central. She opened the door, briefly wondering where Scream the doorman was.

She stood at the entrance, blinking. Something was horribly wrong.

The music blasting wasn't the goth, synth, dark wave undulating and hypnotic beats and music filled with rage, outrage, despair, and dark beauty. This music was bouncy, guitar heavy, chord chimey, voice twangy, and hard on Kia's ears.

And the people! Kia saw cowboy boots everywhere she turned. Cowboy hats. Ruffled skirts, a sea of denim, bandannas, and big hair.

She stumbled backward, reeling from the bizarre sight. She put out her hand to steady herself on the door frame.

A woman in a gingham top tied at the waist, skintight blue jeans, and pink cowboy boots approached her.

“Can I help you?” the woman asked, obviously confused by Kia's presence.

“I—I think I came on the wrong night,” Kia said.

“We're only here once a month,” the woman said. “Classic country.”

Kia nodded. “Oh.”

“So, I guess you won't be staying,” the woman added. It was definitely a statement, not a question or an invitation.

Not that Kia wanted to stay. Not even a tiny piece of her littlest toenail wanted to stay in that club. “Nope!”

“Hope you find what you're looking for,” the woman said as Kia turned to go.

Now what?
Frustration, disappointment, and fear tumbled around inside her. She gnawed on her nails. They had to be somewhere, right? He couldn't have just vanished.

Her shoulders sagged. Damon was the one she was really after. It was Damon she had wanted to turn to, be comforted by. That was crazy and she knew it. He wasn't her boyfriend; he was barely her friend.

But maybe he could be. Maybe, if she opened up to him, he'd open up to her. Maybe, if she could just get into his arms, into his orbit, his inner circle, she could get into his life.

Kia ran her hands along her arms, trying to warm up, trying to quiet the noise in her veins. She squeezed first one forearm, then the other, as if the pressure would soothe her need. It didn't.

She had to find him.

She walked toward another club she'd been to with Hecate, but when she approached the entrance, she saw that the door was locked and the lights were off. She stared at the metal grate covering the door.
Where else could he be?
She had no idea where he lived, no idea what he might do on a night he wasn't spinning discs.

The clubs in Manhattan. On the Lower East Side. He sometimes worked there too. She walked quickly back to the subway.

Kia waited on the platform a long time. It was late and the L train wasn't exactly reliable. She paced, trying to remember the addresses of all the venues that hosted vampire events. By the time she emerged back in Manhattan an hour later, she had managed to figure out a map in her head.

Hope returned when she saw some vampire types hanging around in front of a small bar. It was amazing how much better she felt just seeing them.

She made her way inside. Vampires were sitting at small tables, talking. Some stood at the bar, a few nuzzled in the booths by the velvet-curtained windows. The room was fairly dark, with candles, and none of the fancy lighting and fog effects in the dance clubs.

Music was playing, and Kia scanned for Damon, but she didn't see anything resembling a DJ booth. She went up to the bar and when the bartender came over, she asked, “Who's your DJ?”

“You're looking at him.” He jerked his head toward a small CD player on the back bar. “Double duty. You'd think they'd pay me more.”

Kia nodded, realizing that the guy was just playing whole sides of CDs, not actually mixing. No Damon here.

She stayed for a while, knocking back a bloodbath to calm her nerves, then nursing another to stall, hoping Damon would come in.

Finally, giving up, she went in search of the next place on her mental list.

The alcohol had warmed her, so she walked at a more leisurely pace, checking out shop windows, peering at the variety of people on the street. The Lower East Side was much busier than where she'd been in Brooklyn.

She turned a corner and gasped. There he was.

His back was to her, but she recognized the halo of fair hair illuminated by the streetlight he leaned against. He wore his usual long black leather coat, tight black jeans, and pointy black boots.

Kia's heart leapt at the sight of him. Then it clutched as she wondered if he was there waiting for someone.

As if he sensed her, he slowly turned around, a smile already on his face in greeting.

“Kia.”

Hearing him speak her name, seeing his smile, looking into those dark eyes made her freeze mid-step. She realized that he remembered her name and felt bold.

“Damon,” she said strongly.

He didn't move. “Come here,” he said softly. “Closer.”

Up close, he took her breath away. She could feel power emanating from him. She felt the buzz of her intense attraction to him and then realized that it was a current they shared. He wanted her too.

“Am I close enough?” she asked.

Damon looked down at her, his face serious. “For now,” he said.

Kia looked away; she couldn't take it, his gaze was just too much, her desire too obvious. She didn't want to make a fool of herself. Damon put his hand on her face and forced her to look up at him again. Her skin tingled at the touch of his cold hand. She shut her eyes and let herself feel his fingers, his closeness.

“Something's bothering you,” he said.

How does he know?
She didn't trust herself to speak, so she just nodded.

He let his hand drop to her throat. “You are much too lovely to be upset.” He slid his hand down her body and found her fingers. “Come on, what you need is distraction.”

Mutely, Kia let Damon lead her down the street. She didn't care where they went.

His cold, strong hand sent a crackle of excitement through Kia, energizing her. She felt ready for anything. At the corner, he ducked into a doorway, yanking her into the enclosed space with him. He turned his back to the street and leaned over her.

Is he going to kiss me?
Kia wondered. She kept her head down, unable to look into his intense dark eyes.
Breathe,
she reminded herself.

“Are you cold?” he murmured in her ear. He opened his long leather coat and pulled her into it, bringing the sides around her back. She was completely enveloped by his presence, yet he wasn't holding her, he was holding his coat. His mouth was inches away from her face, but he wasn't kissing her. He was pressed up so close to her body that she could feel his belt buckle through her jacket, his rough sweater scratching her cheek. Touching but not touching.

