Blood Sacraments (12 page)

“Thanks,” he said, not quite meeting my gaze. “Sorry to just run off like that.”

I willed my glamour to its strongest, and my prey looked up, a slight flicker in his eyes, and swallowed once.

“I’m Curtis,” he said, extending his hand.

I took it, holding it strong enough to assert a kind of dominance, and said, “Luc.”

He bobbed his head, smiled, and picked up the glass. “Thank you for the drink, Luc.” His heartbeat did a small skip.

I was starting to realize that he was not immune to my glamour—something so rare I could barely believe it possible—but extremely resistant. He obviously had a strong will belied by his disarming nature. As he took a drink, his Adam’s apple bobbed, the orange stone flicked on the chain around his neck, and I wanted him all the more. The skin above the line of his shirt was smooth and tanned.

Carnelian, I thought, placing the gemstone at last. I lifted my eyes from this throat.

“So how is it you’re on your own?” I asked.

Curtis winced. “Sad story,” he said. “Which I refuse to tell since I’ll come off pathetic if I do.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I doubt that.”

“It’s my birthday,” Curtis said. “I didn’t want to be at home alone on my birthday.” He held up a hand to the air between us and hunched his shoulders as if bracing for an impact. “Go on, say it. Pathetic.”

I leaned forward, took his wrist in my hand, and said, “Not pathetic.”

He looked at my fingers on his wrist, and relaxed. “Thanks.”

“How old are you?” I asked.

He laughed, and swallowed some of his gin and tonic. “Oh sure, kick a guy while he’s down. I’m twenty-one.” He flicked his free hand to check his watch, showing no signs of being upset that I still had his other hand in my grasp. “Or I will be in about three hours.” He looked up slyly. “Why? How old are you?”

“Older than you,” I answered dryly. I’d been twenty-five when I was changed. I wasn’t twenty-five anymore. I didn’t often think of how long I had been hiding, scratching out an existence poured into three days of every month.

“Wiser?” he asked, and I forced myself to smile. I could feel the pulse in his wrist, and started stroking the line of his arm with my fingers. He smiled, glancing down at the table.

“In some things, I’m sure.”

“Ah,” Curtis said. A blush colored his neck, and I felt my fangs tighten in my mouth, as well as my flesh hardening.

I let go of his hand completely and leaned forward. “Blushing suits you.”

“Ah,” he repeated, and the heat of his skin increased. He took a gulp of his drink, setting the glass down empty. “You’re…uh…” He seemed to lose his train of thought, then frowned at the table. “Hey, you don’t have a drink. It’s my turn.”

“No.” I shook my head. “It’s your birthday. I’ll get them.”

“Okay,” my prey said cheerfully. “But I’ve already had more than I usually drink in a month. Can I just have a ginger ale this time?”

“Absolutely.” I rose, and leaning forward, cupped one hand quickly behind the back of his neck and pulled him in and kissed him. He had the flavor of tonic, and that otherness I couldn’t place, but was happy to taste. When I pulled back, his eyes were half lidded. My fangs twitched.

“I’ll be right back,” I said.

He nodded, mute. Strong willed or not, I would have him.

The bar was growing busier, and louder. It took a little longer to clear the throng at the bar the second time, but the bare-chested bartender nodded to me and yelled, “Another G and T?” as soon as he saw me. I shook my head.

“Ginger ale, and a red wine,” I said back, and let myself enjoy the broadness of his chest and the drops of sweat that were forming as the pace of the bar increased. When I took the drinks from him, I loosed my glamour again, and he shivered visibly. The patrons to either side of me turned to watch, transfixed.

“I’ll be back for you tomorrow,” I murmured. He watched my lips, but frowned.

“What?” he yelled.

“Thank you for my order.” I smiled, and lifted the drinks. I turned back to my prey.

He wasn’t alone anymore.

*

“Anders,” I said brightly, sliding into my seat and nodding at the demon who now sat to the left of my prey.

“Oh,” Curtis said. “You two know each other?”

“Old friends,” I said, placing the ginger ale on the table. Curtis bobbed his head in thanks.

