Lost Embrace (Immortals of New Orleans #6.5) (3 page)

“Do you want me to call him? I’m sure he’d love to know who denied me entrance.” As she spoke, she deliberately took slow breaths. Her mind swirled in chaos, but he’d never be privy to the conflict inside.

“I don’t think that…”

“Sir, take a look at me,” Sydney demanded. She didn’t have time to mince words. Despite her efforts to avoid Kade, she knew when she’d taken the car, he’d hear her leave. She suspected he’d activate the stolen vehicle tracking and quickly learn of her location. “I said, ‘look at me.’ Do I look well? Better yet, do I smell human to you? I know you can smell me…just do it.”

Sydney rooted her feet into the ground as he leaned toward her, coming within inches of her face. She fisted her hands tightly, readying to strike if he came any closer. Her nails dug into her skin, reminding her that even though she was now immortal, she could still very much feel pain.

“Vampire,” he whispered, reaching for the brass clip on the end of the rope. “I’m very sorry, Miss Willows. I was not aware Mister Issacson had turned you. Please forgive me.”

“Forgiven,” was all Sydney could manage as a rush of breath hissed from her lips.

“Perhaps I should call your fiancé. This really is no place for a lady.”

“As you so eloquently pointed out earlier, I’m a cop…was a cop. I think I can handle it.” Sydney’s eyes fell to the barrier and then met his. She wouldn’t be intimidated from entering, dissuaded from her task.

“As you wish,” he replied, ushering her into the foyer. “If I can get you anything at all, please let me know.”

“Thank you but I’ll be fine,” she insisted.

Sydney never looked back as she moved toward her destination. The small foyer led to an arched hallway. Pinpricks of light poured from the unusual lighting fixtures, making it look as if the ceiling were made from stars. She pushed through a waterfall of bamboo beads, finally arriving in the main room of the club.

A fusion of Caribbean and new age décor surrounded her as she made her way toward the bar. Palm tree leaves appeared to sway, reflecting the soft flicker of tea lights. Traditional jazz music filtered throughout the airy space; a live band played in the far corner while patrons danced. In her peripheral vision, she caught sight of a tall brunette pinning a muscular man against the cream-colored wall. His torn shirt lay on the floor, a stream of bright red blood trailed down the side of his abs while he shook in a delirious state of bliss.

Sydney approached the bartender. He slid bottles of beer toward a group of twenty-somethings who nervously played with their hair extensions and chatted incessantly. Observing their behavior, she suspected it was their first time donating. A month ago, Sydney would have intervened, possibly used her police authority to escort them out of the club. Tonight, she felt nothing for the neophyte humans who sought the thrill of vampires. They’d committed, now they’d have to learn to deal with the consequences of their decisions. Whether they embraced or despised the experience, it was of no concern to Sydney. Like a speck of sand, they were insignificant in the grand scheme of things. People lived. People died. And some, like the immortal predators in the room, simply survived.

Sydney eyed the crimson tubes connected to large oak vats, disappointed that she simply couldn’t drink it like water from a spigot. While the imported, aged blood was a delicacy, it wouldn’t suffice to provide the nutritional needs of a vampire, especially a newly-turned one such as herself.

She caught the eyes of the attractive barkeep, who smiled at her. Shirtless, his loose white linen cargo pants hung precariously low on his hips. A flimsy drawstring, tied casually, swayed as he worked. Sydney noted there wasn’t an ounce of fat on his artificially tanned chest. As he drew closer, she forced the corners of her lips into a friendly grin, and readied herself for the conversation that led her one step closer to her goal.

“Hello there, blondie. What can I getcha tonight?” His grey eyes twinkled as he spoke, and Sydney resisted the urge to ask him if he was vampire. “Drink? Donor? Sex? All of the above?”

“Donor only. No contact.” Sydney wasn’t sure what they called it; she only knew what she’d seen when she’d been in the club months ago. Working a case, they’d searched the bar for a suspect. That was when she’d discovered the special draining rooms, one for donors who sold their blood, but refused to be bitten. At the time, it struck her as perhaps a fetish. Clinical as it was, apparently the desire to drink from a glass appealed to some in their community. Likewise, squeamish humans who sought monetary compensation for their bodily fluids, had found a niche in the underground ecosystem.

“No contact, huh? You must be referring to our siphon specialty. It’s extra, you know?”

