Dance in the Dark (17 page)

Ontoniel sat in a leather chair in the living area, reading a book by the light of a tiffany lamp. Johnnie recognized the book as one of his herbalists. His father removed his reading glasses and looked up as Johnnie arrived, his mouth quirked with amusement as he said, "If you want to be a philanthropist, John, there are less dramatic ways to go about it."

"I knew they would not waste time running to you," Johnnie said in disgust.

"My secretary fielded no less than thirty phone calls," Ontoniel replied, and picked up the cup of tea on the side table by his chair. Johnnie recognized the smell of it—rose tea, another of his father's favorites. But Johnnie had not brought any of it with him. Ontoniel had brought tea?

He honestly could not determine what that meant. "I am sorry they caused you so much trouble. I did not intend to cause such a ruckus."

Ontoniel looked at him a long time, expression shuttered, making Johnnie want to fidget. At last he sighed and said, "Sit down, John. Tell me what transpired, beginning to end."

Johnnie nodded, but instead of sitting, he strode to his bedroom and put away his jacket, hat, and other bits of going-out clothing, making certain it was all neat and properly hung, and not yet in need of cleaning. In just his shirt sleeves and vest, he returned to the living area. Settling down in his favorite spot on his leather couch, he recounted everything, from Rostiya's arrival to this return to the Bremen. Silence fell, thick and oppressive, as he finished.

Finally Ontoniel said, "You have absolutely no real comprehension as regards your actions, do you?"

Johnnie bristled. "I am fully aware of my mistakes, Father."

"I do not doubt you believe that, John," Ontoniel said. "You have always been a quick learner; you learn too quickly for anyone's peace of mind, especially mine." Not certain what to say to that, Johnnie said nothing, only continued to scowl. Ontoniel sighed. "You
were
stupid, John. I do not assign bodyguards because I think you weak or ill-equipped or any of the other things going through that head of yours. I give you bodyguards because people know you are no fool, and will use means beyond your ability to counter."

"Which is essentially all things abnormal," Johnnie said, not quite able to keep all the bitterness from his voice.

For a moment, something like gentleness flickered across Ontoniel's face. It quickly vanished beneath his more familiar sternness. "John … if tragedy had not struck, even now you would be completely normal. It is not so bad a thing to be.
Non omnia possumus omnes
."

'We cannot all do everything,' Johnnie silently translated, and shrugged irritably, quoting, "And oftentimes excusing of a fault/Doth make the fault worse by the excuse."

Ontoniel sighed.  "I am not making excuses for you Johnnie. You are hardly normal, in the end, for all you may not posses any particular abnormal traits—"

"What about the way that spell rebounded?" Johnnie demanded. "Why in the hell did it do that?"

"I do not know," Ontoniel said. "I think it best to leave the matter alone for now. You are alive and safe, that is all that matters to me."

Johnnie looked at him, and realized that his father was lying. He started to say that, then thought better of it. Fine. If he wanted to play games, then games they would play. He would figure it out by himself, just like he always did.

"Your parents wanted you to be normal," Ontoniel said with the firm voice of a Dracula. "I defied their wishes when I adopted you. That you flourish the way you do, never hampered by your lack of abnormal abilities, speaks all the better of you. I suppose you will only see that with time.

"But," he continued, "it was not to your mistakes I referred, when I said you did not comprehend your actions. I can see you will tread more carefully, and better remember to have a care for poor Bergrin."

Johnnie nodded stiffly. The bastard was insufferable and arrogant and
smug
, but Johnnie did not want him dead.

"Good," Ontoniel said. "I was referring to the fact you spent three million—"

"Two million," Johnnie corrected.

Ontoniel smiled in that razor way of his, and Johnnie realized he had been played. "Two million dollars on buying up abnormals simply because it was the right thing to do. Sariah—" He stopped for a moment, then said quietly, "Sariah was given to much the same propensities."

Johnnie stared at him shock. Ontoniel had
never
mentioned his late wife, and he had definitely never compared Johnnie to her.

