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 |  Vampires and Undertakers have come to a solid truce, but that is all about to change. p1&2 |
| [Introduction] ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "All who are not lunatics are agreed about certain things : That it is better to be alive than dead, better to be adequately fed than starved, better to be free than a slave." -Bertrand Russell Sometimes, you cannot have all three. |
Part I Chapter One The fat bitch in the minivan in front of her wasn’t moving and it was really starting to piss Sam off. She was wasting time and gas idling here waiting for her turn in a fucked up excuse for a line that no one had any qualms about cutting each other off in. It seemed like everyone was in a huge hurry to get to the front of the line and then they dilly dallied once they got there just to piss everyone else behind them off. It was a conspiracy. She was absolutely sure of it. The cigarette in her fingers was the only thing keeping her from getting out of the car and smashing the bitch’s tail lights. That and the fact that she didn’t really feel like getting arrested today. More so the first one, but the second one seemed to be more of an inconvenience. Beside her, her little brother, Bobby, sat in the passenger seat with his head against the window, watching the kids talking on the sidewalk outside of the school. The streetlights were bright, illuminating the high fence with barbed wire around the top. It made it look more like a prison than a school, and if people were being honest with themselves, barbed wire wasn’t going to do jack shit to keep out hungry vamps. It was more the security guards with the silver bullets that swayed vamps from staying away from the schools than the fucking barbed wire. “Come on!” Sam yelled at last, one arm propped up on her open window, the smoke from her cigarette wafting out into the dark sky. She leaned partway out the window to yell at the minivan, “Move it you fat bitch! There are other fucking people in line back here!” The woman in the minivan in front of her only glanced her way before she went on talking to the other mom leaning in her window. Sam growled and leaned back in her seat, sucking down a harsh lungful of smoke, her hand tightening on the steering wheel. Bobby, glanced over at her, his eyebrow raised curiously and he was such a smarmy little shit sometimes she just wanted to smack him. But he must have been in a placating type of mood today. “We’re learning about weather today in science class,” he said conversationally. Sam raised an eyebrow and looked over at him, her messy ponytail falling over her shoulder. “Weather?” she asked. “The fuck kind of school are you going to? I’ll tell you everything you need to know. Once upon a time, there were four seasons – then one day the magical weather gods decided to take a shit on the world and after that there was just one long fucked up season of pitch fucking darkness. The end.” Sighing, Bobby smirked and shook his head. “There’s more to it than that. We’re learning about barometric pressure and tornadoes and stuff. And then I have to do a report on what a Nimbus cloud is.” “Bet that makes you feel smart,” Sam replied sarcastically, propping her head up on her hand as she glared daggers at the woman in front of her. If she didn’t move in thirty seconds, she was going to ram her. Bobby shrugged, “Yeah it kinda does,” he replied and it made her snort a laugh. The kid smiled and looked back out the window. She wondered what he was thinking and she decided she didn’t really want to know. Maybe he was disappointed that this was their life. Maybe he was thinking about how he had no friends at school, and she knew this for a fact because he never went to anyone’s house and no one ever came to his. No one ever called for him and he never called anyone either. Sometimes she wondered if there was something wrong with her kid brother, but most of the time she just wondered what the fuck was wrong with the rest of the world that no one wanted to be Bobby’s friend. One of the smartest, greatest kids that ever lived. “That does it,” Sam said at last, flicking her cigarette out into the street before she leaned out the window again and screamed at the woman, “Hey you dumb fucking whore, move that ugly piece of shit or I will come over there and break your fucking nose!” she laid on the horn, ignoring the way the kids on the sidewalk were turning to look at her or some of the parents were giving her disapproving looks. She didn’t give a shit what any of them thought. The woman in front of her huffed and then flicked her off in the rearview mirror before she finally moved her ugly minivan out of the way. “About fucking time,” Sam muttered, pulling her beat up old Sedan into the spot and putting it in park. She turned in her seat to look at Bobby, who was pulling his backpack off the floor and making sure he had everything. The kid was always prepared for anything. “Okay, see you later,” Bobby said, opening his door and climbing out onto the sidewalk. Sam snorted. “Yeah, bye,” she mumbled. She didn’t expect Bobby to close the door and lean against it, sticking his head back in through the open window. She frowned at him and he was watching her face like he wanted to ask her something serious or some shit. Finally, he sighed and asked, “Are you going to be home for dinner tonight?” Sam swallowed and looked out the windshield so she wouldn’t have to see her little brother’s face. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her cigarette’s, pounding one out into her fist. “You’re on your own tonight again,” she said, trying to sound like she didn’t care. “I’ve got shit to do.” He was quiet a moment and Sam held her cigarette, digging for her lighter as she turned to look at him. He was looking down at the seat with a dejected look on his face, but then his eyes rose to meet hers again. “Is it Roman?” he asked. Her eyes instantly narrowed at him. They’d come to an agreement a while ago that he wouldn’t ask her about this shit. “Why the fuck do you care who it is?” she snapped, harsher than she meant to. “Because if it’s Roman, then I know you’ll come home safe,” Bobby said and the words made her heart beat a little faster and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe the guilt she felt at putting her brother through that daily worry and fear that this was the last time they’d see each other. She tried to tell herself it came with the job. But deep down she knew. It came with what she was. What she’d become. Shoving the cigarette between her lips, she lit it and spoke around it, saying, “You shouldn’t trust any fucking Fangs, whether they’re legal or not.” Bobby shrugged. “Well, he knows if something happens to you, he’d be the first one they’d look at.” She knew that was true too. Pulling the cigarette out from between her lips, she blew the smoke out the window and looked out the front windshield again. “I’ll be late,” she said, the words painful on the way out. “Okay,” Bobby answered quietly. “Well there will be spaghettios in the fridge when you get home.” The words made her smirk and she turned to watch him pull away from the car and head towards the school. She felt her heart breaking a little that he was basically growing up along. She was all he had and she hoped he knew that it went the same with her. He was all she had too. “Hey,” she called, leaning forward a little so she could see him better. He paused to turn back and look at her, his messy dirty blonde hair getting in his eyes. He was going to need a haircut soon. “I love you, bratkin.” He laughed a little and then nodded. “I love you too, Sam.” Then she pointed her cigarette at him. “Don’t fuck up in school.” Bobby just rolled his eyes and turned back around, heading inside. She watched him until he disappeared through the doors and once he was out of her sight, she let out a sigh, running her hands over her face. Some days she just felt at a loss for what she was doing with her life. What she was doing with Bobby’s life. Some days she just wished she could be what her brother needed her to be. But the wounds and scars on her arms, hidden by her sleeves, reminded her that she wasn’t and probably never would be. The car behind her started honking their horn and she growled, turning to lean out her window and flip them off viciously. “Go suck a dick!” she screamed loudly, making the kids on the sidewalk turn to look at her again. She saw the mother in the car flip her off in turn and Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Oh it’s on like donkey kong, she-bitch,” she murmured, flinging open her door and stomping back across the pavement to the car. The woman inside was giving her an incredulous look and she heard her yelp as Sam lifted her foot and kicked her headlight in, smashing it and then kicking her tire and pointing a finger at the woman’s face. “Have a little fucking patience,” she snapped at her. Then she turned around and headed back to her car. |
| Roman waited impatiently on the sidewalk for the light to change. He kept his hood up and his head down, his hands shoved in his pockets. It just made life easier if no one noticed what he was this far on the edge of the slums. He lived in the closed off section of the city reserved for vampires. It was a requirement for his kind. They all lived in the tall apartment buildings, crammed together in small spaces that wouldn’t have been enough for a human but were supposed to be enough for a vampire. He’d lived hundreds of years and all of the physical proof of that had to be condensed so that it could fit in a room barely bigger than a prison cell. When the curfew bells tolled, anyone that wasn’t behind those gates found themselves at the mercy of the undertakers, and they didn’t have much mercy in them. It had taken him too long to figure that out. Outside of those gated walls and bright lights were the slums. Mostly bars and nightclubs, there were a few empty warehouses thrown in there where humans were drained illegally and vamps got their kicks from blood laced with every kind of drug humans could think up. He knew where half of them were, but then so did the undertakers. They got a payoff for keeping their mouths shut. Some of them probably offered up their own blood just for the cash and Roman couldn’t help the surge of disgust he felt at that. He kept out of it. He kept his nose clean and subscribed to their programs like a good little boy. In return, three times a week a woman came to his apartment and let him take what he needed from her blood. He didn’t ask if she was a volunteer. He didn’t ask if she was a junkie. He took what he thought she could spare and then he supplemented the rest with cold bags from the blood bank. A car roared by, splashing water up onto the sidewalk and over his boots. He shifted uncomfortably as it soaked into the bottoms of his jeans but it didn’t matter. He was already cold. He always got this way until he fed and he hadn’t done that yet today. “Man, I don’t care if she is a Fang. I’d still fuck her.” The laughter came from behind him. Roman kept his head down. “Don’t be fucking stupid, she’d bite your dick off.” He heard the thump as one man hit the other in the shoulder. “Only if I put it in her mouth,” he shot back. “Not if I put it in her ass.” They stopped next to him, waiting for the light to change. Roman’s shoulders tensed and his eyes focused on the light across the street and not on the two men next to him. They were children compared to him, weak and stupid. One of them was smoking and it curled up in front of him as he waved his cigarette at his friend. “You’re a fucking moron.” The man laughed and shook his head, kicking a stray beer can into the street. Another car roared by, headlights bright in the ever present darkness. “Only way a Fang’s going to let you fuck her in the ass is if you take her teeth out first.” “Maybe we should do that to all of them anyway,” he said. “Wouldn’t be half so fucking dangerous then, would they?” The two of them laughed and Roman’s teeth ground together in his head. He could smell their blood rushing in their veins and the sudden hunger roared in his chest, fed by anger and bitterness. His hands were fists in his pockets and he couldn’t wait anymore. He stepped off the sidewalk into traffic and moved across the crosswalk with inhuman speed. He heard the startled hiss of surprise from behind him but he didn’t turn around, not even when he was on the other side of the street. His steps were quick as he walked to the bar, and he couldn’t stop the uneasiness every time he went to work that he was going to get stopped by an undertaker or worse. It had happened before and the way the streets were these days it would happen again. The bar was on the edge of town, between human territory and the vampire slums. Pretty much all the patrons were humans, so he should have been used to the slurs and threats by now. The only other vampire working there was one of the waitresses and she was still there because she wasn’t part of the programs. Drunk humans were more likely to offer her a vein than sober ones. The anger stayed with him as he pushed open the back door, his constant companion anymore. It lingered in his chest like a dark weight, poisoning his veins and his thoughts. Sometimes he wondered if it wouldn’t be better if he just stopped trying to play by their rules. He had lived a long time, long enough to remember what it was like before humans even knew his kind existed. It made this bitterness worse, but he kept it to himself. He kept his thoughts hidden and his head down because it was easier and safer that way. Tessa was in the kitchen and she wasn’t alone. The man had his back pressed against the wall and she kept him pinned there with fingers splayed against his chest. Her mouth was moving against his neck and his eyes were closed, head tipped back and lips parted. She pulled away when she heard Roman come in. Her tongue snaked out to lick the blood from her lips and his eyes flicked to the man’s neck out of instinct. There was blood pooling on his skin, the marks she’d put there jagged and deep. He could smell the metallic tang of his blood from across the room, making the hunger already in his gut that much worse. “Roman,” she said. A smile curled her lips and then she turned to lick blood off the man’s skin. “You’re early.” He pushed the hood back from his head letting dark, wavy hair fall loose around his face. “Needed to pick up a six-pack,” he told her. He hung his coat on the hook and rubbed at his arms afterwards, his skin cold to the touch. She laughed at him, a mean, mocking thing as she pressed herself against her human. He was smiling, eyes lidded and hazy as her hands wandered over his chest, tugging at his shirt and nipping at his skin. The man had his hands resting on her hips, the short skirt leaving just enough to the imagination. “Right,” she drawled, flipping the long blonde ponytail over her shoulder. She wasn’t looking at Roman, lapping up the escaping drops of blood from his throat. “I forgot that it’s Monday. Your mule comes over tonight.” He didn’t respond to that. Tessa thought about him the same way his father did, that he was pathetic and weak and a coward for following their rules. There was no point in arguing with either of them when he wasn’t sure they were wrong. What was he supposed to do? Launch a war against the rest of the city? Attack and kidnap humans like some others of his kind did? Change would come. He could be patient until it did. He left her there with her human, ignoring the need and the hunger he felt at the smell of blood. He bought a six-pack from Artie before stashing in the kitchen and pulling the apron around his waist. It was a slow night. It didn’t surprise him but it left him too much time to just stand there with his arms braced on the counter as he watched the television in the corner. He could hear laughter from the table in the corner, three men and two women crowded into a booth. At some point Tessa came back, every strand of hair back in place and her mouth clean and bloodless. He didn’t ask her where her new friend had gone. If he didn’t know the answer he couldn’t be held responsible later. Artie stayed on his end of the bar, hitting on two girls that were probably too young to be drinking anywhere, let alone on the edge of the vampire district. There was only one of his kind in the bar tonight, and he was down at the end where the shadows were darkest. He was buying drinks, but they were all for the young man next to him, a kid who didn’t look like he knew what he was getting into. Roman didn’t know if he was legal or not. It wasn’t his job to question. It wasn’t his job to care. He got him his drinks and left him alone, gaze wandering to the window and the darkness outside. Every few minutes a light would sweep by and cast golden light across the floor. He heard the man’s footsteps before he approached, uneven as he stumbled up to the bar. He leaned heavily against it and waved his hand to get Roman’s attention. His friends giggled quietly at the table behind him. “Hey Fang,” he called loudly. The silence was immediate and deafening. At the end of the bar he saw the vampire lift his head, a frown on his face as his gaze flicked from the human to Roman. Artie turned his head away from the girls to glance their way. Roman’s jaw clenched immediately, knuckles white around the bar. It was an effort to keep the tightlipped smile on his face. “Yes?” he asked, voice calmer than he felt. The man grinned, emboldened by the response. “Get me a bottle of Heineken,” he said, jerking his head at Roman. His friends were watching, the girls giggling quietly. One of the men whispered something in her ear and he thought for a moment that he hated all of them. He hated what they had made of him and some days he thought he fed more on the hate than he did blood. He did as the man said anyway, keeping the smile on his face as he popped the lid off and set it on the counter. “That’ll be 3.50,” he told him. He crossed his arms over his chest, fingers digging tightly into his arms. The man snorted, not touching the bottle yet. “I want it in a glass,” he said. His friends tittered away behind him. Roman’s eyes narrowed but he pulled the glass out from under the bar anyway, emptying the bottle inside it before tossing it in the garbage can. A grin curled the man’s lips and Roman tried not to care. He knew this game. See how hard they could push the vampire, knowing that they wouldn’t push back. Not with undertakers around every corner, not with them so close to the edge of their territory. He hated it. Some days he thought he hated all humans and his dependency on them even more. The man lifted his glass to Roman before bringing it towards his mouth. It never made it. He poured it forward, splashing the beer across the counter with a wicked grin. “Oops,” he said. “Looks like I spilled it. You want to wipe that up for me?” He smirked. “And get me another one when you’re done.” He pulled the towel from over his shoulder, dropping in down on the puddle of beer before yanking another from the fridge and slamming it down on the counter. The man was watching him with a grin on his face while Roman pulled a glass from under the counter and filled it up again. He started reaching for it but before he could he knocked it over with the back of his hand, spilling beer over the bar and onto his pants. The man shouted and stood up quickly, brushing at his soaking clothes. “Looks like I spilled it,” Roman said. He kept the smile on his face but he felt the anger burning beneath his skin and it was nothing like what he wanted to do. Only decades of self-control kept his hands steady and his fangs in his mouth. The man was cursing and yelling when the hand settled on his shoulder. He glanced back to see Artie standing behind him, a frown on his face. “Roman,” he said, his tone sharp and annoyed. He didn’t know if the annoyance was for him or for the man with beer soaking into his jeans. “Why don’t you head on back for a minute and let me handle this.” He ripped the apron off and tossed it down on the counter. Tessa stood in the corner with a smirk on her face as he stalked into the kitchen. Behind him he could hear the man snarling as he pulled the offered towel from Artie’s fingers. His girlfriend had come over with a stack of napkins and was wavering on her feet as she pressed them against his chest. “Fucking crazy Fang,” he snapped. “Don’t see why the undertakers don’t just put them all down like the dogs they are.” Roman slammed the door behind him and his fingers were around the first thing within reach. He flung his six-pack of beer against the wall, feeling some small satisfaction as it smashed into pieces and showered glass upon the floor. |
| Sam had her own cubicle. Some people called her lucky because she didn’t have to share her cube with anyone, but she didn’t consider having a cubicle, shared or not, to be any form of lucky. She’d never seen herself as a cubicle type of person. When she was fourteen, all she’d dreamed about was being a dancer. She’d been a dancer for thirteen years, since she was five. But that had all gone out the window after her parents had died. Dancers didn’t make money. Undertakers did. She hadn’t always been behind a cube. The award in her desk drawer for rookie of the year out of the academy told otherwise. It hadn’t lasted long. They’d needed money. So she’d signed up to be a feeder. After that, it all went downhill and at the bottom of the hill was a fucking cubicle with an archaic computer and a stack of papers she didn’t have a clue what the fuck to do with. The magazine in front of her modeled off some blonde vamp in a skimpy little underwear getup and Sam wondered what had happened to all the normal models. All you saw lately were vamps. Maybe they were good looking, but they were fucking freaks. She turned the page angrily, sucking in a lungful of smoke before blowing it out the side of her lips and into the cube next to her. Flora sat there, but her seat was empty and Sam bet she knew where that old hag had run off to. Probably to get Howard. Probably to go whining to Howard that the office smelled like smoke and the papers were passed due to be completed and that her thighs were the size of fucking holiday hams. The woman was a bitch. A stuck up bitch and Sam hadn’t said two words to her since the first day she’d started this new detail. “Sam,” came Howard’s voice and sure enough, as soon as she heard it, Flora sank into her chair at her cubicle. Sam glanced over at her and snorted, purposely blowing smoke over the cube wall and into her face. The woman coughed and waved her hand in front of her face, but didn’t turn to look at her. She rolled her eyes and turned her attention to Howard, who had come over to lean against her desk. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs at the ankles and smiled up at him. “Can I help you?” she asked sweetly. Howard smirked, jerking his head at the cigarette hanging between her fingers. Sam smirked and threw the cigarette with a hiss into the half full coffee cup on her desk. Howard snorted and picked up the cup, tossing it into the trash before turning back to her. “Sam, you’re fired,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Rolling her eyes, she turned back to her desk, propping her elbows on either side of the magazine and resting her head in her hands as she continued reading about the vamp model and her hundreds of years of life and blah blah blah. “Fuck you, no I’m not,” Sam told him. Grabbing the empty chair next to them, Howard pushed it in beside her and sat down. “Alright then,” he said nonchalantly. This was the game they played. She didn’t think a day had gone by in the past two months where Howard hadn’t fired her. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to tell if he ever really meant it one day. He reached out to grab the magazine away from her and she sighed loudly, turning to watch as he leafed through the pages before he tossed that onto the empty desk as well. “I miss the normal girls,” he said. “Vamps are too pale.” “You wouldn’t fuck a Fang?” Sam asked, hearing Flora gasp a little at the vulgarity of her question. It made her feel warm and gooey inside to know she was making the bitch uncomfortable. She saw Howard glance Flora’s way and then lean so he could see the woman. “Flora,” he said and the woman turned to look at him. “Give us a minute?” The woman looked wide eyed at him and then nodded, getting up and heading into the break room. Sam watched her waddle away and then kicked at the woman’s empty chair, sending it spinning around in place before she looked back at Howard. “You know she steals paperclips?” Sam asked, lifting an eyebrow at him. Howard waved his hand at her. “Yeah, I know,” he said dismissively and then scooted a little closer, looking her in the eye. “Sam, there’s something I want to ask you.” Sam gave him a suspicious look and he just smiled at her. “Well, something I want to tell you, really.” He sighed, like he was stumbling over his thought process. Finally, he shook his head and just said, “Go to dinner with me.” She couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her throat. She cut it off with a hand over her mouth before she shook her head and wiped the smile off her face. “Isn’t that sexual harassment?” “Nah,” Howard said, shaking his head. “It’s just inappropriate. Sexual harassment would be if I said, go to dinner with me or you’re fired.” He paused and then tilted his head. “If I said it like that, would you say yes?” “No,” Sam said dryly. “Can I have my magazine back?” she asked, pointing to it on the desk. Howard ignored her question, that bright smile still on his face as he scooted closer. “Come on, Sam,” he said, leaning one arm over the cube wall casually. “What do I have to do to get you to go to dinner with me?” “It’s not happening,” she said, running her hand over her face and already wishing she had another cigarette. She crossed her legs, her dark jeans torn in the knees and frayed at the bottom. She was the only one in the office who wore jeans and tennis shoes to work. She’d probably be the only one who got away with it too. All because her boss wanted to fuck her. That’s why she never got written up for smoking or swearing or not doing work. She figured that’s also why she hadn’t lost her job completely. Howard had pulled a lot of strings to get her where she was. Desk jockey, but getting paid. “I could take you some place nice,” Howard said, his voice lowering. He dropped his head so he was looking up at her. “Expensive.” Sam smirked and gave a sultry chuckle, leaning forward so her ponytail fell over her shoulder, her face close to his. “It’s not money that turns me on,” she whispered to him. Then she leaned back and smirked when he started to lean forward to follow her. She turned abruptly and pulled a stack of papers over to her, pretending to go through them. Howard stood, leaning over her and she smiled genuinely when he leaned his head down in front of hers. “Oh?” he asked playfully. “And what turns you on?” Sam shook her head, lowering her voice as well. “You’ll have to figure that out yourself.” Snorting, Howard stood up, moving back and letting her have her space back. He laughed and she felt his hand on her shoulder. She immediately stiffened against her will, but if he felt it, he didn’t say anything or react. “I look forward to finding out,” he said. Then he turned and walked away. Sam watched him go and the playful smile slipped from her face. He was going to be disappointed. He didn’t know how far gone she was. It had been so long since she’d had any meaningful relationships. The only thing she looked forward to now was being a god damned junkie. |
| There was something to be said about a city with no day. The bars never closed. There was no point, not when it was night all the time and half the population didn’t care when they went to sleep. The clocks kept ticking, telling people whether it was two o’clock in the afternoon or two o’clock in the morning, but those numbers weren’t important anymore. The only thing that mattered was curfew. As long as the vamps got behind their gates when those bells went off, nobody gave a shit if they were drinking before five. “You heading out?” Artie asked, leaning his head in through the door. Roman stood in the kitchen, pulling the apron from around his waist. The rest of his shift had been the same old shit. The same slurs, or the same pointed dismissal as they waved Artie over instead because who knew what a fucking Fang might do to their drink. The same junkies begging for his attention. “Have to get in before curfew, don’t I?” Roman said. He kept his voice cold and emotionless but he felt the hate all the same. Artie snorted and he glanced back out the bar for a moment when someone yelled his name. He laughed and held up a hand. “One minute babe, I swear.” Then he turned back around, stepping into the kitchen and letting the door swing shut behind him. Roman wasn’t sure what he wanted, wasn’t sure he cared, but the man looked uncomfortable, crossing his arms under his chest and chewing on his lip. “That guy almost called the undertakers on you,” he said abruptly. Roman snorted, pulling his coat on over his broad shoulders. “I spilled a beer,” he spat. It was stupid and petty and he couldn’t stop it from getting under his skin. He hated this city. He hated this place and the people in it and every day he felt that a little stronger than he did the day before. He was old and he was powerful and he served them beers and bent to their laws because it was simpler. “I know,” Artie said. Then he shrugged his shoulders. “But it doesn’t matter to him and it wouldn’t matter to them.” “I’ll see you tomorrow Artie,” Roman said. “See you tomorrow.” The man sighed and shook his head but he gave him a wave goodbye before heading back out into the bar. Roman watched the doors swing shut behind him but through them he could still see the cloudy, smoke filled bar. There had been a point before people knew his kind existed when that was ideal hunting ground. They were sloppy, stupid cattle and they should be afraid of vampires because if he wanted any of them dead they would be. Instead he was reduced to something less, something they could control so that they could feel safe in their beds at night. He allowed it. Some days he wondered why. The streets were lit with bright lights, pools of it illuminating his walk home. He kept his hood up and his head down and he ignored everyone he passed, human and vampire alike. He didn’t care what they did in back alleys. He cared that the undertakers didn’t notice him and that was all. He’d been stopped before and it didn’t matter if half of them just wanted to do their job and protect their own. There was still that other half that hated his kind and wouldn’t hesitate to teach him a lesson about looking too suspicious. He lived in a uniform apartment building that looked the same as the one next to it and the one next to that. Thick black numbers on the side were the only way to tell them apart. Someone had tried planting trees in the grass beside them but they were all dead. As soon as he entered the stairwell he knew she was here. He smelled the lingering traces of smoke, trying to mask the other scents that made up Sam. He was used to them by now, but as soon as he realized it was her he felt the hunger hit him hard and fast. He paused on the steps, hand tightening around the railing as it clawed away at his insides. He hadn’t eaten today and his body was reminding him of it now. His senses heightened, eyes dilating and nostrils flaring. His fangs were sharp points in his mouth, jaw clamped tightly shut. Sharp need lanced through him and he had to take a moment to try and wrestle it under control. She had a way of knocking him off balance. “Do you fucking want something? Because the heavy breather bullshit is getting old.” He heard her voice from inside the stairwell, spitting the words out like venom. He pushed the door open with one hand, glancing down the carpeted hallway towards his apartment. Sam stood outside it, one leg braced against the wall as she waited. A cigarette dangled from one hand, her other hand at her side and fingers caressing the knife she kept there. Her eyes were narrowed with irritation. Her words had been directed at the vampire across the hall. He leaned against the door frame, a smirk on his face as he just watched her. His gaze flicked towards the door when Roman came in and he saw something like disappointment color his features before he slid back inside. The door shut with a quiet click and Sam snorted before turning her head to see what had distracted him. When she saw Roman she straightened, pointing her cigarette at his approach. “It’s about fucking time,” she spat. “I’ve been out here for like an hour. You could’ve at least left a key under the mat or something for me.” Roman lifted an eyebrow, moving next to her to unlock the door. “I was working,” he said calmly. She rolled her eyes, flicking ash off onto the carpet before putting the cigarette back between her lips and taking a thick drag off it. “I can tell,” she said, letting out a breath of smoke with the words. “You smell like grease and beer.” “Should I tell you what you smell like?” he asked, pocketing his keys as soon as he was in the door. He kept his back to her, trying to ignore the spiraling need clawing at his gut. He could smell the blood rushing in her veins; hear the quiet thud of her heartbeat inside her chest. It was worse because it was her, because that was why she was here. He could already taste it on his tongue, already feel it burning a path down his throat and he hated the desperation with which he craved it. It was a hunger, never sated, never dulled. He stripped off his coat and tossed it over the armchair. The coffee table was still overturned from that morning and he paused to right it before tossing the cushions back on the couch. “Let me guess,” Sam said dryly. “Smoke, coffee, sweat?” He heard her shut the door behind them but he didn’t look back. He walked around the couch to the sink, suddenly annoyed by the cramped space. “Blood.” He washed his hands and his arms with hot water but even after splashing it across his face he didn’t feel any warmer, not with the ache gnawing away at him. He heard her laugh in response, whether it was real or fake didn’t matter. “Of course,” she said. “That would have been my next guess. Right before ‘steak’ and ‘veal.’” Roman snorted but didn’t respond to that. He ran warm water over his face again, his skin cool to the touch. He could hear Sam’s footsteps on the floor behind him, wandering his apartment while she waited. She was restless tonight. “You are the messiest fucking Fang I know,” she said abruptly. He finally glanced over his shoulder at her but she wasn’t even looking at him. The slur didn’t surprise him anymore, not from her. He knew how she felt about his kind. Sometimes he wondered why she was here, when she looked like she’d rather be anywhere else in the world. “You realize half this shit is broken, right?” She paused near one of the shelves, picking up a book with two fingers. The binding was taped together, the pages falling out anyway onto the floor. The bookend that had been holding it there was split in half anyway, the other half long ago reduced to dust. He dried his face off with a towel before turning around, leaning his back against the sink. She was turning over a statue of a small bronze eagle in her hands. His wing was broken off and Gaius had never forgiven him for that. “Make yourself at home,” he said dryly, watching her paw carelessly through his memories. At least she didn’t touch the crooked paintings or the sword and shield. He had lived a long time. Proof of it was on the walls, the rest of it was in his bones. She snorted after a moment, putting the eagle back on the shelf. “Didn’t know we still had to go through that fake ice breaker bullshit.” She walked over to the couch, flopping down on it with her arms spread across the back. “You watch the news lately? You want to talk about the weather? How about that Fang that got fucking strung up in downtown yesterday?” Roman stiffened, crossing his arms over his chest. “What about it?” He couldn’t stop the trace of bitterness in his voice. She shrugged her shoulders, kicking her feet up on his battered coffee table. “Was he a friend of yours?” His eyes narrowed, eyes scanning her face as she watched him with a smirk on her face. It was enough to churn the bitterness and hate already in his stomach, and if anything it made the hunger worse. “No,” he said, and then he bit down on his tongue before he said anymore. He doubted she would care if he was. He doubted she cared any time a vampire was murdered. He doubted she would even care if it had been him. Strung up and cut open, a silver knife used to etch a cross onto his forehead. It could have been religious extremists or undertakers gone too far, or just enough people that fucking hated vampires. It didn’t matter. He pulled a beer from the fridge, cracking the lid off on the edge of the counter. She watched him as he walked over to her and offered it with one hand. A smile pulled at her lips but he didn’t believe any of them. He trusted her about as much as she trusted him. “You give me something to drink, I give you something to drink, that it? Tit for tat?” “If that’s how you want to look at it,” he said. She laughed and then took it from him, taking a long pull from the bottle. Then she leaned forward, settling it on the coffee table and resting her arms across her knees. One hand toyed with the ends of her sleeves, watching him carefully as he settled on the couch next to her. He held himself stiffly, jaw tight and fangs sharp in his mouth. The jagged edges of hunger were clawing away at him and he wondered if she could see that on his face. “Say please,” she told him, tilting her head to the side. It was cruel. It cut at the already tattered pieces of his pride, and he thought again that he hated all her kind with every fiber of his being. He wondered what she would do if he tried to force it from her. There was a point in his life where he would have, but even as he thought it he knew those days were past. His hands curled into fists and he saw the smile widen on her lips. “Please,” he said, through gritted teeth. |