“Cost isn’t an issue.” Sydney retrieved the cash from her wallet and slid ten one hundred dollar bills across the bar. She glanced over her shoulder, making sure she hadn’t been followed.

“It’s five hundred. This is too much.” He counted out the bills and offered her back the extra money.

“Keep it for my tab,” she told him. “How long will it be? I, um, I’m kind of in a rush.”

“We usually have a wait, but,” he picked up his iPad and began pecking at a scheduling app, “we can squeeze you in with number eleven. She just got in. Hold a second.”

Sydney struggled to conceal the relief that overcame her. It wasn’t ideal by any stretch of the imagination, but siphoning could be her salvation. As she waited for him to finish the arrangements, she scented the tinge of the iron delicacy in the air.
Hungry, so hungry.
Her hands shook and she steadied them onto her purse.

“This is Elia.” He pointed to a petite woman who hurriedly strode across the dance floor. Her crushed black velvet dress reflected specks of silver under the black lights. “She’ll escort you to your donor.”

“Thank you,” Sydney replied.

“No problem. Hey, listen, my name’s Gil. If you’re looking for some fun afterward, I’ll be here for a few more hours.” He winked.

“Um, thanks but I don’t think…” She didn’t bother finishing as she gave him a small wave.

Her guide gave her a nod and gestured toward the back of the room. Without speaking a word, Sydney obediently followed her. They weaved their way through the crowd of dancers, and her stomach clenched in anxiety and starvation. As they pushed through a set of swinging Cypress doors, the din of the club ceased. The calm-inducing spa-like atmosphere was a stark contrast to the actions transpiring behind the walls. As they made their way down the quiet hallway, she noted the sequentially numbered rooms. Elia abruptly stopped at eleven, and with a gentle knock, opened the door.

“Hello,” a perky woman greeted them from inside. Lying comfortably on a dark leather chaise, she rested a paperback on her lap.

“Um, hi,” Sydney answered. She looked to Elia, who continued to ignore her. “I’m not sure where you’d like me.”

“She won’t speak to you.”

“Excuse me, what?”

“Elia is our technician for today but not present.”

“But she kind of is present….she’s right there.” Sydney glanced to the woman who had begun to arrange the sterile dressings and tubing.

“Is this your first time?”

“Yes, sorry.”

“I’m Mya,” she said, offering her hand.

“I’m Sydney.” She shook the woman’s warm hand and quickly released it. Feeling disoriented, a wave of dizziness threatened to topple her.

“Hey, you okay? Here, sit next to me.” Mya pointed to a soft cushioned chair.

“Thank you.” Sydney quickly sat, placing her bag on the ground. She found comfort that the donor appeared entirely content, but Sydney still felt out of place.

“Siphoning really isn’t as bad as they make it sound.” Mya glanced toward Elia and then back to Sydney. “This experience is for you. I merely provide your food. And Elia, she’s not present as in she’s deliberately silent and will leave immediately after your blood is prepared.”

“Why?” A part of Sydney just wanted to feed, but curiosity got the better of her. The human part had to know why they’d pretend as if someone wasn’t even in the room.

“Not all humans and vampires publicly feed or have sex. Many of the vampires who seek the siphon option prefer the privacy we offer. While the intimacy of the feeding is removed, we can artificially provide the one-on-one interaction. When a vampire feeds from a human, they go unassisted. Therefore, it is just you and I. Elia is merely an instrument to our interaction. Therefore, she isn’t
present
. She’s not allowed to speak, because this is our experience. Your experience.”

“I see,” Sydney said. Admittedly, she’d never asked Kade about the rooms she’d seen here or why vampires would need blood this way. All she’d ever known was the bond that had existed between them.

“I know siphoning is a novelty for some vampires, but I do have some regulars. I mean, not all vampires want or need to…you know, make humans feel. They just want to eat, plain and simple.”

“You mean sex?”

“Well, yes.” Mya fingered the single braid that brushed her waist then raised her gaze to meet Sydney’s. “It’s none of my business why clients come to me but I suspect it’s the same reason why a human wouldn’t want to seek pleasure from another person when they’ve already committed to someone else. Even single people don’t always want sex. And what are vampires really?”

“What do you mean?”

“Deep down, somewhere inside, they are human. Okay, well, I’ve met a few who really are no longer in any way human. But most have a tiny part of them that remembers.”

“Why do you do this?”
Human,
Sydney thought. It hadn’t been that long since she’d been turned. She swore she’d never become a monster, forgetting who she’d been, but she knew the truth. Her response at the bar demonstrated that she’d already changed.

