The Brotherhood 2: Bite Me Page 5

  Julian laughed. Bree knew he’d heard every word, even above the pounding music, but instead of being unnerved, he looked amused. He reached forward and brushed his fingers against Bree’s cheek. “So full of life,” he said. “You overflow with vitality, Bree. Did no one ever tell you so?”

  Bree felt a chill crawl over his skin. Shit. Julian’s touch creeped him out, sure, but damn if it didn’t also set his cock to stirring, swelling into the start of a hard-on.

  “You grow so angry, so quickly,” the red-haired man whispered. His cool fingers pressed into Bree’s arms with almost, but not quite, enough force to leave a mark. One-fucking-hundred-percent at odds with his soft, chuckling tone. “What darkness lies within, that your first reaction is violence?”

  “So, you are threatening me.” Bree kept his voice level with an effort.

  “Oh, no! Fear not, Bree. I mean you no harm. I only want to enjoy the dance.”

  “Sure. That’s why you’re pulling the schizoid act.”

  “Me? Crazy? Bree, Bree, Bree.” Julian touched his lips to the curve of Bree’s ear, nipping lightly at a stud. “I do like these. I have never been one to favor piercings in excess, but they suit you. And, ah! I wander. Bree, I am as sane as you, though most men would, by now, doubt the balance of your own mind.”

  Bree’s stomach turned. “Let me go,” he said. His voice cracked for the first time, and he hated it, but damn if he weren’t getting desperate. “You’re nuts.”

  “Perhaps by the definition of some. However,” Julian said thoughtfully, “definitions can be awfully narrow, can’t they? Words. Words are limiting things. They try to box up all that a man is and can be in a neat collection of syllables that are, in the end, meaningless sounds floating in the air.” He kissed Bree’s ear again, this time suckling in a hoop.

  Bree moaned softly, unable to help himself. Julian laughed, a gentle buzz against his neck. “Men are so much more than words are able to express,” he murmured. The tip of his tongue slipped out to trace a pattern on Bree’s throat. “More than can be conceived of.” He bit ever so carefully, not breaking the skin, but sending a delicious, aching thrill of pain through Bree that went straight to his cock, which throbbed as it swelled harder still. “Yes,” Julian whispered. “You enjoy this. I knew that you would. I knew from the moment I saw you.”

  He bit harder.

  Bree felt a trickle of wet warmth run down his throat. Part of his mind began to scream. The other part buzzed with the power of a coke blast, making him dizzy with bliss. “I -- I --” he managed to stutter. “What are you --?”

  “Ssh.” Julian pressed a cool finger to Bree’s lips. “I’m not done yet.”

  More? Oh, my God, there’s more? Run. I should so run. This fucker just bit me!

  Why aren’t I running?

  Julian lapped at the trickle of Bree’s blood as it trailed down his throat. “You taste of dark, forbidden secrets,” he breathed. “There is so much inside you. So much that you hide not only from others, but from yourself, as well.” He lifted his mouth to kiss the small wound his teeth had caused. “I could show you,” he said. “Would you like that? Are you man enough to face the beast inside? You have the power to come out triumphant and stronger for it. I see this.” He took another taste of Bree’s blood with a small hum of pleasure. “I see you, Bree.”

  Bree struggled to shake his head. “No,” he managed to mutter. “No, you don’t. Can’t. Just met me. You don’t know me.”

  “But I do. I know so many, many things. I know who you really are beneath the masks you wear. I taste it in your blood. I know things you’ve never dared to dream of.” Bree felt Julian’s lips curve into a smile. “Yet.”

  He bit down again, hard. Bree couldn’t stop himself from letting out a small, startled scream of pain -- but as Julian’s lips and tongue followed the sting of his teeth, shock waves of orgasmic bliss blasted through him.

  What ... the ... hell? This is wrong. So wrong. This guy’s got a god-damned blood fetish! Run, you fucking moron! Kick him in the balls and run!

  “I would not.” Julian tightened his grip. “I have not yet finished here. Let me speak my piece, then -- Look! I will be generous for now. I will let you go, if you still want it.” His tongue traced a delicate, wet pattern on Bree’s throat. “If you truly want to leave me. Somehow, I feel sure you will stay or will want to.”