| She watched him a moment longer, the cruel smirk on her lips lingering as she began to roll up her sleeve, exposing her forearm and the crook of her elbow. She had scars along her arm, twin punctures littered about, but it wasn’t as bad as her other arm. It wasn’t as bad because Roman had decided a while back to always draw from the same spot. She wasn’t sure why he’d decided it. She doubted it was out of consideration for the marks he left on her skin. Maybe he’d just found a good spot and decided to stick with it. Maybe it was because he was the only one who fed from her legally. The others didn’t give a shit as long as they got their meal. Roman was hungry today. She could tell by the look on his face when he’d sat down next to her on the couch. There was longing there in his eyes and they didn’t meet her own, but kept plastered on her arm. He was like a fucking dog waiting for a treat, eyes wide and body rigid, never leaving that small morsel of food. They all got like that. Even the vamps who fed on her illegally. But mostly Roman was the worse with his hunger. It was because he stuck by the rules. “Good boy,” she said viciously, act like a dog, she’d treat him like a dog and she held her arm up to him. His eyes flicked to her face and she saw the anger and hate play across his features before he grabbed her arm and sunk his fangs down into her skin, on top of the scars he’d put there last Friday, and last Wednesday, and last Monday. He fed from her three days a week. At first it had been enough for her. She’d hated it at first, but the money was a good supplement for an Undertaker’s wage. It had stopped being about the money a long time ago. It didn’t take long for the familiar feeling to wash over her. Leaning back, she let her head fall back against the couch, her lips slightly parted and her eyes closed as the euphoria coursed through her. A warm, tingling lightness swept over her skin, her head swam and her limbs felt heavy, but it was pure and intoxicating bliss. This was what she’d become, this was what she’d come to crave and desire and no matter what she did, nothing ever compared to this. Nothing compared to having a vamp’s fangs in her skin. Roman held tightly to her arm and she let her head fall to the side to watch. He wasn’t looking at her. He wasn’t looking at anything, really. He was feeding and he looked content and vicious all at once. He was a neat feeder. Less messy than some of the others. He was gentler too, but his grip was still firm and controlling. He took as much as he needed, never as much as he wanted. It was like night and day compared to the others and Sam wondered not for the first time if Roman was just a better vampire, or if he was just scared of the consequences if she turned him in for mistreatment. It went too quickly today. Sam’s eyes slipped shut and the lids were almost too heavy to open again. She only managed to get her eyes half-lidded and then Roman’s own eyes flicked to hers and he was pulling back from her arm with a jerk, his mouth open and blood lining his lips and teeth. He licked it away and started lowering her arm back down to her side. She smiled at him as she saw the blood dripping down from the two holes in her arm. “You should lick your plate clean,” she slurred and his grip tightened around her skin for a moment. He stared at her and that anger and hatred was back on his face before he shoved her arm away and stood violently. She laughed as she watched him stalk back towards his tiny bathroom, running the water and splashing it over his face again. Bringing her other hand over to her arm, she covered the wound, but she didn’t move to get up off the couch or lean forward. Her head rolled along the back of the couch and she looked at the door and at his apartment and the high always lasted a while after the feeding stopped. Blinking heavily, she chuckled to herself and called out to him, “When’s the last time you went on a date?” She rolled her head back around to look at him. Roman leaned back against the sink, wiping his hands off on a towel, a scowl on his face as he watched her. “You should go once you can walk,” he said lowly, venom in his voice. The words made Sam laugh, her head tipped back and mouth open. She grinned afterwards and waggled her eyebrows at him. “Oh, sore spot, huh?” she asked and then, with a worrying amount of effort, she pushed herself forward. Her head spun and the world tilted, but she managed to keep herself upright as she looked at him. “Or you just don’t want to get personal?” “Something like that,” Roman growled. It earned a snort from Sam and she pushed herself up. She wavered on her feet for a moment before shaking her head and trying to head to the door. “Fucking Fang,” she spat back at him and she was surprised at the anger in her own voice. Her knee hit the corner of the coffee table and almost sent her back to the floor with a string of curses pouring from her lips. Behind her, Roman just stood watching. Turning around she pointed at him, tugging her pack of cigarettes out of her pocket with her other hand. “You better be nice, or I may just not show up on Wednesday.” She tipped her head to the side. “Maybe I’ll get the flu. What would you do then? What would you do if I didn’t show up?” Roman’s jaw was tight and his brow furrowed, but his voice remained neutral and calm. “Go hungry,” he said. “Well,” Sam said, the cruel smirk back on her face. She lit up her cigarette and the high was starting to clear from her head, but she’d feel lingering effects for hours. She puffed in a lungful of smoke and blew it out into his apartment. “We wouldn’t want that, would we?” she asked, flicking ash off onto his carpet. She thought she could hear him growl from all the way over here. “No,” he grit out. “We wouldn’t.” The words made Sam grin and she licked her lips, nodding her head. “Alright then,” she said. “See ya Wednesday, Fang,” she called, waving her hand dismissively over her shoulder as she turned and opened the door. She turned back around to wink at him as she closed it behind her and she saw his face darken before he was out of sight. She stood on the other side of the door for a moment, willing her head to clear a little bit more. There were a lot of vampires out here and if she walked home completely blasted, she’d be like a walking target for them. As soon as she started walking away from the door, she heard something smash up against it and she heard Roman’s angry yell from inside his apartment. It just made her laugh. |
| Roman shredded the apartment after she left. He couldn’t stop himself. The blood burning its way down his throat and the anger burning a hole in his chest wouldn’t let him hold still. He kicked the coffee table over after throwing her abandoned beer bottle against the door in a fit of rage. His fingers gripped the thick curtains, yanking them down and illustrating just how fucking small this place was. It was nothing he would have chosen for himself but his kind wasn’t allowed much choice in anything anymore. She would have mocked him if she’d witnessed his tantrum. She would have ridiculed and taunted him and laughed the whole time and he didn’t know why she still had the power to hurt him and the pathetic remnants of his pride. She had made him beg and he had done so because he was a slave to his hunger and his need. This was what her kind had reduced him to. A dog. A yell left his lips and he slammed his fist into the wall, hearing the plaster crack beneath the blow. It didn’t even bruise his knuckles. The anger deserted him as quickly as it had come. He leaned against the wall, eyes scanning the small room with the broken remnants of his life scattered around it. Tokens given to him by friends and lovers, all of them long dead and gone. There had been a point where he was capable of some lighter human emotions. There had been women he’d loved with all his soul and a point where he’d meant the smiles on his face. Now all he felt was this bitterness, this seeping hatred and anger. It was all he was capable of and all he gave to the women he took to his bed. He was cruel to them and used them as they used him. The violin case was leaning against the wall where he left it. His motions were slow as he picked it up, carrying it over to the couch with him and seating himself. Even as he did, he caught the lingering smell of her cigarettes. He could still taste her blood on his tongue. He could still smell it in the room, sharp and metallic. It was never enough. He stopped himself before his hunger was sated because if he didn’t he would drain her until there was no blood left in her veins. He had stopped killing his victims long before the rules and regulations that forbade it, but the truth was that only the taste of death ever soothed the monster inside him. He flicked the clasps to his case open, pulling the violin gently from inside of it. He cradled it in his arms, fingers gentle as they moved along the wooden body and ran over the strings. He plucked at them hesitantly, listening to the quiet vibrations. It was out of tune. It was always out of tune. He settled it into his lap, adjusting the pegs and the strings and trying to draw sounds from the instrument that were gentle and pure, instead of the violent hateful things that he felt all the time. When he was satisfied he settled it beneath his chin, bow resting against the strings. He hesitated for a long moment, trying to urge his fingers to play. He couldn’t do it. Not today. With a frustrated growl he set it back down in its case, running his hands through his hair instead. His tongue wandered across his teeth, tasting the last traces of her blood and he wondered why he still followed the rules. He stayed like that for a long time, head resting in his hands as he listened to the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall. He should sleep. He rarely did so and it would wear on him after a while as sure as the hunger. He didn’t. He brooded and sulked and wished it were Wednesday already, no matter that he hated Sam and all her kind. He wasn’t afraid that she wouldn’t show, but she never passed up a chance to remind him which one of them was in control. Roman didn’t hear the footsteps outside. He didn’t hear any sign that someone was there until the door rattled and then opened. Sam hadn’t locked it when she left and he hadn’t though to remedy that. That he didn’t hear them told him it was a vampire, and the boldness of their intrusion spoke of his father. He lifted his head, eyes narrowed as he focused on Gaius. His father looked much like him, same dark hair and pale eyes. He entered the room like he owned the place, lifting an eyebrow at the overturned table. He grasped it with one hand and righted it before meeting Roman’s gaze. “What are you doing here?” The man laughed brightly, the sound too loud and cheerful. His father’s emotions swung easily from one end to the other, and no matter that they were kin he always felt a sense of unease around his sire. He was unpredictable and uncontrollable, his temperament more violent than Roman’s most times. “Am I not allowed to pay my childe a visit?” he asked. He took even steps around the apartment, crossing behind the couch where Roman sat. “Have I been forbidden that along with everything else?” His eyes flicked to the clock, illuminated by the dim light. “It’s almost curfew.” “That matters little to me.” Gaius snorted, settling into the arm chair next to him. His gaze focused on Roman, fingers pressing together as he studied him. He met his father’s eyes squarely, refusing to look away. After a moment he frowned, shaking his head at Roman. “You look unwell,” he said. “Are you sleeping enough? I doubt you’re eating enough, not with what your masters give you.” Roman’s expression darkened. “Did you want something?” he snapped. Gaius laughed again but it was colored with annoyance this time. “Would you believe me if I said I wished only for your companionship?” he snapped. He didn’t give Roman a chance to answer, waving his hand at him with his lip curled into a sneer. “No, of course not, for you’ve labeled your sire a cruel liar, never a father come only to check on the wellbeing of his son.” He spat the words out onto the floor and Roman finally looked away, running a hand over his face. He wished he believed the words, laced with hurt and disappointment. He didn’t. After a moment he heard his father sigh. “Did you hear what they did to Wagnard yesterday?” He snorted but didn’t look up. “I did.” Sam had brought it up with a smile on her face. His eyes closed and his tongue ran over his teeth, the sharp edge of hunger only dulled, not gone. There were cold bags of blood in the fridge but it wasn’t the same as sinking his fangs into warm flesh and feeling lifeblood burn down his throat. He needed it with a fierce desperation and he hated that she manipulated and taunted him with that vulnerability. His father’s voice deepened as anger contorted his face into a sneer. “Yet I’ve heard nothing of an investigation, no undertakers looking into his butchery. If it were one of theirs they would haze this part of the city looking for the one responsible.” The anger was gone in a moment, replaced with something cold and dangerous. “No, I believe human justice will serve us little in this.” Roman glanced up, the unease made worse by the long on his father’s face. He looked thoughtful, gaze focused out the window with a small, vicious smile tugging up the corners of his mouth. “What are you planning father?” Gaius laughed lightly, nodding his head at the door. “Come with me tonight. Come and see the demands of justice.” For a moment he considered the words. It was easy to picture what had been done to one of his kind and easy to picture what could be done to him. But he remembered the dark times before the laws and regulations and he remembered how much death had been on both sides. He wasn’t at that point yet. He wasn’t willing to give up what little he had left. “No,” he said quietly. An angered roar left his father’s lips, his face contorting with hatred and disgust in the space of a heartbeat. He bolted from the chair, across the room in a second. “Then you don’t deserve to have ever carried this shield,” he yelled. He grasped the edges of the metal and tore it from the wall. He flung it across the room, the shield banging loudly against the floor. “You don’t deserve to call yourself my childe.” He gestured violently at Roman, lips pulled back and showing his fangs. “I gave you life, even after your death, and this is how you use it? You hide and cower in the pit they’ve granted you, ever their whore and their slave.” Venom dripped from the words as he screamed them, tearing the sword off afterwards and hurling it at the wall. It embedded itself in the plaster, the blade still unbroken after all these years. Gaius howled again, knocking books off onto the floor and ripping the shelf off in a quick motion. Roman watched him and he thought he hated his father, even as the disappointment and regret gnawed away at his gut. “I am what you’ve made me,” he said quietly. His father screamed angrily again at that, grasping the bronze eagle and throwing it at his son. Roman caught it deftly in one hand, his back and shoulders stiff and tense as he waited for the storm to pass. It finally did in the next moment, Gaius turning his back to his son. He ran his hands back through his hair and then he laughed, too brightly to be honest. Roman stayed where he was, watching as Gaius turned back around to him. He took quick steps over to the coffee table, pulling it back upright before taking the eagle from him and setting it on its surface. “Ah well, perhaps your artist has shaped you poorly then,” he said. The smile stayed on his face, twisting the knife in deeper as he spoke. “I had thought given enough time you would prove to me there is some worth in your life, but perhaps I was wrong.” He shrugged his shoulders, gesturing at Roman and kicking the edge of the table with the toe of his shoe. “Hide in your cell then. Kneel to your human masters and beg them for what scraps they are willing to give you.” Roman licked his lips, watching his father head towards the door. He fought the urge to stop him, to tell him that he would do whatever his father asked if it would make him look on him with pride again. “You’ll make it worse,” he said quietly. Gaius laughed and glanced back at him. “Look around you and then tell me how much worse I can make it.” |
| By the time Sam got back to her apartment, her head had mostly cleared. She’d had no trouble getting home, but she’d kept her hand on the knife at her side anyway. Silver. She’d forgotten who’d gotten the knife for her. Whether it was the Undertakers present for being rookie of the year, or whether it was a gift from one of the many friends she’d alienated over the years. Someone had gotten it. She supposed she should thank them, but she couldn’t remember who they were. The apartment building was small and the apartments were shabby by human standards, probably mansions by the fucking Fangs standards. She’d had it in her mind a year ago that she was going to buy a townhouse and move them into it. But that hadn’t worked out. There was always something coming up that required her to deplete the stash of money she’d been putting away for it. She figured by the time she saved enough for the townhouse, Bobby would be going to college and she wouldn’t need to move anyway. The lights were off when she came into the apartment. Instead of turning on the overhead light, she flicked on the lamp at the computer desk in their kitchen. It was the only place they’d had to put it. It had belonged to their Dad, but it wouldn’t fit in either Sam or Bobby’s bedroom. So it sat up against the closet they never used. There wasn’t a computer on it, because they couldn’t afford one, but Bobby used it a lot to do his homework. A note sat on the kitchen table and Sam smirked when she saw there were dishes drying on the counter. Bobby was such the little homemaker. She stumbled forward, grabbing the back of the chair as she leaned over to pick up the note. It read, “Sam, Remember the spaghettios in the fridge. Love, Bobby.” She scoffed and crumpled the paper up, throwing it in the trashcan before she went to the fridge. The spaghettios had been put into a nice blue bowl with cellophane over the top to keep it fresh. She bypassed the dinner and grabbed a beer, turning around and slumping into a chair, cracking open the top and chugging it halfway down before he leaned back in the chair and ran her hands over her face. “You shouldn’t drink after letting him feed,” came Bobby’s voice and it startled her enough that she almost tipped her beer over. “Fuck me,” she growled, turning to glare at the hallway that led to their bedrooms. Bobby leaned against the wall there, his head resting on his hand, gripping the corner. He looked tired, his hair a mess atop his head. His white tee and shorts were rumpled and she was sure she’d woken him up when she’d gotten home. “Go back to bed,” she snapped at him. Bobby sighed and shoved off the wall, walking over to the fridge and pulling it open. He pulled out the spaghettios and a carton of orange juice. She watched him move around the kitchen, warming up the meal in the microwave and then pouring her a glass of orange juice. She didn’t say anything until he set it down in front of her and tried to grab her beer away. Her hand snapped out before she could stop it, wrapping her slender fingers around his wrist and shoving his arm away. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she snarled at him. “You’re going to make yourself sick!” Bobby snapped back at her, his face puckered and a lot of hurt etched across his face. She tried to calm herself down by grabbing the beer and taking another swig of it, her eyes not leaving Bobby’s face. He scrunched his nose at her and then said, “Your blood alcohol level could get too high and you could get alcohol poisoning.” Snorting, Sam kicked back in her chair, swigging at the beer just to prove a point to him. She tried not to feel juvenile for having this argument with a ten year old. “It’s never fucking stopped me before,” she goaded. Then she jerked her beer at the hallway. “Now get the fuck back to bed. You have school tomorrow.” “And you have work,” Bobby said, frowning when the microwave dinged. He went to retrieve the spaghettios and he set them down with a bang in front of her. “Or did you forget you were supposed to be providing for this family?” The words hurt, especially considering whose mouth they were coming out of. She leaned forward and pointed a finger at his face. “I fucking provide for this family,” she snapped. “Who do you think brings home the money to buy your damn spaghettios?” Bobby clenched his hands into fists and said angrily, “I did!” Narrowing her eyes at him, she snapped, “What?” “I bought it with my own money because you haven’t gone grocery shopping in three weeks!” Bobby yelled, his voice raising and his lips set into a thin, angered line. Sam watched his face for a moment as she thought if the words were true or not and she was despaired to realize they were. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone shopping for food for them. She usually ate at work and that was it. Bobby ate at school, but then again, who was giving him the money for his fucking lunch. Sam’s face narrowed in anger. “How are you getting money? Are you fucking stealing shit, because I swear to Christ, Bobby…” “I mow lawns,” Bobby told her. “And I walk dogs.” She swallowed thickly. “You’re supposed to come straight home after school,” she said, her voice wavering and not just because she was chagrined to learn her little brother was basically fending for himself. She’d always thought she knew exactly where Bobby was depending on what time of day it was. But if he was doing all of this, she realized something could have happened to him at any time and she wouldn’t have known. “Come home and do what?” Bobby yelled. “You’re never here, Sam! The only time I see you is when you’re dropping me off at school and then I have to wait until the next morning to find out if you’re even alive!” Bobby shook his head and added, “It’s like you’re not even my sister anymore.” Sam’s eyes widened and she pointed a finger at herself. “I’m your fucking big sister,” she snarled at him, rising a little in her chair. “I’m doing the best I can. I’m sorry if that’s not fucking good enough for you. So excuse me, but you’re fucking ten years old and what the fuck do you know about what I do for this family?” The tears that welled up in Bobby’s eyes almost made her back down. It wasn’t the first time she’d made her little brother cry and it probably wasn’t going to be the last. She was exceptional at pissing people off and letting them down. It’s what she excelled at and why should she think her own flesh and blood would be any exception to that? “You’re right,” Bobby said, his voice shaking. “I don’t know what you do for this family.” Her own words hurt being shoved back in her face and she watched her little brother turn around and stalk off back to his bedroom. The door slammed shut and Sam stared off down the hallway for a moment, the fresh bite marks on her skin pounding and the desire to feel them pierce through her skin again was burning in her chest. Grabbing the bowl of spaghettios, she let out a scream and threw them against the wall. The spaghetti sauce smeared against the wallpaper and Sam crossed her arms on the table, laying her head down. She felt tears well up in her own eyes, but she didn’t let them escape or let a noise leave her throat as the lump formed there. Bobby was right. What was she doing for this family? |
Chapter Two It didn’t sound right. The bow scraped against the strings of the violin, drawing out sounds that were just shy of what they were supposed to. They grated harshly on his ear, all the small imperfections clashing together as he tried to play through them. Roman kept his eyes closed, focusing on drawing the bow over the body of his instrument and trying to drag out what he knew it was supposed to sound like. He didn’t think it had always been like this. Even after he’d been turned, he’d still been able to play. Maybe it was this city. Maybe it was just him. Maybe he just didn’t know how to create something beautiful anymore. His fingers slipped and he stalled then, hand gripping the neck a little too tightly. Anymore and he’d put stress fractures in the wood. He paused with his hand holding the bow just out of reach, fingers resting against the strings. He licked his lips and tried to convince himself to start playing again but he couldn’t do it. Instead he set the bow down and turned his attention to retuning it, convincing himself that this time it would help. His fingers felt clumsy this morning, already aching for fresh blood. He’d managed to sleep for a few hours but then curiosity and hunger had gotten the better of him. He sucked on a bag of cold blood and turned on the small television he had set in the corner, watching nervously for the story he knew was coming. Five men dead in a church. Someone had drained them dry and then etched crosses into their foreheads. He didn’t have to wonder who had done it, and neither did the undertakers. They swore to the news reporter that they would find whoever was responsible and until then those fucking Fangs should watch their back. Of course they didn’t say that, but Roman was good at reading between the lines. It was getting worse. He could recognize the slow decline, mounting towards all out war. It was going to be bad this time. He started to play again, shutting his eyes and trying not to think about the rest of the world. He tried not to think that maybe walking to work wouldn’t be the safest thing right now and that maybe he couldn’t keep walking this line and hope to get out unscathed. He stopped almost immediately after he started, head turning and listening intently to the footsteps he heard outside. They were light, made by someone small, but a little clumsy. They stubbed their toe on the carpet. He lay the violin gently back in its case, shutting it reverently and flipping the snaps closed. He wasn’t surprised by the quiet sound of knocking but it did stir his curiosity. It wasn’t Sam. It was too light and quiet to be her, and he would have smelled her cigarettes before her fist ever met the door. He wondered if she had finally grown sick of feeding him and they had assigned someone else to the job. It wouldn’t have surprised him. If it wasn’t for the money she never would have been there at all. There was a second knock and he crossed the room in two quick steps to the door. He’d cleaned up most of the mess he’d made the night before, hanging his things back on the wall and pinning up the tattered remains of his curtains. It still looked trashed, but he hardly cared about appearances anymore. Let them see what kind of a pit he rotted away in. He cracked the door, leaning against the frame and glancing down at the person waiting there. He lifted an eyebrow in surprise, not expecting the boy waiting there. He had messy hair, a backpack slung over one shoulder and one hand raised to knock again. The boy looked up at him, studying him with narrowed eyes. “Are you Roman?” Roman frowned, hesitating before answering. There was something familiar about the set of his jaw, an unafraid tilt to his chin as he looked up at him. He glanced behind the kid, looking for signs that anyone had come with him, but he was alone. The only movement was the shadow moving away from the door across from him. “Yes,” he said. “You are?” The boy shifted the backpack higher on his shoulder, shoving his other hand in his pocket. “I’m Bobby, Sam’s brother.” Roman’s gaze flicked to his face again, something unfamiliar and suspiciously like concern settling in his gut. He could see the resemblance as soon as the boy said it, and he wondered why he was here and Sam wasn’t. He wondered if something had happened to her and if he would care if it had. The boy shifted impatiently and tipped his head to the side to look in the apartment. “Can I come in?” He snorted, not moving from the doorway. “You do know that I’m a vampire.” Bobby gave him a look that said it was a stupid thing to say. “Of course I do. Can I come in?” “You’re not scared.” He hesitated for another moment, hand gripping the door and keeping it mostly shut. The boy shifted slightly thumb hooking in the strap of his backpack as he looked back at Roman. “No,” he said calmly. Roman snorted and then stepped aside, letting the boy walk into his apartment. He looked around curiously, but there was no fear on his face. He scanned the walls, taking in all the paintings and random tokens he had collected on his shelf. His head tilted as he looked through the thick curtains towards his bed. Roman gave a dry chuckle, walking past the boy towards the couch. He picked the violin up by the handle, carrying it in towards his bed and settling it out of sight. “You aren’t afraid to walk alone into a vampire’s den?” he asked. The boy was still scanning the walls curiously as Roman walked back towards him, but he glanced over as the vampire sat in his armchair. He rested his elbows on his knees, trying to look more casual than he was. A mean smirk curled his lips, baring his fangs at the boy. “Tasty little morsel like you and you’re not scared that I’m going to bleed you dry?” Bobby frowned and cocked his head to the side. “Are you?” Roman didn’t answer him for a moment, watching his face as the silence stretched on. The boy looked back at him, waiting patiently for his answer. He found himself more amused than irritated by that and that realization surprised him. He wasn’t scared, probably wouldn’t have been even if Roman had told him yes. The smile faded into a more honest one and he shook his head. “No,” he said. Bobby shrugged. “Then I’m not scared.” Roman snorted and leaned back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head as he studied Bobby. The boy sat on the couch, still holding onto his backpack and he wondered if he had a silver knife in there. “Maybe you should be,” he said. “Why are you here?” Bobby’s face darkened as he glanced back at Roman, and then he ducked his head. His hands fell into his lap and he twined his fingers together. There was something hurt and sad on his face and he frowned because he didn’t know the cause of it. Then he licked his lips and looked back at Roman’s face. “I want you to stop feeding on Sam,” he said. The words were low and barely audible but he caught them all the same. They weren’t what he expected to hear. He snorted and lifted an eyebrow. “Maybe you should be telling her that,” he said. Bobby’s face darkened and didn’t answer that. “She didn’t used to be like this you know,” he said. “She used to be nicer.” Roman frowned, his world suddenly tipping upside down at the words. He didn’t ask Sam about her life and he didn’t answer her when she asked about his. It wasn’t personal. He got fed and she got paid and both of them went their separate ways. He didn’t ask if she was a junkie or a volunteer or forced into it by her situation. “It’s none of my business,” he said, harsher than he meant. Bobby ducked his head, nodding as he looked back down at his hands. “I know,” he said quietly. He shifted awkwardly in his seat and then shrugged. “I just thought maybe if you refused then she won’t do it anymore.” Roman lifted an eyebrow at him. “And why would I want to refuse?” he asked. Something like anger flashed across the boy’s face and he lifted his head to glare at Roman. There was an intensity to his gaze that he thought had little to do with him and more to do with whatever had brought the kid here. He didn’t ask. He didn’t want to know. Sam hated him and he hated Sam and they were comfortable in their mutual loathing. “I want my sister back,” Bobby said. He shook his head, voice cracking slightly. “You can feed off someone else, just not her anymore.” Roman was still and quiet under the boy’s anger and after a moment it seemed to fade. He looked back down at his hands, sniffling quietly with the emotions he held back. Roman ran both hands over his face as he leaned forward, skin cool to the touch as he did. “If I refuse they’ll assign her to someone else and take my name off the list,” he told him. He doubted the words were any comfort. Bobby nodded his head, arms wrapping around his stomach as he leaned forward. He swallowed the lump in his throat and Roman tried to ignore the smell of his blood running in his veins. “Then at least keep making sure she gets home safe,” he said quietly. Roman was surprised at the words and he felt his mouth answering without his permission. “I will.” “Good,” Bobby said. He was still looking down at his hands and Roman glanced at the clock, wondering if the boy was supposed to be in school or if his sister was wondering where he was. He didn’t imagine Sam would be grateful to know that he was with Roman. He moved to the edge of the chair but the boy spoke before he stood. “What’s it like to be a vampire?” he asked. Roman shrugged. “What’s it like to be human?” The boy shrugged and didn’t answer him right away. He still looked dejected and disappointed and Roman was surprised at the sensation of regret he felt for putting that there. “I thought you used to be one,” he said. “Don’t you remember?” “Not so well anymore,” he said honestly, before nodding his head at the door. “Let’s go. I’ll walk you out of the district.” |
| “Oh you piece of shit,” Sam growled, her finger hovering over the touch screen of the industrial copy and fax machine at the back of the office. She held a paper in her hand that she was trying to fax over to their West side office, because some fucking patrolman over there had requested it. She didn’t know what a damn patrolman wanted with a report from two years ago about an attack on a vampire, but who was she to question what people wanted. She pressed the screen again, choosing her options for fax and typing in the number on the digital keypad. Once finished, she paused, hands both hovering over the screen as she checked each and every inch of it for a mistake. Finding it flawless, she bit her lip and pressed the bright green “start” button. Immediately, the screen flashed to a picture of the entire copy machine with a highlighted portion of some tray near the bottom. The words, “Clear paper jam in tray 2” flashed across the screen. Letting out an angry yell, she shook her fists at the machine and growled, “Oh fuck you, you god damned piece of shit. What the fuck does a paper jam have to do with sending a fucking fax? You don’t need paper to fax something. Just send this fucking thing already.” Taking a deep breath, she it out slowly and pulled the tray that had been highlighted on the screen open, moving around the papers, but not finding a jam, before she closed it. She pressed in the number again and closed her eyes a moment like she was praying to the fax gods before she pressed the send button. The screen flashed again, this time with a paper jam in a different tray and Sam felt like her mind was about to explode. “You listen to me,” she growled at the screen. “You either send this fax or I will take you out to the alley and hit you with my fucking car until you’re just a pile of plastic and toner on the cement. You want that? Is that what you want?” she raised her voice as she finished with a yell of, “Send my stupid fax!” A quiet chuckle from behind her had Sam growling. She whirled around just as Howard came strolling up next to her, his hands stuck into the pockets of his dress pants. “Having trouble?” he asked playfully, coming to stand next to her. “This thing,” she snarled, pointing a finger at the fax like it was the devil in disguise. In her opinion, it was. “Is fucking broken.” Howard chuckled again, taking the paper she was trying to fax from her hands. “Let me give it a try.” He didn’t even look at the paper as he set it in the loading dock. He pressed all the same buttons she had and Sam scoffed because it wasn’t going to work. But as soon as he pressed send, the screen flashed with “processing” and then a moment later flashed to “successfully sent.” “You two timing bitch,” Sam huffed at the machine. Grinning ear to ear, Howard turned towards her, his hand patting the top of the copier like they were buddies. “You have to talk sweet to her,” he said. “She’s easily offended.” “Oh she thinks I was being mean?” Sam asked, exasperated. “I’ll show this bitch whore a thing or two about being mean.” Howard laughed heartily and Sam turned her head to eye him. He was watching her with that adoring look on his face again that Sam couldn’t really stand. She already knew where this conversation was going to go. The same place it went every day. He would ask her out or threaten to fire her and she’d say no to both and he’d walk away with promises that one day he’d get what he wanted. She doubted it. Highly doubted it. Howard was older than her, by a good fifteen years. He was a good boss, but a bad leader. A lot of shit went on right under his nose and he either was too shit stupid to realize it or turned a blind eye and either one of those options wasn’t okay. She didn’t know why the hell he was interested in her, of all people. Pulling the paper from the loading tray, Howard turned it over in his hands and the smile on his face flickered before fading. He lifted a brow and looked at her. “A vamp killing from two years ago?” he asked. Sam shrugged, grabbing the paper from him. “Some dipshit from the West side wanted a copy of it. Something Rourke. Caleb maybe? I don’t know.” Howard nodded, but a curious look crossed his features. “He used to be a lieutenant. He was demoted by the Captain over there.” Sam glanced up at him at the words. Howard just shrugged and plastered the smile back on his face. “Their Captain is a tyrant. He thinks there should only be one Captain over both districts – and he wants the job.” “Oh yeah?” Sam asked, leaning back against the copier, knowing exactly how low her shirt was cut and where Howard’s eyes were trying not to stray. “You don’t want to be his bitch?” Howard snorted. “Not particularly.” Then he turned and leaned against the copier too, his arms crossed on top of it as he looked into her face. “Go out with me tonight,” he said bluntly and Sam rolled her eyes. “I know the perfect place.” Shaking her head, Sam already had the word “no” halfway out of her mouth before he added, “It’s a nice little bar. Legion’s? You ever heard of it?” Sam paused. She had heard of the bar. It was a dingy little place right on the edge of the vampire district. She’d never been a fan of the place, but the location was good if she wanted to find her fix tonight. She wouldn’t go back to Roman’s until tomorrow, but she could feel the anticipation and need crawling it’s way beneath her skin at the thought of letting someone feed tonight. Her mind went to Bobby and the fight they’d had last night. They’d barely talked this morning while she was dropping him off at school. She’d been hungover and sick, just like he’d said she would be. She’d been tempted to just let him leave the car without saying a word to him because if he wanted to be a brat, that was his choice. But at the last minute, she’d called to him like she always did and told him she loved him. Relief had swept through her when he’d turned and told her he loved her back without hesitation. It was a start. He’d be disappointed in her. She hadn’t told him she wouldn’t be home tonight, but she could call and leave a message. Hell, she could even say she was just out with a co-worker and for him not to worry, but that would be lying. Maybe she’d leave the worry part out. She’d be home late. Again. The need won over the regret of disappointing her brother. She smiled at Howard, throwing her hair over her shoulder in an all too seductive move. “I’ve heard of it,” she said, her voice low. “It’s not the expensive place you promised yesterday,” she said playfully. Howard laughed, leaning a little closer to her. She resisted the urge to lean away. She didn’t know what she’d do if the guy tried to make a move on her. Maybe vomit. “It will be after all the drinking we do.” “Why Howard,” Sam said, smirking. “Is your goal to get me drunk?” “What if I said yes?” Howard asked. Sam snorted. “I’d say what time do you want to meet there?” |