“I know what a bite can do to someone,” she replied, shaking her head. “I mean, I know how it feels. The intense emotions…the incredible sex. I simply can’t risk becoming attached to anyone. It happens all the time.”

“With donors?”

“I’m not supposed to talk about it. But it happens. I don’t mind donating my blood. The money’s good. This works for me. When I fall for someone, supernatural or human, I want to know them first.”

“I understand.” Sydney remembered the first time she’d made love to Kade, allowing him to infect her with his intoxicating bite. But she’d been attracted to him long before that amazing night. She’d never doubted the honesty of her feelings.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why are you here today?” Mya rolled up her sleeve, allowing Elia to prepare her skin. Although she was speaking to Sydney, she paid close attention as the alcohol was applied.

“I, um, I can’t feed.” As the needle pricked Mya’s arm, Sydney involuntarily dropped her fangs. Tears brimmed in her eyes.

“Hey, no worries. It’s all good.”

Sydney shook her head and looked away.

“I’m not sure what’s going on with you but really, you’re going to be okay soon. Look…see…the blood is coming. You’re just hungry. There’s no need to be ashamed.”

Sydney’s eyes fell to the end of the tube where the blood flowed into a tall champagne glass. Mesmerized by the sight of the dripping sanguine fluid, her eyes darted to Mya who gave her a comforting smile. Within minutes, Elia clamped the flow and offered the drink to Sydney. As she reached for it, Sydney once again looked to Mya as if seeking her permission.

“Please, take it,” she insisted.

Sydney brought it to her nose and sniffed. The ambrosial scent caused her to salivate. Her animalistic response couldn’t be stifled. With no emotional tie to the source, she freely drank the warm delicious sustenance. Unlike the sexual pleasure she’d experienced tasting of Kade, she likened it to eating a batch of freshly baked cookies. Perhaps it didn’t offer an earth-shattering orgasm, but it was entirely comforting and provided satisfaction that could only be obtained from food.

When she reached the bottom of the glass, her eyes flew open. Electrified by the nourishment, her body tingled from head to toe. She shoved the glass onto a counter, barely noticing that Elia had left the room. Yanking her shirt upward, she ran her fingers over her belly. The scar had disappeared. Energy spiraled throughout her cells, and a broad smile spread across her face.

“It’s gone, tell me it’s gone,” she shouted at Mya who laughed in response.

“What’s gone? I don’t see anything.”

“Thank you. Oh my God, you saved me.” Sydney rushed to Mya, taking her in her arms. Her laugher turned to tears and back to laughter.

“It’s okay, now,” Mya told her.

“I’m sorry. I know you don’t know but I couldn’t eat and now this…you…everything has changed. I feel so…so great. No, wait,” she released Mya and took out a mirror from her purse, inspecting her newly rejuvenated skin. Pink-tinged cheeks and bright eyes stared back at her. “I’m fine. I feel so good. So strong.”

“Well of course, you’re a vampire.” Mya sat up and steadied herself onto her feet.

“I didn’t ask for this,” Sydney confessed. She offered Mya a glass of juice that had been prepared earlier by Elia.

“Not everyone does,” Mya replied, her expression somber. “I’m no vampire expert, but it’s my take that most don’t. But hey, look at humans. No one asks for what we’re given either. Life can suck. We do what we have to to survive. And you, my friend, are doing just that…surviving.”

“It’s going to be okay…for both of us.” Sydney wasn’t sure what had happened to Mya but whatever it was, she suspected it had been horrific. She’d recognized the trauma, having seen it on many a victim.

“Yes.” Mya offered a small smile.

“I don’t want to be too forward, but is it okay for me to see you again?”

“Yes. I’m new so I’m only here once a week or so, so make sure you schedule at the front desk.” She paused. “Listen, I’m not supposed to do this. I seem to be breaking rules left and right today, but here…”

Mya took a pen out of her bag and scribbled a number onto a napkin. Carefully folding it, she handed it to Sydney.

“My cell number.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“If you were a dude, there’d be no way. Even some of the supposed ladies in here are pretty aggressive. So I don’t usually do this.” She sighed, as if contemplating her decision to share her personal information. “No one deserves whatever happened to you. I mean, you need to eat, right? If for some reason I can’t get here, you can always go see one of the other siphon donors. Twenty-four seven, Embo is open. But if you need someone…”