Dark Rapture (51 page)

The blood moved swiftly through his body, tunneling through his veins at a speed so fast it was like a jolt of lightning. His head filled with a wavering rhythm that pounded in his ears, vanquishing all other sounds that threatened to destroy the ecstasy.

It was a long time before sounds started to fade in, as if a finger were being dragged slowly across a rotating record.

“Huh?” Vince blinked.

Rico knelt before him. At least it looked like Rico, he was a little blurred around the edges, but one vibrant blue eye glimmered close to Vince’s face.

“I said, it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, isn’t it, Vince?”

Still in a daze, Vince noticed Rowdy walked past him carrying a limp body over his shoulder. The image quickly faded as Vince’s head bobbed and he fell to his side, landing his head on Rico’s leg.

“Take care of this one too, will you?” Rico nodded toward the redhead sprawled at their feet and Blake grabbed her wrist and dragged her along with the girl over his shoulder.

Vince focused on the sway of black chiffon overhead. Things were becoming clearer, the rush subsiding. He struggled to hold on to the adrenaline’s last dizzying effects by hugging his arms tightly across his chest. “I really like this place.”

“What about fear?” Rico pulled a handful of Vince’s hair away from his face, seeming to enjoy the texture slipping across his palm.

“Oh, man.” Unable to put to words the incredible high he had just experienced, Vince closed his eyes and tried to recreate the tremendous surge that had raced through his body.
Adrenaline
. “I think I could become addicted to the stuff.”

Chapter Eleven

An inventory of the cupboard above the sink recorded only two boxes of red Jell-O. Anthony made a mental note to pick up a few more boxes next time he went for groceries. It was the only actual food item he needed to buy for his employers, though, he did pick up things for himself.

Upon hearing Sebastian pass through the kitchen Anthony peered over his shoulder. The benefit concert began in two hours and he had to be at the Universal Amphitheater an hour earlier to meet with the press.

“Has she risen yet?” the vampire asked dully.

“No sir. Would you…like me to check on her?” Anthony cringed, knowing Scarlet was in the dungeon, and all that was kept down there were two coffins. The idea of peeking inside a sleeping vampire’s coffin did not sit well with him.

“You know better than that, Anthony.”

Anthony’s sigh could have been heard a mile away. He picked up the wooden spoon he had been using to stir the lemonade he’d just prepared.

“Is the limo ready?”

“Yes, it’s waiting outside. Is there anything else you’ll be needing, sir?”

“Well, you can quit with the sir bit.”

“Certainly, sir…er, I mean Sebastian.”

“There is one thing.” Sebastian dipped his finger into the lemonade pitcher, and then tasted the liquid. “Mm, it’s getting there, Anthony. When she does rise—and I’m sure it will be soon—please remind Scarlet she promised to be at the concert for me tonight. I’m sure she can forgo reading those damn diaries for one night.”

“Oh yes, sir, ah, Sebastian. I’ll do that. I’ll drive her myself.”

Sebastian absently rubbed a fist into his palm. He seemed lost in some other world, worried. “See that you do, Anthony. Don’t let her leave this house by herself.”

Sebastian paused in the carport, pressing his forehead to the cool surface of the stone wall.
You are being foolish.

This whole thing with Scarlet trying to find these elusive
answers
had him on edge. He was actually jealous! Worried someone or something would steal her away should she learn the truth.

But was there a truth?

Sebastian wasn’t so sure there was more to the vampire life they lead. He’d read all the stories and myths, had heard the whispered secrets. That was all fiction. Wasn’t it?

He himself did not have the capability to change to mist and slither under doors. He could not transform into a bat or fly. Crosses were no more effective against repelling him than red Jell-O. Garlic—well—that stuff did repulse him.

It was all a big lie. The vampire legend was false, untrue, a myth cultured by dark stories and frightened peasants. He was the closet thing to a mortal human as he could be. Except now blood sustained his life and for some reason, slowed the aging process to nearly a halt.

Why?

He hadn’t a clue. No one had been there after his transformation to ‘teach him the ways’. Strange as it now seemed to remember the past, it had actually been Scarlet who transformed him. Go figure. He had fallen in love with her a year ago—no—centuries ago. Hell, it was damn confusing. All Sebastian knew was after he transformed Scarlet a year ago, days later she was kidnapped by a spirit and traveled back through time where she eventually met up with him. Except, he hadn’t been a vampire then. He had been young and mortal, celebrating his nineteenth birthday—in eighteenth century Paris.

And then Scarlet had changed him.

A weird twist of fate. One he would never understand. But had always accepted.