| “Tessa!” Rob yelled across the bar. He sauntered in like he owned the place, a dopey grin plastered on his face as he headed straight for the blonde waitress. She was serving a table in the back, a cluster of men who weren’t shy about looking down her shirt when she turned away. Her lips parted in a wide smile when she saw him, probably because the kid was a junkie and always willing to split a vein for her. “Where have you been all my life, babe?” he asked, pulling her into a hug. She laughed, hugging him back with one arm. “I’m here now,” she drawled, a wicked smirk on her face. Her fingers lingered on his arms, tongue running along her teeth as she cocked her head to the side. “Why don’t we make the best of it?” “Fuck yeah,” he said, laughing loudly. The grin stayed on his face as she grasped his wrist, pulling him towards the kitchen. “Make sure you’re still able to work the fryer,” Roman said dryly, glancing up from the counter. The kid laughed, giving him a thumb’s up before Tessa pulled him through the swinging doors. He worked there once a week as a cook and he was bad at his job, but he didn’t have a problem working around vampires and that counted for a lot anymore. Especially tonight. The balance was unusually off, even for a bar this close to the edge of the slums. Artie stayed on his side of the bar and there were only one uncomfortable couple down on Roman’s end. Even then it was probably because they hadn’t figured out what he was right away. They looked ready to bolt for the door. Everyone was on edge thanks to the attacks from the last two days and he wished he knew less about it than he did. He’d been stopped twice on the way here, and he was sure the presence of a ten year old kid hadn’t helped any. It looked suspicious on good days, and this sure as fuck wasn’t one of those. He’d felt unusually guilty just letting the kid go at the edge of the slums, but he would have gotten worse than a few questions and suspicious glances if he walked him all the way home. He’d made it through the slums alright, he would probably be okay after. He cleaned the countertop twice until it was spotless and he didn’t have that as an excuse anymore. Then he leaned against the bar and just watched the television in the corner. It wasn’t anything interesting, just replays from Monday’s football games and reporters trying to predict who was going to win this season. Half the commercials featured beautiful vampires swearing that drinking Absolut made human blood taste better. He felt his lip curl in disgust at the display. All that was left in the world were fanatics and whores. Roman didn’t glance up when the door swung open. The sound of cars rushing by on the street filled the room, followed by a damp breeze that suddenly had his shoulders tensing because on it he could smell the familiar scent of cigarettes and coffee. The hunger roared immediately to the forefront of his mind, made worse because he didn’t expect it. His hands curled into tight fists. He heard Sam laughing even as his gaze focused on her. She wore a little black dress, complete with heels and a smattering of makeup that he never would have expected from her. Her hair was pulled back out of her face, black jacket pulled over her shoulders. It startled him. He wasn’t used to seeing her dressed up or with any kind of expression but a cruel one on her lips. It unsettled him. He didn’t want to consider that she had been nicer at one point and that she had a kid brother waiting at home. If he’d had time he probably would have disappeared into the back but then her gaze was shifting to the bar, the smile still on her face for a moment before it faded. It was only some small consolation that she looked just as surprised to see him. Then the smile curved back into place, a wicked smirk on her lips as she sauntered over to him. “Roman,” she said. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” “I work here,” he said. He felt the sharp sting of need and hunger lance through him as she approached, forcing his eyes away from the vein at her throat. His gaze flicked past her towards the man at her heels, his hand resting against her elbow to guide her into a seat. He looked vaguely uncomfortable, studying Roman for a long moment before looking back at Sam. She snorted, shrugging the hand off her elbow as she glanced around. “I noticed. Classy place you’ve got here.” “Roman.” The man she was with cleared his throat, holding up two fingers to Roman. “Can you get us two Miller Drafts?” “Sure. You want to start a tab?” he asked, looking away from Sam. Her dress was cut low, hair hanging over one shoulder and exposing that vein pulsing steadily in her neck. He licked his lips, trying to buy the hunger and the need clawing at his gut. Her date nodded his head, pulling his wallet out of his pocket to dig out a credit card. Roman took it and went to the register, thinking in the back of his mind he looked too old for her. She cast him a glance out of the corner of her eye before pulling her cigarettes out of her pocket, pounding one out into her hand. The lighter flicked open and the smell of smoke floated over the counter to him. The man leaned over to say something to Sam and Roman did his best not to look at either of them. His teeth were clamped firmly shut and now that the initial shock was wearing off he felt the bitterness settling in his chest. He hated that she was here, well aware that she would mock him for it tomorrow, if not right now. He poured them their drinks and hoped against hope that she wouldn’t say anything as he slid them across the counter. The man barely glanced at him but Sam smirked, resting her fingers on the lip of her drink. Her head tilted to the side and she interrupted her date midsentence. “Tit for tat, is that it?” she asked him. The man frowned, glancing between the two of them with annoyance. Sam ignored him, lifting an eyebrow at Roman with that wicked smirk on her face. He tensed at the words, bracing his arms against the counter and leaning heavily on it. He couldn’t stop the hunger tearing through him, couldn’t help but glance at her arm and the fresh scars he knew he’d put there. His head tilted to the side and he managed a tightlipped smile. “Why do you enjoy tormenting me?” he asked. She laughed but it lacked its usual bite. She shrugged her shoulders, tipping her beer back and taking a long pull from it before setting it back on the counter. “I don’t know,” she said. “Because it’s funny.” The man next to her frowned and rested one hand on the small of her back. Roman saw her tense slightly, shifting in her seat and crossing her legs at the knee. Then the man was holding out his other hand, leaning over the counter towards “Hi,” he said, a fake smile on his face. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Howard.” He held a hand out and just doing that must have taken some effort for him. Roman gave him the same fake smile in return but didn’t accept his hand. “Roman,” he said. “A pleasure.” “Who says that’s what I’m doing anyway?” Sam said, drawing his eyes back to her. His jaw clamped tightly shut, smoke swirling over the counter from the cigarette still clamped in her fingers. She smiled, taking another pull from her beer before setting it down on the counter. She shrugged afterwards, leaning forward slightly and tilting her head to the side. “Maybe I’m serious. You telling me you don’t ever want a midnight snack?” She sucked on the end of her cigarette before blowing smoke at him. “If I said yes, would you report me to the undertakers?” Roman asked. He took a step back from the bar, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to ignore the voice in the back of his mind that said maybe it wasn’t a trick and maybe she meant the words. The sharp need dug its blade deeper into his gut and he tried to chase it away. Howard smiled before turning his head to Sam. “Maybe you should tell him you are an undertaker,” he said. His hand moved to her shoulder and she shrugged uncomfortably beneath the touch, throwing it off. Roman’s gaze shot to hers and for a moment the smile faltered and she looked away. He couldn’t stop the widening of his eyes or his surprise at the man’s words. He knew she hated his kind. He didn’t expect that she was one of the ones supposed to keep him in his place. The surge of bitterness he felt helped burn away some of the hunger, though never completely. Not when he could still see veins running underneath her skin. “I see,” he said through gritted teeth. Then he glanced at Howard. “Can I get you anything else?” The man shook his head, the smile lingering on his face. “Not right now,” he said. As soon as the words were out of his mouth Roman was turning away, heading back into the kitchen and letting the door swing shut behind him. There was anger and hunger eating away at him, making his steps quick as he paced back and forth. She was an undertaker. No wonder she was cruel to him. He heard the door swing open but he didn’t expect Sam to follow him through it. His lips pursed in annoyance, glancing past her out the swinging door to the bar. “Aren’t you hungry?” she asked, the words teasing and light. “This is a trick,” he spat. “It’s against your rules.” She shook her head, the smirk lingering on her face. “No trick,” she said. She peeled off one arm of the black jacket and his eyes focused on the twin scars on her arm. His teeth had left those marks there last night. His lips parted and he couldn’t stop his tongue from running over his fangs at the surge of anticipation. “Do you want it or not?” His eyes flicked to hers, a roaring sound in his ears. He could hear her blood rushing in her veins, the steady thump of her heart and he was shaking with just how badly he craved it. “You’re lying,” he said. She shrugged her shoulders, turning on her heel to walk back out into the bar. “Your choice,” she said. He moved without thinking, grasping her by the arms and shoving her against the wall. She let out a small gasp, the first and only sign of surprise or fear he’d ever seen from her. Her lips parted, eyes wide as she watched him. He heard her heart rate speed up, a vein in her throat pulsing steadily. His gaze focused on that and for a moment he wasn’t thinking about anything but the smell, breaths away from his face. He wasn’t thinking that her little brother had asked him not to feed from her again. He was just thinking about the blood burning underneath her skin and how it would taste running down his throat. His teeth ground together in his head. His nostrils flared, want and need making his head lean forward. He could smell the scent of her, smoke and blood and something heady and feral. “What’s wrong?” she drawled. “Performance anxiety?” He growled low in his throat, head dipping closer to her neck. Despite the words he could hear and feel her heart thundering away in her chest, her breath quickening the closer his fangs got to her skin. “Will you still come tomorrow?” he asked. He hated how small and desperate they sounded on his tongue. He hated that it meant he was considering it. She laughed wickedly at that. “Maybe,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. His fingers tightened in her skin, lip curling and desperation making him tense. “Maybe not.” “You are cruel,” he snarled. |
| His grip was tight on her arms, lips so close to her neck she could almost feel the fangs already sinking beneath her skin. Her head tipped to the side in anticipation and she bit her lower lip, eyes closing, breath coming in shaky gasps as she willed him to sink in. Willed him to give her what she wanted, what she needed so badly from him. She mocked him daily for the need he always had on his face, but she wondered if he ever saw it echoed back on her own. It was strong tonight, on both sides. His was always strong, but hers was because she was usually out looking for a different vampire tonight and it was some consolation that she’d found Roman. He was better than the others. In more ways than one. A soft moan escaped her lips as she felt the tip of his fang scrape over her skin and she tried to move into the bite, but then Roman was pulling his head back quickly. She turned to look at him as he took a step back, letting go of her arms. She stood there shakily as Roman ran a hand over his mouth, his eyes cast downward as he was visibly trying to get himself back under control. “The rules are there for a reason,” he spat, eyes not coming up to meet hers and she tipped her head to the side, eyes narrowing at the lie she heard behind the words. She couldn’t place how she knew, but he wasn’t telling her the truth and she wondered what other reason he could have for not feeding on her. A smile curved her lips up and she tried to sound nonchalant and cruel, but her words lacked the bite she could normally shove into them. “Your loss,” she said breathily. Roman snarled and then he was shoving pass her and out of the kitchen, back behind his bar. Sam tipped her head back against the wall, closing her eyes because the desire for the bite was clawing at her gut and it reminded her what a damn addict she was to this. Her hands shook as she ran them over her face. Shoving off the wall, she swung open the kitchen door and her eyes went to Roman first, who was cleaning the bar, even though there wasn’t a spot on it. He didn’t look up at her and he wasn’t looking at Howard, who sat at the bar, an annoyed look on his face, but at least he looked at her when she came out of the kitchen. Sam straightened her jacket and came back to sit next to him, pulling her cigarettes out of her purse and lighting up another one, not looking at either of them. She puffed on it and if Roman wasn’t going to feed on her tonight, she wondered who the fuck was. There were others she could find. Hell, there were others in the bar she was sure would accept an offer, but now she had her mind set on him and it annoyed her that all she wanted was his bite tonight. Beside her, Howard sighed. He’d downed half of his beer and Sam rolled her eyes, looking out into the bar. She didn’t want to do this with him now. Not with Roman standing there. She’d never given Roman anything to hold over her and she didn’t want him to know about Howard or her fucked up life. She didn’t know what she’d do if he started throwing her own shortcomings back in her face. Her whole relationship with Roman depended on her being able to ridicule him. She thought about him asking her why she tormented him. It was funny, she’d said. But maybe it was just because he was the only one she knew who couldn’t see how fucked up she was. She didn’t want that to change. “Why did you come out with me tonight, Sam?” Howard asked, his voice sounding hurt and like a kicked dog. She rolled her eyes and ran a hand over her forehead. “Fuck, not now, Howard,” she said, her voice tense and angry. She was surprised when he laughed. It made her glance over at him and he pulled his beer toward him, sloshing it around and watching it inside the glass. She glanced at his face and he didn’t look up at her. Her gaze went pass him to Roman, who had his head turned towards the television, ignoring them, but she bet he could hear them. She bet he was listening. “So, it wasn’t actually me you said yes to, is that it?” Howard asked, tipping his head back to look at the bottles lining the wall behind the bar. Sam sighed, sucking on her cigarette. “What were you looking to get out of tonight? A fuck?” she coughed on the smoke, because she’d not ever heard him swear before. She turned to look at him with a look of disgust on her face and he was mirroring it right back. “A high?” That one was more the truth, but he didn’t elaborate on it. “Your shits and giggles out of humiliating someone who cares about you?” A scoff left her throat and she pointed her cigarette at his face. “You don’t give a fuck about me,” she told him harshly and she saw him raise an eyebrow at the words. She wasn’t sure she believed the words, but it was too late to turn back not. Too late to take them back or change her mind. She was a fuck up, that’s just what she did. “I know exactly what you want from me.” She leaned closer to him, her lips parting. Her voice lowered and she didn’t care who heard her now. Let the whole fucking world know what kind of person she was. “You want me to blow you in the bathroom? You want to fuck me up against the sink? How about out back? Want to do it by the dumpster? Or do you just want a handjob right here?” Howard’s face stayed frightfully passive before a small smile that she didn’t believe for a moment turned up the edges of his lips. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle, quick kiss against her cheek, which she didn’t expect before he stood up and threw a couple dollars onto the counter for Roman. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Sam,” he said calmly. Sam’s eyes widened imperceptibly as she watched him walk towards the door. Guilt and anger passed through her gut and then she was growling, jumping off the barstool to go after him. She gave a side glance to Roman at the same time he gave her one and she knew she was going to fucking hear about this later. She thought about just not showing up tomorrow at his place, but she knew as soon as she thought it she’d never be able to. She needed him just like he needed her. “Fuck, Howard, wait,” she called to the man as he reached the front door and pulled it open. Sam was almost at his side, so she saw what was about to happen before it did. She just wasn’t close enough to stop it. On the other side of the door were two men in masks with guns in their hands. They had probably been ready to burst into the bar and cause a little chaos, but Howard’s abrupt departure seemed to startle them. She saw the one on the right raise his gun and point it at Howard and she only had time to give a small yell of warning before the muzzle flashes went off, quieted by the silencers. Blood sprayed her face and chest and she saw Howard fall backwards, crumpling to the ground with two new holes in his head. It was only the distant memories of Undertaker training that kept her from losing it. She’d think about Howard later. She’d think about the whole thing later. At one time, this was what she did. This was what she’d excelled at. Taking down bastards like this. She pulled the silver knife out quicker than she should have been able, but it was a practiced skill. She came forward and in a combative move, she batted away the man’s arm that was holding the gun up still. A shot went off harmlessly into the wall and she brought her knife up, slicing it across the man’s arm. It didn’t hiss and smoke like it would if it were a vampire and the fact that they were human was enough of a startling realization that she let down her guard for a moment. It was her mistake. While the man she’d wounded backed away, grabbing his deeply sliced arm and swearing, the other came forward, swinging his gun up towards her. She managed to grab his wrist and push it away, but a he managed to land a blow to her temple. She felt her skin break and blood leak beneath the blow, dripping down the side of her face and then he was kicking her in the stomach. Stumbling backwards, she hit the wall next to the bar, the liquor bottles jingling next to her. Her vision was wavering but she managed to look up at the man and fear clenched at her chest when she saw the gun pointed at her head. Her thoughts immediately went to Bobby and she felt her heart go out to him because she should have just gone home to him. Maybe now he’d have better. Maybe now he’d get on with his life. The muzzle flashed at the same time she felt arms wrap around her, yanking her down with speed that made the world a dizzying tilt-a-whirl around her. She was shoved up against the bar, sitting on the floor and someone was leaned over her as the bullets that had been fired where she’d been standing just mere moments before instead crashed into the bottles along the wall, shattering them and raining glass and alcohol down on top of them. Her eyes squeezed shut and her hands fisted into the shirt of whoever braced themselves over her, shielding her from the debris. After a moment, the glass bombardment stopped and she could hear were the frantic, terrified yells of the other bar patrons, the retreating feet of the shooters, and her own shaking and terrified breaths leaving her mouth. She felt weak and her whole body trembled, but she finally opened her eyes when the person who’d pulled her down leaned back. Hands remained on her shoulder and her arm and she tipped her head to look at them. Roman crouched next to her, craning his neck to look over the bar, a disgusted look on his face. She could only stare at his face. Of all the people she’d thought would risk themselves for her, Roman was never one of them. She didn’t understand why. She didn’t understand him at all. Seeing the bar was clear for the moment, Roman looked down at her and she met his eyes. The words left her lips before she even knew she was asking them. “Are you okay?” |
| Roman stayed crouched over Sam for a long moment, her eyes wide as she looked up at him. He thought he’d never seen her look more vulnerable and human than she did then. Her breath was quick and uneven, hands trembling slightly as she held onto him. The unexpected question still hung between them, her eyes watching his. “Yes,” he told her, aware even as he did that he didn’t know that for sure. He hadn’t been shot and he hadn’t been struck with silver so he was well enough. Her fingers stayed fisted in his shirt for a moment, holding herself steady before she pulling back quickly. Her head turned to look out at the bar. “Are you?” She scoffed, hands wrapping around her midsection as she focused on Howard’s body. Blood pooled out underneath his head, his face unrecognizable from the gunshots. “Yeah, sure,” she said weakly. “Why wouldn’t I be?” It had ended as quickly as it had happened. He could hear Artie’s frantic voice down at the other end as he called the cops. They would probably call the undertakers afterwards, because it was still a vampire bar in vampire territory. Half the patrons had fled, the other half hiding beneath the table at the far end. One man had his arm around his girlfriend, her face streaked with tears. Roman’s gaze focused back on Sam, her head turned away from him. There were goosebumps on her skin, her limbs still trembling slightly as she looked at the man’s body. She had almost joined him. He couldn’t explain the surge of protectiveness he’d felt when he saw the gun pointed at her head. Sam hated him and he hated Sam and that was how it had been up until today. That was how it had been until a little boy had asked him to make sure his big sister got home safe. “He was a friend of yours?” Roman asked. He kept his voice low and he wasn’t sure why he asked. She glanced back at him with narrowed eyes. He wondered if she saw what she was expecting. She looked away again after a moment, but the words were harsh when she spoke. “Something like that.” Roman nodded his head and didn’t press because it wasn’t any of his business. He took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest and watching dully as Artie went to talk to the people crawling out from under the table. Tessa and Rob were long gone, probably a good thing for when the undertakers showed. His gaze focused on the dead man on the floor and he wasn’t surprised that he felt nothing for him. Just the familiar ache of hunger at all that wasted blood. He ducked his head and watched at the floor instead. The cops arrived first, roping off the scene to try and keep out curious outsiders. A portly, bearded officer named Allen went to talk to the witnesses in the corner and at some point the woman broke out in hysterical crying. They sent her home shortly after that. A camera flashed as someone took pictures of the scene, the body outlined in chalk on the floor. Someone else was quietly cataloguing every piece of evidence from the blood splashed across the ground to the bullets embedded in the wall. He had to move out of the way for that but it didn’t escape his notice that the cops weren’t really talking to him. Probably waiting for the undertakers. Sam went to talk with the officer in charge and he listened with half an ear to her statement. He was watching his people work, someone already dusting the door for fingerprints they weren’t going to find. In the back of his mind, Roman couldn’t help but wonder if this was something Gaius had set up, just to force his hand. He was capable of it. He was capable of this and more. His gaze wandered back to Sam and he watched her as she spoke. Her hands were still trembling slightly, but whatever she was feeling she kept buried where no one else could witness it. He’d told her brother that her life wasn’t any of his business but now he couldn’t help but wonder how much of what she said to him she meant and how much was that mask she wore. Not that it changed how she felt about his kind. Not that it changed that she hated him. The undertakers entered the room like a hurricane. They headed straight for him, the man in the lead grasping his arm before he had time to speak. “Hands above your head, Fang,” he snarled, shoving him towards the wall. A low growl rumbled in his throat but he did as the undertaker said, holding his hands above his head. Rough hands grasped his wrists, hauling them down immediately and chaining them together with silver cuffs. A hiss left his lips when he felt the sting of it against his flesh, burning lines in his skin. It was worse when they looped the chain around his neck, forcing his head back and up. “What the fuck are you doing?” Sam demanded, her voice angry and sharp. She was still standing in the corner with the police officer but he saw her head turn towards them, gaze flicking from Roman to the men pressing him against the wall. “It’s alright ma’am,” one of them said. He walked over to her, putting a comforting hand on her arm and trying to guide her towards a chair. She turned her glare on him, ripping her arm from his grasp and taking a step back. He gave her a smile but it never reached his eyes, tugging a chair out for her. “We’ve got this under control now. You can sit back down.” “Ma’am?” Sam blurted. “Are you fucking serious? I’m a god damned undertaker and so is the man on the floor. So don’t just fucking ma’am me. I can tell you exactly what happened here. Two assholes in masks came in and put two bullets through Howard’s head.” He could see her gesturing out of the corner of his eye, face contorted in anger as she spoke. The man was standing in between her and Roman but her gaze found his anyway. “Vampires didn’t have anything to do with it.” “That’s one interpretation,” the man said. “Interpretation?” Sam said, her eyes widening. She shoved the man in the chest before waving a hand at the two behind Roman. “Are you fucking stupid? Who the hell is running this investigation?” She pointed a finger at the one holding Roman’s chain and her lip was curled in a nasty snarl. “I want the name of your superior officer.” One of the men sighed and jerked his head at one of the undertakers next to him, a man with dark hair and a scar on his lip. He nodded and then turned to smile at Sam. “Why don’t you come with me and we’ll get this sorted out?” he said. She snorted and her gaze focused on Roman again. “Why don’t you let him go and then we’ll go sort this out?” The man’s eyes narrowed abruptly. “Are you a friend of his?” Sam hesitated for only a split second but Roman caught it. Her gaze was still locked on his and then she snorted, turning to face the man with the scar on his lip. “Hardly,” she spat. “Fangs don’t have friends, everyone knows that. But I’m telling you, he didn’t do anything. Does it look like this man got killed by a Fang? He’s got two fucking bullet holes in his head.” “Start talking Fang,” someone snapped in his ear. Apparently he didn’t care about Sam’s ‘interpretation’ of things and he couldn’t stop the sharp growl of pain. He felt the prick of a knife under his jaw, the small trickle of smoke running up by his face telling him exactly what kind it was. They twisted it a little to make sure he got the point, keeping his face shoved against the wall of his own fucking bar. “Why don’t you start with your name. Then a confession would be nice.” “Roman Sabinus,” he said. His eyes closed and he gritted his teeth against the pain of the chains around his neck. His voice was harsh with pain, flesh aching and stinging as they dug deeper into his throat. Someone had a grasp on them, holding them tight. “Run a check,” the man behind him ordered. He heard quick footsteps over the hardwood floor as someone hurried to do as he said. There were at least two man directly behind him, another standing near the police officer. Someone else had positioned themselves near the bar, leaning casually against the counter as they watched. “What exactly was your involvement here, Roman?” the man behind him asked. As he did he ground the knifepoint higher on his chin, digging a small hole in his skin. He snorted, turning his head to the side to press his cheek against the wall. “This is my bar, I work here.” “I told you,” Sam said. Her voice rose angrily and Roman realized she was talking to the man with the scar. He’d gotten her over by the door but she was gesturing violently back in his direction. “He didn’t do anything.” The man snorted and he felt the chain around his neck tightened as he pulled it back. “That right Fang?” he growled. “So some guy pisses you off in your bar and you think it gives you the right to kill him?” Roman let out a choked noise as the man yanked the chain brutally backwards, bending his neck as it hissed and burned deeper into his skin. He couldn’t answer. He doubted it would have mattered if he could, but the chain digging into his throat cut off his vocal chords and he couldn’t manage anything behind the choked growl. He felt a swell of hatred for every single one of them. “Are you all fucking stupid?” Sam yelled. “What part of bullet holes is confusing for you?” |
| Sam felt like she could rip this whole bar apart with her bare hands. These people were morons. Complete and utter morons. It didn’t take a jackass to know that when a body had bullets in the head, it was pretty much guaranteed vampires had nothing to do with it. They didn’t waste food like that. But these fucking rookie cops, because that’s what they had to be, were blinded by the fact this was a vampire bar with one unlucky vampire in it. And she tried to tell herself it was because they were morons that she was so mad and not because she felt anger and protectiveness seeing Roman in chains like that. So what if he’d saved her life, he was just protecting his food source. Shoving her way around the man with the scar on his lip, she started heading for the two who still held Roman. One of them stepped in her way, blocking her just as she got to the bar. “Listen to me,” Sam demanded, pointing a shaking finger at the man in her way. “Ma’am,” the man with the scar said from behind her and she felt his hand on her shoulder. Whirling, she knocked the hand off of her shoulder and growled at him, “You fucking ma’am me one more time and I will give you a matching scar on your fucking scrotum, kapeesh?” The man’s shoulders fell and something dark settled on his face but she could really give a fuck. Anger fueled her brutality at the moment and she shoved a finger right in his chest. “Now point me in the direction of your superior because it’s absolutely clear you are all completely incompetent assholes.” “That would be me,” a new voice said, calm and soft around the edges. Sam’s head whipped towards the door and a tall, slenderly built blonde man stood there. He wore a tan suit and tie, his features rigid, but complexion soft. He had his hands in his pocket, like he hadn’t a care in the world, but the shiny badge attached to his belt gave him away as an Undertaker. The others didn’t wear suits or look half as nice. Undertakers who wore the uniform always looked like they were SWAT, ready to bust in some doors or skulls. The man had a smooth smile on his face that didn’t falter for a second. “Not the incompetent asshole, but the superior,” he added and gave a small laugh afterwards, head tilting to the side. Sam’s eyes narrowed at him and she didn’t care if he was the friendliest of the lot, Roman was still in chains. “Oh yeah?” she barked. “Who the fuck are you?” Stepping forward into the bar, Sam didn’t miss that the Undertakers all seemed to straighten a little at his presence. The man came right up to her, stepping carefully around Howard’s body still pooling blood on the floor. He held his hand out to her, that calm smile still on his face. “Nolan Byrd,” he gave, voice liquid and smooth. “And you are?” She crossed her arms over her chest and simply said, “Sam.” If anything, it made him smile wider. He stuck his hand back into his pocket, eyes not straying from her. “It’s a pleasure,” he said. Having had enough of this pleasantry, Sam uncrossed her arms and pointed to Howard on the floor. “Oh, and this is Howard Diamante, the Captain of the East side Undertakers. He got shot tonight. In the head. Which, last I knew, was not a vampire MO. Oh, and not to mention that when I cut one of them, there was no hissing or sizzling. There was just blood. Which would suggest this was done by humans. Robbers probably, who wanted to take advantage of a vampire bar, but got surprised when Howard came on and panicked, like morons. It seems to be infectious tonight.” Another small laugh escaped Nolan’s lips and she didn’t know exactly what he was laughing at. He tipped his head to look at her and said, “Yes, I suppose it would look like idiocy is running rampant at the moment, wouldn’t it?” He turned his head over his shoulder to look at the Undertakers who had Roman in chains. “But it’s protocol to be suspicious.” “Bullshit,” Sam snarled. “Where’s your superior? I’d like a word.” Nolan sighed, looking down at the ground before his gaze rose back to her. “That’s highly unfortunate. I’m afraid I don’t have a superior. I’m Chief of the Undertakers.” Sam scoffed. “There’s no such position.” Shrugging, Nolan’s gaze went back down to the body on the floor. “Well, there wasn’t. Not until tonight. The Governor’s been wanting to consolidate leadership over the Undertakers for quite some time. And with the unfortunate death of Captain Diamante, it’s expedited the consolidation process, promoting the West side Captain into the position of Chief.” He returned his gaze to her, the smile on his lips less softer than it had been a moment ago. “Which would be me.” Sam immediately felt her blood run cold, her head ducking ever so slightly, but her eyes never leaving his. Something dark passed across her face and her voice was bitter as she snapped out, “How convenient for you.” Nolan sighed again. “I can see how it would look rather opportunistic. But I can assure you those responsible for Captain Diamante’s death will be found, charged and prosecuted with complete regard for the law.” “Perfect,” Sam spat, aware only in the distant sense that she was now sassing off to her superior. “But that doesn’t change the fact that they were human killers and you still have a vampire in chains. A vampire who works here. Who protected people, humans, while the shooting was happening.” That soft smile came back to Nolan’s lips and he glanced over at Roman. “Is that so?” he said before his eyes went pass Sam to a man standing near the back. The man obviously worked here, a towel still hanging from his belt. “Can you confirm this vampire works here?” The man looked wide eyed and glanced at Roman before nodding. Nolan smiled and looked to the Undertakers holding Roman’s chains. “And did you run his name?” “Roman Sabinus,” one of them said. “No priors.” “Well then, by all means, let him go,” Nolan said and Sam finally felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. She saw something like confusion pass through the Undertakers’ faces, but they finally did as Nolan said, pulling the chains from around Roman’s neck and wrists. Roman growled a little as his skin sizzled and he turned around, glaring at the Undertakers as they moved away from him. Nolan turned to the man with the scarred lip. “Finish up here, let the witnesses go.” The man frowned but nodded and went off to do as he said. Nolan turned to look at Sam, reaching out to touch her arm lightly. She pulled it back from him, but he didn’t seem to mind, holding his hand out towards one of the barstools. “Please, Sam, why don’t we sit down for a bit.” Sam looked hesitantly at the barstool and then went to do as he said. Nolan followed after her, but when Roman started to move from behind the bar, he called out to him, “Could you get us a towel, and a first aid kit? And why don’t you pour us a drink while you’re at it. Gin and tonic for myself,” he turned to look at Sam and she glanced towards Roman, who was glaring at the man like he hated him and he probably did. She just shook her head. Nolan smiled. “The same for the lady.” “Of course,” Roman grit out, rubbing at his own wrists from where they’d been bound just moments before. Nolan waited until Roman handed him the towel and first aid kit before he turned back to Sam. He handed her the towel and she looked down at it with a frown. “You have splatter,” he said lowly and as soon as he said it, she could feel Howard’s blood on her skin. She grabbed the towel, wiping it off, unsure about the sudden nervousness she felt running through her. Nolan watched her for a moment before pulling open the first aid kit. He pulled out an antiseptic pad and held it up. “May I?” he asked, nodding towards the wound on her head. She nodded again and he reached forward, pressing it to the wound. She winced at the sting, but let him clean it and put butterfly stitches over it. Roman set their drinks down and took a step back. “Anything else?” he asked, his voice low and barely restraining the anger. “Stick around for a bit,” Nolan said, not turning to even look at him. He leaned back and dismissed Roman just as quickly as that, looking at Sam. “There, all better,” he said. Sam ducked her head a little. “Thanks,” she said, glancing over at Roman, who was barely containing the snarl he aimed at Nolan. The man gave a small laugh and closed up the first aid kit, shoving it blinding back towards Roman. “Sam,” he said. “Is that short for Samantha?” “Or Samuel,” she said, the sarcasm a bit lost in the shaking of her voice. Now that it was all over, she felt the adrenaline wearing off and it left her just feeling empty and tired. She wanted to go home to Bobby and she didn’t want to think that it was Howard they were scraping up off the floor behind Nolan. Nolan chuckled. “Samantha what?” “Moss,” she gave, glowering at him. “Ah,” Nolan said, the smooth smile on his lips, voice still calm as ever. “I recognize the name. You had quite the outstanding record, didn’t you? If I remember correctly, Rookie of the Year, Upstanding Citizen, one of the highest in your aptitude tests. And then you just seemed to drop off the map.” He left the question up in the air and Sam reached up to rub at her neck absently. “I do clerical work now,” she said. Nolan nodded his head. “Is that so?” he asked. His slender hand reached for the gin and tonic Roman had set there. He sipped at it and licked his lips, nodding his head at Roman. “That’s a good drink,” he told him and Roman just lifted his chin and nodded his thank you, probably unable to bring himself to actually say the words to the man. Sam watched him a moment before returning her gaze to Nolan. He set the drink down and shrugged a little. “I suppose a slump in our careers is always expected. Especially given what happened to you. I’m surprised you stayed with the force at all.” Sam bristled, her face darkening and she didn’t want to talk about this. Not with him, not with anyone. She knew what he was getting at what had happened had happened. It was over now and there was nothing she could do to change it. “I’d like to go home now,” she told him and it sounded weak and pathetic, even to her. Sighing, Nolan nodded his head. “Of course,” he said. “You’ve had a very traumatic night.” His hand came forward and settled on her knee and Sam stiffened. “But, let me ask you something. Does clerical work give you job satisfaction? Does it make you happy?” “Nothing makes me happy,” Sam spat the harsh truth. Nolan smiled sorrowfully at her, but she wasn’t sure she bought it. “That’s unfortunate,” he said. “I may have a solution.” His hand moved across her knee and she resisted the urge to grab his wrist and twist it behind his back. “Why don’t you come and work for me?” She scoffed. “Why would I want to do that?” she demanded. “I could double your salary,” he said and immediately, Sam’s eyes widened, whatever angry retort she had on her lips falling short. Nolan laughed. “Benefits. Family coverage. I could make sure you find certain…pleasures in your job – to heighten your job satisfaction.” Sam’s eyes travelled Nolan’s face and when he squeezed her knee, they shot to Roman, who looked disgusted. His eyes came to meet hers and she had to look away quickly. She thought about Bobby screaming at her that he didn’t know what she did for this family, that she hadn’t gone grocery shopping, that he had to buy his own dinner. Double the salary, she could provide for him. Maybe she could give him his own bank card, he seemed to be responsible with his money. “Tell you what,” Nolan said when she didn’t answer. She flinched when he reached up to straighten the collar of her jacket. “You take tonight to think about it. If you accept my offer, just show up tomorrow morning. If you decline, no hard feelings. You can go back to working in your cube. Does that sound fair?” Sam opened her mouth and then shut it, her eyes going to her hands in her lap. She bit her lip and said quietly, “The Fang gets to go home too.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Roman’s head snap towards her and she didn’t look at him or Nolan because she couldn’t explain why she said it. Why should she care what they did with Roman after she left? She didn’t have an answer, but it didn’t change the fact that she did care. Nolan gave a small laugh. “Your compassion is endearing. I wouldn’t expect it from someone who went through what you did,” he said and Sam clenched her hands into fists. “But of course. He is free to go as well.” “Good,” Sam said and slid off the barstool, gathering her purse and her bloodied silver knife. She waited for Roman to head to the door before she started too. “Will I see you tomorrow, Ms. Moss?” Nolan called. Sam paused and thought about Howard telling her he’d see her tomorrow at work. She couldn’t explain why the words tore at her heart. “Yes,” she said quietly, not turning back as she headed out the door. |