She couldn't answer. She could only shut her eyes and wish that they could hold this moment, this embrace that felt protective, and sexy, and dangerous all at once.

She heard people walking by, their clicking heels, their chatter. It was hard to imagine a world beyond Damon's shielding body. After they passed, Damon glanced over his shoulder and stepped away from her. “Let's go. You probably need to warm up. Standing still won't do it.”

He looked up and down the street, picked a direction, and pulled Kia along with him.

A thought suddenly flashed into Kia's Damon-drenched brain: Was he avoiding those people who passed by while they were in the doorway? Was that why he pulled her in there—so they wouldn't see them?

What did that mean? Did he not want to be seen with her? Or did he just not want to be seen—period?

They passed several stores, lots of bars, multiple restaurants without speaking. Kia couldn't tell if Damon had a destination in mind or if he just wanted to keep moving.

She didn't care.

She was with him, he was holding her hand, he was leading the way. That was all that mattered.

She wasn't alone with her throbbing veins.

The moment she had the thought, she realized the urge had passed. The only pull she felt now was toward Damon.

“Damon! Hi!” A gaunt man with long, stringy hair, wearing a top hat and a heavy overcoat, emerged from a shadowy stoop.

Damon stopped. Kia was thrilled that he didn't let go of her hand.

“It's me,” the man said, shambling closer. Kia could see that he was one of the vampires who not only had fangs but also those funky contact lenses. His were yellow, with black slits in the center. “Don't you remember?” the guy continued. “Rex Notorious. House of Xantho.”

“Sure,” Damon said. “Rex.”

Kia had the feeling that Damon either didn't remember Rex or didn't want to.

“Hey, man, where's the scene?” Rex asked. He swayed a little. “The Mundanes are out in force tonight. Need to find our kind.”

“Sorry, can't help you,” Damon said. “Night off.”

“Got a smoke?” Rex asked.

Damon shook his head.

Rex nodded, his eyes narrowing as if he were remembering something. “Oh yeah. You don't smoke. Drink either, from what I hear.” He laughed. “Gotta stay pure in some way, right?”

Kia glanced at Damon. Now that Rex mentioned it, she had never seen Damon drink or smoke. Damon didn't respond.

“I've seen you before,” Rex said, leaning toward Kia. He smiled a slow, creepy smile. He tilted his head toward Damon. “He dances with you. I've seen it. You must be a tasty morsel if you're one of Damon's chosen.”

Damon stepped slightly in front of Kia; nothing obvious, but enough to make Kia feel protected and for Rex to take a step back.

“No problem, man,” Rex said. “Not moving in. If she's your designated, that's cool. Haven't heard of you siring before, though. Thought that was Kali's area.”

Kia could feel Damon bristle beside her. He seemed to be working very hard to keep himself under control. She didn't understand what Rex was saying, but it was clearly pissing Damon off.

“But hey, whatever. It's all cool with me,” Rex said, oblivious. “Not my business if you're blood-bonded or not.”

“That's right,” Damon said coldly. “It isn't.”

Rex held up his hands, making his extreme manicure apparent. His fingernails were long and curved and painted black. “No offense meant, man. I mean it.”

Damon stared at Rex, his black eyes never leaving the gaunt man's face. Rex grew more flustered and grabbed his forehead. “I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean anything, I swear.”

Damon didn't say a word. He just kept his focus on Rex.

“I'm out of here,” Rex said, stumbling backward. “Just don't—I didn't—”

Rex broke off, turned, and hurried away down the street. Only once he disappeared around a corner did Damon turn his attention to Kia.

“Sorry about that,” Damon said, his voice low, his eyes dark and somehow sad.

Kia shook her head. “It's not your fault that he's so weird.”

Damon took a finger and gently moved a strand of hair out of Kia's face. “No, but it still shouldn't have happened. You were already having a hard night. I wanted to distract you from that. And instead ...”

Kia shook her head and took his hand. “Don't. Don't be sorry. For anything.”

Damon smiled, and Kia felt her knees go liquid. His beauty was astonishing. The sharp lines of his gorgeous, extravagant bones, the almost feminine mouth, the blackness of his eves, which were such a contrast to the pale, wispy hair. It was a face almost too beautiful to be human.

“Damon?” A girl's voice broke the current between Kia and Damon. He glanced over his shoulder, then he turned all the way around.

“Meredith,” Damon greeted the woman, who looked to be in her late twenties.

“You're not working?” Meredith asked. Her heavily made-up eyes gave Kia a quick once-over, then she ignored her.

“Not tonight.”

Meredith licked her lips. “I know of a party—”

Damon cut her off. “No thanks.”

Now she frowned. She flung her long purple hair over a shoulder. Kia wondered if it was a wig. “Fine,” Meredith snapped. She stalked away.

Damon shook his head. “Let's get out of here,” he said. “There are just too many people I know around here and I could seriously use a break from all of them.” He turned to face Kia. “Ever feel that you need to escape your own life?”

“Always,” she said softly. Her eyes flicked down to the ground.

Damon took a step closer and cupped her cheek in his cold palm. She pressed her face against his hand, and he put his other hand in her hair. “Yes, I think you do,” he said, his voice husky. He stroked her hair as if she were a cat he was petting.

He made no move to lift her eyes to meet his. Kia stared at the pavement and let herself feel the softness of his fingers.

“Where do you live?” he asked.

“Uptown,” she said.

Did he want to come home with her? Her heart sped up and she broke away. “I don't want to go home. Not yet.”

Damon nodded. “Well, let's get you back to that neighborhood at least. I could use a change of scenery.”