After his transformation, Scarlet had literally disappeared. He had lain there alone on his bed—in the eighteenth century—wondering what the hell he was going to do. And since that day, he had existed alone as a vampire, never once encountering another of his kind. He had no teacher, no mentor.

Now, Sebastian would not discount the fact that there might be things unknown to even him.

But he did know one thing. He could not survive without Scarlet. She was his soul. Life would cease to exist without her by his side. Whatever it took, he would do anything to ensure his never losing her.

***

Gary looked down the tech sheet for the video shoot that Sebastian had provided. Everything was as it should be, though Vince would have to check over the lyrics and shots of himself. This had to be done by tomorrow in order for Sebastian to keep things on schedule. Why was Vince being such a jerk?

This was one more thing Vince felt he hadn’t the time for. Gary was now sure things had to change. Vince no longer fit into Wild Child. Gary and the other band members were not eager to see Wild Child move into the macabre direction Vince wanted them to go.

He tossed the clipboard onto the table and walked to the patio doors. It had rained all afternoon and the sky was still a steely gray. Streams of water running down the window momentarily blurred his vision. Where was Vince?

In answer to his thoughts, the front door slammed.

Vince ambled into the grand room, a splash of brownish-red covering the breast of his white shirt.

“What the hell?”

Vince bounded up the stairs, raising a hand in acknowledgment. “Hey, Gary.”

Gary raced behind him, following him into his bedroom. Appearing from his closet with a suitcase, Vince tossed it on his bed and went to his dresser to rummage through the drawers.

“What is this?”

Vince tossed a couple of T-shirts onto the bed. “A suitcase, what does it look like?”

“No!” Gary rushed over to the dresser and gripped Vince’s shirt. “I mean this? This…this blood! My god, Vince, you’re getting sloppy. What’s going on?”

“Well, duh, Gary, isn’t that a surprise,” Vince said mockingly. “Finding blood on the shirt of a vampire. Truly” —he pressed his fingers to his chest— “I am shocked.”

He pushed Gary’s hand away and tossed a couple pair of jeans toward the bed, landing them close to the suitcase. His eyes were dull and half-closed, as if he’d had a long night.

Vince’s insipid attitude didn’t faze Gary. It was to be expected. “Are you going somewhere?”

Vince strode into the closet and starting pulling pants from the shelves and shirts from their hangers. “I’m moving in with Federico Bellange. Don’t try to change my mind.” He reappeared with an armload of clothes and shoved them into the suitcase. “It’s best for both of us. With Rico I have a family. He’s my own kind, you must understand.”

“But—”

The suitcase groaned as Vince stuffed his clothes in and started on the zipper. “Don’t worry, man,” he said through gritted teeth as he struggled. “I don’t want there to be hard feelings between the two of us. I want you to stay here and take care of the mansion for me. Everything’s paid for, all you gotta worry about is keepin’ it reasonably clean. I wouldn’t kick you out.”

Kick you out?

Gary couldn’t believe Vince’s nerve. “I thought
I
was your family, Vince? And Scarlet. What about Scott and Rob? Is it so easy for you to just leave your old friends behind once you find new ones?”

“Oh man, come on. I thought you would understand. Living with my own kind is the best thing for me. Federico is a vampire!”

“Yes, but—”

“Besides, you’re the one who has been freaking over every thing I do lately. I mean, shit, sending your sister to spy on me?”

“Wait a minute—”

Vince waved a dismissing hand through the air. “You’ll never understand. You’re a mortal. The same mortal who carries a wooden stake in the trunk of his car wherever he goes. You really think I like driving around with you knowing you’re packing a stake?”

“So that is what this is about?” Gary pushed a hand through his tight curls to occupy the fist flexing for some action. “Don’t you trust me? Vince, you know I would never use that stake on you. It’s…it’s for protection! You know, from…the others. You don’t think you’re the only one out there, do you?”

Vince slammed the suitcase to the floor but a piece of the bedspread was caught up in the zipper. With a furious huff, he kicked the leather case and pulled the material from the metal teeth in a rip of cotton.

“Vince! Would you calm down. What the hell has gotten into you? Geez. Since you’ve become a vampire you’ve developed such a temper.”

“Yeah?” Vince pushed a shaky hand through his hair and tossed it back over his shoulder with a defiant flip. “Maybe Rico’s right. Maybe I should start looking for something else. There’s a guy who lives with him and he’s got a band. They’re looking for a singer—”

“A singer? What’s this? You’re not only leaving me, but you’re leaving Wild Child too?”