| The streets were chilly compared to the bar, a damp cloud hanging over the city. Bright lights flashed from the squad cars, a small crowd of people gathered around the roped off entrance to his bar. He felt a surge of bitterness at that, looking back at just another piece of his life that had been destroyed. There was a reporter trying to interview one of the cops who just kept telling her they didn’t know anything yet but the undertakers were investigating it. He wondered if they were disappointed they couldn’t blame a vamp. Sam followed him out, pulling her coat tightly around her shoulders. She didn’t look at him, back rigid and tense as she turned and started heading down the sidewalk. The lights flashed over her face, illuminating specks of blood that remained on her neck and jaw. Her steps were quick, arms crossed over her chest. She only glanced up when Roman fell into step beside her. A frown creased her face before she looked away. “I don’t need you to walk me home,” she said harshly. Her head lifted to check traffic but she didn’t wait for the light to change before hurrying across the street. “I know,” Roman said. He followed her anyway. He couldn’t have said why, but after that he didn’t like the thought of her walking back alone. Didn’t matter that it was in human territory and she shouldn’t be in any danger. It wasn’t vampires that had killed Howard and it wasn’t vampires that put a gun to her head. At that thought he felt himself tense, the anger and protectiveness lingering in his chest. Maybe he just didn’t like the thought of her not showing up tomorrow. Maybe he had gotten used to her presence. Maybe he didn’t like how guilty he would have felt if she had gotten killed in front of him. She snorted and pulled the cigarettes out of her coat pocket. They were heading out of the vampire district and into human territories and he tried not to glance at the chain link fence they passed by. Her voice was muffled as she spoke, glancing up at him out of the corner of her eye. “You do realize what they’ll do to you in this part of the city, right?” she said. She pulled the lighter out but her fingers didn’t want to work right, fumbling with it as she tried to light it. “Haven’t you had enough close calls for one night?” “I can take care of myself.” Roman took the lighter from her, snapping a small flame to life and holding it to the end of her cigarette. She paused in her steps to let him, a frown creasing her face as he flipped it closed and handed it back. She took it hesitantly from him, studying his face for a moment before she pocketed. She took a long drag from her cigarette and then snorted and shook her head, blowing plumes of smoke out through her nose. “Yeah,” she spat, waving a hand at his throat. “Because it really looked that way when you had fucking chains around your neck.” Roman couldn’t stop his growl of irritation, his hand going to this throat. “It would have looked worse if I’d fought back.” She laughed dryly, pointing the cigarette at him. “Yeah, alright, I’ll give you that,” she admitted. Then she gave him a mean smirk, lip curling up in a sneer. “Maybe I just don’t trust a fucking Fang to know where I live.” His eyes narrowed. “Maybe I don’t trust that an undertaker knows where I live,” he shot back. Sam gave another laugh, harsh and loud as she turned her head over her shoulder to look at him. He kept his expression carefully blank. “If I wanted you fucked up then I would have just left you at your bar with the rest of them,” she said. “I’m sure Nolan back there could have thought of more interesting ways to question you.” She smiled at the sneer that curled his lip, the sudden anger that she must have seen on his face. He could still feel the chains burning into his throat and his wrists. She turned her back to him, not bothering to see if he was still following her or if he would just turn around and go back to his tiny apartment. He thought he should have. It was dangerous for his kind to be in this part of the city. It shouldn’t have been dangerous for him anywhere and he felt the bitterness churning in his gut. He kept following her anyway. He moved to walk at her shoulder and even with the heels he stood a good head taller. He could smell Howard’s blood on her skin, barely masked by the familiar smell of cigarettes. “Thank you then,” he said. She started slightly at the words, head turning to look up at him. Her eyes flicked across his face before she scoffed uncomfortably, taking another drag from her cigarette. “Yeah, well, don’t make a big deal out of it,” she told him. “We’re even now. Don’t expect me to bail your ass out every time you get in trouble with the undertakers.” He snorted and looked over at the streets. “I don’t expect anything.” Her gaze flicked over to him again and then she nodded her head. “Well… good.” He hesitated and then looked straight ahead of them, golden pools of light illuminating the gray sidewalk. “You’re taking Nolan’s offer,” he said darkly. He didn’t understand the bitterness he felt at that, but he understood the hatred he felt for that man. “I could use the money,” she spat. He didn’t know if the anger was for him or for herself. He didn’t ask. He clamped his jaw shut and looked away, the familiar loathing burning away in his stomach. He knew what would have happened to him if she hadn’t been there. He wondered if his father wasn’t right about them. Human justice only served humans anymore. Sam fell quiet and he did the same. He listened to the sound of cars rushing by and footsteps pounding against the pavement across the street. A woman was yelling out an open window to the man on the street below. A dog was barking in the apartment building just behind them. The cloying stench of smoke from cars and cigarettes clouded his senses and he was grateful for them because they helped mask the scent of her blood. He wondered what would have happened to either of them tonight if he’d fed on her. After a moment she let out a heavy sigh and then her head turned to look up at him. “So?” she asked. He glanced down at her, a blank look on his face. She was studying him intently and then a frown creased her face, pointing the cigarette at him. “Go ahead and ask. I mean, you must be dying to say something, right? ‘What happened to you Sam?’ ‘Why are you such a fuck up?’ ‘Are you really that much of a whore?” She spat the words out, jamming the cigarette back between her lips and gesturing one hand at him. “Get it all out of your system now so we don’t have to go through this shit tomorrow.” Roman scoffed bitterly, shaking his head as he looked away from her. He thought about asking what she wanted and he thought about asking why she was never happy, but didn’t do either of those things. She hated him and had nothing but cruel words for him and he was suddenly angry at his new understanding of her and the things she did. Easier to hate her in return. “It’s none of my business.” She shot a glance at him and for a moment he saw something like hurt on her face. Then her lip curled in a nasty sneer. “Right,” she spat. “We wouldn’t want to get too personal, would we? This is just business. This is all you want, isn’t it?” She turned abruptly, one hand coming up to pull the jacket from her neck. Her head tipped to the side, baring her throat to him while her other hand pressed against his chest. He was startled by the motion, hands coming out to catch her arms as she stepped closer to him. His gaze immediately focused on the vein in her neck, already flecked with blood. His jaw clamped shut and he forced his gaze to move back to her face. There was something mean there and he thought it hid the hurt. “What happened to you?” he asked. She snorted and then flicked the cigarette out into the gutter. “None of your business,” she told him, taking a step back. She straightened her jacket and then turned and headed back down the sidewalk. Roman ran a hand over his mouth, trying to ignore the hunger and the need that surged through him. He forced it down, quickening his steps to catch up to her. She didn’t look over at him, didn’t even acknowledge he was there. He felt like there was something else he should have said but he didn’t. She stopped when they reached the end of the sidewalk, turning on her heel and facing him. Her arms crossed over her chest and she tilted her chin back, something dark still on her face. “Alright Fang, far enough,” she said. “I can find my way from here.” Roman snorted at the slur and shook his head. It shouldn’t have surprised him. He wondered if he had mistaken the concern she’d shown for him. She cared little for him and his kind and she had made that clear a hundred times over. Tomorrow would be the same, if she even showed up after this. She would ridicule him and mock him, taunting him for thinking she needed a vampire escort to get to her own home. He turned his back to her, waving a hand over his shoulder. “Take care Sam,” he said, bitterness in his voice. “Roman,” she called. He glanced over his shoulder and for a moment she hesitated, gaze scanning his face. He didn’t know what the expression she wore was but he was sure he’d never seen it there before. He wondered if Bobby was right, and she used to be nicer. And he wondered honestly what had happened to her. She licked her lips and then shifted uncomfortably. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” |
| Sam watched Roman walk until he was out of her sight. And even after that she stood there in the lamplight for a long while. Their apartment complex was just around the corner and she bet if Roman wanted to come back here, he could find them. She thought she should care a little more about that than she actually did. But the truth that she didn’t want to admit to herself was that she wasn’t sure she cared if Roman knew where she lived or not. She wasn’t sure she believed he’d ever use that against her. The wind picked up and Sam pulled her jacket in closer to her, watching the shadows where he’d disappeared. It wasn’t supposed to be this confusing, this arrangement of theirs. It was supposed to be business and business alone. No saving each other’s lives, no walking each other home, no feeling sorry for the way they treated each other and she thought maybe she was just craving the bite tonight and getting sentimental over it. Maybe she just needed her fix and tomorrow things would go back to normal. Except that wasn’t true either. Howard was dead. Growing cold on a metal slab somewhere, probably being autopsied. And a sleazy, twit in a tan suit had taken over his place. Howard’s advances had all been harmless. They’d been adoring and cute. Nolan was a different story and Sam had to think about how she was going to handle this. Maybe he was just like that and he didn’t want anything from her other than her to work there. But even as she thought it, she knew that was bullshit. Turning around abruptly, she walked up the sidewalk and around the corner, pulling her keys out and entering her apartment building. It was later than normal and she hoped Bobby was still in bed. She was still a mess, not to mention the butterfly stitches on her head. Her kid brother wouldn’t handle that well. She tried to be as quiet as possible as she reached their door. Pushing it open, she was surprised to find the lamp on the computer desk still on. Bobby lay on the couch. He’d changed into his pajamas, but his feet were hanging out from beneath the blanket he’d pulled off his bed. Textbooks scattered the floor from where he’d been doing his homework and lying across his chest was some fantasy book that he’d obviously gotten from the school library. They didn’t have a television. Books had basically been Bobby’s entertainment growing up. Closing the door softly behind her, she slipped her heels off and pulled them into one hand so they wouldn’t click on the ground as she made her way over to the couch. She pulled the book from off his chest, turning it over and reading the first line. She snorted softly, how could the kid read this crap? Putting it down on top of his textbooks, she tried to gently lift his feet over the edge of the couch and pull the blanket down over them. She wasn’t as successful as she wanted to be, because in the next moment, Bobby shifted and his eyes fluttered open. She smiled to try and show him everything was okay, knowing his eyes would eventually make their way to her face. Setting her shoes down on the floor, she sat on the edge of the couch, pulling the blanket down around him to try and tuck him in. “Sam?” Bobby asked, blinking heavily and then his eyes went wide and she knew the moment he saw the stitched cut on her forehead. He threw the blanket back, sitting up violently. “What happened?” he squawked. “Are you okay?” His hand came out to try and touch her forehead. She reached forward and grabbed his wrist gently, keeping him from touching her. “I’m okay,” she said and she surprised herself when her voice broke. She forced the emotions back, but all she could think about was the gun pointed at her head and the way her mind had instantly went to Bobby. He would have slept here all night and not known what happened until the Undertakers had shown up on their doorstep to tell him his big sister was dead. Pulling Bobby forward, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and held his small frame against her, resting her head on his shoulder. She felt his arms wrap around her, hands pressing against her back. “I love you, bratkin,” she said. Bobby let out a breath. “I love you too, Sam,” he responded and she felt him squeeze her a little tighter. She pulled away and smiled at him, her hand coming up to brush some of his messy hair back out of his face. Bobby was watching her closely. “Is everything okay?” he asked tentatively and he was so smart sometimes it hurt. “Yeah,” she said, nodding, feeling tears stinging at her eyes again. She let out a forced laugh and took his hand. “Guess what?” she asked, forcing herself to sound lighter than the torrent of emotions waging beneath the surface. Bobby raised an eyebrow. Sam smiled, shaking her head. “No, you have to guess.” Sighing, Bobby tipped his head to the side. “You won the lottery,” he said dryly. Smirking, Sam swatted him upside the head playfully. “Close,” she admitted. “I got a raise.” Bobby’s eyes widened. “You did?” he asked, sounded rightfully shocked. “How? I mean, why?” “Oh, thanks for the vote of confidence,” she joked and Bobby narrowed his eyes at her. She chuckled and shook her head. “I have a new boss and he wants me to come work for him in the morning. He’s…doubling my salary so I’m going to take care of us. I’m going to make everything better for us.” Instantly, the smile fell off Bobby’s face and a dark look of suspicion crossed his features. Rightfully so, but it still hurt that her brother didn’t trust her. “Who is he?” he asked. “What do you have to do?” Sam shook her head. “You don’t have to worry about that,” she told him, reaching up to hold the sides of his face. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his and Bobby just looked more worried. “I’m going to make things right and things will get better, okay?” Bobby hesitated a moment before he nodded. Sam smiled at him and then leaned back, looking down at his textbooks. “Did you finish your homework?” she asked. “I went to Roman’s today,” Bobby blurted and the words had Sam stiffening, her eyes shooting towards his face. “What?” she snapped, a million different thoughts running through her mind. Why hadn’t Roman said anything about it? Why hadn’t she known about this? What was he doing over there and why had he gone? “Do you fucking know what could have happened to you, just waltzing into vampire territory like that?” she said, her voice angered and sharp. Bobby nodded. “I was fine,” he said, blasé about the whole thing. “I asked him to stop feeding on you.” Sam’s heart skipped a beat and she thought about the way Roman had pulled back in the kitchen. It made more sense now. Her heart was pounding loud in her chest at the thought of Bobby being alone with Roman. As much as she didn’t think he’d ever hurt her, she wasn’t sure she trusted him with her brother just yet. “He said if he didn’t, then someone else would.” Sam licked her lips. “He’s right,” she said lowly. Bobby nodded and Sam shook her head. “That’s so fucking stupid of you, Bobby.” She saw her brother look up, wide eyed. Sam turned and rested her head in her hands, thinking about how close she’d come to losing everything today. “You could have been killed. Or worse.” “Roman wouldn’t do that,” Bobby said and Sam shook her head. “Not by him! It’s the rest of them you have to worry about!” she yelled, turning to look at him. She reached out and grabbed his chin, rougher than she meant to be. “Promise me you won’t go there again.” Bobby’s eyes were wide and a little scared at the ferocity she was yelling at him with. “Bobby, I want you to say the words. Promise me you won’t fucking do something that stupid again.” “Okay,” Bobby said and Sam let go of his chin. He reached up to rub at it, leaning back a little. She watched him a moment more before turning and covering her mouth with her hands. She stared at the computer desk. She felt tears stinging at her eyes. Bobby scooted a little closer to her, his hand coming out to touch his elbow. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice hurt. Sam closed her eyes and then turned immediately to wrap her arms around him, pulling him tightly against her. Bobby’s arms wrapped around her again and she rested her chin on the top of his head. “It’s okay,” she whispered to him. “Things will be better tomorrow.” Even as she said it, she knew. They really, really wouldn’t. |
| There was a knot of bitterness in Roman’s gut as he walked home. He was drained and empty, the smell of Sam’s cigarettes lingering on his clothes, reminding him that his hunger hadn’t been sated. He ran a hand over his face and he didn’t want to think about her. He didn’t want to wonder whether or not she was alright or worry about her because it was none of his concern. She was an undertaker. It was her job to keep his kind in line and he was no exception to that. She had already told him as much. He didn’t go by the bar on his way home. He didn’t want to think about that right now either. It was his and now it was in ruins, just one more thing he’d watched get destroyed. Maybe they would actually look into the murder, but he thought it more likely they’d write it off as one other assault ignited by the simple existence of his kind. It was a vampire bar, of course it would be his fault. He kept his head down on the walk home. The anger and bitterness stayed with him, constant companions to the hate he felt all the time. He hated this city. He hated this life. He hated that he could understand Sam when she said nothing made her happy. He hated that those words had come from her lips. He thought he hated that more than anything and that he didn’t understand. There was someone in his apartment when he got there. He knew it before he opened the door. There was movement as soon as he set foot in it, one hand grasping his arm and the other wrapping around his throat. He lashed out at his attacker, striking them across the temple and knocking their grip loose. There was an answering snarl and then the hand on his arm was tightening painfully, flipping him over with inhuman strength onto the ground. He felt a knee drop into his chest, the hand wrapping around his throat again as he leaned over Roman. His face was illuminated for a moment by the light coming through the window, and he saw his father’s face looking down at him. For that instant, he saw naked relief. “Roman,” he said. “You’re alright.” “You weren’t expecting me to be?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow. His father snorted out a laugh and then pushed himself to his feet, leaving his son on the floor. Roman watched him for a moment as the cool mask slid across his features, hiding whatever signs of concern he had witnessed on his face. He sat up slowly, resting his elbows on his knees and watching as the man turned away from him, waving a hand over his shoulder to try and brush off the question. “No, of course not,” he said. “I was merely concerned. I heard about what happened at Legion’s.” “Of course,” Roman said. He watched as his father moved away from him, brushing imaginary dust from his clothes. Gaius was never anything but impeccable. He snorted and pushed himself slowly to his feet, fingers straying to his neck. He could still feel the sting of those silver chains, and the cool grip of his father’s hand. “What did you hear about it?” “I heard there had been an incident and the undertakers called in.” Gaius glanced back at him and whatever shred of fatherly affection he’d possessed a moment before was gone, replaced by something calculating. “Are you harmed at all?” Roman shook his head. “Nothing lasting,” he said. He wondered if it was the truth. He pushed by his father to the small fridge, pulling out a cold bag of blood. It would have tasted better warm but it would still be a lie. It still wasn’t the same as fresh human blood or the sensation of his fangs sinking into warm flesh. It wasn’t Sam, and he dismissed that thought as soon as he had it. It was cold and impersonal as he bit through the plastic, feeling the thick liquid pool on his tongue. Gaius was watching him, leaning his back against the couch. His face contorted as his eyes watched Roman’s face, lingering on his neck for a moment, seeing the already fading lines. “That someone would attack you, a child of my own blood…” he scoffed and then a sneer curled his lips. “They will suffer for this, I swear to you.” Roman shook his head quickly, licking the blood from his lips. “Don’t,” he snapped. His father frowned, lips pursing in annoyance as he watched his child’s face. “If the attack was directed at me it was poorly done. Let it be.” Gaius snarled, yanking the blood from Roman’s fingers and throwing it violently in the sink. “I will not allow this to go unpunished.” Roman felt his own anger rising in the face of his father’s. He didn’t want his brand of justice and he didn’t want the aftermath of it. He had lived through too many reigns of chaos and blood and he didn’t understand why it kept happening. The humans persecuted his kind because they were scared of them, and Gaius was one of those who kept giving them a reason to be. “Your lust for blood has done enough already,” he snapped. “I want no part of it.” “My lust for blood?” His father’s eyes widened in surprise as emotions flickered across his face like masks he was trying on. Roman tensed unconsciously, waiting for the storm of anger or the quiet, disappointed sadness. After a moment Gaius scoffed, waving a hand at him in righteous indignation. “It was a mistake to think we could ever live in peace with them. Their only purpose is to bleed for us.” He shook his head and then spit the words out onto the floor. “If you were less of a coward then there would be no retribution needed. They would already be dead at your hand. Instead you allow them to chain you like a dog.” “Did you order it?” Roman asked abruptly. “The attack?” The words interrupted his father’s tirade and caused him to still. “Ah, my childe,” he said. “How can you ask me that?” He watched as his father’s face grew shuttered, pulling hurt over it just as easily as he had worn anger. He almost felt guilt at that and he ducked his head, looking down at his shoes. “Just answer the question.” There was a long stretch of silence after the words and he could hear the storm building. He glanced up but didn’t lift his head, watching his father’s hands curl into fists before he slammed one into the refrigerator behind him. “How dare you!” he roared into his face, his fangs sharp points in his mouth. “I give you life and death and this is how you repay me? With suspicion and mistrust?” Another roar left his lips and he yanked at the door to the fridge, tearing it off its hinges and onto the floor. Roman kept still, his arms crossed over his chest as he waited for the anger to fade. He wondered if one of these days his father would do as he said and kill him. If that day ever came, he didn’t think there would be anything left of Gaius afterwards, and he felt a small amount of pity for him for that. Something crashed and broke as Gaius slammed his fist into the wall and then it was over. “I could never harm you, my son,” he said quietly. His voice was soft and harsh and Roman couldn’t help but tense when the hand settled on his shoulder. “Never. No matter how much you break my heart with your cowardice.” The words hurt. He’d thought after being alive this long they would stop having that kind of power over him, but they never did. A part of him still longed to make his father proud even while he understood that day would never come. He kept his gaze on the floor, even when the hand on his shoulder gave a tight squeeze and then released him. “Tell me what happened,” he said, walking towards the armchair. “Tell me it took at least an army to have you tucking your tail between your legs.” Roman gritted his teeth, back leaning against the counter. “Two men with guns broke into the bar. I don’t know their intentions, but they killed one man before they fled.” He shrugged his shoulders and didn’t tell his father about Sam. He would ask why Roman had saved her. “As I said, if I was their target than it was poorly done.” Gaius barked out a laugh as he sat down, kicking his legs out on the coffee table. He was still grinning as his eyes scanned Roman’s face but it slowly faded when he realized it wasn’t a joke. His lip pulled up in a sneer and he scoffed loudly. “Truly? You were scared off by only two men? What do we care if they have guns? Are you my childe or not?” “And what would you have me do?” he snapped, his grip on his anger loosening. “If I had killed them then it wouldn’t matter that they were murderers. All the undertakers would see is the murder done by a vampire. As it was Nolan-” He didn’t get anymore words out. His father jerked to his feet immediately, his eyes narrowed and a hiss leaving his lips. He was back across the room in front of Roman in the space of a breath, his eyes scanning his face and his hand gripping his arm with one white knuckled hand. He was startled by the intensity of emotion on his father’s face, his eyes seeking something from him. “Noland,” he demanded. “Nolan Byrd? You didn’t tell me he was there.” “I didn’t know it mattered,” Roman said, watching his father’s face. “You know him?” “Why did he let you go?” Gaius demanded. Roman stilled at the question. There was something dangerous in his father’s eyes, something angry and harsh, but he found he didn’t want to answer him. Sam’s name was on the tip of his tongue but he bit it off before he could speak it. He didn’t trust his father. Not with Sam. Instead he shook his head slowly and looked away. “I don’t know,” he said. Gaius roared with sudden anger and this time Roman had no forewarning of it. He didn’t expect the hand that wrapped around his throat or his father to slam him up against the wall with violent strength. “You’re lying!” he screamed. There was hate etched on his face as he tightened his grip on Roman’s throat and dug his nails into his skin. “Tell me what deal he gave you to allow you to slip from his grasp. Tell me what promises you made. Did you offer him me in your place? Tell me how you sold yourself to him.” Roman lashed out violently at his father, striking him with more force than intended. There was a red haze of anger across his vision and he wondered how much of it had to do with the words and how much it had to do with Nolan’s hand settling on Sam’s knee. “I didn’t give him anything,” he snarled. He shoved his father away from him and then took a step back. His hand ran over his throat, eyes narrowed as he watched Gaius. He could see his own hate and loathing reflected back at him and he hated that they were both the same kind of monster. He tried to calm himself, lowering his voice. “There were enough witnesses that said I did nothing wrong.” Gaius watched him for a moment and then his face softened, a smile taking its place. “Of course,” he said. “I apologize for my hasty assumption.” He straightened up, smoothing out his clothes and brushing them off. Roman kept his distance, still tense as Gaius lifted his head and met his eyes again. “I am glad you are well,” he said quietly, and Roman wanted to believe those words badly. He nodded his head slightly, never taking his eyes from his father even when he turned around. He headed towards the door with a quiet dignity, but paused before leaving, glancing over his shoulder. “That man is dangerous, Roman,” he warned. “Tread carefully.” |
| Sam had realized halfway through getting dressed that morning that she wasn’t sure what she would be doing for Nolan. She wasn’t sure if he’d put her back on the streets, though she doubted that one, or if he’d keep her doing clerical work just for him. She knew he probably wouldn’t settle for jeans and a t-shirt, so she found a light grey plaid mini skirt and a dark grey turtleneck. She let her hair hang down straight around her shoulders, her bangs in her eyes. Black tights and knee high boots finished off the ensemble and she thought it made her look more like a school girl whore than anything, but if Nolan wanted her to dress nicely, he was going to have to wait until she had gone clothes shopping. She’d dropped Bobby off like normal, but he’d been hesitant about saying goodbye. She hadn’t really told Bobby what had happened in the bar, but she was pretty sure he was going to find out at school. Stuff like that spread like wildfire around the community. She’d be hearing about it tonight. Maybe she’d be lucky and manage to sneak in without waking him. Somehow she doubted it. The West Side office was a lot bigger and nicer than the East side. It was the face of the Undertakers, where most of the business went down. It was a four story, spacious office building that had an open interior. If people had cubicles the walls were too high to notice they had neighbors and the cubes were big enough it didn’t feel half as cramped as Sam’s old cube. Her heeled boots clicked on the marble floor as she made her way inside. She immediately felt a swell of familiarity at the countless men and women she saw dressed in the Undertaker uniforms. They were buzzing around the offices, working hard or at least pretending to. Sam remembered a time when she used to be one of them. When she used to give a shit. At the far end of the offices, a man was scraping the word “Captain” off of a glass door. Nolan’s name was painted beautifully beneath the word that she assumed was being changed to “Chief” and the man didn’t waste time. The door was wide open and she saw the office empty and deserted inside. She scratched at her arms absently, unsure what to do if Nolan wasn’t there. “Looking for the Chief?” came a voice. Sam glanced over her shoulder at the patrolman standing behind her. He stood tall and trim, his hair neat. He had an older look about him, but lacked the smarmy features Nolan possessed. “I was told to come see him for a job,” she said, tugging at the hem of her turtleneck. “You know where he is?” The man nodded. “Brunch with the Governor,” he said. “Should be back soon.” “Thanks,” Sam said dryly and she was dying to pull out her cigarettes from her purse, but she doubted that’d go over well here. She was going to have to learn to go for a few hours without one, she supposed. Maybe she should start chewing gum. It’d go with her new outfit. The man quirked his head to the side and held his hand out to shake hers. “Caleb Rourke,” he said and as soon as the name was off of his lips, Sam’s eyes snapped back to his face. He seemed a little surprised at the motion and something like nervousness passed across his features, but he pushed it aside. “And you are?” Sam smirked. “Apparently the East side librarian,” she snarked. Caleb’s eyebrow rose and then it seemed to dawn on him and he smiled widely at her. “Samantha Moss,” he ventured a guess. It actually brought a smile to her face and she reached out to shake his hand in return. “Sam,” she corrected. He laughed. “Well, it’s nice to put a face to the name,” he said. Sam nodded, withdrawing her hand and wrapping it back around her waist. She felt uncomfortable here and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was just because she was out of place. She glanced back at Caleb and asked, “What did you need with a two year old vampire case anyway?” Scratching the back of his head, he gave a nervous laugh and said, “Oh, it’s just a little…something I was looking into…” he lied obviously. Sam snorted and tipped her head to the side, her hair falling over her shoulder. “Could you sound any more suspicious?” she joked. It brought another laugh from him and she found his grin to be infectious, returning it with a quirk of her lips. “At the risk of sounding even more suspicious, I have to go,” Caleb said, jerking his head over his shoulder. “Time to hit the streets. It was nice meeting you, Sam. I look forward to working with you.” “Yeah, should be fun,” she sassed and it made him shake his head, but he turned and walked off towards the locker rooms. She rolled her eyes and glanced towards the doors, wondering if she shouldn’t try coming back at a later time. As soon as she thought it, she felt an unnerving presence at her back and Nolan’s low, calm voice made her jump and turn quickly to face him as he said, “You look stunning.” Ducking her head, she pushed her hair behind her ear and forced a smile on her face for him. “I didn’t really have many choices on what to wear…” she said, looking down at herself. “The look suits you,” he smiled, his eyes half lidded. He held his arm out towards the office door, motioning for her to head inside. She let her arms hang loose, trying to look less than half as nervous as she really was. As soon as she stepped inside the office, she looked around. It was an expensive looking place. Bookshelves lined the walls and there were trophies and awards all over. The desk itself could have probably paid her rent for months. She stood there for a moment as Nolan shooed the man painting his new title onto the door. He closed it and then walked over, nodding his head at her. “Please, have a seat,” he said, rounding the desk to stand behind it and shuffle through some papers there. Sam sat down in one of the plush red chairs, sinking in and immediately feeling like it was too expensive for her taste. She cleared her throat and leaned forward, arms crossed on the edge of the desk. “So when you said to come work for you, what did you have in mind?” she asked, straightforward and not wasting a moment. Nolan glanced up at her and smiled, but didn’t answer. He looked back at his papers, pulling one out and reading it over before he put it to the side and sighed. He walked over to the cabinet in the corner of the room and she watched him pull out two rocks glasses, pulling the glass cork off of an expensive bottle of whiskey. He poured two glasses and put it away, bringing one over to her. She had to lean back in the chair, accepting the glass as he sat down on the edge of it and held the glass out to her in a toast. When she hesitated, he smiled and rested his arm on his knee, glass hanging loosely in his hand. “I find myself in need of certain connections and talents,” he said, looking her square in the eye. Lifting an eyebrow, she shrunk back a little in her chair. “What sort of talents?” she asked. Nolan smirked. “Information talents,” he said. He leaned forward a little. “You failed to mention yesterday that you knew Roman Sabinus on a personal level.” Sam lifted her chin slightly. “I didn’t know it mattered,” she said quickly and then shook her head. “And it’s not personal. I feed him. That’s it.” “Of course,” Nolan said. He reached forward and grabbed the glass from her hand, turning to set both of them down on the desk. She sucked in a breath when he crouched in front of her, his hands coming out to take hers. Her body stiffened when he started to roll up her sleeve, exposing the many bite marks she wore on her arm and crook of her elbow. This wasn’t Roman’s arm. This belonged to others. Nolan smirked and looked up at her. “I need you to be my ears out there,” he said lowly. “There’s something coming and I need to know what it is. Can you do that for me, Samantha?” Swallowing thickly, she said quietly, “Sam.” “I like Samantha better,” Nolan said and his hands traveled down her arm to hold her hand between his, his fingers playing with hers and she didn’t like the way he touched her, but she found herself too worried about losing this opportunity to pull back. “I need your help, Samantha,” he said. “I need to make this city safe and there are those who would strike out against us. I need you to learn all that you can.” Sam shook her head. “They won’t talk to me,” she said. Nolan smirked. “I’m sure a woman like you has ways of making them talk,” he said. She forced the scowl to stay off her face as he stood up, letting go of her hand and reaching back for the whiskeys. He held hers out for her and she went to take it, but he didn’t let go for a moment. “You do what you have to, you get me information and I’ll take care of you. I know how hard it’s been for you. For your little brother. It doesn’t have to be that way anymore. Do you want things to get better, Samantha?” Licking her lips, she hesitated only a moment before nodding. “Yes,” she answered quietly. “Good,” he said, letting go of her whiskey and clinking his glass against hers. “To the start of a great partnership,” he told her and then threw his whiskey back. Sam brought her glass to her lips and took a sip. Nolan glanced down at her glass and smirked again. He reached forward to take the glass away, placing it on the desk before he leaned forward, his hand coming forward to run his thumb along Sam’s jaw and chin. She tipped her head back, watching him with wide eyes. “Whatever you do, just make sure they don’t leave marks on your face. I’d like to take you to dinner with the Governor sometime and that requires some form of class.” Sam’s eyes narrowed, but she nodded her head, a fake smile gracing her lips. “I’ll try.” |
