Mercy of These Bones

Chapter 2

Chapter 2He watched the Mustang peal out of the parking lot, its headlights dim against the neon candy of the Las Vegas backdrop as it raced for locations unknown within the city. The girl, Darby, loitered near the empty spot, her eyes following the Mustang’s path as well, before turning on her heel and sprinting back into the club.

From the shadows of the rooftop across the street, Mathias smiled as he hit the button on his watch. Six minutes. From the time he got out of the car and walked into Birdsong, to the second he left the girl behind. Edmund would forever be predictable.

Leaping over the edge of the building, he dropped the single story to land with noiseless grace in the alley alongside it. His car was parked at the convenience store down the street; he hadn’t wanted to risk Edmund recognizing his scent before he was ready to be found. It meant he would have had to make a run for it if Edmund had actually been inside when he’d arrived, but Mathias had been fairly confident he’d find the girl alone. He had been watching her for a week now. Until he’d stood at her side, he’d thought he knew her pretty well.

Then she opened her mouth. And what he’d started as a means to an end had devolved into flirtation that left him hard and hungry. In more ways than one.

He had hours before Edmund returned, he knew. There was no doubt in Mathias’ mind that the old boy had found out he was in town and was now searching every dark corner he could think of to find him. After all, Mathias dared to approach the lovely Darby Bell, and a vampire would have to be deaf, dumb, and impotent not to know Edmund saw her as his. He’d see Mathias as a threat.

Which was exactly why he’d shown his face to her in the first place.

He’d be back long before Edmund returned, and not because it was part of any plan. No, he was going back to Birdsong because he could still smell Darby’s arousal, could practically taste it on his tongue even now. He hadn’t wanted a woman this badly in months, and f**k if he was going to deny himself the luxury of what he was sure she’d offer, simply because the old boy got to her first.

But he didn’t want to hurt her; that wasn’t part of the plan. And considering how she made his fangs itch to sink into her soft, supple flesh, he had no choice but to glut himself elsewhere in order to take the edge off.

The convenience store clerk was out. Though he was far enough off the Strip to keep onlookers to a minimum, Mathias wasn’t in the mood for a quick suck. Whomever he drank from wouldn’t survive, not with the need Darby aroused bubbling in his gut. If feeding meant a kill, he had few options if he didn’t want to bring undue attention on himself. He couldn’t afford that, not yet, not until he knew what the f**k was going on.

Behind the wheel of the beat-up Ford he’d bought for a song in Tucson, Mathias crept along the back roads, his eyes constantly moving as he evaluated a couple here, a shadow there, anything that looked remotely edible. The problem was, in his current worked-up state, that included everybody and everything—like the hooker on the corner he could tell at a glance was high on some kind of drug—and the farther he drove, the worse it got.

He pulled to the curb. With the engine idling, Mathias leaned his forehead against the steering wheel, gritting his teeth against the hunger gnawing inside. His body was still healing and wanted the extra blood. Even now, four months after the leap that had nearly killed him, Mathias felt his bones knitting beneath the surface, the muscles strengthening in the aftermath of weeks of decay. The scars that marred his skin would take even longer to mend, if they ever did. Being a vampire had saved him.

But being a vampire also required fresh blood. If he wanted to heal properly, he needed to feed, not take a sip now and again or resort to bagged.

A tap at his window startled him, and he lifted his head to see the heavily made-up face of a young girl smiling at him through the glass. “You looking for some company tonight?” she asked.

His first thought was there was no way she was eighteen. Her raccoon eyes and glittery gloss couldn’t hide the baby fat still curving her jaw, and wearing a skirt that barely covered her butt cheeks didn’t mask her wobbly gait as she struggled with her heels. Lounging against the wall behind her were two more figures—another girl just as young and a man old enough to be their grandfather. His dyed hair was slicked back with so much gel that it gleamed in what little light there was on the street, and his hand was splayed on the other girl’s ass as he kept her possessively against his side.

Their eyes met. Mathias smiled.

It was so simple to recognize a hunter when you were one yourself.

Turning off the engine, Mathias slipped his keys into his pocket as he opened his door. The girl danced out of his way as he emerged from the car, but when she edged close again in anticipation of the transaction about to take place, Mathias held up his hand.

“Is he your manager?” he queried, tilting his head toward the man in the shadows.

Her eyes widened at his accent right before she giggled. “Is that what they call ‘em in England?”