“I didn’t say that…I just—”

It was too late for control or understanding. Gary unleashed his anger. “I should have expected it. If you’re not leaving then consider this your chance. I don’t want a blood-crazed killer—”

“Go on! Say it.” Vince lunged forward, his jaw tightening to expose the tips of his razor-sharp fangs. “You don’t want a blood-crazed vampire in your band. Hell, Gary, I’m surprised you didn’t kick me out a long time ago.”

“Don’t blame all this on me, Vince Lyons. You’re the one who has changed. You’ve been gone every night since this happened. You never have time for the band—”

“Like you’d even care!” Vince’s arms flailed wildly as he ranted. “You never want to give my lyrics a try, Gary. Never!”

Gary matched his friend’s stare as they squared off before each other. “I’m not gonna have the band playing your bloody vampire songs!”

A deathly silence fell over the room as Vince drew himself to his full height, his eyes glowering over Gary’s huffing figure. Slowly, as if calculated, his teeth descended, slipping smoothly over his taut lips.

Gary gulped. Vince had never threatened him like this before. He’d never once felt intimidated by or scared of his friend. Until now. But he didn’t back down.

“Didn’t think it would ever come to this,” Gary said in the dead calm.

Vince remained, his teeth glimmering viciously.

“Get the hell out,” Gary hissed as he held Vince’s gaze. “And you can forget about coming to rehearsal next weekend.”

Vince’s upper lip crinkled to a sneer, exposing the full length of his fangs. He bent for his suitcase and stepped up to Gary, his blood-tinged breath playing foully over the man’s face.

Feeling he would be sick from the stench, Gary swallowed. He wondered for a moment if the victim had been young. Probably. And pretty too, knowing Vince. “You make me sick.”

“Yes,” Vince spoke calmly. “I suppose I do. But isn’t it strange your own sister, a vampire too, does not?”

“She doesn’t take the lives of innocent humans.”

Vince shrugged and walked away. “Give her time, Gary. Give her time.”

Chapter Twelve

Spain, 13
^th
century

Anticipation shivered through her blood as footsteps trudged toward her bed chamber. They were markedly slow with no incessant groaning. He was weak.

“Your sacrifice is as great as mine,” she whispered.

Slowly the chamber door creaked open and Adriano entered. His eyes scanned the floor, his shoulders slumped to pull his body down into a meek shadow before her. His hair hung limp near his sunken cheeks, his fingers dangling at his thighs.

She could not believe he had weakened so in only three days. “My lord?”

“I am starved,” he started, and swayed to the side in proof, though he could not prevent it. His body craved the blood, yet his muscles could not react in kind. “And you…I see my sacrifice helped greatly.”

“I am much better. Thank you, my lord. You truly are kind of heart to sacrifice so much.”

“I did not do it without a fight.” He fell to his knees before her and Esmarelda rushed to him. He encircled her hips and pressed his cheek into her soft belly. “Forgive me for my cruel words and actions, my lady. I could not help it. It was the blood hunger.”

“There is nothing to forgive, beloved husband.”

“But now…you see…I am at your mercy, dear one. I feel I cannot rise even to take from you the sustenance I desperately need. Though, this is good...I know now it was love that allowed me to keep from having your door broken down. I love you so much, Esmarelda.” His tears seeped into her night robe and spread across her stomach, hot and painful.

“I will not deny you your needs.” She pushed her palm along the side of his face. The bones were prominent and his face gaunt. She tilted his chin up and cleared away the hair from his lashes. “But I ask one thing of you before that.”

“You may ask me a thousand requests. I shall grant them all if I am able. What is it that would please you, my lady? How can I redeem my dark desperation in your eyes?”

Esmarelda fell to her knees and cupped her husband’s hands inside of hers, kissing his fingertips before she spoke. “Kiss me.”

His eyelids fell over the sparkling darkness she had grown to crave. He nodded, a simple resolute decision to break his vow of the decades. “Sí. I shall give myself to you completely. For only you have had the power to enchant this cursed beast. You have looked beyond the vicious superstitions and the truths that are so cruelly foul, and you have uncovered the mortal soul that shelters deep inside me. For you, my lady, I give you my love.”

And for the first time in her eighteen years, Esmarelda felt the greatest passion as her husband’s lips touched to hers. He was weak and so she pushed her fingers through his hair and held his head to hers. In all her dreams she could never have imagined a kiss to envelop her so completely. Her entire body warmed and began to tingle. And when Adriano parted her lips it seemed their contact increased his strength, as if he were feeding off her energy. His hot tongue delved across her lower lip to dance with her own.