| A “closed” sign hung on the door to Legion’s, bright yellow police tape stretched over the door and one of the broken windows. Roman ducked underneath it, pausing in the doorway afterwards. It was dark inside, all the lights shut off and the smell of liquor and blood lingering heavily in the aftermath of last night. He rested his shoulder against the doorway, taking in the shattered glass on the floor and the liquid that pooled heavily on its surface. Howard’s body was gone, but there was still a chalk outline left behind and a number sitting next to it. Dried blood formed a dark halo around where his head had been. There were still numbers pinned to the wall next to the bullet holes, evidence taken and the bar swept for fingerprints. Roman didn’t really believe any of that would help. He didn’t think the undertakers or the cops did either, but they went through the motions anyway, just like everyone else in this city. If he could have, he would have left long ago, but there was nothing outside the walls except a wasteland and the possibility that sunlight could break through the cover of black clouds. He pushed his way inside, pushing the door shut behind him. Broken glass crunched underneath his feet, shoes sticking to the floor from the dried alcohol. He headed to the kitchen, pulling his coat off and hanging it on the hook. He felt detached and distant, unable to reconcile his bar with the place he was standing in now. It was broken now, like everything else. He rolled the yellow bucket out into the bar, mopping the blood up first. It was thick and dried and didn’t clean off easily. The smell of it lingered in the air and made him hungry despite himself, because that was just the nature of his monster. At some point he paused to stare at the floor, wondering in the back of his mind if Gaius wasn’t right about everything. He played by their rules and walked their line and where had it gotten him? His bar was in shambles, there was blood on his floor, and he’d been one step away from paying for all of it. They would have blamed him and put him in silver chains and that would have been the end of him. A snarl left his lips and he threw the mop away from him, letting it clatter to the floor. He didn’t want any part of this. He didn’t want this war but the hate he was left with was killing him just as surely. Soon there would be nothing left of him. Roman kicked the bucket away from him, moving instead to the bar. He yanked a bottle of whiskey from the shelf, taking a long pull from it and letting the liquid burn its way down his throat. Even as he did, he knew there was no solace in it and he turned and flung the bottle against the wall. There was a satisfying crash as it shattered, spilling liquor and glass to the ground. It’s all he can feel. Bitterness and hate warred in his gut, making his body rigid as he braced against the counter. Maybe there was no such thing as peace with them. Maybe they should be the slaves instead and then all of this would stop. He stayed like that for a while, just staring at the wreckage around him before he finally forced his body to move. He turned the television on so that there was some noise in the background and went back to cleaning up what was left. He tried not to think too much while he finished mopping the blood off the floor. When that was done he worked on cleaning up the broken glass, making a list as he went of what he’d have to replace. He wondered if it was even worth it. Maybe he should just sell the bar. The door creaks when it opens and he barely glanced up, trying to mop up the liquor and beer making the floor sticky. He’d pulled a trashcan out of the back and it was filled with shards of glass and wood that he’d ripped off the remains of his top shelf. For a moment he’d felt bitter about that until he thought it was better than cleaning two chalk outlines off his floor. “Looks like I got here too late,” the man said. Roman stilled when he saw him, because even if he didn’t recognize the face, he recognized the uniform. The man ducked under the yellow tape, looking around curiously. “Considering the rest of your kind was here last night,” he said dryly. The man laughed and nodded his head, gaze dropping to the floor. “Yeah, I read the reports. This where it happened?” He pointed at the wet spot on the ground, glancing up to look at Roman’s face. “Yes.” He didn’t move from where he stood, waiting for the chains to come out and the accusations to start. Even if he didn’t blame him for the death, most undertakers didn’t have a problem with taking out a little personal vengeance on a lone vampire. He wondered darkly if that was what Sam did to him. The man nodded his head again, crouching on the ground before looking around the place again. His gaze went behind Roman to the bullet holes in the wall and then met his gaze again. “Were you here last night?” he asked. “Is this part of the official investigation?” he asked. The man gave a crooked smile and ran a hand over his neatly trimmed hair. “You could call it that,” he said. “Since I’m an official, and I’m investigating.” He laughed at his own joke and then stood up, turning to face Roman. He studied him for a moment, keeping the smile on his face. “So you’re the owner then, the vampire? Sabinus, right?” “I prefer Roman,” he said. “Roman,” he repeated, pulling a book from his belt. “Well, I’m actually glad you’re here. It doesn’t look like anyone got an official statement from you last night. Maybe you could help fill in some of the blanks.” Roman frowned, watching the man scribble a little on the corner of his book. He didn’t trust him. He didn’t trust anyone and he wasn’t sure what the man wanted from him or if he should be angling his way towards the door. He didn’t move and after a moment the man glanced up, a hesitant smile on his lips. “What do you want to know?” Roman asked. “Just tell me what you saw. Any details you remember that someone else might have missed,” he said. Roman’s eyes narrowed but he nodded his head and let go of the mop to lean against the bar. “Mr. Diamante, I believe his name was, and Ms. Moss came in, ordered two drinks, and then went to leave. He went first, and when he opened the door two men in masks shot at them. Ms. Moss was behind him and managed to draw a knife, injuring one of them on his forearm. They entered the bar after her, and then attempted to shoot her as well.” He licked his lips and then nodded his head at the wall behind him. “They missed.” The man kept writing for a moment and Roman watched him no expression on his face. He kept the emotion from his voice because there was no reason to feel anything. After a moment the man lifted an eyebrow, still writing even as he glanced up with a curious expression on his face. “That’s pretty close range,” he said. “How’d they manage to miss her?” Roman glared at him because he wasn’t sure what the man was looking for and he wondered if he would believe him if he told him the truth. He thought about lying but didn’t see the point. “I removed her from the line of fire,” he said simply. The man nodded but there was a curious look on his face he didn’t like. “You could have stopped them,” he said. “Why didn’t you?” Roman gritted his teeth because the question felt too familiar. His father had asked him why he was such a coward that he wouldn’t kill men who assaulted him, but he wondered if he would have just laughed if he’d killed someone because they were attacking humans. Why save the weaker race? Why not let them die at their own hand? It didn’t matter what he did, or if he did nothing, none of it was right or would ever be right. Even if he did everything the old man asked, he would still mock him for being his father’s slave. He bit back a snarl and turned his head to the side, keeping his voice cold and calm. “I prefer not to get involved.” The undertaker studied him for a moment longer and then smiled, and Roman was starting to recognize it for the nervous habit that it was. “Well, thank you for your time, Roman.” He pulled out a card and slid it across the bar towards him. “If you remember anything else, please give me a call.” Roman snorted and picked it up, glancing at the name. Not one he recognized. He wondered if Gaius would. He wondered if he was on his father’s kill list, because he didn’t doubt there were several undertakers there already. “Mr. Rourke,” he said calmly. The man was already starting to walk out the door but he paused and glanced back at Roman. He had an honest face, he would give him that. “One of your shooters showed slight favor to his left side. If I had to guess, I’d say his right leg had been injured at some point or another. The other slurred his words when he cursed.” The man smiled and he meant it more this time. “Thanks again, Roman,” he said. He turned and headed outside, letting the door shut behind him. Roman watched him go and found himself wanting to believe the man was actually looking for answers. |
| Nolan was a tool. Sam had pretty much known that since the shooting, but spending the whole day with him after he explained what he wanted from her, she got the full picture. He’d spent most of the time introducing her around the office and then using her as an accessory to carry his folders and notebooks while he went to meetings or get-togethers with government officials. They talked about politics and sports and the vampire menace and when she’d opened her mouth to say anything, Nolan had squeezed her hand in a silent reminder to know her place. She knew what she was to him. It was obvious that he wanted more than information, but he’d only take it if she was sure to scrub behind her ears and he wouldn’t dirty himself with her. She’d felt that way the whole day. She was fun to look at and maybe the people he was meeting with did cast glances her way, or at least her chest’s way, when they thought Nolan wasn’t looking. It made her feel dirty. But she wondered if they were so wrong. She practically speed walked to Roman’s. As fast as her high heeled boots would take her. If she’d been smart, she would have brought a change of clothes, because a part of her wasn’t sure what he’d think of her wearing something like this. She usually showed up in jeans and a tee. Until last night, he’d never seen her in a dress. Or even a skirt. She didn’t own many nice things. Most of them were like this, a little bit on the slutty side. Nolan didn’t seem to have a problem with it. She wondered if Roman would. Then she wondered when she’d started caring what he saw her wearing. When had she started caring what he even thought of her. Had it all been last night? Or had this started before and she’d just been too whacked out to notice whenever she was around him. She was so focused on his fangs in her skin, or getting them there, that she didn’t really think about anything else. Especially trying to impress him. If anything, she’d tried to be cold and mean and distant because where had being nice and compassionate gotten her? Here. In this life. That’s where. Turning the corner towards Roman’s apartment buildings, she tugged on her shirt sleeves with her fingers. It was getting colder out. She glanced up at the sky, but it was the same as it always was. Just a mass of black cloud and nighttime. There was no sun, ever. She wondered if that was the vampires’ doing. But then she thought that was crazy. If the vampires had figured out how to defeat the sun, it should have been a fucking cake walk to maintain power over the human race. She was lost in thought and not paying attention. She opened the door to the apartment complex and walked down the first hallway, turning the corner and she realized too late that she wasn’t alone. She was used to hungry vampires poking their heads out of doorways to watch her come over or walk by. She was used to passing them on the street. This was vampire territory after all. But very rarely did they stand in the middle of the hallway and block the way. This vampire looked older. Of course, there was never telling how old they were, but he must have been older when he’d become one. He leaned against the wall casually, his arms crossed over his chest and his legs crossed at the ankles. He had a smirk on his face and his eyes were on Sam in an instant. Sam’s hand went to her purse, where her knife was hidden, but didn’t draw it yet. “Can you fucking get out of my way?” she snapped, no fear to her voice and she wondered why she couldn’t be that way to Nolan. How did that man have more power over her than a vampire? “It’s rather late for you to be walking out here alone,” the vampire said, his voice calm, but she didn’t trust his demeanor for a minute. He radiated an underlying rage and anger. “Where are you heading, Meatbag?” he asked. Sam’s eyes narrowed at the slur slung her way. “None of your fucking business, Fang,” she shot back. The vampire smiled at her. “Why are you here?” he asked instead. “What part of none of your fucking business do you need me to spell out for you?” she snapped. The smile fell off his face and he stood straighter, blocking the entire hallway. Sam just held her chin up and glared at him. She wasn’t afraid of a Fang. She knew how to take them down. Of course, in training she had more than just a knife, but really, she’d had less at one time. “Who are you?” he demanded, the humor and pleasantry gone from his voice. Now it was just a cold, venomous snarl. “Who sent you?” Sam frowned. “Are you off your fucking rocker?” She pointed her finger at him. “I should be asking you who the fuck you are – so I can add you to my official list of stupid fucks. You’d be right up there with the moron who invented the pet rock.” A growl escaped the vampire’s lips and Sam scoffed, rolling her eyes and turning around, done with this bullshit. He moved with all the speed a vampire could possess. One moment he’d been standing eight feet behind her and in the next, he stood right in front of her, his hand wrapped around her throat in a crushing grip. Sam brought one hand up to his wrist while the vampires other hand pulled at the collar of her turtleneck, exposing her slender neck beneath. His fangs bared and Sam would have sucked in a breath if she could have breathed. But he paused and she saw his head tip to the side. It gave her time to dig into her purse and wrap her hand around her knife. “I know your smell,” he said, more to himself than to her and a look of suspicion and puzzlement came over his face. Sam didn’t give him time to recognize her. She was slashing out with her knife with a vicious snarl. She heard the sizzle as it sliced across his shoulder and part of his chest. The grip around her neck loosened and she kicked him in the shin as hard as she could before waving the knife at his face. He let out a snarling yell as a small, superficial wound opened on his cheek, smoking and sizzling beneath the silver. Turning around, Sam ran now that she was given the opportunity. She reached the stairwell and slammed the door shut behind her, taking the stairs two at a time. She glanced behind her as she turned the corner of the stairwell. The door hadn’t opened and she wondered if he’d given up pursuit. Roman’s apartment was just out of the stairwell and around the corner. Bursting out of the stairwell, she took the corner quickly and let out a startled yell as she ran into the vampire, his eyes ablaze with anger and rage. He grabbed at her throat and the wrist of the hand that held the knife at the same time, wrenching her wrist violently to the side, the knife falling useless to the floor. He spun her around and slammed her against the wall. The force of it knocked the wind out of her and then her air was cut completely off as he lifted her off her feet, up against the wall with his hand choking off all air and digging painfully into her throat. “Why did you come here?” he snarled, anger making his voice loud and terrifying. His grip was like steel and if he didn’t let up soon, he was going to break her neck. “Who sent you here? Why are you after him?” he yelled, shaking her. She kicked out at him, but batted away her boots. She didn’t know what he expected from her, she couldn’t answer him with him choking the life out of her. She wondered who him was referring to. Obviously this freak was mistaken, thinking she’d been sent here after something and she wondered what the fuck had given him that impression. Did she look like a fucking killer? The last time she’d checked, killers and whores weren’t really sharing a style. He pulled her away from the wall and slammed her up against it viciously again. “Answer me what I ask of you!” he screamed at her and her eyes started to roll back into her head. She could see the darkness encroaching on the edges of her vision. |
| Roman knew as soon as he entered the stairwell that something was wrong. He could hear the angry shouting above him, smell the tang of blood in the air and the familiar scent of cigarettes. He was up the stairs in a heartbeat, slamming the door open and looking down the hallway towards his apartment. A dark wave of anger hit him when he saw what was happening. “Gaius!” Roman was at his father’s side with a vampire’s speed, his fingers curling around his father’s shoulder. He yanked him back away from Sam, sending him back against the opposite side of the hallway. Immediately his lips bared in a snarl, his eyes never leaving the woman across from him. He launched himself at her, fangs sharp and rage making him powerful as he tried to get to her. Roman barely caught his shoulders, slamming him back against the wall and finally drawing his father’s gaze to his face. Behind him Sam crouched on the ground, one hand to her throat as she coughed and choked. He didn’t dare look back at her but he could hear the ragged gasps as she tried to breath, hear the panicked racing of her heart through her skin. “She reeks of him, Roman,” his father spat, his words rambling and insensible. “She is his blade, come to finish what he started.” Roman slammed his father against the wall again when his gaze wandered to Sam. “Who?” “Nolan Byrd.” Gaius snarled the name like a curse, his face dark with rage and hatred. His fingers dug into Roman’s shoulders, trying to shove him back. He refused to let him go. His gaze flicked to the side for a moment, seeing Sam gingerly pulling herself to her feet with the wall. “I warned you. If he let you go it was for his own purposes, and now here it is in front of you.” “She’s not,” Roman said fiercely, knowing even as he said it that it might not be the truth. “She’s my feeder. That’s all.” Gaius stilled, hands still on his shoulders as his gaze flicked from one to the other. Roman couldn’t help but be grateful that Sam was staying quiet and staying behind him. The anger faltered as Gaius looked at his face. He scanned it carefully, something wretched and pained etching itself there. “Then you are already his bitch,” he said abruptly. His voice was dark and cold and then he let out a scream of rage, shoving Roman back until his spine crashed into the wall. His fangs snapped in front of his face, inches from his throat. “My own childe, bound and chained by the vilest of human men. Get out of my sight, before I kill you and your Meatbag both.” At those words Gaius twisted, throwing him to the ground and then slamming his fist angrily into the wall. It left dents in the plaster and the scream of pain and rage echoed in the hallway. Then he was gone, no sign of him left. Roman watched the space he had vacated, holding himself upright with his elbows while he waited for anything else to come. Behind him he could hear Sam’s heart beating quickly, slowly returning to its normal tempo. After a moment she swallowed hard. “Friend of yours?” Roman pushed himself upright and finally turned around, unable to shake the uneasiness that lingered with him. Sam leaned against the wall behind him, fingers shaking as they dug for her cigarettes. He paused when he saw how she was dressed, eyes traveling her form quickly before moving to her face. “He’s my father,” he said, glancing at her neck, hidden by her sweater. “Are you alright?” She shrugged, trying to look casual but she looked away when he asked the question. “Fine. Just a little bruised,” she said. Then a mean smirk curled her lips. “Nothing worse than what you do to me.” “You’re lucky then,” he snapped, ignoring that the words hurt as he moved by her. “You should stay away from him.” She scoffed, pointing her cigarette at him while he went to unlock the door to his apartment. “Hey, he came onto me,” she said, pulling out her lighter and flicking it open. “I didn’t do shit to him.” “You wouldn’t have to,” Roman snapped. There was anger coloring his voice and even as he spoke he knew it wasn’t for her. He was shaken by the encounter, by how much hatred he’d seen in his father’s face. He wondered if Gaius had meant it. He wondered if he would have killed them both and it didn’t surprise him that he thought the answer was yes. He shut the door firmly behind her, locking it and tossing his keys on the table. “He’s old and powerful and he’s losing what little of his sanity he has left. Stay away from him.” Sam laughed, but it dried up quickly. Her gaze followed him as he moved to the sink, turning the water on to wash his hands and his face. It did little to calm him. “Didn’t know you cared so much, Fang,” she said, false cheerfulness in her voice. Roman snorted but didn’t turn around and after a moment he heard her start to walk around the apartment. “So, your father or your sire?” “Both,” he told her. He dried his hands off with the towel and threw it over the edge of the sink. “Yeah?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow and looking over at her. The silence stretched on but he didn’t elaborate. He doubted she’d care even if he did. After a moment a mean, bitter smirk curled her lips. “Right, nothing personal. I forgot.” He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the sink. Now that his father was gone and the immediate danger was over, he just felt tired. His gaze followed Sam as she explored the wall of his apartment like she usually did, fingers tugging at the ripped remains of his curtains. “I wasn’t under the impression that you wanted anything personal from a Fang,” he spat. “I don’t,” she said quickly, but the words lacked their usual bite. After a moment she sighed, moving by him to the refrigerator. He watched her pull it open, leaning over to look inside it and he couldn’t stop his gaze from wandering when she did. He wasn’t used to seeing her dressed in anything but jeans and tee shirts. He wondered what the occasion was before he reminded himself it was none of his business. “All of this legal in here?” she asked. “You’re not sucking on any laced shit while I’m not looking, are you?” “Check it yourself,” he said calmly. She laughed and then stood up, kicking the refrigerator door shut. It didn’t fit quite right, not after Gaius had thrown his little tantrum yesterday, but she wasn’t shy about banging it into place. She wasn’t shy about anything, pulling herself into a sitting position on the back of his couch. She crossed her legs in front of her, cigarette still held loosely in her fingers as she studied him. “So,” she said after a moment. There was an odd tone to her voice, a forced casualness that made him suspicious. “Anything interesting going on in the vampire world? You hear any fun rumors on the streets, planning any murders? Anything like that?” Roman lifted an eyebrow at her. “No.” She returned the expression, taking a drag from her cigarette. “Nothing?” He snorted and stepped closer to her, bracing his arms on the couch on either side of her. She didn’t back down at the show of intimidation, blowing smoke across his face even as his eyes studied hers. “Is this an interrogation?” he asked lowly. The thought made him angry, and his fingers curled tightly around the back of the couch. She snorted and shook her head, flicking ash off onto the floor. He watched it fall and then tilted his head to the side so that he could see her instead. “No, it’s just…” she trailed off, running a hand back through her hair before she sighed. She stubbed the cigarette out on the couch and then flicked it behind him towards the sink. “Look, here’s the deal, my jack off boss asked me to get him information on vampires, but this is just way too much work. So, you have any bones I could throw him to keep him busy for a while?” “You mean Nolan,” he snarled. He couldn’t keep the anger off his face this time. He hated it when his father was right. He hated that here she was trying to get information from him and he may have inadvertently already given her Gaius. She shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, that asshat.” He snarled and pulled away from her quickly, the anger roaring to life inside of him. He paced in front of her, nothing close enough to throw and nothing solid enough to hit. “And what will happen with the information I give you? Do you think any good will come of it?” She frowned, raising an eyebrow in confusion and he didn’t blame her. All the bottled anger and bitterness was making his tongue loose and he shook his head, his voice rising as he spat out each word. “Your kind serves only human justice. Just because I don’t hunt your kind doesn’t mean that I am eager to sell out my own. Even my cowardice has its limits.” Sam leaned back, arms braced against the couch as she watched him pace and rage. He didn’t know why he bothered asking the question. She didn’t care about him and she didn’t care about his kind. She lifted one eyebrow, a smirk on her lips as he slammed his fist into the corner of the wall and he hated how much it reminded him of Gaius. “Are you done?” she asked. “You have no idea the position you’re putting me in,” he snapped. His foot came out and he kicked something across the floor and a jolt lanced through him as he saw the violin case skitter across its surface. As quickly as that, the anger was gone. Sam watched him as he lifted the case reverently from the floor, settling in the armchair with it resting across his lap. He felt something like panic and fear, terrified that it would be broken when he opened it because he couldn’t control his temper. “Maybe I just won’t let you feed until you give me something,” she said. The words were said conversationally, and he didn’t believe there was any real threat in them so he didn’t bother to look up. “What about that?” “That’s your choice,” he said dismissively. All his attention was focused on the instrument in its case, popping the clasps free and bracing himself for the worst. It was a massive relief when he saw it settled securely against the velvet lining, the graceful neck unbroken and strings still stretched tight across the wooden body. He ran his fingers gently over the surface before snapping it closed. “Sure it is.” Sam snorted, still sitting on the back of the couch. She was watching him with an odd expression on her face and then she let out a heavy sigh. “Look, I’m just trying to do my job, you got anything or not?” There was something honest in the way she asked, something that sounded vaguely like a plea for help. “No,” he said. “I’m sorry.” Her shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly and she looked away. “Well, are you at least going to offer me a fucking beer?” |
| Sam nursed her beer as she sat on the back of Roman’s couch. He sat in the armchair with his hands folded in front of him and his mouth resting against them and he looked uneasy. She was watching him and she couldn’t read him tonight. Normally she could read when his hunger was good or bad, but not tonight. He had a different look on his face that she thought looked a little bit like disappointment, but mostly like he was trying to mask any true emotions. She wondered if it had to do with the vampire they’d met in the hall, Gaius, or if it had to do with her. She’d hoped he’d give her something at least to take back to Nolan. But he was keeping quiet and she should have expected that. So what if he’d saved her life twice now, he wasn’t her fucking friend and she wasn’t his. He didn’t know what Nolan wanted with the information and she didn’t either – but he’d asked for it and she had no doubt in her mind that as much as Nolan told her things could be better if she did what he asked, they could be a lot worse if she didn’t. Finishing half the beer, she set the bottle on the table and Roman dropped his hands, seeing her hand go to her sleeve and start to roll it up, but she paused and he mirrored the lapse in movement, eyes instantly shooting back to hers. She lifted her chin at him. “Why didn’t you tell me my brother was here,” she said instead. Something like surprise flashed across his face for a moment before he shrugged. “I preferred not to get involved,” he said nonchalantly and she figured that was close enough to the truth. “You should tell him not to come back here,” he added. “I did,” she snapped. “You think I’m a fucking idiot? I’m not letting my brother just walk in and out of your place whenever he wants.” Roman nodded his head and Sam crossed her arms across her chest, scooting off the back of the couch and flopping down onto the cushions. She pointed a finger at him. “And if anything ever happens to him, because he’s a little shit and he never fucking listens to me, I’m coming for you first, Fang.” Roman’s brow rose slightly and she almost missed the corners of his mouth flicking upwards, but it was gone as soon as it came and then he was standing up, walking to the kitchen to get a sterile pad. She watched his form as he came back over and set down gently on the couch next to her, watching her arm in anticipation “What was that for?” she asked, trying to make her voice sound stern, but she’d hardly ever seen him smile. At anything. “You think I won’t come after you, or can’t?” “Neither,” Roman said, looking her in the eye. “I was thinking it was the first threat you’ve slung at me that I believe whole heartedly.” Sam’s eyes narrowed for a moment and she studied his face, trying to tell if he was mocking her or not, but there was nothing mean or belittling there and she was surprised at that. She was more surprised at the words that had gone unsaid in his sentence. She was protective of her brother and Roman thought it was something worth smiling over. She didn’t know what to think about that. “Good,” she snapped and then paused because she wasn’t sure that was such a good thing. “I mean…you’d better fucking believe me because I’m telling the truth.” Roman nodded. “I know,” he said. Sam chewed her lip and then scoffed. “Fucking Fang,” she spat, but the venom was lacking and she thought it was because she didn’t really know why she was yelling at him. She rolled up her sleeve and held her arm out to him. He glanced at her face, like he was silently asking for permission, but she just sighed and looked away as he took her arm. As soon as the fangs entered her skin, she felt the sensation wash over her. Her head fell back against the couch and she closed her eyes, teeth pulling at her bottom lip and a moan escaping her lips against her will. She tried to move herself closer to him, making it as easy as possible for him to feed. She squirmed as the high grew intense and maybe it was because she hadn’t done this yesterday and she was used to it being an everyday thing now instead of three times a week. She almost wished Roman had bitten her at the bar. Maybe then Howard wouldn’t have been leaving at the same time the robbers had been coming. The thought brought a horrific flash of the back of Howard’s head exploding. She could almost feel the blood splattering across her face and chest like it had that night. She let out a whimper and she felt Roman’s hands tighten on her skin. His fangs start to rise out of her skin and she turned her head sharply to look at him. Her vision was blurred and drunk. “Don’t stop,” she breathed and pushed her arm back up onto his fangs. If anything, he bit down harder and it made her back arch off the couch. Her other hand came up to hold the back of his head. His eyes flicked to her again, but he kept feeding and her own eyes slipped close. She bit her lip and squirmed again and the high was intense and good tonight. When Roman finally pulled back, he reached back and removed her hand from his head, placing it in his lap and then he grabbed the sterile pad, pressing it to the puncture wounds on her arm. She slumped against the couch, breathing heavily. Her hand came up to run through her own hair and she brought her legs up to lay them across Roman’s lap. Roman glanced at her face, a look of curiosity and confusion crossing his features. She smiled at him, drunken and weak. “God,” she moaned. “That was good tonight.” Licking his lips clean, Roman frowned at her again before he lifted her legs off of his lap, putting them gently on the floor. He made sure she wasn’t going to fall off the couch, then he rose and headed into the kitchen to wash his hands. Sam watched him as he did. “You could take more, you know,” she said. He turned to look over his shoulder at her. It looked like he wanted to say something to her, but then stopped himself, turning back around and instead saying, “Why are you so dressed up?” Sam laughed, loud and her head rolled back against the couch to look at the violin case near the arm chair. She thought about answering him and telling him that Nolan liked her in this outfit and she didn’t give a fuck what he thought, but she thought maybe that was a lie. She wondered what she’d do if she heard Roman tell her she looked stunning, the way Nolan had. She’d probably believe him. “Why do you have a guitar case?” she asked. Roman snorted. “It’s a violin,” he said, and she heard the water in the sink run again. When he came back over, he was holding a glass of water in his hands. He set it down on the coffee table in front of her and she watched him steal her beer away. “I was drinking that,” she told him. “Now you’re drinking this,” he said, pointing to the water. She raised her brow challengingly at him, but it was too much effort so she just sighed and looked over at his bookcase. Her brother would love some of those books. He was such a god damn bookworm, he’d go nuts to get his hands on something that old. He’d probably treasure it forever. Licking her lips, she said quietly, “Roman?” She heard him still near the sink and when she glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes, he was watching her closely, studying her and she wondered if he saw the fucking failure she was when he looked at her. “Yeah,” he said. “Nolan thinks you and your kind are getting ready to take over the city,” she said and she saw him stiffen out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t turn to look at him to see the look on his face. “I could give a shit if you are or not – but do you think you could talk to whoever’s in charge and ask them to spare Bobby?” She sighed and closed her eyes, feeling like she could fall asleep right where she sat. “I think he really likes you.” |