“We’ve known each other a long time,” Anders agreed. Then, with a wicked smile my way, he added, “Long enough to know Luc here hates to dance. You wanna dance?” As the demon spoke, I felt the heat of his own influence—raw flames of lust to my cool glamour—ignite in the demon’s eyes. He met Curtis’s gaze, and I could feel the demon pour all he had into the influence.

“Oh,” Curtis said. “No thank you. I’m not very good.”

Anders actually leaned back, a look of genuine surprise on his face. I had to struggle not to laugh out loud. He glanced at me, frowning. I twitched one eyebrow. Curtis didn’t seem to notice.

“Actually,” Curtis said, “I’m not sure really why I’m here.”

“It’s your birthday,” I reminded him.

“Happy birthday,” Anders said, in a deep rumbling voice, squeezing one of Curtis’s shoulders and making eye contact again. Curtis blinked once, but showed the same resistance to Anders’s influence as he had to mine.

“Thanks,” Curtis said, and took another sip of his ginger ale.

“Any birthday wishes?” I asked.

Curtis took a deep breath, and his eyes lost focus. “Not to be alone,” he said, then seemed to come back to himself. He raised his glass, and I joined him with my wine, but before he clinked, he noticed Anders had no drink.

“Wait,” he said. “Bad luck to toast without a glass. What are you drinking?”

Anders smiled. “Canadian.”

Curtis hopped up and touched both our shoulders as he passed. “Don’t go anywhere.” He left for the bar.

“What happened to the truce?” I asked.

“I didn’t know you were with him,” Anders growled, looking past me at my prey. He licked his lips. “He’s putting off a scent you wouldn’t believe.”

“I would, actually,” I said dryly. “What’s it to be, then? I can ruin your chances, and you can ruin mine. What’s the point?”

His chest tightened and his biceps flexed. “I want him,” he said simply.

I nodded. “I understand the allure. Surely there’s someone else’s soul here you’d like to draw?”

He mimicked my accent. “Surely there’s another neck you want to suck?” The demon’s eyes were hard, his lips turned in a grim smile. He wasn’t going to let my prey go. Neither was I. There was no solution, short of cutting Curtis in half, which wouldn’t please either of us. I opened my mouth to say so, then thought about it a second time. No, we couldn’t divide Curtis in half, but…

I felt my lips curl, and my fangs extended.

Anders saw it. “What?” he asked.

“You don’t want his blood,” I pointed out. “And I don’t want his essence.”

Anders nodded, impatient, then froze. The same look crossed his face that I’m sure was on mine.

“He is remarkably resistant to glamour,” I said. “But if we worked together?”

Anders lips curled into something more predatory, but before he could say anything, Curtis returned and handed him a Canadian. My prey sat again and raised his ginger ale.

“To not being alone,” Curtis said.

Our glasses clinked.

“Speaking of that,” Anders said, and leaned forward to whisper in Curtis’s ear.

*

Our prey’s home surprised me. I’d expected an apartment, not a stately home with a view of the river, which threw its price range somewhere into the half-million range. It was done in a deep red brick, had a beautifully tended lawn, and the only name on the carved wooden mailbox was
Curtis Baird.

He lived here alone. I’d been half expecting to need to glamour a roommate or two.

Curtis unlocked the door and stepped inside. He turned to see that neither Anders nor I had entered.

This was sometimes tricky.

“Are you going to ask us in?” Anders said boldly, leaning against the door frame, one arm above his head. His sleeveless shirt rose an inch, revealing a stripe of tanned flesh dusted with dark hair. I forced myself not to roll my eyes. Demons have a reputation for subtlety. I have never quite figured out what went wrong with Anders.

“Sorry,” Curtis said, and blushed again in that delightful way. “I’ve never actually done this…uh, I mean…” He turned redder still. “Come on in, both of you.”

Like a rush of cool air, the barriers of residency, one of the oldest magical conceits of this world, opened to us. I smiled and stepped through the door.