  Bree shook his head. The movement made his fresh wound sting. He bit back a cry of pain. Julian made a soft, sympathetic sound and drew Bree closer into his arms, burrowing his face against Bree’s neck. Licking, sucking, probing with the tip of his tongue. It should be sick. Instead, it made Bree hot. Hotter than the fires of hell.

  “What are you doing to me?” Bree said, his voice clogged with confusion and choked up with the swelling waves of arousal that just kept on coming despite the things Julian was doing to his body. “Stop it.”

  Julian shook his head, hair brushing soft and whisper-light against Bree’s cheek. “In a moment. The blood is still warm, and it flows yet.”

  Bree, have you lost it? Get. The. Hell. Away. From. Him!

  “Stay,” Julian murmured.

  Bree found himself surrendering. “What are you?” he demanded weakly. “Some kind of hypnotist with a blood jones?”

  Julian laughed, a delighted sound. “Oh, Bree. So lacking in imagination. We will teach you better.”

  “Says you.”

  “So brash, even now. Do you not understand what I could do to you?” Julian traced a runnel of blood with his lips. “I choose not to. Yet. But know that I could, I would, and not a soul in here would stop me.”

  Not a soul in here ... hey, wait. Bree froze in confusion. Damn good point. Even the horniest man, pumped up on techno and running with the rhythm of cock against cock, should have noticed that, oh, whoa, that guy is drinking the punk’s blood. Should we, like, do something about it?

  Damned if a soul had noticed, though. Or if they had, not a one of them was coming to his rescue.

  “Yes,” Julian said. “This is not the place to seek help, and no one will save you from me. Bree, Bree, you must realize what they already know. You don’t want to be rescued. You want me. Want this. Let me show you.”

  He bit down a third time.

  Fuck! Bree let out a stifled moan and felt himself sag against Julian’s lean, solid body. This shouldn’t be turning him on. How sick was he? He liked piercings, yeah. And he liked a little pain, fine. He’d admit that. But not being a snack. He didn’t even like S & M, much less blood-play. Any other guy would have long been crumpled up in a ball on the floor, clutching his bashed-up nuts, but Julian ... no. Too strong. Deceptively strong. Bree knew if he even lifted a knee to try, Julian would just snap his neck and say something calm like, “What a pity,” brush his hands, and walk away. The dancers would swarm in and writhe over his corpse until they’d destroyed it and never even notice.

  “Yes,” Julian murmured. “Now you understand, at least in part, some of my power.”

  Bree fought not to tilt his head back and open the bite wound wider for Julian to enjoy. The urge, though, just about killed him. He didn’t know where it came from. He didn’t have a death wish. Didn’t want to die. Did want to run screaming, but ... couldn’t.

  “Neither do you want to. Be honest with yourself, Bree. You have longed for one such as I for ages.”

  “No,” Bree gasped with one last show of nerve.

  Julian chuckled. “Lies taste of tears,” he said. “Bitter and sweet. Come, let me show you what you really want.”

  “Show me what I --”

  “Oh, yes, Bree. Yes. Like so.”

  Julian moved with the grace of a snake, hands sliding up and down Bree’s arms. Not letting up on his grip, not giving him a chance to break away, but Bree suddenly no longer wanted to. The feel of Julian’s palms set him on fire wherever they touched, blazing bursts of sensation that traveled bullet-fast, sniper-accurate, straight to his cock.

  Julian move
d closer still, shifting his hips so that his own erection not only bumped, but ground into Bree’s own. It would have hurt, normally. Too hard, too much, too rough. Julian just made it feel good. Better than anything or anyone ever before. The feel of his cock against Bree’s promised more than just the climax of his life. It promised the kind of orgasm he’d never forget, the Big One that everybody dreamed of and never quite found. Not in real life.

  Bree had known Julian wanted to fuck him. Now, he knew, somehow, that Julian wanted to possess him, too. Turn him inside out with sex and blood. Make him something new. Something that lived in the dark, where he’d always thought he belonged. Something powerful and mighty, without mercy. With blood and come, he’d wash Bree’s mind and body clear of everything and raise him up, a new man altogether.

  Images burst into his mind, powerful as bursting grenades. Visions of him and Julian, fucking. No, not just fucking -- consuming each other.

  Bree, on his knees, cheeks swollen as he swallowed Julian’s cock. Julian’s long white hands buried in the spikes of Bree’s hair, pulling hard. Julian pulling out each of Bree’s piercings, playing with them, sucking the holes they went through. Nipping sharp, silver kisses that would leave scars where each stud or hoop had been, replacing them with something even more intimidating.