| Roman was aware of heat, suffusing his limbs and warming his blood in the aftermath of taking hers. His skin was electric and sensitive, his senses heightened. The hunger never quite faded, but it had been soothed for the moment, the taste of her blood still on his tongue. It left a different kind of hunger in its wake. There was a rush of arousal that usually followed feeding and Sam had never been an exception to that. He thought it was made worse today because he was having a hard time remembering they despised each other. Especially with the lingering feeling of her fingers tangled in his hair and her quiet moans still echoing in his ears. He leaned against the sink, arms crossed over his chest as he watched her. She stretched languidly across his couch, head resting against the cushions as her fingers ran back through her hair. His gaze traveled her body, the short skirt riding up on her thighs and helping feed the burning, physical desire. He was better at controlling that then the bloodlust, and he forced his eyes to move back to her face and focus on her words. It was harder to remember she was an undertaker, the enemy, when she was like this. “That’s one of you then,” he said dryly. His gaze wandered away from her so that he could think about what she was saying. If it was the truth it made sense. It was stupid to think that Gaius and those like him would be content with their small vengeances. There was the dull buzz of anger in the back of his mind when he thought that. He didn’t want a war. He didn’t want to be involved. Sam snorted out a laugh, cracking one eye open to look back at him. There was a hazy, glazed look to her eyes and he wondered if he’d taken too much, despite her words. He thought about her baring her neck to him in the kitchen and wondered if she was becoming an addict to this like so many others. Maybe she already was and he’d missed it because he hadn’t cared. “Who says I don’t like you, Fang?” she said, giving him a mean smirk. Roman tilted his head to the side, lifting an eyebrow. “You have. On many occasions.” She pursed her lips in thought, eyes narrowing at him for a moment. Then she shrugged, stretching out on the couch and disappearing from his sight. “It’s probably true then.” The slight slurring of her words barely blunted the sting. “Probably,” he agreed. He was a Fang, of course she hated him. He pushed off the sink, moving around the couch to sit in his armchair. She had stretched out on her side, arms underneath one of the cushions and resting her head against it. She looked almost innocent, dark hair spilling around her face. He knew it would only last until she opened her mouth. “So can you play that thing?” she asked. She opened her eyes halfway, lids still heavy from feeding. “Yes,” Roman told her. He studied her for a moment because he didn’t understand her today. Most of the words were the same, the same slurs and harsh tones, but they lacked her usual venom. He thought about Bobby telling him that she hadn’t always been like this and he found himself wondering what she used to be like. No matter that it was none of his business, he wondered anyway. He wondered why nothing made her happy. Then he nodded his head at the table. “You should drink your water.” She made a face at him, using the back of the couch to pull herself into a sitting position. She pulled her legs underneath her, still slumping against the side of the couch with the lingering high. “I don’t need you to babysit me,” she spat. Then she jerked her head at the instrument, a challenge in her gaze. “Prove it. Play something for me.” He scoffed and then stood up, picking the water from the table and holding it in front of her face. “No,” he said. She frowned and glared up at him, not moving to take it. “I don’t need you to point out the faults that I already know are there.” She made a face and then shoved his arm away from her, spilling the water. “Fine,” she spat. “Probably sounds like shit anyway.” Roman snorted but didn’t see the need to argue with the truth. She glared at him for another moment before sighing and taking the water from him. Her fingers brushed over his when she did, warm to the touch and immediately distracting. His skin was still sensitive and charged, and he pulled his hand back quickly to try and ignore the sensations. If she noticed, she didn’t show any sign of it, taking a small sip from her glass. He wondered why she did at all, because she still wore a curious and annoyed look on her face. He was almost surprised that she was still here. Usually she was just as anxious to leave as he was to see her go. “What’s your boss looking for anyway?” he asked, resuming his seat on the chair. Her gaze flicked to him, still holding the glass to her lips. The glazed look lingered in her eyes, but some of the sharpness was starting to return to it as she studied him. There was some suspicion there and then she snorted, leaning forward to put the glass back on the table. She wavered a little as she did but kept her balance, knees pressed together and arms resting across them. “I don’t know,” she told him. She shrugged her shoulders, running a hand over her face, fingers lingering on her lips. “Proof of the vampire menace I guess. Why should I tell you anything if you won’t tell me anything?” Then she tilted her head to the side. Roman studied her for a moment and then snorted, pushing himself to his feet. The anger lingered constantly in his chest and it grew worse when he thought about Nolan. He’d taken an immediate dislike to the man, probably not aided by the knowledge of what he would have done to Roman if Sam hadn’t intervened. “Maybe he should look at his own first,” he spat, walking back to the sink. She scoffed behind him, turning her head to look over her shoulder. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” she demanded. A dark smirk curled Roman’s lips but he didn’t look back at her. Outside the window he could see bright lights lining the sidewalk, illuminating the constant darkness. “Half the undertakers in this district are taking payoffs from the ‘vampire menace.’” She was quiet for a moment and he finally turned to look back at her. She had an odd look on her face, something angry and almost hurt and he found himself surprised that she didn’t know it already. The thought came again, the one that had been bothering him since yesterday and the one he was trying not to think about. He wondered just what had happened to her. He doubted he would like the answer, and he found that just as disturbing. “You’re lying,” she spat at him. He lifted an eyebrow but she stopped looking at him after that. She turned on unsteady feet, picking the glass of water off the table and heading around the couch. She had to keep one hand on the back of it to keep from falling over and she wasn’t meeting his eyes. She dropped it in the sink and went to turn around but he caught her arm before she could. “You don’t believe that,” he said. She yanked her arm out of his grasp, crossing it over her chest. “No,” she said, gritting the word out darkly. Then she turned her glare to him. “But only because you’re a really shitty liar. You can’t meet my eyes and you think too hard about what you’re saying.” The words surprised him, a frown creasing his brow. He hadn’t known he was that obvious. “I never acquired an ease with it.” She scoffed, looking out at his apartment and not at him. “I can tell,” she snapped. Her hands rubbed at her arms like she was cold, gaze refusing to meet his. Then something seemed to occur to her and she tilted her head to look at him. A smile pulled at her lips and he wondered if he should be worried about that. “This could actually work to my advantage,” she said. He snorted and wondered if he should be annoyed. “For your spy game?” “Well, yeah.” The smile widened as she turned to face him, hip braced against the counter. “Do you think he’s right?” she asked. He didn’t expect the question stated so bluntly. “Is your kind planning something big? You want to take back the city?” Roman frowned and looked away from her. He thought about lying. He thought about telling her that there was nothing to be worried about, but he doubted it. He thought about telling her that he didn’t know anything for sure, which would have been the truth, but admitting more than he wanted. A sigh left his lips and he pushed away from the counter, going to get his coat. She watched him as he pulled it over his shoulders, the smirk still on her face. “We should probably get you home,” he said, grabbing his keys off the table. The smile didn’t fade but there was a curious look on her face. He wondered what she would get from his lack of an answer, if she would read between the lines to the things he didn’t say. He kept his face expressionless, ignoring the emotions and confusing churning beneath the surface of his skin. He pulled the door open, bracing it with a foot and waiting for her. “We?” she asked after a moment. He shrugged his shoulders and she snorted, heading towards the door. “I told you before, I don’t need you to walk me home.” She pulled the cigarettes out as she spoke, jamming one between her lips. “I know,” he said, pulling the door shut behind them. Maybe she didn’t. But maybe his father wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of her drunk on the bite and walking home alone. He wondered what he would tell Bobby if that happened. He wondered what he would tell himself. He didn’t tell her any of it. She’d probably laugh at the show of sentimentality. She laughed lightly but her face had gotten shuttered and unreadable. The lighter flicked to life and she stumbled slightly. He fought the urge to put a steadying arm around her. He blamed it on the blood. “Why do you care what I’m dressed like?” she asked abruptly. He snorted and almost didn’t answer because he didn’t particularly feel like hearing her curse at him. She scanned his face and after a moment she looked away, looking abruptly annoyed and uncomfortable. She put the cigarette back between her lips, taking a long drag from it and blowing smoke out into the hallway. “Fucking Fang,” she spat, shaking her head. There was a sharp bite and bitterness to the words and he didn’t like that they were there. He pulled open the door to the stairwell and watched her walk through it, feeling the sharp hunger as he did. “It looks nice,” he said. |
Chapter Three Sam awoke the next morning groggy and hungover. It took far too much effort to get her eyes to even open as she lay on her stomach on the bed, arms beneath her pillow. For a while, she just laid there and stared at the opposite wall, letting her mind wander and it was scary sometimes the places it would go. Today, it went to Roman, and she thought he was starting to be on her mind a lot more than he should be. Usually, her thoughts for him were always the same. He was a means for her satisfaction. He’d give her her fix and that was all he was ever supposed to be to her. But lately, she’d just been thinking about him. Who he was and what she knew about him. She founder herself wondering what sort of songs he played on the violin, whether he liked working at the bar or not, what his relationship with his father was like when he wasn’t busy accusing him of being a traitor. She thought about his eyes and the way he looked at her while he was feeding and the way he looked at her when he wasn’t. She thought about her hands in his hair and that one seemed to be the most distracting. She realized abruptly as she thought about him that she’d be upset if anything ever happened to him. She’d be upset if he turned on her or any of her kind. He was passive, except for his fits of anger. But to others, he just didn’t want to get involved and she thought about him calling himself a coward. She didn’t think he was and for some reason, she wanted him to know that. It took more effort to stay neutral than it did to pick a side. She admired him for that and when she realized this, she was immediately disgusted in herself. Rolling her head on the pillow, she buried her face into it and tried to figure out where she’d gone wrong. She’d been mean to him, belittled him and tried to convince herself that he was beneath her and the enemy. If Roman were human, the department psychologist would say it was a defense mechanism. But because he was a Fang, he’d just told Sam it was good she thought that way. She wasn’t so sure he was right anymore. Swinging her legs over the edge of her bed, she ran her hands over her face and tried to clear the lingering drowsiness and sickness. She stood and headed into the bathroom down the hall, her mind still on Roman. He’d walked her home. After he’d told her she looked nice. He hadn’t said stunning or beautiful or slutty or out of place. He’d said nice. She’d floundered to find words after he’d said it and instead, she’d just croaked out a meek, “thank you” and stayed quiet the rest of the way home. He thought she looked nice. It made her want to dress up again for him. Not because it was what Nolan wanted, but because Roman thought she looked nice. Closing the bathroom door behind her, she leaned against the sink and looked at herself in the mirror. Her flimsy, silky tank top exposed her stomach and didn’t reach the low cut of her underwear. There were dark circles beneath her bloodshot eyes and her face was pale in the overhead bathroom light. She hadn’t always been like this. Her eyes traveled to the marks on her arms. It was clear which arm was Roman’s. It was neat and organized in its destruction of her skin. The other arm was scattered and a few of the puncture wounds looked like the fangs had torn her skin on the way out. They littered nearly her whole arm and they were the reason she always wore long sleeves. It was obvious what she was when people saw her arms. Swallowing thickly, Sam pulled her tank top up and over her head, throwing it in the sink, her eyes averted for a moment because she already knew what she’d see. She’d see her reminder that bad things happen, even to good people. Bad things happen and no one could be trusted. Show someone kindness and compassion and they’d show you blood and pain in return. It was what she feared from Roman. It was why she needed to stop thinking about him the way she was – but even as she thought it, she knew she couldn’t. Her eyes lifted and in the mirror, she traced the ugly looking scars torn into her side. If she didn’t know better, she could probably convince herself she’d been attacked by a dog or an animal and maybe that’s what she wanted to think and why she treated them that way. Her hand came out to trace the lines marring her skin. She knew better. They weren’t from a dog. Jerking her hand away like the scars were hot to the touch, she leaned forward and ran water over her face, pulling her tank top back on and heading into her bedroom. She pulled on a pair of jeans. Bobby would be up already, probably with breakfast ready because the kid liked to cook. Usually eggs, because he knew that was the only thing Sam could really stomach in the morning. They’d eat in awkward silence and then Sam would get dressed for work and take him to school and she wouldn’t see him again until the next morning. It was an awful way to co-exist. She knew she was hurting her little brother, but things were going to be different. She knew they would get better soon. Because how could they get worse? She heard him from the hallway before she could actually see him. The sound of his voice had her freezing in her steps and licking her lips because what was he doing here? In her apartment? Talking to her fucking little brother. It was the last one that got her feet moving again, because that was Bobby and no one was allowed to fuck with him. Especially not him. As she emerged into the main part of the apartment, her eyes immediately sought out Bobby, who was sitting at the tiny dining room table, eating his eggs with an awkward tension in his shoulders. His gaze immediately came to Sam and something protective and relieved flickered across his face at the same time. Seeing he wasn’t hurt or in too much distress, Sam turned her gaze to the man sitting at the table next to Bobby. There was another man near the door to their apartment and he looked like a fucking body guard or some shit. Sam’s eyes narrowed and she couldn’t keep the bitter tone out of her voice. “Nolan,” she said. “What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?” Nolan laughed, raising his eyebrow at Sam and she didn’t give a fuck what he thought about her right now. She kept her work at work and she didn’t want to think about how he knew where she lived and could just show up whenever he wanted and sit down to breakfast with her little brother. “That’s not the happy greeting I was hoping for,” Nolan said, but he seemed the only one who was amused. Bobby had put his fork down and was sitting with his hands in his lap, head ducked, but eyes going between Sam and Nolan. He looked uncomfortable and she hated that this was happening in her apartment because this was all Bobby had and he should never be uncomfortable in his own home. Leaning forward and resting his arms on the table, Nolan smiled at her and it was the same smarmy thing he always wore that she couldn’t read or understand. “I came to pick you up for work, Samantha.” She bristled a little at the use of her full name. “I’m not ready,” she told him dryly and jerked her head at Bobby. “I drop my brother off at school every day before I come in.” Nolan waved a hand in front of his face. “Nonsense,” he said. “I’ll have one of my men do that for you.” Sam licked her lips and tried to keep her voice smooth. “I’d rather do it myself.” The smile on Nolan’s face faltered for a moment before he turned to look at Bobby, his voice so fake and plastic it made her sick to her stomach. “We have a DVD player set up in the back of the limo,” he said. “Wouldn’t you like to ride to school in a limo? You can have a soda, and pretzels too.” He reached out and gripped Bobby’s shoulder. Her brother’s eyes shot towards her and she grit her teeth. “Just watch the crumbs on the leather.” “I like it when Sam takes me,” Bobby said, his voice not belying his uneasiness. Sam smirked and looked back to Nolan, whose face faltered again. He let go of Bobby’s shoulder and slapped his back, harder than what she thought was necessary and Bobby flinched. “Can I talk to you outside?” Sam spat quickly, not liking that his hands were on Bobby. Nolan looked back to her before he reached forward and finished off his orange juice, probably something Bobby had gotten for him. He nodded and stood up, brushing himself off and she wondered what he thought had dirtied him in here. Probably just the fact that he was here. “Of course,” he said and turned to look at Bobby again. “Take care, Buddy,” he said, ruffling Bobby’s hair. When he turned his back, Bobby straightened it and gave the man a glare. Sam waited for her brother to look back over at her and she gave him an encouraging smile before following Nolan and his man out into the hall. She wasn’t surprised that there was another man standing out there, watching the hallway. Once the door was closed, Sam stood square in front of Nolan and pointed a finger at him. “You can’t just come over uninvited,” she told him. Nolan chuckled, reaching forward to take Sam’s hand. She held her breath as he brought it to his lips and kissed her fingers. “Your spirit is unwavering,” he told her and she highly doubted he meant those words. He held onto her hand and smiled at her. “Have you gotten any information for me? What did you learn from Sabinus last night?” It didn’t even surprise her that he knew she’d gone to see Roman. He probably knew her feeding schedule with him. She shook her head. “I couldn’t get anything out of him,” she said, even though it crossed her mind to tell him about Gaius, the vampire in the hall. She kept her mouth shut though. That was Roman’s father. Whether he liked him or not, it didn’t change the fact they were still blood. Nolan nodded his head. “What did you talk about?” he asked, nonchalant. Sam frowned and shrugged. “Nothing really.” “Truly?” Nolan asked, sounding surprised. “You were at his place for quite some time.” The words sent a chill up her spine and her eyes narrowed at him. “Are you having me fucking followed?” she snapped before she could stop herself. Nolan smiled at her and didn’t answer, his hand coming out to brush her cheek. Then they moved to her neck, fingers barely scraping over her skin and the bruises Gaius had left there. They weren’t bad, but they were there nonetheless. She didn’t expect Nolan’s hand to suddenly wrap around her throat, the same way Gaius had done. She didn’t expect him to shove her back against the wall, his face contorting into something evil and wicked, terrifying. She gasped and his face came close to hers. “You won’t speak to me in such disrespectful ways,” he said, the calmness of his voice not matching the ferocity on his face. “Let go of me,” she said, his grip not as tight or choking as Gaius’s had been. Nolan leaned in closer to her. “I asked for information, Samantha,” he said calmly, his voice and face back to being passive and shuttered. “You should find me some. Quickly.” Sam growled and looked up into his face. “Let go of me,” she said again, teeth clenched as she grit the words out. Nolan smirked and then leaned his cheek against hers and she couldn’t help the shiver that ran through her. “Why don’t you come to my place tonight,” he said and she tensed at the words. “We can discuss the information you manage to collect today.” Sick of his hands on her, she reached up and batted the hand around her throat away. He let her and it was the only reason she managed to do so. She rubbed at her throat and glared at him. “I don’t know where you live,” she said, but doubted he’d buy it as an excuse. He didn’t. He just gestured at one of the guards with him and they handed him a business card. He took a pen out of his pocket and wrote his address down on the back of it before he slipped it into the front pocket of her jeans. “Now you do,” he said and as his hand was withdrawing from her pocket, his fingers ran up her arm and back to her cheek, cupping her jaw. “I look forward to tonight,” he told her quietly and she closed her eyes when he leaned forward to kiss her cheek. Then he turned around and left her leaned up against the wall. She stood still for a moment, just breathing and wondering why she felt like crying. Nolan stopped before he turned the corner to look back at her. “Oh and Samantha?” he called. She rolled her head along the wall to look at him. He just smiled at her. “Wear something nice.” |
| “You could help you know,” Artie said. He flipped the wooden chairs over onto the floor, the words directed at Tessa. Roman glanced over his shoulder at the two of them before turning his attention back to the box at his feet. It held bottles of liquor that he was working on lining back up on his top shelf. It wasn’t everything he’d lost, but it was a good portion of it and it would have to do for now. The glass behind it still wasn’t replaced, but he’d deal with that next week. He wanted to get his bar back open. As much as he knew trouble was coming and it got more dangerous to be on the streets every day, he would go crazy locked up in that apartment with just his violin. He’d been restless and volatile all morning, not helped by the poor sleep he’d gotten. His dreams had been heated and distracting, fueled by blood and lust. The vampire sat reclined in one of the wooden chairs, her feet kicked up on the table. “I don’t get paid to help,” she said. “I get paid to wait tables.” A smirk curled her lips as she glanced around the empty barroom. “Looks like I’m done.” “You don’t have to get paid at all,” Roman said dryly, placing another bottle on the shelf. She scoffed and kept filing her nails. “You wouldn’t dare,” she said. Her fingers splayed in front of her, head tilting as she studied her handiwork. “You need me here, so that you’re not the only bloodsucker working in this dump.” “Right now I am the only one working,” he snapped, glancing back at her. She rolled her eyes and let out a heavy sigh, dragging her feet off the table. She pointed the nail file at him before sliding it into the pocket of her apron. “Fine. But only because you’re cute.” Roman snorted and shook his head, sliding the bottles into place. When it was empty he took it out back, throwing it in the dumpster and washing his hands off afterwards. The closed sign still hung on the bar door but other than that it was just another day at work. He thought it should have felt different. The place had been a murder scene two days ago and now it was back to business as usual. He wondered how Sam felt about that, if she was dealing with the death alright. He worried about her. He wondered what she was doing right now and what she was doing later. She was probably working. The thought darkened his mood, the knowledge that she was an undertaker working for Nolan Byrd. He didn’t know much about the man, but he didn’t need to. He knew he hated vampires. He knew that his father hated him and Sam didn’t care for him either. He knew that Gaius considered him dangerous and that meant he probably was. He wondered if Sam had given him anything. The thought almost panicked him, the knowledge that at any point she could tell Nolan about crazy and violent Gaius Sabinus. The old man would never be taken without a fight. He’d just make it worse. He ran water over his face, watching it run down the drain afterwards. It was warm, but it barely helped his cool skin. Not like the heated taste of blood on his lips. He ran his tongue along his teeth, feeling the hunger starting to gnaw away at him. It grew worse every time he closed his eyes because then he could picture her, sprawled on his couch with her fingers in his hair, urging him to take more. All he had to do was catch the scent of her brand of cigarettes and the hunger hit him with a dark intensity. He wiped a towel over his face, trying to wipe away the sharp craving. It helped little. The chairs were down and settled around their tables when he walked back out into the bar. He felt a little bit better when he flipped the sign from closed to open, even if the place wasn’t entirely back in order yet. It made it easier for him to lie to himself, to say that nothing had changed and nothing was going to change. Sam would have called him on it, because apparently he was a shitty liar. He was prepared for a slow night. He stuck to his end of the bar, watching the television with a passing interest. The governor was considering a new ordinance that would tighten restrictions on the vampire district. He was surprised it had taken them so long. He was aware of her presence as soon as she opened the door. Didn’t matter that it had been years, wouldn’t have mattered if it had been centuries, he knew as soon as she set foot inside his bar who it was. His fingers tightened on his arms, his body going still and tense. All the air was sucked out of the room with her presence, and he was aware more than ever of just how cold he felt, inside and out. Her dress was something shimmery and bronze, the neckline plunging to her navel and leaving little to the imagination. She had always been comfortable in her own skin, and it had been one of the things he’d adored about her. “Giselle,” he said quietly. The word was barely more than a whisper but she heard it. Her head had been turned to the side, dark hair falling into her eyes as she spoke to the vampire behind her. He looked familiar but for a moment Roman didn’t give a shit who he was, only that he smelled like her and she stank of him. There was the sharp sting of jealousy at that, no matter that she hadn’t been his in decades. He’d known she was still around, but they stayed out of each other’s way except when Gaius decided to taunt him with her presence. Her eyes lit on him, a fierce intensity in their depths. Her lips were in a permanent pout, always making her look like she was sad, or like she wanted something. Usually it was the second one. “Roman,” she said. There was a trace of an accent in her voice and a smile tugged the corners of her mouth up as she strode across the bar. “It’s been a while. You remember Solomon?” It was harder than he liked to tear his gaze away from her, forcing his focus to the vampire following her. He had neatly trimmed blonde hair and a black suit. He looked as different from Roman as she could get. “From Galveston,” he said. He got a nod in return, a small smirk curling his lips. They had all run in the same circles then. “Good to see you again.” Giselle smiled, studying Roman for a long moment before she turned to her lover. Slim fingers curled around his forearm, that familiar, crooked smile on her face as she focused all her adoration and attention on him. “Would you mind waiting outside for a moment, love?” she asked. She nodded her head towards Roman like he wasn’t there and couldn’t hear them. “I’d like to speak to Roman in private.” He watched her as she did, eyes tracing all the familiar quirks of her speech and her motions. At one point he’d burned for her. He would have done anything she’d asked. He would have walked into sunlight for her. The immediate rush he’d felt from her presence was fading, instead replaced by the familiar sensations of bitterness and hurt. She wasn’t his anymore, if she’d ever been his to begin with. The fact that she was here meant that she wanted something, besides to parade her newest lover in front of him. Which meant Gaius wanted something from him. “Of course,” Solomon said. The man smiled but there was a spark of something dangerous in his eyes as he glanced at Roman. Something possessive and desperate. He almost warned him now. Giselle didn’t belong to anyone. She let out a sigh, full lips parting as she watched him go. He was pulling a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket as he went, letting the door swing shut behind him. She didn’t turn to face Roman until it was, the smile lingering on her lips as she looked back at him. “I don’t suppose you carry anything more… full bodied here?” She laughed quietly, a rich, harmonious sound. He could hear the faults in it, the jarring notes that told him when she was faking it. “No,” he told her simply. “Then perhaps you can get me a gin and tonic?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. The drink sobered him immediately, reminding him of Nolan and Sam and things he had to worry about besides ex-girlfriends. Giselle slid into the seat across from him, watching with a calculating expression as he mixed it for her. “How have you been?” she asked conversationally. “You look… tired.” He slammed the glass down in front of her harder than he meant to. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise as he crossed his arms over his chest and took a step back, teeth grinding together in his head. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He was aware of sharp glances being sent his way, but he didn’t care. Tessa was plying her trade, whatever the fuck she was doing, at the table by the door, and Artie was wiping down the counter on his end. He looked the most concerned, gaze flicking from Giselle back to Roman. He shot him a glare and the man immediately ducked his head, moving farther away from them. She laughed quietly, not affected at all by the sharp words. She stirred her drink with the small straw in it, tilting her head to look up at him. “Is that any way to great an old friend?” she asked playfully. Roman snorted. “I didn’t realize that’s what we were.” “What a cruel thing to say, Roman.” She pouted, eyes still calculating. “I thought I meant more to you than that.” “You did,” he snapped. She’d meant everything to him, for a long time. Those times were gone and dead and now he just wanted to be left alone again. All it took was a glance, that slow, studying sweep of her eyes and the graceful arching of her brow to make him feel the same way he did around Gaius. He was a failure, a coward, a disappointment. They were too much alike. “But not anymore?” she asked. He didn’t answer, wiping the bar down next to her and after a moment the pout turned into a frown. “Why? Because you’re not fucking me anymore, or because someone else is?” He ran a hand over his mouth before slamming it down on the counter. “Did you come here for a reason?” She scoffed and the frown remained. “Maybe I just wanted to see you,” she snapped. “Maybe I just wanted to see if your father was right or if he was just off on one of his rants again.” She took a sip of her drink and looked away from him, gaze studying the bar with a bored, uninterested expression. She’d hated places like this. She hated reminders that there were dirty and bad things in the world. It had been cute once. Her voice was quiet when she spoke again. “You’re breaking Gaius’s heart you know.” The words made him tense and he had to look away from her. His knuckles were white around the edge of the bar and it was an effort not to start breaking all the bottles he’d replaced today. He wasn’t surprised, but it somehow still managed to hurt him that she was just here because his father was irritated. “I wasn’t aware he had one,” Roman spat. She rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to him. “Of course he does. And you have always been first in it. You know this, and so does he. I hate to see you two quarrel as much as you have.” She pouted, the playful look back on her face. “It displeases me greatly.” Roman glared at her before looking away. “I care little for what pleases you.” She was quiet and he didn’t look at her face. He studied his bar, the boards put over the broken window and the few people actually inside of it. There was still a dark stain on the floor that used to be a man and now was just an incident in an undertaker’s report. He wondered if Nolan was actually looking for the killers. Somehow he doubted it. It was none of his business and he didn’t care, but in the back of his mind he thought Sam might care. “I remember you being callus,” Giselle said quietly. There was something wistful in her voice and it drew his gaze back to her face. She was looking down at the gin and tonic in front of her, fingers tracing the rim of the glass. “I don’t remember you being so cold. Is this a new development or was I simply so blind with you?” She smiled as she looked up at him and the sight of it hurt. “You should know better than anyone,” he said coldly. She laughed and it was bitter and mean. “So you blame me for your desolation?” she demanded. All playfulness was gone and instead all that was left was annoyance and irritation. He remembered that about her more than anything. She hated any reminders of her own cruelty. She hated the possibility that she was just as ugly and bad as the rest of the world and he realized then that he hated her too. “Is that why you only fuck humans now? Less of a danger that you might get hurt just as badly as you hurt them?” A snarl left his lips and the anger surged through him in a wave. His hand came out and caught her glass, knocking it over onto the floor where it shattered and broke. The sound of it was satisfying, as was the pursing of her lips and the dark look on her face. “Who I fuck is none of your concern,” he growled. “Now did you come here for a reason or not?” “I came here because your father is about to do something stupid and dangerous and I had thought that no matter how much you disagree with him at times, you would still stand by him in this.” She poured out the words with a pained intensity. The words made him pause. Things that Sam had told him and things his father had said raced through his mind and he scanned her face silently for answers. There were a lot of things he could imagine his father doing in the name of his justice, and none of them would be good. He’d start another civil war. He’d fill the streets with blood and he found himself thinking of Bobby and Sam. He wondered what would happen to them if it happened. “I want no part of this,” he said darkly, taking a step back. There was hurt on Giselle’s face and then it was gone, wiped clean and replaced with something cold. “So you are as much of a coward as he names you. A pity. You were something to behold when you were in your prime.” She slid off the barstool with an unconscious grace, throwing a bill on the counter for him. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” He told himself not to ask. He looked down at the money on the bar and he didn’t want it from her. He didn’t want anything she had to offer but he still heard himself asking the word, his voice quiet and harsh. “Where?” She laughed, and he could hear the faults in it. “At your father’s of course.” |
| Sam knew Roman wouldn’t give her anything. She knew that deep down, she didn’t want him to give her anything. It felt like a betrayal just thinking about trying to swindle information out of Roman to give to Nolan, of all people. She thought about just standing Nolan up or telling him to fuck off. She could find jobs elsewhere. But even as she thought it, she knew that was a lie. The only reason she’d still had a job in the Undertakers was because of Howard. And now the only reason was because of Nolan. She reminded herself what he’d promised and she reminded herself that this was for Bobby. For a better life for him. There was only one other place she knew she could get information if it wasn’t from Roman and it was a place she both dreaded and desired to go. Dreaded because she knew it was dangerous. It was a bad place filled with bad people and vampires. But it was for people like Sam, people who were fucking addicts and it was the best place to get what she needed, when she needed it. After dropping Bobby off at school, Sam didn’t bother to return home. She parked her car in a parking structure on the edge of the vampire district, which in itself was a dangerous place. People had gone missing from this parking structure, but Sam knew she didn’t want to walk all the way home after what she was about to do. Driving would be almost as dangerous, but at least for a different reason. It was called the Blood Bank. A normal name for a not so normal place. Everyone in the Undertakers knew that there was an underground blood bank out there, but Sam was one of the few that knew it was actually a place. That in itself should have been enough to give Nolan, but a part of her didn’t want to give it up, because then the Undertakers would come and shut it down and then where would she go when she needed her fix? No, she could use this. She could get answers from here. It was in an old subway station, thought to be closed up. You had to enter from the back and the reason not a lot of Undertakers knew about this place is because it was hidden and you’d be a fool to patrol back here. Sam had found out about it from another junkie in the Undertakers. It was funny, she thought she’d have a friend in her, but the girl had ended up dead on the streets two weeks after telling Sam about the place. Sam wondered if that would be her one day. Probably, at the rate she was going. Pulling the old wooden boards up, Sam slipped into the stairwell, leading below ground. She hadn’t bothered to dress up yet, because her clothes were just going to get dirty. She wondered what Nolan would think when she showed up drunk on the bite, and he’d probably just laugh at her. So she’d better find something good here. Something that would please him. There was a vampire guarding a metal linked door at the bottom of the station. He had his arms crossed over his chest and he nodded to her as she approached. She knew him by sight, but not by name. He knew her too, and she wondered what that said about her. He unlocked the gate for her and she stepped inside, trying not to feel nervous when she heard the gate lock behind her. She had the knife tucked into her jeans still, but there were so many vampires down here, she doubted it would do her any good. “Well, well,” came a smarmy voice and she couldn’t help the shiver it sent through her. Not because it made her nervous, but because she felt the desire for her high flickering to life within her. She turned and there was a vampire with a bounce in his step walking up to her. She never made it far, because Reno was the host of this underground blood bank. He usually stood at a podium at the front and tended to the “guests” who came to find what they craved down here. Sam had tried to figure out what was in the back before, but she hadn’t been allowed back there, ever. “It’s been a while, pet,” Reno grinned, baring his fangs at her and her hand went to her arm against her will, her breath quickening. “Reno,” she said, forcing the smile on her face. He came to stand in front of her, laughing a little. His dark hair was slicked back, shorter than Roman’s. He was stouter and not as good looking. She wondered who’d picked him as someone they wanted to turn into a vampire, because his nose was fat and crooked and he was probably the most unattractive vampire she’d ever come across, even with his vampire grace and beauty. “I missed you Tuesday,” Reno said, his hand coming out and running along her arm. He pulled her sleeve up and Sam yanked her arm away, giving him a look. He raised his eyebrow at her. “What’s got you so touchy?” he asked, sneering at her. Sam tipped her head back. “I’ll let you feed,” she said and she knew she was going to have to be slick about this, but this whole trickery thing wasn’t exactly her forte. “But I need something from you first.” “Oh baby,” Reno said, coming forward with swift movements and putting his hands on her hips, his mouth coming to her neck as he ran his tongue up her skin. She growled and immediately tried to push him off of her. He leaned back, but didn’t let go of her hips. “I knew you’d come around. I’d show you positions you’ve never even dreamed of.” Sam scoffed. “Okay, that’s disgusting,” she spat at him. “And that’s not what I was talking about.” Reno lifted an eyebrow at that. “Then what the fuck do you want? Want me to shoot you up first? Want me to bite you somewhere else? I was always particularly fond of the inner thigh…” His hand slipped between her legs and Sam growled again, swatting him away. “I want to know who killed those men in the church,” she said quickly. Reno paused, leaning back a little. “Why the fuck do you want to know that?” he asked, his face darkening. She shrugged. “Curiosity,” she said. He laughed, leaning forward to sniff at her neck again and she felt the need to have his fangs in her skin burning away at her gut. “You know what they say about curiosity,” Reno said. “It killed the dog.” Sam frowned. “It’s cat, dumbass.” “Whatever,” Reno whispered, his fangs scraping at her neck. She pulled away and looked him square in the face. He sighed and looked around. “Okay, fine. It was a retaliation hit, I can’t tell you who. But those guys that died didn’t do shit. They were just some fucking bible study group or some shit.” Sam shook her head. “Then why kill them?” she asked. Reno shrugged. “Because it’s easier to kill them than Undertakers.” “Undertakers?” she asked, her eyes widening. “Undertakers killed that vampire?” The laughter that escaped Reno was wicked and cruel and he rolled up her sleeve again. This time she didn’t stop him, her head already reeling. “Baby,” Reno said. “Undertakers are behind all of this shit.” She didn’t have time to ask him what he meant before his fangs ripped at her arm. Her head tipped back and a moan escaped her lips. Instantly, the high was washing over her. Reno forced her backwards until she was up against the wall. It was violent and rough, the way he fed. He always took a lot and he took it quickly. Not in the calculating manner Roman did. He was nothing like Roman. Or maybe Roman was nothing like him. Reno pulled back and Sam closed her eyes, licking her lips. She didn’t expect it when his fangs suddenly sunk into her neck. Her face twisted against the sudden pain, but then she moaned again and it smoothed out as the high overtook any pain she felt. She distantly felt Reno’s hand traveling over her body as he fed, exploring her and she didn’t try to stop him, too high on the bite to even worry about it. When he finally pulled back again, he laughed. “Oh, shit,” he said, licking his lips clean. “You always taste so fucking good.” Sam was winded and the world was spinning around her. Reno’s hand on her arm was the only thing holding her up. She stumbled as he started walking her back to the gate. As they reached it and the vampire there pulled it open, Reno wrapped his arms around her, holding her from behind. Sam struggled lightly against him as he put his mouth near her ear. “Sam,” he whispered. “Beg me to let you go.” “Fuck you,” Sam spat. This was a game he liked to play and maybe it was the reason she’d played it with Roman, making him say please before he fed. Reno shook his head, his tongue lapping at her neck again as the blood still flowed. “Beg, Sam. Or I’ll fuck you right here on the floor.” She rolled her eyes. “Let me go,” she said and it reminded her too much of this morning. “I said beg,” Reno growled and there was something threatening in his voice that sent a shiver up Sam’s spine. “Please,” she finally whispered. “Just let me go.” His arms unwrapped from around her and she fell forward without him holding her up. She landed on her hands and knees, her palms scrapping against the floor. Behind her, Reno laughed and she heard him whisper, “Fucking junkie bitch.” She closed her eyes for a moment and forced herself to her feet, using the wall as support as she hauled her way back up the stairs. She hated this place. She hated more that she needed it so badly. |
