Beautiful Death (27 page)

He couldn’t get to his feet fast enough and the vampire under him wrapped his arms tightly around his upper body, forcing his arms to his side again. A growl sounded in his ear. “You is the feisty one Master say he want. But we have fun first, da?”

Before Tristan could answer, the pair was upright. Tristan’s feet left the floor and he went airborne. He flew through the flashing lights with no clear visual of where he was going to land and then his head made contact with something solid, but only for a moment and then it gave. A shoji screen broke under his weight and he tumbled across the lawn, finally landing face down in cool grass, dizzy and disorientated. His head had been knocked around one too many times tonight. God, he really did need a fucking helmet.

The vampire who threw him laughed and stepped out on the deck, grinning and cracking his knuckles. Tristan finally got a good look at him. He was big guy, like Desmond thick, just not nearly as tall. In fact, the guy wasn’t much over five-nine. And, boy was he one ugly motherfucker. Oh, right, and a Master vampire to boot. The place in his side where Tristan had jabbed him with the knife was already healed over.

A jikininki appeared behind him, trailing along like a puppy. It tried to move past him and make a run for Tristan, still trying to find his feet, but the vampire commanded it to stay. When it blatantly ignored the order and shot forward, the vampire lifted a fist and hit the jikininki so hard its head came off. Pop, just like a champagne cork.

“Dude, what the hell?” Tristan said, teetering to his feet. Man, he was working on a good concussion. That little vampire hit him harder than he realized. “I mean, not that I mind, you know, one less for me ‘n all. But those stinky things are on your side.”

“Get in way.” The vampire stepped down on the grass, cracking the last of his knuckles.

“All right,” Tristan said, teetering and put up his fists in ready. “Let’s do this.”

The vampire pointed a sausage finger at Tristan. “Use knife.”

“Seriously?”

“More fair.”

Tristan grinned at him and pulled the knife he had hidden in his boot. After that there was only one knife left then he was weaponless—helpless. Really, the fight was still heavy on the other dude’s side, but he wasn’t going to argue a free pass. “You mean more fun for you, you psychopath.”

The other man didn’t even bother looking embarrassed as he shrugged. “Fair, fun… fuck. All start same.”

“All right…,” Tristan drawled and then shot forward. The other guy didn’t even move. Didn’t have to. Tristan’s overzealous momentum brought him off balance and right into the bear-pawed fist. His head snapped back so hard he thought he had broken something. Tristan grunted, flying backwards to land on the grass. Again. Somewhere in there, he lost his knife. His vision blurred and there were two identical vampires with shit-eating grins leaning over him. They both reached out for him. He lifted a hand to stop them and realized he had two right hands. Nifty.

The Master laughed, balling that big fist into the front of Tristan’s shirt and proceeded to drag him across the lawn in the direction of the inn. Groggy and disoriented, he could only let him. The vamp gave a hard jerk, dragging Tristan up onto the deck, making his ass jar against the edge so that he cried out. Bear Paws laughed as he continued to drag Tristan into the building through the large opening in the side where he’d been tossed through earlier.

A voice nearby was speaking loudly in Russian and then the music cut off leaving a low ringing in Tristan’s ears. His vision cleared enough that he wasn’t seeing double anymore by the time he was lifted to his feet and spun around to face the Master vampire.

“Were easy ‘nough catch,” Bear Paws answered as Tristan blinked at the one he’d been talking to. He was wearing a pair of leather pants set low enough that white pubic hair showed in the front, hint of crack at the back. No shirt. And a leather hood donned in bright silver studs that covered everything but his eyes. Tristan shuddered.

“This one fear you, Gedeon.”

The man behind the mask laughed and answered, “That one too.”

Tristan looked up to where the hooded vamp, Gedeon, was motioning and sucked in a gasp. “Ash…”

Her back was pressed to a pillar, arms wrenched behind and held high over her head by the biggest length of chain Tristan had ever seen. The angle was bad and looked painful as she grimaced, her toes barely touching the ground. Weapons, body parts and blood fanned out around her, like dark offerings to a deity. A deity of death.

Gedeon gave Tristan one last look, one that said he was smiling inside that leather mask, and turned away. He strutted over to Ash, swaying those slender hips, showing a lot of ass crack as his pants shimmied down. Tristan wasn’t even interested in the show, but it was enough to distract him from the item in Gedeon’s hand. It wasn’t until the hooded vamp lifted it and brought it down across the front of Ash’s face with a loud crack that Tristan saw the multi-tailed whip.