  Bree, on his back in a bed softer than feathers, legs raised high, draped over Julian’s white shoulders. Julian leaning above him, dipping down for a red, wet kiss full of teeth. Julian drinking deep as he slid his cock into Bree’s hole with a wonderfully rough thrust and a strangely gentle caress of his hands on Bree’s arms.

  Julian, teeth crimson, rocking Bree in his embrace. Lifting his head to laugh, soft and low, pleased as a hellcat, brimstone burning in his eyes as he licked his lips clean of blood and come ...

  No. Fuck! No!

  Bree twisted himself with all his might. Whether Julian let him go or he’d startled the man, he didn’t know, but he was free. Inches separated them, but good enough. He’d gotten back far enough to stare up at Julian’s eyes. Those damned eyes that had haunted him from his first sight of them.

  No devil fires were to be seen. Julian’s gaze was amused, as if he’d proven a point. Gloating just a little, but not meanly. He looked pleased. Happy. Satisfied. Approving, as if Bree had just passed some kind of test.

  He kept his eyes focused on Bree. Fixed. Eternally patient.

  Bree stared back. His mouth worked, words bubbling up and not one of them making it out.

  Julian’s lips curved into a smile. Very deliberately, he snaked out his tongue and licked away a smear of red. Startled, Bree lifted his hand to his neck and felt a wet spot. Too wet for a messy kiss. Fuck! Still bleeding. How deep had Julian bitten him? And Christ -- why?

  “You’re sick,” he blurted at last. “What kind of freak are you?”

  Julian tilted back his head and laughed. Not insulted in the least. Bree couldn’t take his gaze away. His skin tingled with chills, but his damn cock reacted like the sound was pure Spanish fly, throbbing for the touch of Julian’s cool fingers. Unable to help himself, Bree imagined Julian’s teeth nibbling at the length of his erection. It horrified him that the notion didn’t horrify him.

  He shook his head, feeling suddenly cold. “Crazy,” he said. “You’re a crazy man. Stay the fuck away from me, Julian. I have friends here with me.”

  “You call them friends?” Julian tipped his head. “Do you? Are you close to them, then? I would say, no, you are not. By your own choice, of course.”

  “Liam!” Bree blurted. He blinked. Why had he chosen that name, of all the others? “I’m with Liam. Hurt me, and he’ll have your balls for breakfast.”

  As if! But damned if that didn’t do the trick! Julian raised his eyebrows and stepped back two paces. “I would not want to displease that one,” he said, thoughtful for the first time. “Very well. I will wait, then, for you to come to me of your own will.”

  “Like hell that’ll happen.” Bree wiped at a fresh trickle of blood running down his neck. “You’ll pay for that.”

  “Oh, I do hope so, Bree.” Julian reached out to him. Bree jumped back, but not before Julian had seized his hand and lifted it to his dangerous mouth for a kiss. “We’ll meet again, very soon, I think.”

  With that, he turned and walked away, free and easy, as if nothing had happened. Bree stared after him. He felt frozen as a corpse, scared one-hundred-percent shitless, baffled over why Liam of all people could give a man like Julian a moment’s pause, and him, damn his loins, hard as a rock and aching to be fucked.

  He shook himself hard. Got to get out of here. Not safe.

  “You can’t leave,” a voice whispered from nowhere. “You chose to walk in these doors, Bree. There is no running. Not any more. Not from yourself ... and not from me, now that I have found you.”

  Bree jerked around, eyes wild. “Julian!”

  He heard Julian’s soft laugh, but couldn’t see him anywhere. “You bastard!” he swore. “Leave me alone!”

  One more chuckle, then silence. Bree felt himself begin to shake as if he were about to snap from fear or come like he’d never come before. He couldn’t tell which, either.

  Damn the no-smoking laws, damn Julian, and damn Liam for getting him into this. Bree reached into his jeans pocket, where he’d stuffed a half-pack of cigarettes for luck. It’d been years since he quit, but he carried them around for the look of it. Thank fuck.

  Hands shaking, he managed to fish out his smokes and a lighter. He put one to his lips, lit it, and sucked in a deep, burning lungful of smoke. Stared at where Julian had been. He’d come back for Bree. He knew it.