| Roman didn’t want to get involved. He stood tense and rigid at the bar, hands gripping the edge of the counter and gaze locked on the television. He wasn’t watching it. He was aware of it as background noise and bright images flashing in front of his eyes. He could hear people laughing down the other end of the bar but he was barely aware of them either. The night had picked up a little, and there were two men in dress slacks drinking loudly together on his end. He kept their drinks filled when they asked but he didn’t talk to them because he was waiting. He hadn’t heard the words yet. He didn’t know what shape they would take, only that he knew they were coming. He wondered if he was afraid. He wondered what he would do afterwards, if his father got what he wanted and left a bloody trail behind him and Nolan got what he wanted and took away the few rights his kind had left. He wondered how long he could stay out of this. There was a war already going on in his mind. He should have asked Giselle what his father intended. He wondered what was so dangerous that even she would call it a stupid plan. If she had told him then what would he have done? Told Sam? She would tell Nolan. The anger burned in him, lit by the knowledge that he was trapped somewhere in the middle of this. Maybe if it was just her, he would. He’d tell her what she wanted to know and let her do with it what she wanted. He knew she hated his kind. He didn’t know if she hated them as much as her new boss did, but he wanted to believe not. No matter how many times he told himself it was none of his business, his view of her had shifted. It would be easy to think of her as the same cruel, hateful bitch that had let him feed just for the paycheck, but it had been altered the moment Bobby had opened his door and he’d understood. She just wanted to keep her brother safe, no matter what. It struck an odd protective note in him, discordant and unfamiliar. “I have to go,” he said abruptly, pulling away from the counter. Artie looked up at the words, frowning as Roman pulled the towel off his shoulder and tossed it underneath the bar. The man looked like he wanted to argue and Roman didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t know what he planned to do, but he couldn’t wait anymore. He had to at least see his father. He had to at least hear from his lips what he was doing and try and convince him to stay his hand. “Brock will be here in an hour, just stay until then.” “You’re leaving?” he asked, following Roman into the kitchen. The frown lingered and he glanced back over his shoulder through the doors before they swung closed. He turned his head, watching Roman tossed the apron on the metal table and then grab his coat. He was quiet and then an odd look crossed his face, coloring it with something like concern. “Is everything okay?” “Just family business I have to take care of,” he said. In the other room the television still hummed but he hadn’t heard the words yet. The ones that said Gaius had gone and killed someone. He shook his head and didn’t say anything else as he left the bar. His father didn’t live in any of the apartments. He lived in a warehouse near the water, on the edge of the district. The undertakers would have called him a squatter if they knew he was there. Gaius just said he was maintaining the lifestyle with which he was accustomed. The outside looked like nothing. It looked like an abandoned building with boards nailed over the windows and rats scurrying along the gutter outside. The walls were old, rusted brick and when water ran down them it looked like the building was bleeding. Roman had only visited a few times, because he knew who else lived there, and he hadn’t wanted to see her. There was a vampire waiting outside. Somehow Roman wasn’t surprised to see Solomon leaning against the building, the small glowing ember of a cigarette shining out of the darkness. His eyes picked Roman out of the shadows, a smile curling his lips as he flicked ash off the end of his smoke. It was weak and shuttered, something like disappointment on his face. Roman could guess why it was there. “She thought you might come,” he said. “Not sure how I feel that she was right.” “I didn’t come here for her,” he snapped, even while a part of him wondered if it was true. He wanted to believe the hold she had over him had been broken years ago, but as Sam had said, he was a poor liar. “Is my father here?” “Inside,” Solomon said, nodding his head at the door. “I’ll show you.” He flicked his cigarette into the gutter, shoving the door open with one hand. It screamed as it dragged against the floor and it probably took more than human strength to open it. Roman followed him into the dark interior, only the dim streetlights seeping through the cracks in the boards. It smelled dusty and rank, like nothing had lived there for a long time. It helped throw off any undertakers that came sniffing around, though he imagined someone was paying them to divert their patrol by here. The vampire next to him was quiet as he led him through the open, cement room. He could smell the smoke lingering on his clothes, different than what Sam smoke but still as acrid. His mind kept slipping to her, and he wondered when that had started. He wondered when he had started worrying about her when she wasn’t with him. “I know she doesn’t love me,” Solomon said abruptly. He didn’t turn around, and his voice was quiet and harsh as he led him towards the stairs in the back. He laughed weakly and shook his head. “Just allow me to pretend she does, for a little bit longer.” “I have no interest in taking her from you,” Roman said. The vampire shook his head. The stairs were metal and old and creaked under their footsteps. “It doesn’t matter what you want. It only matters what she wants.” Roman scoffed and felt dark anger at the words. He had already given her everything she wanted. There was nothing left for her to try and take. The man spoke as if reading his thoughts, looking over his shoulder as they reached the long hallway. Up here the air smelled of blood. “If she wanted you back, would you really say no?” Roman didn’t want to think about the question. He wasn’t sure he would like the answer. She had left him with only hate in his heart and maybe that was what he still had left to give. “She’ll take everything from you and when there’s nothing left, she’ll leave you,” he spat. His mind strayed to the violin, and the jarring notes that were all he could pull from it. “It goes out of tune as you play,” she’d said, her nose wrinkled in annoyance. “Can’t you hear the faults?” “I know,” Solomon said. “But I give it to her gladly.” They’d reached a door at the end of the hallway and Solomon stood to the side after he opened it, letting Roman walk through. It was dimly lit by lights hung on the walls, but the room was a sharp contrast to the rest of the building. There were couches and chairs shoved against the walls, ancient, opulent things covered in red velvet. There were vampires sprawled on them, some he recognized and some he didn’t. One with dark, straight hair was feeding from a young girl in a red dress, pearls around his throat and her head tipped back in ecstasy. The one sitting next to her had dark red hair cut into a Mohawk, eyes watching the blood flow. A massive cherry oak desk was towards the middle of the room and he saw the two familiar figures leaning over it, a map rolled out in front of them. Giselle had changed, wearing tight black jeans that sat low on her hips and hugged her curves. She wore a black corset on top of that, a locket dangling between her breasts. He recognized it. He didn’t know whose pictures she kept in it. He had never been allowed to look. She’d been given all of him, and he had been granted nothing of her. Her eyes darted up when the door opened and a smile curled her lips. “Roman! You came.” His father didn’t, his gaze focused on the map rolled out in front of him. There was a darkening of his expression however that showed he was aware of his son’s presence. Roman took a step forward, aware of the eyes turning to look at him. He’d barely gotten three feet away from the desk before his father’s voice came, sharp and angry. “Get out,” he spat. He batted something off the desk before finally lifting his gaze to focus on Roman. There was hurt and anger there, the second more intense. “I have no interest in dead traitors and whores.” “Gaius, please,” Giselle said quietly. Her hand settled on his elbow “I asked him to come.” Gaius snorted, the anger still clouding his face. “Did you?” he asked. Then his gaze finally turned to her and Roman saw his expression softened. It hurt him just to see. He tried to ignore the sensation of pain, but it came anyway, a constant reminder that to him he was always and ever a disappointment. “Ah childe, you know I can deny you nothing.” He smiled, fingers resting against her cheek. “So tell me son, are you here to offer me your sword arm or are you here to find more to give your human masters?” The vampire feeding off the girl straightened at that, turning a frown towards Roman. There was suspicion on his face, his gaze flicking between the two of them. His tongue came out to lick blood from his lips but he didn’t say anything. Roman felt anger rising in him, aware that he was being watched and judged, an outsider unwelcome in their midst. “What are you planning?” he demanded. Gaius laughed and rolled the map up swiftly. “And why should I tell you?” he asked, voice false and cheerful. “So you can go ahead and warn them? Prepare a trap for your old man? No, I think not. Swear yourself to this or leave my sight but I will tell you nothing.” Roman felt all his arguments slipping away from him. “You are blinded by your bloodlust. You’re going to start another war.” The red haired vampire laughed quietly, lacing his fingers behind his head. “That’s sorta the point, mate.” Giselle shot him a look and he just shrugged his shoulders, tongue running along his teeth as he looked back over at the girl in the red dress. There were two more vampires on the other side of the room, a woman who kept running her fingers through the pale curly locks of the one next to her. They were watching with lidded eyes, but a cruel smile tugged at her lips as they did. His father shook his head, shoving the map in the desk before walking around it. He stood in front of Roman, his chin lifting in a challenge. The disappointment and anger was evident on his face. “It’s already begun childe. Pick a side.” Roman looked up at his father and he thought he hated him. There were things he’d wanted to say, arguments they’d had a thousand times before and he felt them all slipping away from him. There was the dark sense in the back of his mind that whatever his father planned to do this time, it was going to be worse than a few dead men in a church. He thought about Bobby and Sam and he thought that if he asked his father to spare either of them he would make a point of tracking them down and killing them. Just to prove to his son that they were weak and suddenly he couldn’t be here anymore. “Fuck you old man,” he spat viciously. Surprise and pain shot across his father’s face like Roman had just struck him. He couldn’t even find satisfaction in it. All he felt was disgust and despair and bitterness. He turned on his heel and headed out of the room, swearing that next time he would stay out of it completely. They could all kill each other as far as he cared, as long as he wasn’t part of it. He slammed the door behind him, aware that it opened immediately and he heard the sharp click of stilettos as she followed him down the hall. “Wait, Roman,” she called. He didn’t turn around. “Please wait.” Her fingers touched his elbow and he whirled at that, slamming her against the wall with hands on her arms. “Tell me what he plans.” She looked startled by the motion, eyes scanning his face. His lip was pulled up in a snarl, hating her and his father both. Her tongue flicked over her lips, wetting them and drawing his attention there before she spoke. “He plans a strike at the undertakers. With Nolan taking over as Chief, their ranks are being shuffled around. The east side barracks have left themselves open.” His eyes widened, staring down at her as the slow realization settled in his gut. “He’s trying to start a war,” he said quietly. She nodded her head. “He believes it’s the only way to get those like you to come over to our side. There is no hope for peace Roman. There never was.” Her voice was sad as she spoke but he didn’t believe it. There was only the dim satisfaction, barely hidden behind those pouty lips. Only the small joy of knowing that she had told him those words before and now she was going to make them the truth. He slumped back against the wall, running a hand over his mouth and wondering what the fuck he was going to do. She followed him, hand resting against his arm and he kept waiting for it, that jolt of electricity that usually followed her touch. “I have to go, but please, stay here,” she said. “Give me a chance to explain more when we get back.” It wasn’t until she walked away that he realized he hadn’t felt it. He didn’t feel anything at all. Only the cold. |
| Sam wore a yellow dress with her black jacket. It wasn’t cool out, but the jacket had a collar that hid the marks on her neck. She’d gone home after Reno and she’d fallen asleep in her bed. He’d taken a lot, but she could handle it. She’d been handling it for months. He was a prick and he was dangerous, but apparently Sam had a way of attracting those types of people. Bobby hadn’t woken her when he got home from school and she was a little angry that he’d let her sleep so long. She hadn’t had much time to get dressed before she needed to go to Nolan’s and she almost told Bobby that, but it wasn’t the kid’s fault. When she’d woken up, he’d been out in the living room doing his homework and he’d looked just relieved that he knew where she was. But as soon as he saw her dressed up, that relief had been gone from his face. “Where are you going?” Bobby had asked her as she shuffled around the apartment, looking for her purse. “Out,” was all she’d told him and she was going to leave it at that until she turned and saw his face. It was a mixture of disappointment and fear and she’d sighed because she hated that he worried about her. He was a kid. He was supposed to worry about what kids worried about – baseball and candy or some shit. So she’d added, “To Nolan’s.” That seemed to make him frown even deeper. “I don’t like that guy,” he’d told her. She’d snorted. “Me neither.” Then she’d kissed the top of his head, told him to get to bed earlier, and left. She doubted he’d do as she said. He’d probably wait up for her on the couch like he normally did. He was a little brat, but god she loved that kid. As soon as she got paid, she was going to go out and buy him something. Maybe a television. Kids like Bobby should be able to watch television. Nolan lived in a high rise apartment building on the far side of the city, where few vampires ventured and the Undertakers guarded heavily. It was the richer part of town, where the high and mighty lived and didn’t mingle with the lower folk. Sam had to take an elevator to get to Nolan’s apartment on the top floor. She wasn’t surprised to see several Undertakers, the same as he’d had walking with him before, guarding the door to his apartment. It was the penthouse, the only one on the floor. She wondered what kind of salary Nolan made. The Undertakers opened the door for her and she gave them a quick nod as she stepped into Nolan’s apartment. They closed the door behind her and immediately, Sam felt inadequate. The apartment was fancy and modern. A grand piano sat to one side while a big screen television was plastered into the wall on the opposite side. His furniture was leather and polished looking and there wasn’t a spot of dust or dirt anywhere. The apartment tapered off to the side and she wondered how many bedrooms it had. She could see at least three more doors. There was a balcony that overlooked the city and it was wide enough that he had a hot tub out there. And what looked like his own personal bar. “Samantha,” Nolan’s voice startled her and she looked towards the hallway to the bedrooms. He came walking out and he was dressed casually, which was far different than what she was used to seeing him in. He wore a pair of slacks and a dress shirt that was unbuttoned towards the top. He carried an empty martini glass with him. “You made it.” “Nice place,” she commented, looking around. Nolan nodded, heading towards his kitchen. He placed the martini glass in the sink and came back out, wiping his hands on a dishrag before he threw that on the counter and leaned against it, smiling at her. “Yes, it is,” he said smugly and she thought she couldn’t hate him more. “Now, what have you got for me?” he asked. She snorted. “Straight to business,” she said and she wondered why she couldn’t seem to curb her tongue tonight around him. Probably because he’d pissed her off earlier showing up at her apartment. Nolan laughed, but waited patiently, not responding to her. She sighed and ran her hand along the back of his couch before she came to sit on the arm of it in front of him. “I found out that Undertakers were responsible for that vampire death last week,” she said lowly. “Religious groups had nothing to do with it. I don’t know who it was exactly, but it’s something we should look into.” For a moment, Nolan didn’t move. He was watching her and she wondered what he was looking for. Finally, he smiled, but she didn’t buy it because there was something dark and dangerous in his eyes. “We,” he said, nodding his head as he came to stand directly in front of her. “Well, you,” she said, looking at him curiously. “You’re the boss now.” Nolan nodded. “That I am,” he said and then reached down to take her hands. He pulled her into a standing position and she went easily, stepping away from the couch. He rounded behind her and she tensed as he reached for the collar of her jacket, peeling it off of her arms and throwing it over the back of the couch. The back of her dress was open, with ties on the back of her neck keeping the dress up. She felt his fingers move along her skin, coming to the band-aid she’d put over the marks on her neck. He peeled it away and she tried to turn to see his face over her shoulder. His gaze was shuttered and calm. “What else do you have for me?” he asked. Sam frowned at him, shaking her head. “That’s all I could get,” she said. “I know the killings in the church were a retaliation hit for the vampire, but I don’t know who did those either.” She gasped as Nolan’s hands suddenly closed around her throat, one holding the back of her neck, the other squeezing her throat. She brought her hands up to try and pry them from around her throat, but he shook her and his voice was radically different, dangerous as he growled at her, “I don’t care about retaliation killings. Why didn’t you tell me they were attacking us?” he yelled at her. She shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she gasped out, desperately trying to get his hands from around her throat. “Don’t lie to me!” he screamed and then he was throwing her to the floor. She landed on her side, grunting and then rolling over to look up at him. His hands were clenched at his sides as he looked down at her. “You knew the attack was coming. How could you not have?” “What attack?” she asked desperately. Nolan’s face contorted between different emotions and then that calm, cool mask slipped back into place and he crouched down in front of her. She flinched when his fingers came out to touch the bruises already on her neck and the fang marks newly put there today. “You truly don’t know?” he asked, watching her eyes. She shook her head, her dark hair falling down about her bare shoulders. He nodded and cupped her check. “Then forgive me,” he said. “I lose my temper sometimes.” He held out his hand for her and she really didn’t want to take it, but she was afraid of what would happen if she didn’t. He helped her back to her feet and his hands rested on her shoulders. “The east side facility was attacked today by vampires,” he said and Sam’s eyes widened. He smiled at her reaction and brushed some of her hair behind her ear. “A few of our Undertakers were killed, yes. But we were prepared and managed to overtake the onslaught. I thought you would know of this coming attack.” Sam shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “Why would I?” and then she frowned. “And how were you prepared? Did you know it was coming?” Nolan chuckled wickedly. “Ah, Samantha,” he said. “You’re not the only one I send out into the lion’s den.” She stiffened at that and wondered who else was working for Nolan and if he had people out there already, why did he need her? Nolan ran his hands up and down her arms and she didn’t like the way she shivered at his touch. “I figured you would know because we caught one of the Fangs alive. Sabinus.” Instantly, Sam’s heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t understand the pain she felt in her gut thinking that Roman was involved in an attack on the Undertakers. She realized that a part of her had already begun to trust him and thinking he was involved in this, it was a familiar wave of panic and upset that washed over her. “Roman?” she asked. Nolan shook his head. “No,” he said and the relief was palpable. Though, short lived as she thought the only other Sabinus she knew was Roman’s father and she wasn’t sure how Roman would take that news. “Gaius Sabinus,” he confirmed her suspicion. “I thought your friend would have told you of his father’s intentions.” “He’s not my friend,” she said quietly, the words sounding like a lie on her tongue. Apparently, Nolan thought the same thing because he just smiled and squeezed her shoulder. “I have to say, Samantha,” he started, that sly tone back in his voice. “I’m disappointed in the information you’ve brought me so far. I thought you would be able to get more and be of some use. You need to do better. I would hate to have to fire you, because where would that leave you? And your brother?” he asked, trying to sound like he cared but Sam didn’t buy it. She licked her lips, her mind going to Roman. She had a desire to suddenly go see him and warn him about his father. She wondered what his reaction would be. Mainly she just wanted to let him know that she didn’t have anything to do with it and it surprised her the ferocity that she wanted him to know that. She didn’t care what Nolan wanted from her, at least not until she knew Roman was okay. But she also knew that Nolan would follow through on his threat without a second thought. “What can I do to make it up to you?” she asked, the words a white flag of surrender as they left her lips. Nolan’s smile turned wicked and his hands moved up her arms to her neck and then one of them fisted in her hair, tipping her head back. He let go of her with the other hand and as his hand went to the fly of his slacks, he said, “There is one way I can think of,” slyly and disgusting. Sam felt dread well up in her chest, but she knew this was coming. She hadn’t brought back the information he wanted and she needed to do what it took to keep this job. She nodded at him, made difficult by the hand still fisted in her hair. Nolan smiled and leaned close, his breath warm on her bare neck. “Get on your knees,” he whispered to her and she closed her eyes and obeyed. |
| Roman didn’t wait for Giselle to come back. He didn’t even wait for her to leave. He watched her walk back down the hallway but as soon as he couldn’t see her face anymore he was gone, slamming the door shut behind him. He didn’t care what she or his father had to say. They were going to start a war. Fine. They could have their war without him. He didn’t want to be involved. He walked home under the bright streetlights and every step made the malignant mass of hatred and bitterness worse. He hated the humans that had reduced them to this, to little more than dogs at their heels. He hated his father for being so stupid and blinded with his bloodlust that he couldn’t think of an answer that didn’t involve leaving bodies in his wake. He hated Giselle because she had helped make him into this broken thing and even that didn’t stop him from wanting her. He hated himself for being the fucking coward that Gaius had named him. Roman’s apartment was cold and empty and as soon as he was through the door he grabbed the shelf and ripped it off the wall. It fell to the floor with a crash, spilling tokens and books and memories across its surface. He slammed the door behind him, the frame rattling with the blow. It didn’t break. These places were built to withstand vampires and their tempers. If anything that just made him angrier because all he wanted was to break and destroy. It was what he’d always been best at. A snarl left his throat as he knocked the books off their shelf, ripping the wood from the wall and tossing it to the opposite side of the room. It splintered and fractured when it broke and he wondered how it was he had anything left to break. Then he was turning his attention to the painting, one his father had done of Giselle and he wondered why he’d left it hanging there this long. He tore it off the wall and he ripped the canvas from its frame, shredding it with loud tears. The dark, pained sensation in his chest only grew worse as he saw his hands destroy her face, his heart breaking all over again. He had loved her and she had taken everything from him. When it was done he threw it in a pile on the floor, some of his anger retreating and leaving him cold inside. He turned to the refrigerator, yanking the door open and hearing it scream on its hinges. Cold bags of blood sat inside it, properly tagged and marked with the official seal. Everything according to the letter of the law. He didn’t step outside it and in a few hours he didn’t think it would matter for any of them. He slammed the door shut, ripping the bag open with his teeth and hating the taste of it, cold and thick. It ran down the back of his throat, doing little to sate his hunger or his rage. Giselle would mock him if she saw him. She would ask what had happened to the man she used to love. He sucked it dry and when it was empty he threw it and watched the red splatter across the wall. It didn’t make him feel any better. The old bastard wanted to raze the city. He didn’t care who was caught in the middle, as long as the vampires came out on top. His mind strayed to Sam and didn’t understand the protectiveness and fear that came with it. He slumped into the armchair, staring at the dark wreckage that remained of his apartment and he didn’t care. It wasn’t his home. It was just this place they had stuck him in and he had gone because he’d had nowhere else to go. For a long time he stayed like that. He sat in the darkened corner of his apartment and stared at the broken shards of his life scattered across the floor. He didn’t think about his father. He didn’t think about what he was doing and what was going to happen tomorrow. He wondered dully if Sam would still come if his father succeeded in striking a blow against the undertakers. Probably not. He picked at a thread in his chair and tried to ignore the possibility that she might not be alive tomorrow. That thought hurt. As much as he didn’t think there was a reason for it to, it cut down to the bone. She’d made him beg just to feed, mocked him for everything he was, and given him almost nothing but venom since the day he met her. They’d been comfortable in their mutual loathing and he felt stupid for acknowledging that he would miss her if anything ever happened to her. She was an undertaker. It was reason enough to hate her, but instead all he was hoping was that she wasn’t anywhere near the barracks when his father got there. He wondered what she would have done if he’d warned her. He wondered if she’d have told Nolan. That just fed his anger. He snarled and kicked idly at the coffee table before letting his head fall back against the cushions. After a while his head rolled to the side, focusing on the violin leaned against the couch. He thought he hated that too. She had taken it from him like she’d taken everything else because now when he played all he could hear were the faults. It was out of bitterness and spite that he reached over and dragged it onto his lap, pulling the instrument out and running his fingers over the strings. He tuned it carefully, trying to focus his attention on that instead of on the maelstrom of thoughts spinning in his mind. When he was satisfied he tried to play. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the sound and shape of the music, instead of on the scrape of the bow over the strings and the vibration of them against his fingertips. The song echoed his despair and his hurt, made worse when he heard the sound of metal scraping against itself and he could have screamed with all the hate in him. He kept playing anyway. The bow dragged over the strings and his fingers started to slip as jarring and discordant notes poured out. They were just sounds now, just noise echoing in the small apartment and he wondered what had happened to him. A string broke. It snapped loose and sliced him across the cheek when it did, drawing a thin bloody line. Curses poured from his lips and he was on his feet in a moment, ready to throw the instrument across the room. The only reason he didn’t was because even as his hand rose to toss it from him, he became aware of the smell of smoke. He stilled, hand still wrapped around the neck of his violin and his brow wrinkled in confusion. It was thick and cloying, and his head turned towards his door, anxiety racing through him. His gaze flicked to the clock and that alone said it couldn’t be her. He flinched when the knock came, a quick, quiet rapping on his door. He hesitated for another moment, wondering why she would be here and what she could possibly want from him. Inside him the hunger roared to life, brought on by the possibility of her presence. He licked his lips and then strode across the apartment to the door, yanking it open and glancing out into the hall. She stood in front of his door, one arm crossed over her chest and the other holding a cigarette loosely in her fingers. Her appearance surprised him. She was dressed in loose plaid pajama pants and a silky top, a partially zipped hoodie pulled around her thin frame. He swore he saw relief on her face as soon as she saw him and she let out a breath of smoke. “Roman,” she said. “Can I come in?” She didn’t wait for an answer, slipping by him into the apartment. He turned to watch her, a frown on his face and his thoughts banging together in his head. It was too late for her and the wrong day. Her hair was wet and pulled back into a ponytail and she looked like she’d crawled out of bed to come see him. She barely glanced at the wreckage he’d left strewn about the floor, pacing in front of the couch and sucking on her cigarette like it had all the answers in the world. “What are you doing here?” he asked. The question came out harsher than he meant, his mind racing to try and figure out what she could possibly need from him. One hand rose and scratched idly at a band aid on her neck and then it fell to wrap around her ribs instead. “I don’t know,” she said, and then laughed weakly. “I mean, I know, but I don’t know why I’m here now. I just couldn’t not come over and tell you.” Roman wasn’t sure if it was the words or the way she was acting that scared him more. It was nothing like her. She looked frazzled and distracted and upset and she was just pacing back and forth, eyes not meeting his. He walked to the armchair, putting his violin away and keeping his back to her to ignore the dark suspicion he suddenly felt. His fingers moved slowly, tucking the instrument back in its case before closing the lid. Behind him he could hear her pacing, footsteps light and quick on the carpet. “Tell me what?” he asked, voice quiet and dangerous. There was pain snaking out from his chest, the horrible certainty that she had done something, betrayed him somehow. She was an undertaker. She was the enemy who cared nothing for him and had probably told her boss every word he’d ever said in front of her. He glanced over his shoulder when she didn’t answer right away. Her eyes watched the floor and she looked lost in thoughts, none of them good. He set the violin on the floor and then walked over to her, stopping her pacing with hands on her shoulders. She flinched immediately under the touch and took a quick step back, the words suddenly bursting from her lips. “It’s your father,” she said. He felt a blade of ice sink in between his ribs. “He’s in trouble. Nolan’s got him in custody.” Roman stared at her for a long moment as the words sunk in. She took another step back from him, looking away and taking another drag from her cigarette. “I know you’re a Fang and you don’t like me and all, but that’s your father, and I had to say something.” His hand gripped the corner of the coffee table and he tossed it over in one quick motion, anger and mistrust ripping through him. Her eyes widened in surprise when he advanced, retreating until her back hit the wall. A fist slammed into the plaster next to her head. “Did you have anything to do with this?” he demanded, his voice loud and angry. Suspicion mingled with pain that she might have given Nolan his father. It didn’t matter that he hated the old man, suddenly he hated himself more for the last words he’d said to him. He kept his hands braced on either side of her head, emotions roaring through him and he didn’t know which one of them hurt the most. The thought of Gaius in Nolan’s hands ripped him open and filled him with guilt and fear and the thought that Sam had put him there was a gaping wound in his chest. He thought about Giselle. He wondered if she was dead and the pain that caused left him cold, inside and out. “No,” Sam told him. Her eyes scanned his face and he wondered what it meant that her expression was one of hurt, not fear. After a moment she shook her head, looking down at her tennis shoes. “I didn’t tell him anything.” He should have called her a liar. He should have asked her what else she’d given Nolan and told her to get the fuck out of his apartment. He didn’t. He believed her. Whether he should or not didn’t matter, he did and it was with a low growl that he yanked himself away from the wall and away from her. He kicked the coffee table out of the way before slumping down on the couch. “What would I have told him anyway?” she asked after a moment. He glanced over at her and she was sucking desperately on her cigarette. “I didn’t know he was planning on attacking the undertakers. Even if I did, I wouldn’t have told that fucking asshole anything. Not like he appreciated the information I did get him.” She trembled afterwards and Roman frowned, watching her as she began to pace again. The cigarette was down to the filter and she tossed it in the sink, missing and hitting the counter instead. “What happened?” Roman asked. His voice was harsh and his mind was spinning out of control. She snorted and slumped down in his arm chair, arms wrapping around her stomach. “Your father and some other vampires attacked the east side undertaker facility,” she told him. “They managed to take him alive.” She hesitated, looking down at her plaid pants. There was a hole in one knee and she picked at with her fingernails. “Did you know he was going to do that?” Roman thought about lying to her, but he thought she would know. He watched her face and after a moment she looked up at him. She looked tired and lost and he wondered why she’d come all the way over here to tell him that. “Not until a few hours ago,” he said. Her face contorted and he thought he was looking at pain and anger. “But you did know,” she snapped. He looked away, staring at the wrecked apartment in front of him and he didn’t insult her with his excuses. “Yes.” |