She thought sure she would swoon, but Adriano clutched her to his body as they knelt there in the silver ray of moonlight that beamed through the narrow window.

“My desire,” he whispered into her mouth. “You are my salvation, and at the same time…my darkest temptation.”

Esmarelda broke contact and looked into her husband’s dark eyes. Beads of sweat had formed above his brow. He needed her badly. More than just the physical touch. He needed her blood. She recognized the hunger lust in his eyes. “Kiss me again. Quickly, before it is too late.”

His smile carved deep into his blood-drained cheeks. Adriano took Esmarelda’s hand and kissed the knuckles, flicking his tongue teasingly across her flesh. “I am weak and starved for your blood, this is true. But, dear wife, I wish you to take your pleasures before my own tonight. Hold the devil back in chains, I’ll not deny you your rightful pleasures. I think I can manage that.” He spread his arms wide, offering up his shuddering body. “Do as you wish, my lady. Tonight I am your slave.”

Beads of glimmering sweat had sealed his shirt to his body. Esmarelda stripped away the soaked linen with tender urgency. Adriano drew a surprised breath through his teeth as Esmarelda’s kiss touched his chest. He twined his fingers into the golden softness of her hair and when she commanded in a gentle tone, he stood shakily before her, her master and her slave.

“Sit on the bed so I may remove your boots,” she said.

Adriano did, though he fell back across the crimson velvet as her fingers trailed down from his knees and to the tender insides of his calves, covered only in thin black hose. Her touch acted as an elixir of power and pleasure combined. His strength was growing, he could feel the blood hunger begin to stab at his patience.

But he would persevere. He must for Esmarelda.

Wanting only to fulfill her deepest desires before Adriano could no longer control his need, Esmarelda worked deftly to remove his hose, tossing them to the floor, the left leg falling across his boot toe, the right leg landing far off near the end of the bed.

And then she knelt over her husband’s inert figure and touched the lovely shaft that pulsed madly for entrance into her dark paradise. She wrapped her fingers around it and squeezed, finding it was firm and very hard, yet its texture was of velvet, rivaling the smoothness of the flesh on the inside of her elbow.

Adriano’s tormented groan alerted her of his sacrifice. She mustn’t take too long. She didn’t want him to suffer more than he already had. Oh, but this pulsing hardness in her hands was truly lovely. So temptingly wicked. She touched the tip of her tongue to the velvet shaft and with Adriano’s encouraging moans she began to devour his lust.

When he felt he could hold back no longer, Adriano lifted his wife to her feet. “You serve me well, my lady. But it is your pleasure that must come now.” And he laid her back across the bed, the tense hardness of his muscles pushing the veins in his arms and neck out like earthworms.

A drop of sweat fell from his forehead onto Esmarelda’s stomach, sending a blaze of goose bumps rippling across her flesh. He parted her legs and his fingers found the pulsing pearl that would grant her the bliss he so wished to give her. Esmarelda’s body arched and she pressed her groin up to meet his touch, begging to be controlled by him.

Adriano laid his cheek against Esmarelda’s stomach, listening intently to the fervent cry of her heart. He could sense the imminent wave that would soon shudder through her body. “Do you love me?” he asked.

“Forever!” she screamed as her body sailed over the edge where darkness meets dazzle and pain and happiness join into bliss.

Unable to control his rampant thirst, Adriano pinned Esmarelda’s arms above her head and for a moment, watched as her face melted into a quiet satiation. Her eyelids closed. Her lips pursed and parted. A deep sigh was the final release. “Take me now, my love,” she whispered, the remnants of delight curling her lips into a satisfied smile.

And he did. Adriano opened the vein and drank heartily of his wife’s hot blood.

***

Los Angeles, present

“Forever.” Scarlet released a pent-up sigh. The very same thing she had cried to Sebastian days ago.

The dreams had invaded her thoughts again. Only this time they had come while she was fully awake, her mind in a sort of relaxed reverie as she sat in the back of the car.

They had arrived for the benefit concert. Anthony waited directions to park.

“You’re speaking to me, aren’t you, Esmarelda?” Scarlet whispered. “You want me to know your story.”

The love between Esmarelda and Adriano had been a precious jewel they hoarded away from public eyes. Saved only for themselves. It was so perfect. It gave Scarlet hope her love for Sebastian would survive their current difficulties. No matter if she found some great secrets of the vampire or if she came away knowing nothing more than she now knew, Scarlet knew one thing. She would always love Sebastian.