  What would happen then? Would he go, no matter if it was to his death?

  Shit. He had the sick feeling that when Julian showed his face again, he wouldn’t be able to help himself. He’d gotten lucky once -- no. No, he hadn’t. Julian had let him go.

  He wouldn’t do that a second time.

  Bree exhaled the diluted smoke. Looked into the face of his death and what lay beyond, while it looked back, amused by his fear.

  Okay. Bring it on, then. Maybe I’ll go down tonight. But by God, I will go down fighting.

  Bree lowered his cigarette, staring into the crowd, not seeing anything but Julian’s face.

  Knowing it was just a matter of time

  Chapter Five

  All I wanted was one good night. A chance to get out and party. Get my hands on some ass, soak my shirt with sweat, dance until I couldn’t lift my feet anymore, and maybe, just maybe, find someone to share a moment with. One moment. I’ve spent way too fucking long wearing the Clark Kent persona -- at work, at the apartment. I wanted to go wild and find someone to take with me on the ride.

  I wanted to find some peace. There isn’t any peace for me, though, is there? The life I fell into, the ways I chose, who I am, it doesn’t let anything be simple. Complications. Always so many god-damned complications.

  I just want to be free. Instead, I get bitten by a blood freak, and I’m pretty damn sure he’s gonna try to kill me. What scares me most is ... touching him, I just about wanted it. No ... I craved it.

  Fuck. I gotta get out of here.

  “Hey!” A raucous shout jostled Bree out of his frozen reverie. He blinked to clear his eyes and saw a gym bunny with far too dark a tan and way too many muscles standing in front of him, hands on hips.

  “What do you want?” Bree snapped back.

  “Would you put that death stick out already? Some of us came here to have a good time, not to breathe in your secondhand poison.”

  Bree narrowed his eyes. Deliberately, he lifted the cigarette to his mouth and took in a long, sweet drag. He blew the smoke out at Gym Boy’s face. “You mean, this poison?”

  Gym Boy spluttered and coughed, not very convincingly. He twisted up his features in as much disgust as if Bree had spit on him. “Prick!”

  “Damn right. You want to try me out? Want a piece of me?” The guy might have muscles, but
Bree would bet anything he didn’t know a damn bit about street fighting. Playing it dirty. No, he stayed in his nice, safe gym, getting other pumped-up hunks of rock to spot him so he could stare at their cocks from below. He wouldn’t ever suspect anything like a fist to the throat or a kneecapping.

  The image of his aggressor collapsing to the floor, screaming in pain, filled Bree with a sudden blood-lust that ought to have been frightening, but ... wasn’t. He could just see the man curled around his wounds, screaming -- if Bree left him with enough breath to scream -- and just like when Julian had bitten him, no one taking a damn bit of notice.

  Bree’s breath began to come in quick, sharp pants. His hands itched, curling into fists. “Come on,” he whispered. “Try it. Just try. You know you want to. I’m just a little guy. Think you can take me? Attack. Give me your best fucking shot, asshole. Do it. Do it. Do it!”

  The gym bunny’s eyes had begun to fill with confusion, then with fear. “You’re crazy, man,” he said, voice shaking. “How’d you get in here, anyway?”

  Bree took another drag on his smoke. His grin felt too wide, too sharp. “I got friends.”

  “Are they all like you?”

  Bree thought briefly of Julian. A shudder of pure, raw lust ran through the length of his body. A hunger for blood and sex. “Some,” he said.

  The guy jerked back. “I’m calling the management,” he said, voice shaking. “You’re so out of here.”

  “Am I? Just as well. I was figuring to leave soon anyway.” Bree shrugged. “Got things to do. People to find.”

  James.

  The thirst for blood rose up strong and hot at the thought of his ex-lover. He knew where James lived, or had lived. He could track the bastard. Find his home. Probably find him in the middle of humping his latest fuck-toy.

  Bree’s mouth watered. He licked his lips, tasting smoke, blood, and the last traces of Julian. “Maybe I’ll start with you, though,” he whispered. His voice was low and rough, but it carried.

  The gym bunny shook his head. Scared as a -- a rabbit! Bree laughed out loud at the notion. At the sound, his would-be aggressor backed off a few more, panicky steps. “Don’t,” he said, voice shaking. “I’ll leave you alone. Don’t hurt me.”