Ash didn’t even cry out but Tristan went wild, thrashing in Bear Paw’s arms. He had one last knife left, his final defense, if only he could get to it before… The vamp quickly got fed up with the human and just tossed him, like a piece of trash out a car window. Tristan gasped as he felt himself go weightless and then he crashed into a wood pillar. There was a crack that he prayed wasn’t his spine as bright bits of light and pretty colors danced across his vision. He should have gotten up, fought, but he couldn’t move anymore with his head swimming. His spell potion was only dulling pain. It did nothing for the blood swelling around his brain.

Bear Paw’s face appeared over him, upside down. Tristan sighed, blinking up at him. “Oh, it’s you,” he mumbled.

“And you,” Bear Paw answered. He smiled and pressed his foot to the downed human’s chest.

Tristan didn’t even have the strength to push at the tree trunk leg holding him down. He could barely turn his head to look at Ash. The leather clad one, Gedeon, was still standing over her, whip in hand in silent threat. She wasn’t moving anymore, just hanging by bleeding wrists from the post. Something in Tristan snapped and he gave a roar of anger, trying to stand.

Bear Paw gave a dissatisfied grunt and lifted the foot he had pinned Tristan to the ground with. “Go to nice sleep.” A huge naked, dirty foot filled Tristan’s vision. Then it was naptime. 

24:
G
oing
U
nder

HARD. Cool. Damp. Organic, the scent of earth.

Tristan opened his eyes a narrow slit to gaze through the long stalks of an unkempt lawn. He gave a deep sigh, thinking how something as simple as cold grass could feel so damn good. He shifted, hoping to stretch and realized his hands had been bound in front of him, but his feet were left free. His shirt, boots and socks had all been removed, leaving him in just the leather pants. His last valuable weapon, the knife he’d had stuffed down the back of his pants was also gone. A quick glance around told him there was no one nearby. No one standing guard. Didn’t mean they weren’t hidden in a shadow somewhere out of his sight, just waiting to see what he’d do.

They were fucking with him.

Fighting his aching body, he struggled upright. He groaned, swallowing down whimpers of pain as his nearly healed stomach wound burned with a new intensity. The pain spell had run its course. He also suspected that his captors didn’t treat him very tenderly after he was knocked out. If he was them, he would have beaten on him too. God knew what other kind of weird shit they did to him.

When he finally got upright, he stopped to look around. He was on the rear lawn of the inn, sitting under a short overhang, the building U-shaped around him. Nestled between the two wings of the building, level with the ground was a large, round hot spring surrounded by flat white and gray stones. A tall fence lined in towering bamboo ran behind the spring from wing to wing, enclosing the pool with the yard. Well, that accounted for why he was left unattended. There was nowhere to run except back inside, bound, half naked and weaponless.

The panic hit him when he suddenly remembered Ash, the fear he felt as he watched that hooded freak beat her. He gave an aggravated groan mixed with pain as he got his knees under him. As he was struggling to stand his gaze was drawn to the hot spring. It must have been the movement of air that caught his eye, the steam that curled off the top of the water. The mist was thicker than he thought it should have been. And then he saw it. There was a person in that spring and he had a pretty damn good idea of who it was.

So much for being alone.

“Have a nice rest, did we?”

A slew of nasty thoughts intended for the vampire hit the front of Tristan’s brain and a deep laugh burst from the spring. The sound carried across the night air as if it had a will of its own, searching Tristan out until he shuddered under the weight of that vampiric voice, feeling it tickle across his naked flesh.

He took in a deep breath to calm his pulse, shake off the feeling of being touched and ended up in ragged coughs. His ribs ached down his right side. While he was trying to breathe past the pain something to his left caught his attention. He flinched and looked towards the guard he had thought wasn’t there. A very large vampire dressed in white leather was standing in the shadows of the left-hand wing. How had Tristan missed
that
?

Tristan gave the bodyguard, or whatever he was supposed to be doing, a quick look over, not wanting to take his eyes from Malik for long. His hair was short and solid black. Just a fledgling, by way of power anyway. Still, it was in Tristan’s favor. He stood, statuesque and uncaring, an almost bored look across his middle-aged face. Ash’s long sword was in his hands, the short tantō tucked neatly into his belt. None of their guns or the shorter knives were anywhere to be seen.

