Now Comes the Night (14 page)

“Hey, it’s not like I stayed a virgin for you,” Paul snapped, “or anything dumb like that, okay? So back the fuck off. I got on with my life just fine, thank you very much. It’s just…you were always there, you know? Somewhere in the back of my mind and…I didn’t
want
to forget.”

Damian blew out a frustrated sigh. He reached for the boy, sank his fangs into his neck, and gave him a hefty taste of venom. This conversation was depressing him. Once again Paul was reminding Damian far too much of his younger self. Not that Damian could recall ever having been
this
naïve.

“Holy fuck.” Paul’s voice shook, but he stood quietly after that, allowing Damian to peel the shirt away from his wet shoulders and down his arms. Damian had not been mistaken about his muscles. The boy was breathtakingly beautiful. As the damp cloth was stripped away and cool air hit his skin, Paul shivered. Goosebumps raced across his flesh. His nipples pebbled. A shimmer of gold caught Damian’s eyes.

“Where did these come from?” Damian asked, nodding at the gold rings that pierced Paul’s nipples.

“San Francisco. Two summers ago. There was this guy I was with and we—” Paul broke off, groaning as Damian leaned in and teased one nipple with his tongue. “Oh, shit. Yeah. Like that. Do that again.”

Damian was happy to oblige. The shiny bits of metal intrigued him. New fashions always did. Anything modern, innovative, different always seemed to call to him to try it. It was a trait Conrad had criticized him for often enough over the centuries. Anything too unusual, too likely to draw attention or look dated after a few decades, anything too close to unalterable was almost guaranteed to draw Conrad’s disapproval. Damian couldn’t imagine wanting to live like that. What was life without change, without taking a few risks now and again, without taking a few chances? An eternity of nothing ever ventured, nothing ever gained—what kind of existence would that be? How could his soul even survive it? And why should he try?

He’d never been one to play it safe. If he had, he could only imagine how differently his life might have turned out. In fact, if he’d ever been something even a little bit closer to what Conrad thought he ought to be, he would never have taken the risk of getting together with Conrad in the first place…

But why, why, why was he thinking about
him
right now?

Frustrated with himself, Damian blew out an angry breath and set his teeth to Paul’s nipple just hard enough to startle a gasp from the boy’s lips. “Damian… Shit, if you only knew how much I’ve thought about you, about that night, about what I’d do if I ever saw you again… Now that you’re here, I wanna fuck you so damn bad. Can I? Please say yes.”

The question took Damian by surprise. In his experience, men generally took what they wanted, either willingly or not. Verbal persuasion might be employed if they met with enough resistance, but not always even then and otherwise, no.

What shocked Damian the most was not being asked, but his reaction to Paul’s request. Initially, his chest had tightened at the thought. It had been a long time since he’d been taken in that way and he still remembered the events of that night all too clearly.

In the shocking, painful aftermath, he’d sworn he’d never again make himself so vulnerable—a position he’d continued to maintain for well over a century. Even the past ten years, living with Conrad day-to-day, hadn’t convinced him otherwise. Tonight something was different, something had changed. He felt the unexpected stirring of a desire he’d long since given up on ever expecting to feel again.

Was it to Paul himself Damian was reacting? Was there something so irresistible about the boy that Damian could not help but feel tempted? Or was it perhaps everything Paul
was not
that was attracting Damian’s interest? He wasn’t Conrad—that was true enough—but he also wasn’t another
Lamia Invitus
. He wasn’t another vampire. He was…safe.

Safe had never been a trait Damian looked for in a partner, so why would it appeal to him now? On the other hand, maybe the
why
didn’t matter? Maybe that Damian could feel this way
at all
was reason enough to give into the surprising yearning, to explore this sudden
need
for another taste of something that had once been the source of so much pleasure…

“Damian?” Paul slanted a quick kiss across Damian’s lips. “C’mon, baby. I’m dying here. Say something. Please.”

“
Sí
.” Damian nodded, smiling inwardly at the cautious surprise in Paul’s eyes. “
Absolutamente
.”