"You need to be more careful, John," Ontoniel continued. "Here, on your own, away from the safety of my homes, it is harder to keep you safe. Though Elam is Alucard, you are by far the better prize to capture."

Johnnie frowned at that, because it made no sense—but then he saw it, and wondered why he had not seen it before. He was normal, he was one hundred percent human. Weaker, and less important to the wider community. If anyone dared to harm the Alucard, they would bring down far more than the Dracula on their heads. But for one adopted human? He was the better—easier—catch, though he was still was not convinced that Ontoniel would or even should pay a ransom for him.

But he could not bring himself to ask. "Yes, Father," he said stiffly.

Ontoniel sighed. "I am not going to order you home, John, not unless I feel there is no other choice. I do not like you out here in the open, and in so dangerous an area, but if this makes you happy, I will put up with it. Simply try harder to have a care. Recklessness is a predominant trait with you, and it is a dangerous trait. Even your remarkable intelligence will not temper your recklessness much.  I had hoped, and still am hoping, that Bergrin will provide a calming influence."

Johnnie sneered at that, but at the look his father gave him, did not voice his thoughts.

Chuckling, Ontoniel said, "Perhaps he is already doing that. At any rate, he is a quieter presence than Rostislav."

"Yes," Johnnie said, "about Rostiya. Bergrin mentioned before that Rostiya is not on the banned list." Ontoniel laughed. "So there is such a list?" Johnnie demanded.

"Yes," Ontoniel said. "It is a standard list for my entire household, with one or two unique additions per person. Six hundred years is a long time, John; plenty of time to acquire enemies." He stopped, then added dryly, "Though I did not have half so many as you do at your age."

Johnnie pointedly ignored that. "Why did you not add Rostiya?"

Ontoniel snorted. "Jesse and Rostiya are not evil; they are merely scandalous. If that was all it took to be blacklisted by me, we would have no friends or acquaintances at all. Everyone is kicking up a fuss now, but it will ease over time. Six hundred or so years is also plenty of time to forget these sorts of things have and will happen."

"Ellie was rather harsh—"

"Your brother is young, and very inflexible," Ontoniel said. "Part of that is my fault, as I am very traditional about some things. He was spoken to, I promise."

Johnnie unbent slightly. "Rostiya said it was Ellie who told him I was at the Bremen."

"Interesting," Ontoniel said, looking surprised. "Perhaps he has relaxed more than I realized. So I trust that for now you will stop trying to get yourself and Bergrin killed, and giving me heart attacks?"

Johnnie snorted at the absurdity of Ontoniel having a heart attack, but dutifully replied, "Yes, Father."

"Then I will leave you to rest," Ontoniel said. "I also brought a couple of boxes of things that Lila insisted you should have."

"Thank you," Johnnie said. "I am sorry to have bothered you, Father."

Ontoniel shook his head. "It is not that you
bothered
me, but I expect that is the only way you would see it."

"What does
that
mean?"

"Good night, John," Ontoniel replied, and then was gone.

Grimacing, Johnnie gave up thinking about all of it. Striding back into his bedroom, he stripped off his clothes and set them aside for dry-cleaning. Retrieving a towel from its hook in the closet, he left his bedroom and crossed the living room to the bathroom, turning out lights as he went.  Only the orange-yellow glow of the street lamps and the blue-white nightlight in the bathroom kept his apartment from absolute dark. Turning on the shower, he waited until the water turned steaming, then climbed inside and began to scrub away the day.

Several minutes later he climbed out, reaching for his towel and drying off roughly before he returned to his bedroom. He dried off more thoroughly, then threw his towel in a hamper. Moving to his dresser, he combed out his hair, then strode to his bed and slipped beneath the covers.

He had just closed his eyes when he felt an awareness that had become far too familiar. Johnnie opened his eyes and sat up. Predictably, he could see nothing. But he could smell myrrh and musk roses. He could
feel
the magic prickle along his skin. He could feel Eros' eyes on him, more deeply and thoroughly than he would shortly feel Eros' touch.