“Guns are for amateurs and weaker species,” Malik said with a laugh, drawing Tristan’s attention back to him. “And knives seem so… primitive.” He stood out of the spring, naked, the water sliding down his body through the labyrinth of scar tissue.

“I have a gift for you,” Malik said as he turned to face the tied-up human.

Tristan wasn’t sure what disgusted him more, the fact that Malik was grinning at him like
that
. Or that he was grinning in that fucking disgusting way while fiddling with himself. “Come’n, man, no one wants to see that shit.”

Malik’s eyes widened and then he burst into laughter. The sound found Tristan again and made him gasp. His eyes fluttered shut against his will as the tendrils of lust trickled through his middle and down to his groin. When Tristan managed to gather himself again, he looked up to find Malik gliding across the lawn towards him, swaying his hips and...
other
parts, in an exaggerated motion.

Tristan automatically backed up and after several quick steps, hit the rear wall of the building with a soft oomph. Malik stepped up to him, pressing a leg between his, hands to either side of his head against the wall. The line of the vampire’s body was a short, dangerous breath away from his, far too much in his personal space—what with the vamp being naked and having a boner that kept threatening to touch his leg. A voice screamed in Tristan’s head, telling him to knee the dude in the nuts. He instantly shook that notion away, sure that he would be the one to suffer more in the end.

Malik wetted his lips and breathed a hot line down Tristan’s jaw line. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve had a man as lovely as you.”

Tristan bit into his lip to keep from spitting into Malik’s face.

“My men are all street cur compared to your beauty. Yes, you truly are a beautiful specimen.”

“Funny you should say that,” Tristan replied with a sneer, “you know what my name means, right?”

Malik’s pale brows pinched together. He leaned forward, just a fraction of an inch, even though it put him only that far away from Tristan’s lips.

“Uruwashi,” Tristan hissed in a low voice and fucking proud he pronounced it right as the cold, nasty jeer twisted his expression. He was poking a stick at the lion again and didn’t give a shit.

The vampire’s expression lit up. “Yes. Of course. The Beautiful Death. How perfectly delightful of a name. There’s a sort of dark erotica to it, is there not?” He leaned closer, so close that his lips brushed Tristan’s as he spoke.

It took everything in Tristan not bite him or head butt him right in the middle of those purple eyes. He was practically shaking with the need to hurt the vampire, to strike out.

“Don’t worry, my beautiful hunter of the dead, you and I will have a chance to play before your end. Ah, but I think my dear, dear Asta must be first. It has been a long time since I’ve violated that delicious cunt of hers… always so eager.” He brushed his lips across Tristan’s. “Mmm and I do so much enjoy a captive audience. Especially when they are as lovely as you. Perhaps you will join us? Yes,” he said, running a warm, damp finger across Tristan’s cheekbone and nudged their lips together, “and you both
will
enjoy it...”

Tristan lost his shit and swung up with his bound wrists, taking the vampire in the jaw from underneath. Malik grunted with the impact but his head didn’t rock back. The pair stared at each other in frozen awe, both looking equally shocked. Suddenly, Malik burst into deep laughter. Using that insanely fast vampire speed of his, he retaliated with a hard fist to Tristan’s stomach. With a satisfied harrumph, Malik stepped back, letting the human gasp for air where he’d fallen to his knees, doubled over in pain.

“I did say I had a gift for you…,” the smug vampire sang.

Tristan, barely able to move, glanced up and saw the little glass vile of amber colored liquid held out between two fingers. He was sure he didn’t want to know where the vamp was hiding that. He suspected that it was a pain spell, like the one Ash had given him, and while he needed the relief, he wasn’t going to take shit from this guy. He also wished the naked vampire would back up since a certain part of Malik’s anatomy was in his face.

“Fuck off,” he spit out.

Malik smirked, palming the vile. “You truly tickle the best parts of me.” And for emphasis, made sure to give those parts a little wiggle with his hips.

“See…” Tristan gasped for air again, but refused to look away. “…previous comment.”

When Malik turned away, Tristan gasped again, letting go some of the control he was holding on to as the pain peaked. He let himself tumble forward, cheek pressed to the grass. Fresh blood soaked his front, saturated the waistband of his pants. He was going to need new stitches after this… assuming there was an after.