“Okay, wait.” Paul frowned hesitantly. “That means… That means
yes
. Right?”

“It means yes,” Damian agreed.

It was shortly before dawn when Damian finally left Paul’s bed. Paul lay on his stomach, arms folded beneath his chin, moodily watching Damian as he dressed. Damian could feel the force of that solemn gaze as it followed his every move. It was as though Paul was attempting to memorize all of Damian’s features, committing each detail to memory. He didn’t speak, just chewed on his lip until, finally, when Damian was almost done, Paul cleared his throat and asked cautiously, “So do you…do you go there a lot? The bar, I mean.”

Damian looked at him curiously. Paul dropped his gaze. His fingers plucked idly at the sheets. If he was attempting to look blasé, or nonchalant—as though he were only making small talk, as though the answer meant less than nothing to him—he was failing miserably.

After a moment, Paul shrugged half-heartedly and continued speaking. “I mean…I go there pretty often myself, and…I’ve never seen you there before and I just… I thought, maybe…”

Damian shook his head. “No, I’d never been there before.”

“Oh. Okay, so, now that you have, do you think… I mean, was this like a one-time thing or, do you think you might, you know, go back there again sometime? Like…I dunno, maybe in the next couple of weeks or so?”

Damian sighed. In some ways, he preferred the younger Paul, the one who asked for what he wanted and wasn’t too afraid to simply say, “When can I see you again?” over this Paul who hemmed and hawed and pretended to be indifferent. He crossed to the bed and sat, then lifted Paul’s chin between his fingers. He studied the boy’s face for a moment, the hopeful eyes, the worried frown, the failing struggle to appear cool, when he clearly was anything but. “Are you asking what the odds are that you might see me there again?”

Paul’s lips twisted into what he probably hoped would pass for a smile. It looked more like a grimace. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Damian shook his head. “Ah, Pablito.” Sighing once more, he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Paul’s mouth. “Why couldn’t you just leave well enough alone?” He should say no. He should say good-bye—and mean it. He should nip this infatuation in the bud and make every effort to avoid Paul from here on in. Dalliances like this had no place in his life. They should have no place in Paul’s life right now either. The best thing he could do for both of them was to end this now. Then again, if he were committed to playing it safe and always doing what he should then he should also have wiped Paul’s mind nine years ago. He should have left Paul’s apartment earlier tonight while the boy was still asleep or, better yet, he should not have come here at all. But what was life without a few risks?

Paul drew a shaky breath. “D…please,” he murmured as his hand closed on Damian’s arm clasping it tightly, as though he could somehow keep him from pulling away.

Damian pulled away just the same—not far, just enough to enable him to smile at the boy. “I think it’s very likely actually,” Damian murmured as he traced Paul’s lower lip with his thumb. “In fact I’ll be extremely surprised if I don’t see you there again before the week is out.”

The smile Paul gave him was breathtaking. He cupped a hand around Damian’s neck and lunged upward to press an ardent kiss against Damian’s lips. “Good. I’ll look forward to it.”

“As will I,” Damian answered. He was surprised to find he really meant it.

The sun was challenging night’s hold on the horizon when Damian returned home. “You’re out late.” Conrad’s voice greeted him from the shadows that still wreathed the front porch.

Damian shuddered in response. He’d been so caught up in his thoughts, he hadn’t even noticed Conrad’s presence. A very dangerous oversight. “My apologies if I’ve kept you up. I was scouting our new surroundings and became…somewhat distracted.”

Conrad rose from the chair in which he’d been sitting and stalked closer. “So I assumed. Although I was surprised when you didn’t bring something home for the children. I trust you didn’t encounter any trouble tonight?”

Damian shook his head. “No. No trouble at all.” A guilty qualm unsettled him. “The children, are they…?”

“I fed them,” Conrad answered. “I took them out with me, in fact. I think you may be right about this place. I think it might turn out to be exactly what they need right now.”

“
Sí
. I hope so too,” Damian replied somewhat absently.