Mathias winked and gave her his most wicked smile. “Oh, we’ve got other names for blokes like him.” Pulling out his wallet, he approached the pimp, hiding his smirk when the man’s pulse accelerated at the sight of the cash. “How would you like to discuss a little business, mate?”

The man’s eyes jumped from the money to his face. “Like Cat, do you?”

“Actually, I rather fancy both your birds.”

“That costs.”

“I imagined it would.” He tilted his head toward the alley several yards away. “Care to negotiate? Away from unwanted ears, of course. A businessman such as yourself would prefer to keep our transaction…private, I assume.”

The pimp looked him over, a discerning eye searching Mathias’ clothes for bulges that hid guns, or places where a weapon could easily be stashed. He didn’t find any, of course, mostly because Mathias didn’t carry. There was no need when his weapon of choice was merely a fang away. With a quick shove, he pushed the girl next to him out of the way. “Wait here,” he ordered, then jerked his chin toward Mathias. “After you.”

He turned his back on the pimp without pause, walking around the edge of the building. The whisper of a switchblade being opened reached his ears the moment the pimp lost sight of his back, and Mathias rolled his eyes in mild annoyance. Sometimes, people made it far too easy.

It was simple to predict the man’s attack. Even without preternatural speed and strength, Mathias had nearly a century of experience dealing with humans from every walk of life. He had scrapped with the best and the worst of them, and, on the odd occasion, even got hurt. He would have had to be the biggest sap on the planet to flash that kind of money around a pimp in Vegas and then turn his back on him.

And Mathias was anything but a sap.

He whirled as soon as he felt the body heat enter the alley. A blur of motion, he clamped one hand over the pimp’s mouth and the other across his windpipe, making noise impossible as he dragged him back into the brackish murk. Mathias wasted no time on niceties, vamping out the second before wrenching the man’s head to the side and exposing his pulsing jugular. His fangs sank deep into the thick vein, and the first rush of hot blood down his throat made him growl in satisfaction.

Every feed was different. Every human had his or her distinct taste, a lifetime of indulgences coloring the blood so that it was as individual as appearance. Some were more delicious than others; some had the capacity to make him forget time. Some made him wonder why he bothered with humans at all, and some made him wish that he’d never been sired in the first place.

All feeds made Mathias hard as a rock.

It wasn’t the taste. It was the heat. The stolen life throbbing on his tongue, surging through his cool muscles to refresh and rejuvenate. It shot straight to his c**k, whether he’d just f****d someone or not, whether he’d come five minutes earlier or five days. It made him yearn to sink even more than his fangs into willing flesh.

The fire of the pimp’s body leeched into Mathias, seeping through their layers of clothing until the man’s pulse fluttered and skipped. Only then did Mathias loosen his grip on his throat, though his fangs stayed firmly in place. His powerful mouth sucked down draught after draught, so that by the time the man’s heart stopped beating, he felt intoxicated from the overload. He retracted with reluctance.

With the hunger abated, his focus shifted to disposing of the pimp’s lifeless body. A dumpster provided the best option, and he stripped the corpse of its wallet before slinging it into the refuse. The stench would likely keep it from being discovered before decomposition set in, and Mathias’ anonymity would be preserved. He didn’t need anybody with power identifying his bite mark.

His face was a neutral mask by the time he stepped back out onto the walk, any vestiges of blood wiped from his skin. The two hookers were huddled where he’d left them, and they frowned in confusion when he emerged alone.

“Where’d Henry go?” Cat, the one who’d first approached him, asked.

“I paid him to take the night off.” Pulling out the wad of cash he’d extricated from the pimp’s wallet, he split it in half and pressed each into a girl’s hand. Their fingers curled reflexively around the money, their bodies quickening in excitement. “And now I’m paying you girls to do the same. Go. Play some craps. Eat. Anything you want.”

For a moment, they looked lost. “And you don’t want a blowjob or anything?” the second girl asked. “‘Cause this is a lot of money.”

“Well, I won big today. And I’m spreading the wealth.” He swept them up in his arms, leading them away from the alley and toward the main street. “But if you’re going to be difficult, I’ll just have to join you. I’m always up for a bite.”

There was another round of giggles, and while he still sensed their reluctance to leave their pimp behind, they didn’t fight his guidance. It was a relief. He really didn’t want to have to kill them as well.