“It is a shame I must kill you. I would have loved to have you in my service. But I suspect you would be more trouble in the end.” Malik stopped in front of the hot spring and turned to face Tristan again. “Ah, see. You are already on your knees… there isn’t much to teach you after that.”

“Asshole,” Tristan growled as he struggled to sit up again and regretted having let himself fall into the position to start.

“So indignant.” He turned to face to him. “Ah, no matter, you would not be the first to give me trouble. Not that I will have to deal with you for long. Hmm, and I do know another indigent little witch that would gladly go to her knees before me. I am keeping her in check this time, can’t have her running off again on one of her wild notions...
Dying is better than this life
. What a load of horse shit.”

Tristan bit his tongue this time. While it was against his nature to not lash out and retort with some four-letter word, he needed to calm himself and think. He had to think of a way to get him and Ash out of that place, unmolested and alive. Things weren’t looking good on either front. He’d have to settle for alive.

To his right, one of the side doors opened and the two Master vampires he remembered from before—the big one that manhandled him and the one with the leather bondage hood—stepped out. They had Ash held in their grip between them. Tristan tensed, watching them drag her along with them. Her eyes were open, staring at nothing, her head resting on the shoulder of the one that he faintly remember thinking of as Bear Paws.

Ash was stripped of weapons and the wide leather belt she used to fasten her sword to her waist had been discarded. The front of her jumpsuit was unzipped all the way down to her abdomen, showing a long line of glowing, naked flesh, hint of breast. Her bare feet dragged across the ground as the two Master vampire flunkies walked her out towards Malik on the stone pavers. She wasn’t bound at all, but made no movement to free herself. She was completely catatonic.

“Ah, perfect,” Malik said with pleasure in his voice and turned to his new prize.

“Ash…,” Tristan whispered. He moved too fast to get to his feet and his head swam, stomach wrenched. The pain and disorientation plummeted him back to the ground to gasp and gag as he tried not to puke. Damn vampire could pack a punch. Still gasping for a breath of air that didn’t feel like a red hot poker to his chest, he looked up to see the two Master vampire servants had brought Ash out onto the lawn. They held her in their enforcing grip, facing Malik as he approached her with his runway walk. Still she made no movement that she even saw anyone.

“Ash,” Tristan managed to say a little louder this time.

Her captors suddenly released her and stepped away. Instead of standing upright, like anyone would have, she crumbled. Before she could hit the ground, Malik crossed the remaining distance between them in a blur of naked vampire and grabbed her, wrapping his arms tightly around her, pressing his body along the line of hers.

Tristan’s blood boiled. He might not have known what the parameters of their relationship were, but he was sure he still had the right to feel jealous and a little possessive over her. Protective at the least—especially when it came to Malik. He stood, wiping his mouth with his forearm. “Don’t fucking touch her you goddamned monster!”

“Such language,” Malik purred, running his hands over her back. “You soil precious Asta with your foul mouth. She’s far too sensitive to hear such words. Ah, the simplicity of this divine little creature when I first came upon her and that other one. Both so simple, so innocent.” He gave the side of Ash’s face a long lick. Her only reaction was a slow blink, unseeing.

Tristan didn’t understand anything Malik was talking about, but didn’t care. He was more concerned with why she didn’t fight back. Why she didn’t do anything. And bound, there was very little he could do for her. “I told you before, you dumb fuck, she’s doesn’t want you anymore.” He softened his tone. “Ash… Ash, darling, please say something.”

“You should save your strength for me, Uruwashi.” Malik was starting to sound irritated. “I’m going to ravage you both until you can’t walk and then I’m going to drain you dry. Rather… Asta will be the one to finish you off, under my tutelage, of course. There will be no misguided mutant vampire from our union, only your death.”

“She doesn’t eat live people, asshat.”

Malik chuckled. “She tell you that? Ah, she has always been good at avoiding the truth.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The vampire looked up from where he had his face buried in Ash’s neck, a smirk on his face. “Do you really believe a vampire can live without killing? That we don’t enjoy it? You truly are naïve.” He emitted a low growl and ran his hands hungrily down the front of Ash’s body, cupping her breasts, gripping her hips, pushing her crotch against his with a hand on her ass.

The show made Tristan sick. But the real anxiety was the spark of fear that she just might do what her Master wanted. There was something happening with her he didn’t understand and was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop it.