“Lovely home,” I said, and once again raised the estimation of my prey. The entrance hall was done in Venetian plaster, offset with two dark wood chairs and a small table. Fresh-cut lavender was displayed in an earthenware vase on the table. The room smelled welcoming.

Curtis flashed his nervous smile, glancing at the lavender. “Inherited. My parents…” His voice trailed off. “I’m an orphan.” This last came out sharper, and something in his voice made me look at him again. The orange crystal at his throat drew my gaze to his neck, and any deeper thoughts I might have had were lost in the thought of taking him.

“It’s a nice house,” Anders said, then walked over to Curtis. The demon hooked one finger into the V of Curtis’s shirt and tugged the young man toward him until their foreheads touched. “But where’s the bedroom?”

I took Anders’s shoulders and pulled him back a step. Sliding my hands over his thick chest, I put my chin on his shoulders and smiled.

“Don’t mind him,” I said, locking eyes with Curtis and rubbing my hands up and down Anders’s biceps. “He doesn’t mean to rush.”

Curtis turned even redder—the poor man looked sunstroked—but he kept my gaze.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly. “The bedroom is upstairs.”

Our prey led the way.

*

Curtis stood to the side of the bed, arms behind his back, watching us look at his bedroom. Like the rest of his house, Curtis’s room was tidy and understated. His bed was king-sized and covered in a simple blanket and sheet set in deep greens. Matching bedside tables done in a dark wood sat to either side, and bookcases lined either wall. Anders dismissed the bookcases, but smiled at the king-sized bed. I took a moment to trace my finger across the spines of the books. Many were texts on languages and art. On the opposite wall from the bed sat a chair and writing table, a few papers and what appeared to be a calligraphy set on its surface. Curtis, it seemed, was a cultured young man.

“Very nice,” I said.

“Thank you,” Curtis said. His voice wavered slightly. The poor young man was nervous. I took air into my lungs, and could smell the faintest touch of fear from him.

Delightful.

Anders stepped toward Curtis. Curtis shifted to the left and said, “Do either of you mind if I light some candles?”

Anders chuckled and shook his head. I nodded assent. Curtis took a small lighter from the writing desk and lit a candle there, one on each bookcase, and then two more that sat one each on the bedside tables. They were all simple white tapers, and they lit the room gently when he snapped off the lights.

“Come here,” I said to him. Curtis stepped over, and I took his shoulders in my hands, facing him. “Relax.”

He breathed out a shaky sigh. “Sorry. I’ve never…uh…had…”

“Two men who want to make you feel wonderful?” I offered.

He nodded.

I turned him around and wrapped my arms around his waist. I put my lips to his ear and whispered, “See how Anders is looking at you?”

Anders stepped forward, face-to-face with our prey. I felt Curtis shaking, but he nodded.

“That’s what you do to us, Curtis,” I said. I pressed myself against him, ensuring he could feel my hardness against the small of his back.

Anders leaned in and kissed Curtis. Curtis’s hands went up to Anders’s chest, and I flicked my tongue at Curtis’s ear.

“Nice, yes?” I said.

Curtis broke the kiss, and nodded. “Yes.”

Anders grinned. “My favorite word.” He took Curtis’s glasses, folded them, and placed them on the closest bedside table. Then the demon hooked one finger into the V of Curtis’s shirt again, and tugged gently. I slid my hands along Curtis’s waist, and between us, Anders and I tugged the shirt off over Curtis’s head. Curtis took a sharp breath when my hands, likely cooler than he expected, slid along his smooth stomach.

Anders dropped the orange shirt and then pulled his own shirt off in a slow, calculated motion that made his biceps flex and the lined muscles of his stomach ripple beneath the dark hair that covered them. I could feel Curtis’s pulse increase, and pressed my lips to the beat on his neck while he watched the demon’s shirt join his own on the floor.

Anders pressed himself against Curtis and reached around him to tug at my shirt. I released Curtis’s waist and raised my arms. When my shirt was off, Anders kissed Curtis again, deeper, and more forcefully, pressing his thick hairy chest against the young man while I kissed and teased Curtis’s neck. My hands roamed downward, and my fingers caught the waist of Curtis’s khakis.