* * * *

He left them in a brightly lit diner, chattering over greasy hamburgers and mocha milkshakes like the teenagers they were beneath the garish make-up. More than once, they offered to give him more in trade than the nothing they assumed he’d got, and though the possibility was tempting, Mathias turned them down with a smile. He had far more seductive fare to pursue that night. Darby Bell would be infinitely more satisfying.

He was in the middle of a left-hand turn toward Birdsong when his phone rang. Mathias finished the turn before fishing his cell out of his breast pocket, but a glance at the lit screen revealed only that it was an unknown caller. He smiled. He had only given the number out to one person. Considering how quickly Edmund had fled after arriving, however, he thought it was safe to assume Darby had shared the information.

The phone landed with a soft thud on the passenger seat, skittering in the crack as it continued to ring. It didn’t matter if it was Darby instead of Edmund. He was going to be at the club in ten minutes anyway. He’d ask her up close and in person why it was she’d called.

By the time he pulled into the parking lot, he was humming along to the radio and tapping the rhythm out on the steering wheel with his thumbs. No more reason to hide the car. The Mustang was nowhere to be seen. The Cure filled the car while he waited for the song to end, but the lyrics and Smith’s voice lingered even after he’d killed the engine.

Though his c**k was still hard and his mind filled with images of Darby’s succulent curves and fiery hair, Mathias hesitated. He was actually nervous about this. For four long, glorious years, the only woman who’d captivated him was Tatiana, and she’d repaid his devotion by trying—inexplicably—to kill him. Now, there was another, different from Tati in so many ways, enticing him to forget logic, forget his plan, forgo what he knew for a few moments of bliss. How could he know whether following an attraction wouldn’t lead to another disaster?

He curled his fingers into a fist around his keys. This was different. He wanted to f**k Darby Bell, not share eternity with her. She was just a means to an end.

To Edmund.

The front door was out of the question. He’d briefly considered waltzing back into the club with some excuse about forgetting something, but he didn’t want to give Darby the opportunity to do something stupid, like call the police. There was also the whiff of the desperate in lying just to see her again. Mathias might be many things, but that was not one of them.

He skirted the building, looking for the rear service entrance, and melted against the wall when he spied the outline of one of the waitresses near the door. Cigarette smoke haloed her head, obscuring the wisps of dark hair, and her fingers fidgeted with the cellophane on her Camel Lights. He didn’t need to be able to see her nametag to know that her name was Sheryl. He’d learned her name at the same time he’d learned everything else about Darby.

The muffled sound of applause from inside the club startled Sheryl into dropping her cigarette to the ground and tamping out the glowing tip with her scuffed shoe. Yanking out the beer can she’d been using to hold the door open, she bolted back inside, and Mathias flew forward to grab the edge before the door could slip shut again. He slipped into the murky shadow of the back hall and paused, listening for stray heartbeats to assess who might be near.

There was only one. Considering the voice he heard singing in the distance wasn’t Owen’s, that meant it was likely the singer in his dressing room.

Closing his eyes, Mathias inhaled, drinking in the scents soaking the air. The pungent tang of alcohol. The hot salt of living flesh. The lemons and limes of cleaners beneath those.

But mingled in with the aromas of life was one he couldn’t forget no matter how many years separated them. Edmund had been through these hallways more than once, often enough, in fact, to leave a discernible trail, and Mathias turned in its direction, following it to the source. It would be Darby’s office, he reasoned. Where they met. For privacy.

His groin tightened at the thought of what else they probably did in there. Would she have a sofa? Or did Edmund bend her over the desk? Did Darby ride him on a chair? Sitting next to her at the bar, he hadn’t detected the smell of s*x on Darby, but his senses had been clouded by her proximity. There would be no hiding it in her personal space, however. The office would likely be drenched in it.

His eyes glittered in the darkness as he approached the door he knew was hers. A woman’s laughter rang from the main club, and his head tilted slightly toward the sound. The blur at the corner of his eye came too late, darkness separating from itself to launch toward him. Mathias twisted, but the solid weight slammed into his shoulder and drove him face-first into the wall, wrenching his arm up between his shoulder blades in order to prevent him from fighting back.

“Looking for friends, were you?”

A shiver ran through Mathias. Edmund’s voice still sounded like dark chocolate melting over a low flame. It didn’t stop him from putting up a perfunctory struggle, but Edmund tightened his hold to painful proportions, pinning him in place with his larger body.

“Unlucky for you, I guess,” Edmund growled. Fangs scraped along Mathias’ neck with a familiar sting. “Because you found me.”