She stepped outside and followed Anthony across the oil-spotted car port and inside the arena.

“You don’t have to do this, Anthony.” Scarlet acknowledged the backstage bouncer as they passed by his hulking physique. He knew she was girlfriend and smiled widely, revealing a missing front tooth, and then stepped aside as she and Anthony passed.

“I would feel much better knowing you made it backstage. Sebastian would never forgive me if he knew I had just dropped you off.” Anthony skipped ahead to keep up with Scarlet’s rapid pace. “I’ll be back around one to pick up both of you. And this time I promise I won’t be late.” They reached the backstage area, which was hung with long black curtains.

“Thanks, Anthony. I think I’ll just slip close to stage and let Sebastian see I’m here.

***

His fingers danced in frantic grace as the opening notes of the concert called the red spotlight across the black background, subduing his figure in crimson light, a gentle lull before the storm.

As was the routine, Sebastian started acoustic. He had his cherished flamenco guitar, Lucia, to make the evening go smoothly. Lucia gave little objection to his manipulation of her strings in effort to reproduce the elegance and festive mood of the Spanish flamenco song.

He started with a quick-paced fandango that captured the audience and showcased his skills, his speed, his pure understanding of the flamenco sound. Though ninety percent of the audience were young kids, heavy metal headbangers who knew him only for his electric guitar work, he created a new interest and wonder in them with the speed and nervous notes that worked the flamenco mystique.

His fingers tapped rhythmically against Lucia’s body, accentuating the turns and twists of the flamenco dancer as behind him appeared a woman dressed in a
bata de cola
with castanets on her fingers. She twirled, arched, and bent to the seduction of his music and the audience roared their approval.

Sebastian stood an icon in black suede pants and ruffled silk shirt, his steel-toed boots tapping to the beat as his fingers were invisible to the eyes of his admirers. He stepped to the front of the stage, the spotlights showering him in sparkling reds and blues, and his fans screamed. The music grew frantic, faster, challenging the dancer to match his speed.

A flip of his head splayed sweat across the stage, his hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks. As the song slowed and he became more paced, the dancer twirled off the stage.

He stood alone, concentrating on the intensity of the sound only he and Lucia could create. His mind drowned out the screams, the yells, the cries of adoration as the notes vibrated from the strings, through his fingers, and to his heart where all music began and ended. He closed his eyes and found himself, for the moment, in the quiet room above the shoe shop in Córdoba where he first began to study the flamenco traditions. The breeze kissed his cheek, the summer days sweet with fresh grass, and the perfume of the ladies…

Rosita, my tragic one.

Ah...but the memories are bittersweet. Better to bury them away.

Grasping back reality, Sebastian easily slipped into the soul of Lucia.

It was at this moment he achieved
duende
. The inner spirituality where all music was born. He fell into a trance. Music flowed from his heart, bringing all happiness and pain to his fingers, where it was interpreted for the masses. Lucia sang a happy tremolo for the memory of his mother, her pizzicato danced the carefree years of Sebastian’s youth, her brisk and fancy chords emulated Scarlet’s laughter, and her moans screamed out for the death of Sebastian’s mortal soul.

His cue from off-stage jarred Sebastian from the trance and alerted him to prepare for the switch. As his song slowed and the fans had begun to sway in time to its rhythm, Sebastian stepped to the metal stand where his electric guitar awaited his instruction. This was the tricky part of the show. Until his specially designed guitar was built—the double one with the acoustic on top and the electric on the bottom—he had to do it this way.

He began a rapid scale of bass notes that sounded like a drummer’s waking call. With his left hand he plucked out the beat on the acoustic and his right hand tapped out harmonics on the electric guitar, blending the two sounds in careful harmony and sending the fans into a cheering roar as he commanded both instruments.

As the electric won out to the acoustic, Lucia was removed by a stagehand and Sebastian slid fully into electric mode.

He continued to work the crowd into a frenzy as he displayed his intricate talent. His fingers raced along the narrow guitar neck, flying through the air and dive-bombing attempts to get his message across. The guitar obeyed its master’s commands, singing and screaming, crying, and finally rejoicing into the final number in which the backdrop danced with vibrant turquoise and magenta spotlights.

In a moment of elation, Sebastian stepped to the edge of the stage. He looked across the crowd, his mind connected to his fingers as he played, his eyes seeing the masses, the fans, the blind-followers of a man who would be a monster in their eyes if their hearts were not captive to his music.

The last song,
To Dance With Immortality,
finished in a flurry of tremolo scales, taking the audience once again back to the flamenco sound, but this time electrified.