Johnnie drew breath to speak—a mouth covered his and a long, hard body pushed him down into the bedding. A hand captured both of his, pinned them to the mattress. Eros' mouth was rough, almost aggressive, bruising Johnnie's mouth. His free hand was no better as he tore away blankets and mapped Johnnie's skin.

Grunting, Johnnie bit hard at Eros' lips, gasped for breath when Eros pulled back. "What—"

"Shut up," Eros muttered, and attacked his mouth again, not relenting until Johnnie was hot and dizzy and incapable of remembering why he had been angry. Eros withdrew with a last biting kiss, to trail his mouth down Johnnie's body, freeing Johnnie's wrists only so he would have both hands free.

Johnnie gasped and jerked as two fingers shoved inside him, abrupt and unexpected, but warm and slick. He obediently spread his legs wider when Eros silently ordered it, scrambling for purchase in Eros' soft hair, the sweat-slick skin of his well-muscled body, desperate for more as he was thoroughly finger-fucked.

Tonight was different. Eros was usually gentler, more thorough, a slow and steady burn. Tonight was more like a flash fire, and Johnnie sensed he would be feeling it for days. He groaned as the fingers withdrew and Eros began to push inside, hard and hot, filling him. Johnnie's head fell back, digging into the pillow. He reached out to grab hold of something, crying out as Eros rammed all the way in with a single hard motion.

His nails dug into Eros' back, and he clung for dear life as Eros rode him hard and fast, setting a punishing pace. When he finally came, Johnnie bit his lip to keep from screaming loud enough to draw attention from downstairs.

He barely held back a whimper as Eros pulled away, both of them panting heavily in the dark. When he could finally speak again, Johnnie asked, "What was that all about?"

Eros kissed him hard. "I don't approve of your behavior. There is no pleasure in knowing you could have been kidnapped or killed."

Johnnie drew back—or tried, but for his efforts only found himself tangled quite thoroughly by blankets and Eros, who pinned him by half-draping himself along Johnnie's body. "Why am I not surprised you know?" Johnnie said.

Eros laughed softly, breaths warm against Johnnie's skin, stirring goose bumps. "Of course I know. You are far too reckless for anyone's peace of mind."

He was really getting tired of hearing that sort of thing. First he was too intelligent for peace of mind, now too reckless? Which was it? "Reckless implies a lack of thought," he said coldly.

Eros laughed again. "You're reckless because you're too smart for your own good, Johnnie. You're so busy examining trees, you never notice who else might be in the forest or what they're doing."

Johnnie freed himself enough to drive an elbow back into Eros' gut. In response, Eros only laughed again—then moved, pinning Johnnie face down on the bed, spreading his legs wide and settling between them. "Get off me," Johnnie snapped, even as his body reacted.

"No," Eros said in his ear, then bit it. Johnnie jerked, but could not move away. Eros put teeth and tongue and lips elsewhere, exploring Johnnie thoroughly from throat to ass, and Johnnie
hated
how easy it was to forget
everything
when Eros was touching him, fucking him. How had he allowed these nights to become a habitual part of his life? How had he allowed even one?

Eros released him, but only to move Johnnie so he was on all fours on the bed. Johnnie folded his arms to pillow his head, muffling his sounds in the bedding as Eros wasted no time, but simply shoved inside him. He was slower the second time, but still just as thorough, driving deep before pulling out and shoving back in.  Johnnie suspected he would be spending the next day moving as little as possible, but he could not seem to make himself sorry about it.

Johnnie smothered his cries in the blankets as he came, only barely hearing Eros' much quieter cries above him. They collapsed on the opposite side of Johnnie's bed, and he was too exhausted to protest when Eros bundled him close, tangling them together. Their scents mingled in the air, on their cooling skin, and Johnnie noted irritably that he would never be able to smell myrrh and musk roses without getting hard. "So am I ever going to be permitted to see you? Spend time with you in daylight?" Johnnie asked when the silence stretched on.