“You
hope
so?” Conrad smiled wryly. “Is that all you have to say about it? I thought for certain you’d take the opportunity to reiterate your complete conviction of the fact—as well as to remind me again how often you’re proved right.”

Damian blinked. Was Conrad teasing him? Well, it really was a night for surprises, wasn’t it? He smiled. “Let me apologize again, then, this time for being unclear. I meant simply that I
hoped
the matter was too obvious to
need
mentioning.”

Conrad chuckled softly. “My dear, you never fail to surprise me.” He took a step closer then froze, his nostrils flaring. A soft growl vibrated the night air.

Damian stifled the urge to back away. Conrad’s senses were always extremely acute and Damian was suddenly distressingly aware of the fact that he must reek of Paul.

“You said something about being distracted tonight?” Conrad murmured in dangerous tones. “Did anything occur that I need know about?”

Damian shook his head, striving for a disinterested tone. “No. I’ve just been sampling a little of the local population. I don’t think I’d realized how very tired I’d grown of the suburbs and their limited resources. I believe I may have over-indulged as a result.”

“I see.”

“In fact, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go to bed now. If you’d like, I’d be happy to take the children with me tomorrow evening when I go out. Perhaps you’d like a chance to…to find some entertainment for yourself.” Damian blinked at the words as soon as they were out. He was shocked to realize the idea didn’t upset him nearly as much as he’d thought it would. “It may do you some good.”

Conrad seemed surprised as well. “Yes, well, thank you, my dear. I’ll give your suggestion some thought.”

Damian nodded and headed toward the front door. In the evening, he’d make sure to subtly direct Conrad to either of the first two bars he’d visited tonight. He’d keep his knowledge of the last one, the one where he’d met Paul, to himself for now. He was aware of the sharp glance Conrad shot after him as he slipped inside the house. It sent a shiver down his spine. He could only hope the look in those narrowed eyes was laced with surprise rather than suspicion.

Chapter Eight

December 22, 2009

From his usual vantage point, on the elevated walkway that spanned one long wall in the warehouse, Marc leaned his forearms on the railing and swept the interior of the impromptu dance club with a glance. He nodded in approval. Everyone appeared to be behaving.

“It’s looking good down there tonight,” he murmured for the benefit of the guards that flanked him. “But stay alert. This is not time to get complacent.”

Just as he had on the roof earlier, he opened his senses. Not a trace of unrest stained the air tonight. Not a hint of distress. From the mass of bodies moving together on the dance floor, to the handful of couples occupying the chairs and couches in the lounge, everyone’s emotions seemed safely contained.

As always, he paid particular attention to the lounge—where most of the feeding took place. Located along the wall opposite his perch and separated from the dance floor by nothing more than a couple of steps and some velvet ropes, what the lounge lacked in privacy, it made up for in safety.
Everything
that occurred here tonight—or any night—took place under his watchful eye.

He had people standing by to assist him. He had emergency systems in place. But the ultimate responsibility lay with him. At the first hint of something gone wrong, he was ready to move. He was ready to instantly neutralize the danger. But
nothing
was going to go wrong. It was all under control.

As if seeking further proof, Marc’s eyes flicked to the view-screens set on top of the cage that housed the DJ and lighting equipment. The cameras merely confirmed what he already knew. It was a good night. The plan would work. It was
already
working. They were learning. Hearts, minds and base natures, he was winning them over to his way of thinking. He was molding them into model citizens, into vampires who knew how to channel their instincts, control their impulses and play nice—both with each other and their food. Soon, they’d be ready. Soon, he’d have everything he needed to win Conrad over as well.

His gaze dipped lower, sweeping the cage itself. His gut clenched as he remembered all that had occurred there. The cage was ready too, if the need arose, although that was something he saw no reason to mention. Heather had begged him to tear the chain-link monstrosity down. Nighthawk had even
volunteered
to do the job, with his bare hands, if necessary. But Marc had refused them both. That cage was an inescapable fact of their lives, or so he’d told them. It had been a turning point, the tragedy from which he was determined they were all going to rise.