| For a moment, Sam just sat there. There was an anger, a disgust building up in her chest and she wanted to aim it at Roman, because it would be easier, but she knew it wasn’t for him. It didn’t stop her from jumped to her feet and pointed a finger at him anyhow. “Fuck you, Fang!” she yelled and she saw his eyes widen for a moment before they narrowed into something calculating and cold. Sam didn’t give him time to respond. She was pulling her cigarettes out of her hoodie pocket and stomping one out into her hand while her mouth was moving with little regard for the words coming out of it. “Why the fuck wouldn’t you tell me something like that?” she snapped. “So you could tell Nolan?” Roman spat, anger clouding his voice. Sam whirled and hurled her pack of cigarettes at him. He easily caught it in one hand, but some of the anger was starting to fade off his face, being replaced by something she couldn’t quite read, but looked like concern. “I don’t give a fuck about Nolan!” Sam yelled at him. “I don’t give a fuck about his stupid secret agent bullshit or his dumb fancy suits or his completely spotless and ridiculous penthouse. Who lives in a fucking place like that? Who lives in a place where you’re too afraid to touch anything because you might stain it? Assholes!” she pointed her cigarette at Roman, pulling her lighter out with her other hand, but she was too busy ranting to actually light it. She kept on pacing and Roman stood there, watching her and she was distantly aware that his apartment was trashed and it was an ungodly hour to be doing this. She was aware that they were supposed to hate each other and that he probably didn’t give a shit about her or her problems, but she couldn’t stop. She was still slightly weak from her encounter with Reno and she was disgusted with herself over what had happened with Nolan. She was disgusted with what she’d become and the position she was in and there was nothing and no one who could change it. “You should have fucking told me,” she said and then paused to point at herself. “Me! Because what if I would have been working there? What if I would have been there when they attacked? I could have been killed! And then what would Bobby do? Go into foster care? Do you know what happens to kids in that fucking place? Bobby doesn’t deserve that shit.” She finally paused to try and light her cigarette, but her hands were shaking so much, she wasn’t able to. She couldn’t even get the flame to start. She didn’t hear Roman move over to her, but she stiffened when he reached forward to grab the lighter from her. She expected him to light it for her, like he’d done on the way home from Legion’s, but instead, he reached to grab the cigarette from her lips and she thought about yelling at him for taking it from her, but she realized with surprise that her throat was locked up and her eyes were burning with unshed tears. Roman’s hands came to her shoulders, his head ducked to be at eye level with her. She stared at him and she waited for his words. “Sam,” he said and a shiver stole through her at her name on his lips. “Are you okay?” They weren’t the words she was expecting. She thought about his arms wrapping around her in Legion’s, pulling her out of the line of fire of the bullets aimed at her head. She thought about her hands fisted in his shirt and the concerned look he wore then. He’d walked her home afterwards and he’d met her brother and hadn’t hurt him when he could have. Sam would have never known where Bobby had gone. He’d made sure he’d gotten home and there were so many things about Roman she didn’t understand. Anger suddenly passed through her and she was shoving him away. He took a step back, but she knew it was just because he wanted to, not because she was strong enough to force him to do anything. “Don’t be nice to me!” she yelled at him and he tilted his head in confusion. “Don’t pretend you give a shit about me.” Roman’s face darkened and he shrugged. “Fine,” he growled out. “I don’t.” She was surprised by how much the words hurt. Like a deep knife being twisted into her gut and she held her chin up as she stared back at him. “Good,” she spat. “Because I don’t want anything from a fucking Fang like you anyway.” “Then why are you here?” Roman growled. “That’s a damn good question,” she said and turned around abruptly, heading for the door. She stopped only briefly to grab her cigarettes off the floor and then she flung his door open and turned back to look at him. “Good luck with your father,” she spat angrily and slammed the door behind her. Immediately, she heard his angry shout from inside and there was the crashing of whatever he had left to trash in his apartment. Sam’s hand lingered on the doorknob and she felt her lips quivering, the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes and this hadn’t been what she wanted when she came here. She didn’t know why she’d come. She just had to tell Roman about his father. And a small part of her had to come see him because he couldn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want to. He had the power to, but he never used it against her and she felt a sob leak up and out of her throat. Turning, she leaned against the wall and put her hands over her face. She slid down the wall and pulled her legs to her chest, hugging them there as she felt the tears come then. She wasn’t sure why she was crying anymore. Maybe because she was thinking how easier this would be if he fed on her and she could stop worrying about it. Maybe because she could still feel Nolan’s hands fisted in her hair, holding her in place. Maybe because a part of her wished she were at the Undertaker facility today so it could just be over. She only sat there for a moment before she realized the noise inside the apartment had stopped. As soon as she realized that, his apartment door opened and she couldn’t even look up at him. She turned her head to the side, trying to bury herself against the wall because she didn’t want him to see her like this. She shouldn’t have come here and she shouldn’t have felt anything but hatred towards him. It was her stupid fault for thinking they could feel anything but hate towards each other. His hand was soft on her shoulder and she could feel him crouch down in front of her. She couldn’t look at him. She didn’t want to see his face. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone out here? “Sam,” his voice was soft and in control and she sniffled into her hands, wiping her tears away on the back of her sleeve and crossing her arms over her chest, still not looking at him, but at least allowing him to see her face. She felt his other hand rest gently on her leg and she tried to ignore the static it sent through her. “I thought you said I was a horrible liar,” he said. She swallowed and her voice was broken when she snapped out, “I said you’re a shitty liar.” Roman nodded, trying to duck his head so he could see her face. “So why couldn’t tell I was lying in there?” The words sparked something in her chest and she sucked in a breath. She tried to keep her still oncoming tears at bay and she finally turned her head, still resting against the wall, to look at him. There was a tentative look on his face, like this was territory he wasn’t used to being in and Sam thought she could relate. “About what?” she asked, trying not to get her hopes too high up. He sighed and squeezed her shoulder lightly. “I lied when I said I didn’t care about you.” Sam felt her face crumple and she hated that he said the words because god help her, she believed him. If he ever turned on her or tried to use her, it was her own stupid fault because she fucking believed him. But she couldn’t stop herself from letting out a small sob and wiping her arm across her eyes again. “Well good,” she said, hugging herself tighter. “Because I’m starting to like you too, you stupid Fang.” |
| “Here,” Roman said. He paused next to the couch, holding out the beer for her. Sam glanced up, legs pulled up to her chest and arms looped around them. She looked small and sad, tears still staining her cheeks and circles under her eyes. There was the dull sensation of pain in his chest seeing her like that and he still wasn’t sure what to make of it. He told himself he didn’t care and that her life was none of his business but the thoughts felt like the lies they were and he couldn’t just leave her out there thinking they were truth. She reached up hesitantly to take the beer but she didn’t drink it, just holding it in her hands as her fingers picked at the label. “Why are you so nice to me?” she asked after a moment. Her head rolled against the back of the couch to look at him, her voice tired and still harsh from crying. “Why is it you’ve never tried to force me to feed you? Were you just afraid that I’d turn you in?” She tried to put bite into the last part but he didn’t believe it and neither did she. It was almost comical, the angry admission that she was starting to like him and just the thought of it sent warmth spreading through his skin. He slumped down on the couch next to her, kicking his feet out on the overturned coffee table. Around him his apartment was still in pieces and he almost liked it better this way. She still wasn’t drinking her beer so he reached over and took it from her, taking a pull from it before handing it back. “I don’t believe anyone can force you to do anything you don’t want to do.” She snorted but an expression of pain crossed her face at that. “I wish that were true,” she said dully. He didn’t like the pain there. His gaze traced her face, the curve of her mouth and the sunken look in her eyes as strands of hair fell loose into them. “Why did you go work for Nolan?” he asked abruptly. It had been bothering him since she’d told him she was. If anything that just made the hurt look on her face get worse. Tears glazed her eyes and she looked away as she took a pull from her beer. “I needed the money,” she said. Her teeth pulled at her lower lip and then she looked down at the carpet, her voice quiet and ashamed. “Howard was the only reason I kept that job as long as I did and now he’s dead.” “What happened to you?” he asked quietly. He kept waiting for her to tell him it was none of his fucking business but she didn’t. She just shook her head and then pointed her bottle at the destruction around them. “What happened to you?” He snorted out something like a laugh, settling into the couch and stretching his arms out the back of it. There was a broken mass of canvas and wood that used to be a portrait of Giselle, and he felt pain lance and anger lance through him at that. His coffee table was whole, but on its side with everything he’d had on it scattered and broken across the carpet. Books lay on the floor in heaps, one of his shelves cracked in two, and a smear of blood still decorated his wall. “Gaius brings out the worst in me,” he said. She shifted next to him on the couch and he felt her shoulder brush against his. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, aware that her being this close stirred the hunger in his chest. Didn’t matter that he’d already fed, he could see that vein in her throat and smell the heady scent of her right next to him. He licked his lips and looked away, trying to force it away. “You weren’t part of this attack of his, were you?” she asked abruptly. She had a look on her face like she didn’t want to say the words but she did anyway, glancing up at him as she did. She bit her lip as she watched his eyes. “No,” he told her. He snorted and kicked at the table as he did, wondering how the thing wasn’t broken yet. “But he wanted me to be. Gaius and I have different ideas about pretty much everything.” The words turned bitter at the end and he could still feel the heat of disappointment settling over him. Gaius would blame him for this. He knew it deep in his bones, whether it was rational or not, his father would think he had been the cause of his failure. “He thinks himself more a God than a man anymore.” He wondered after he said it why he was being so honest with her. She hadn’t asked for anything more except proof of his innocence and there was only his word. He glanced over at her and he couldn’t help but wonder if tomorrow she would throw it back in his face. He thought it would hurt. He thought hearing her belittle and demean him would sting after this, because he didn’t hate her anymore. He wanted her to trust him. He wanted to be able to trust her and he thought it was stupid how easily he was doing so. But he couldn’t look at her face and see the exhaustion etched there without believing every word she said to him. Sam was quiet next to him and a thought occurred to him. “If I told you yes, would you turn me in?” he asked quietly. She frowned at the question, leaning forward to press her lips against her knee. One hand still circled her legs loosely, the other holding the beer bottle in her fingers. Her hair spilled down around shoulder and he frowned when he saw bruises on the back of her neck. He felt dark anger at that, and he suddenly wanted to know who’d put them there. “No,” she whispered after a moment. The answer surprised him and he kept watching her. She turned her head to look over her shoulder at him and she looked suddenly embarrassed. “But I’d tell you what a stupid fucking Fang you are.” A laugh left his lips at that and she looked surprised at it. “I’d expect nothing less,” he said. She licked her lips and then took another pull from her beer before gesturing it at him, annoyance on her face. “I mean, what the fuck are they thinking anyway? Best that’s going to happen is Nolan’s going to get his god damned district restriction slapped on your stupid Fang asses and the worst is that he’s going to convince the governor that you’re all a menace that needs to be put down.” She snorted and drained the rest of her beer in one go, before slumping back against the couch. “Which is exactly what my father wants,” he said. She glanced up at him, face contorting in a frown. “He wants to force a war. He thinks when it’s over the vampires will be the rightful rulers of men and he doesn’t give a fuck who they have to kill to get there.” He reached down to take the beer bottle from her and threw it at the wall where it shattered. She snorted and lifted an eyebrow at the wall before her gaze returned to him. “Do you care?” she asked quietly. “Yes.” He glanced down at her and he couldn’t stop his gaze from shifting to her throat. She lifted her hand to cover the band aid there and in the back of his mind he wondered if it was from a bite. “I didn’t want to get involved,” he said, just as softly. She laughed and rolled her head to the side to look at him with a smirk. “Nobody can force you to do anything you don’t want to do.” A smile pulled at his lips and he shoved her weakly away from him. “You’re wicked,” he said. The smile lingered on her face for another moment before it faded slowly. She sighed, picking at the hole in her pants before she set them on the floor, scooting to the edge of the couch. “I should go,” she told him. The words sounded reluctant and she didn’t make any move to stand up. “Bobby will worry if he wakes up and I’m not there.” He nodded his head and echoed the motions, sitting next to her on the couch. “I’ll walk you home.” She laughed and shook her head. “I drove. Besides Fang, it’s passed curfew.” The smile died after she said the words and then she pushed herself to her feet. She shifted awkwardly, running her fingers through her hair. “So I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Sam,” he said. Her name came hesitantly to his lips and he looked down at the carpet and all the broken things scattered across it. He caught the edge of Giselle’s eye looking back at him and the question came from his lips before he could second guess himself. “Do you know if they caught anyone else?” There was a quiet pain in the asking that he didn’t like hearing there. “I don’t think so,” Sam told him. He wasn’t sure if the answer made him relieved or scared. Giselle was either free or she was dead. Either way, it shouldn’t have mattered, and he hated that it did. He couldn’t read the expression on Sam’s face but it was suddenly shuttered and dark. He nodded his head and he couldn’t look at her because it didn’t matter if she said she liked him, it didn’t mean she’d be willing to tell him Nolan’s business. He didn’t expect it and he didn’t ask her anything more about that. “Do you know what he plans to do with my father?” he asked. He tilted his head up to look at her and she was rubbing at her arms, watching his face carefully. She looked sad and a little nervous and he parted his lips to take the question back when she spoke. “No,” she told him. “But I can find out.” |
Chapter Four “Where’d you go last night?” Bobby demanded as soon as she stepped into the kitchen the next morning. He had breakfast made, the normal eggs for her, but he’d made a pancake for himself. She turned up her nose when she saw peanut butter smeared across it. She gave Bobby a look and he glanced down at the plate before shrugging. “We’re out of syrup.” Then he pointed his fork at her. “And don’t try to divert my attention.” Sam snorted, walking around the table to ruffle his hair. “Don’t worry about it, brat,” she told him and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head. She sat down next to him and grabbed her fork, breaking off a piece of his peanut butter pancake and trying a bite. She made a face and looked over at him. “We should go grocery shopping tomorrow.” Bobby’s face lit up at that, maybe because he wasn’t used to doing anything on the weekends with his big sister. It should have been their time together, when he didn’t have school and Sam didn’t have work. But it never was. Her weekends were normally spent with Reno. Or Cage or Magnolia, two of the other vampires she saw when it wasn’t time for Roman. Although, Reno took up most of her weekends now. Cage she hadn’t seen in weeks, mainly because he’d stopped showing up at the blood bank on the weekends. And Magnolia, Sam assumed, had gone straight. Because last she saw her, she’d declined the feeding and had looked somewhat more civil than she usually was. Thinking about Reno, she felt a tightness in her chest and a tickling along her arms. She was glad tonight was Roman’s night, because the cravings were bad this morning. Maybe because she’d seen Roman last night and he hadn’t fed. She’d thought about asking him to, but it hadn’t seemed right. They’d had a good night. They’d had an interesting night. She wasn’t sure if this meant they were friends or just okay with each other. She was inclined to believe this could lead to friendship. But she thought she had to prove he could trust her. She had to find out what was going to happen to his father. And then they’d go from there. She wasn’t sure what she would do if Roman wanted to bust his father out, maybe just turn a blind eye. She wasn’t sure she’d go so far as to help him. The vampire had tried to kill her once, after all. “Can we go to the library too?” Bobby asked and Sam’s attention turned back to her brother. She smirked at him. “I’ve got a better idea,” she said. “Today’s payday. I’ve got a little extra money coming my way.” She leaned forward onto the table and waggled her eyebrows. “Maybe we could go get a tv.” Bobby’s eyes widened and he looked around the apartment, frowning. “Where would we put it?” he asked. She laughed, turning to look around the small place with him. “Good question,” she said and then shrugged. “We’ll find a place.” “Maybe we should just save the money,” Bobby said and the comment made her turn back to look at him. He was pushing his pancake around the plate, his head resting on his fist. “We don’t really need a tv.” “Hey,” Sam snapped and he glanced over at her as she swatted his arm. “What the fuck are you talking about, we don’t need a tv. Yes we fucking do. I want to watch soap operas and where the fuck else would I watch them? On the microwave? I don’t think so.” Bobby smirked, trying not to laugh at her and she leaned towards him. “We’re getting a tv. That’s final.” “Yes, ma’am,” he sassed playfully. She swatted his arm again as she ate her eggs. “Don’t fucking ma’am me, you little shit.” She glanced at the clock. Nolan would be getting to work in an hour. It was still early to take Bobby to school, but she wanted to get to work before Nolan did. If she was going to find out about Roman’s dad, she didn’t want Nolan sniffing around while she did it. “Now, go get your shit. We gotta go early today.” Bobby glanced back over at her, looking a bit timid. “You still didn’t answer where you went last night.” “I told you not to worry about it,” she snapped at him, a little harsher than she meant to. Bobby ducked his head and nodded, giving a sigh as he climbed to his feet. She chewed her lip and hated that look on his face. She sighed in return and reached out to catch his wrist, pulling him back into his chair. She held his hand and said, “I went to Roman’s.” Bobby raised an eyebrow. “It wasn’t Roman’s night,” he said. “I know that,” she snapped. She licked her lips and calmed herself down. “I had to talk to him about something work related. He didn’t feed and I didn’t go anywhere else afterwards. Satisfied?” she asked. Bobby chewed on his cheek for a moment, his eyes going to the band aid on her neck and she urged him not to ask because she wanted to try this new thing where she didn’t lie to her little brother. Luckily, Bobby nodded, but he didn’t look all that satisfied. Sam smiled at him, ruffling his hair again the way he hated. “What are you doing in school today?” she asked. Bobby shrugged, but something like a smirk crossed his lips. “We have a science project due. I had to work with a lab partner.” “Oh yeah?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. “Girl or boy?” Bobby sighed dramatically, the way only ten year olds knew how to do. “A girl,” he said, annoyed. Sam waggled her eyebrows. “Was she hot?” “Yeah she’s alright,” he said. “I don’t think she likes me, though.” Sam frowned. “Why the hell not?” she demanded. “What’s not to like about you?” “She likes Adam,” Bobby said the name with disdain and the slight narrowing of his eyes. “She says he’s romantic and knows how to treat a woman.” He gave Sam a look and scoffed. “Adam can’t even spell or read all that good. There’s nothing romantic about him.” Smirking, Sam shrugged. “You need some girl advice,” she said, nodding her head. “Sorry, but I don’t need girl advice from my big sister,” he said and stood back up. She laughed and tried to swipe out at him, but he just laughed back at her and darted out of the way, running to his room to get his things. Sam shook her head, leaning over her plate of partially eaten eggs. Despite Bobby’s despair at his predicament, she was just grateful that he was having this predicament. It was normal. It meant he was being social and wasn’t thinking about what a fuck up his sister was or how messed up his life was. She knew he’d been kidding, but a part of her didn’t blame him for not wanting romance advice from her. Look at her fucked up romantic life. There really wasn’t one. She’d dated a guy in high school. She hadn’t gone to college because after high school she’d been forced to take care of her little brother. There’d been some one night stands she’d had at the bars. There’d been Howard, whatever that was. And what now? Nolan? Her mind went to Roman and she couldn’t help the smile that came across her lips at that. She wished he was human, because that would have made this so much easier to know how to deal with. But he was a vampire. Not only were relationships between humans and vampires illegal, they usually didn’t end well. Relationships weren’t meant to have one immortal and one mortal in them. She caught a picture of herself at 80 years old while Roman was still himself. She wondered if that happened, if the vampire would abandon their human lover. Or would they wait around until they died before moving on. She didn’t know. Her mind went to her parents. They could have had the answer to her question. And as soon as she thought about it, she shook it out of her head. It wasn’t a time to think about that. She had to focus today and if she thought about that, her cravings for the bite would only get worse. They always did when she thought about that. Bobby emerged from the bedroom again and she glanced over at him, smiling. “Ready, squirt?” “Yeah,” he said, hefting his backpack up on his shoulder. Then a devious smile crossed his lips. “So, when you went to Roman’s last night…” he trailed off. Sam grabbed her purse. “What about it?” she asked, distracted. “Did you kiss?” he asked and it made her pause, turning to look at him with wide eyes. He was trying to look innocent, but she didn’t buy it for a second. “You know I could hide your body where no one would ever find it, right?” |
| Roman woke to the sensation of fingers moving through his hair and for some reason he thought they were Sam’s. He thought he should open his eyes and roll over but he was enjoying the feeling and he didn’t want her to stop. The motion was soft and comforting and it had been a long time since anyone showed him that kind of affection. Then lips were lowering to his ear and suddenly he didn’t think it was Sam anymore. There was no breath. Just cold skin against his and his eyes slid open, head turning to the side. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he growled out. His fingers curled around her wrist, pulling her hand away from his skin. Giselle pouted when he did, a small, demure frown creasing her brow. She sat next to him, her legs curled beneath her and her hair pulled over one shoulder. She was dressed casually in tight jeans and a loose top that hung off one shoulder. She yanked her hand back, shoving his shoulder away from her. “Fuck you,” she snapped. He watched as her gaze filled with tears and then she looked away, dashing them from her eyes with the back of her hand. “You didn’t wait for me.” “I told you I didn’t want to get involved,” he said. His voice was still harsh and rough from sleep. “Well I hope you’re happy,” she said. She was still looking away from him and Roman kept his eyes on her as he sat up. There was a vague sense of relief that she was alive, and he wondered if he felt anything more. He didn’t know if her tears were honest or for his benefit and it annoyed him that he couldn’t tell the difference. There was something like genuine hurt on her face but she was an accomplished liar. “Felicity, Volatile, and Castor are dead. Sydney and I made it out alive and Solomon was hurt badly, though I hardly think you care.” She wiped one finger beneath her eyes to make sure she didn’t smear her mascara. Roman snorted and ran a hand over his eyes to try and rub the sleep from them. There was a dark feeling settling in his gut because it didn’t escape his notice that she hadn’t mentioned Gaius. He wondered how long she was going to wait to tell him or if she was just trying to force him to ask. It was odd, how in his head he found himself comparing her to Sam. She’d come over here in the middle of the night to tell a fucking Fang that his father was in custody, because she couldn’t not tell him. “I wonder more if you care,” he said. Her face fell, her eyes wide and hurt. “You think me so cruel?” He laughed bitterly and didn’t answer her right away. He pushed himself to his feet, aware that her gaze was following him as he pulled jeans on. His back burned with the intensity of her gaze, waiting desperately for an answer she didn’t want. “Yes,” he said over his shoulder. He stepped over the broken shards of her portrait, kicking them out of the way as he headed towards the sink. The hunger was bad this morning. It gnawed at his stomach and he thought it was because Sam had been here last night and he could still smell her cigarettes lingering in the air. He realized he was disappointed that it was Giselle here and not her. He heard her soft footsteps on the floor, stilettos tapping against the carpet as she followed him. She paused near one of the curtains, fingers running down its fabric before she turned her attention to the floor. It was still a mess because he hadn’t bothered to clean up. He’d sat for a while and thought about what happened, thought about his father and mostly about Sam. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her so open and honest. If she was playing him to get information for Nolan than it would tear him up inside. Giselle moved behind the couch, watching him run warm water over his face and his hands. She leaned against the back of it, crossing her arms over her chest and watching him with a shuttered look on her face. “You know how I knew it was over?” she said, tilting her head to the side. He snorted and didn’t answer. “When you stopped calling me Ellie. That’s how I knew.” Roman slammed his hand into the counter, the anger painful and abrupt. “You know how I knew?” he snarled. If he’d had anything to throw he would have then. “When I caught you fucking Adonis in our bed.” She frowned at him, shifting uncomfortably at the words. “You told me you didn’t care.” “I told you what you wanted to hear and you believed me because you found the truth too distasteful,” he spat. He turned to face her, mimicking her position as he studied her. She was frowning, one hand lifting to tug her shirt up and he was surprised at how uneasy she looked. It gave him a small thrill of pleasure even while he was disgusted with himself for feeling it. After a moment she scoffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. He thought it was fascinating how quickly her tears had dried and he wondered if she even cared what happened last night. “Am I to feel guilty that you lied to me about how you felt? I don’t.” Roman shook his head, dark loathing in his chest for both of them. “I never expected you would.” After a moment she turned away from him, settling down on his couch and draping her legs across it. “This isn’t why I came here.” The words were familiar and he didn’t like it. He waited for her to say something more but she didn’t, sitting there quietly and waiting for him to ask. Her gaze traveled the wreckage of his apartment and a smirk pulled at her lips, tilting her head over her shoulder. “You are filthier than I remember Roman,” she said. Her voice was more like he remembered, dry and mocking and cruel. “It’s all that time you’ve been spending with the humans. They’re making you dirty. It stinks in here you know.” He felt a growl leave his lips and he batted a glass off his counter in a fit of anger. It smashed against the floor and then he walked past it towards the small corner where his dresser was shoved. She laughed quietly at his anger, the smile lingering on her lips as she watched him pull a shirt over his head. “Why did you come here?” he demanded sharply. Giselle studied him for a moment, the smile slowly fading and dying off her face. She licked her lips and then looked down at the violin case leaned against the cushions. “Do you still play?” she asked. “Have you gotten any better?” “Why the fuck are you here, Giselle?” he snarled, slamming his hand against the wall. She frowned, her fingers trailing along the wooden case before pulling them back and looking over at him. “You should have waited,” she said. He lifted an eyebrow and felt the growing anger in his chest. A sigh left her lips and then she pushed herself to her feet, walking over to stand in front of him. Her voice was quiet and almost apologetic. “The undertakers got your father, Roman.” No expression marred his face. “What happened?” he growled, watching her eyes. She shook her head, looking away from him and out the window. “They were expecting us,” she whispered. He felt a jolt through him, the suspicion a sharp blade through his chest. It wasn’t Sam. It couldn’t have been. He hadn’t know what they were planning so there was no way she could have known either and he kept telling himself that because he wanted to believe it. “They were ready and they were waiting. We killed a number of them but they overpowered us quickly.” She laughed dismally and ran a hand back through her hair. “They had flamethrowers, do you believe it? Poor Solomon.” She shook her head. “They burned half his body.” Roman stared at her and he wondered if she had always been so selfish. His father was in Nolan Byrd’s hands, silver chains around his neck and an execution probably around the corner and she was despairing because her lover wasn’t as beautiful as she was anymore. “What about my father, Giselle?” he demanded, his voice a low growl echoing in his throat. He told himself he hated the old man but it didn’t matter, because that was his father and he didn’t want him dead. He just wanted him proud. She shook her head, fingers coming out to rest on his arm. “I don’t know Roman. I’m sorry.” He gripped her by the arms to move her away from him, thinking that once her presence was intoxicating and now it just hurt. It caused anger and pain and hate and that he felt those emotions only made them worse. She’d made him as ugly inside as she was. “What should we do?” she asked quietly. Her voice was hesitant and uncertain and it was a long moment until he realized that she’d come here for answers. She’d come here because he was Gaius’s son and she wanted him to tell her what to do. A hand ran over his face and he shook his head slowly. “I don’t know yet,” he said. She kept her back to him and he to her, but he heard her voice loud and clear even while she spoke softly. It was the same thing his father would have said, something disappointed and mean, reminding him that he would never be good enough. “You know if you’d been there you could have stopped this from happening.” He scoffed and kicked a chunk of wood out of the way. “If you are trying to make me feel guilty, don’t waste your time,” he spat. “I warned the old bastard. He didn’t listen.” |
| Security was ridiculous when Sam got to work. She had to show her badge to four different guards before she actually got inside and by the time all that was done, she figured she only had about twenty minutes to snoop around before Nolan showed up for work. Any thought of getting into his office, though, was dashed when she saw the guards with god damn machine guns not allowing anyone through. For a while, she just stood by the clerks typing away on their keyboards and chewed on her lip, glaring at the guards. She wanted to get in there. She wanted to find anything that could help Roman figure out what happened to his Dad or where Nolan was keeping him. She thought this was shit she should know, since the Undertakers took prisoners a lot, but she didn’t. She’d never asked what happened to prisoners and she was starting to see a side to the Undertakers that she didn’t like or want to acknowledge. Turning around with a sigh, she knew she was going to have to find another way. She scanned the other Undertakers in the building and a smirk crossed her lips when she saw one familiar individual sitting behind a desk with a cup of coffee and a newspaper. He probably hadn’t started his shift yet, or else he’d be out on patrol. He was going to be her ticket in. She knew it. She’d dressed up again today. She told herself it was just for Nolan, because he’d demanded she dressed nicely at work. But she couldn’t deny the blush that came across her cheeks when she thought about Roman telling her she looked nice. So she’d worn another skirt and another turtle neck and she’d wished people would stop leaving marks on her neck because she really did have some nice low cut things to wear. Either way, she straightened her top and made her way over to the desk, sliding onto it and clearing her throat. The newspaper lowered and Caleb Rourke’s wide eyes poked over the top of it. His hair was neat and tidy and he had an innocent look on his face. When he lowered the newspaper all the way to the table, she saw why. He had half a donut hanging from his mouth. The powdered kind and it was leaving a mess on his uniform and all over his desk. She had to bite back a laugh at the sight of it and instead, just tilted her head to the side. “Uh,” Caleb said, reaching to pull the donut from his mouth, he chewed what remained and with a mouth full, continued and said, “Hey, Sam.” “Hello Officer Rourke,” she said slyly. He raised an eyebrow at that and she tried to lean over and look sexy for him, although she wasn’t very good at that sort of shit. “I need a favor.” Caleb looked nervous and swallowed his donut before he moved a box of them over towards her. “Donut?” he asked. She was about to say no, but then she looked down at the box and she realized just how hungry she was. She hadn’t been eating well lately, or hardly at all. Her half eaten breakfasts were about the only thing she’d had to eat in the past couple of days and she sighed, grabbing a donut. “Thanks,” she said, pulling a chair over and sitting in it instead of on the desk. “No problem,” Caleb said, trying to wipe the white powdered donut off his uniform, but only managing to smear it around before he looked back up at her and grinned. “So…this favor,” he said, raising a brow at her. “Is it illegal?” “No,” Sam said, a mouthful of donut on her own. She pointed to his coffee cup. “May I?” she asked. He glanced over at it and then nodded, sliding it across to her. She took a gracious gulp of it and then slipped it back to him. He was watching her with a curious look on his face and she licked the glaze from her lips as she watched him back. “At least, I don’t think so. Yet. Maybe. Look, I don’t know.” Caleb snorted. “You’re about as crappy of a liar as I am,” he said. “I’m not lying,” she said and pointed her donut at him, crumbs trickling down onto his desk. He glanced down at them and then grabbed a report to put beneath her as a placemat. She was glad to see the Undertaker reports were good for something, at least. “I’m just…not quite sure what I’m going to do with the information that I want you to get me.” Caleb scratched at his head, an almost comical look on his face as he seemed to mull that over. “What information are you looking for?” Sam stuffed the rest of the donut in her mouth and brushed her hands together. She chewed, holding the back of her hand to her lips as she finished it off and then leaned on the desk, flipping her hair over her shoulder and trying to give Caleb a stern look. “I want to know where the vampire they caught last night is being held. And what they plan on doing with him.” For a moment, Caleb didn’t move. He just stared back at her. Then he seemed to give a nervous laugh, like maybe he thought she was joking, before his face straightened again and he dipped his head. “This is a set up, isn’t it?” he asked, looking hurt. Sam sighed and shook her head. “No set up,” she told him. “I just need the information. I won’t tell anyone where I got it. Scout’s honor.” “You don’t have the bulge to be a scout,” Caleb said and Sam couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her. He smiled back at her and she immediately tried to wipe it off her face, trying to look mean and determined. Caleb held up a hand. “Okay, first, I believe you when you say this isn’t a set up.” She nodded her head. “Good,” she told him. “Because it’s not.” Caleb nodded back at her. “Good. Because that would suck.” He sighed and shook his head. “Secondly, I don’t know a whole lot about this vampire. They caught him in the raid, Byrd locked him up in some super secret facility by the river that’s virtually vampire proof.” Sam frowned, shaking her head. “What do you mean vampire proof?” she asked. “I mean, if a vampire wants to get in it, they either go in chains or body bags.” Caleb shrugged and then shook his head. “This one’s weird. You’d think Byrd, being Byrd, would want to make a public example of this vamp, right? Publically show the others what would happen if they ever tried anything like it again. But he’s keeping it secret. He’s not even planning on an execution. He just wants him as a prisoner.” “What for?” she asked. “That doesn’t make sense.” Caleb shrugged again. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure that out. Either Byrd’s planning something or…this vampire’s important somehow.” Sam sighed and ran her hands over her face. Turning to look as a group of people were coming up the steps. In the midst of them was Nolan and she couldn’t help the shudder that passed through her shoulders at the sight of him. She turned back to Caleb as soon as Nolan had disappeared into his office. “Two more questions.” “Sure,” Caleb said. “Can you tell me where the super secret hideout is?” she asked. Caleb’s mouth twitched and he watched her a moment with narrowed eyes. “Are you going to do something dangerous with this information?” he asked. “Maybe,” Sam said. “I’m not sure yet.” Caleb seemed to think about that and then pointed at her face. “I’ll show you this super secret hideout if you promise to keep me in the loop with what’s going on.” Sam glared at him. “On one condition,” she countered. “You can’t put conditions on my conditions,” Caleb told her, though there was a light tone to his voice. A smirk crossed her lips and she shrugged. “Sure I can.” “Fine,” he snapped. “What’s the condition?” Folding her hands together, Sam rested her chin on top of them and pouted her lips at him. “Answer this question: How do you feel about Nolan Byrd.” She raised her brow at him and Caleb licked his lips like he was suddenly nervous and judging whether he could trust her. She wondered if he could tell she was judging the exact same thing about him. “He’s a power hungry asshole whose going to bring us all to the brink of war,” he answered and her eyes widened because it was a profound and spot on answer. Nodding her head, she held out her hand for him to shake. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Rourke.” He snorted and reached to take her hand, but didn’t shake just yet. He frowned. “What’s the second question?” he asked. Sam blushed and pointed to the box on his desk. “Can I have another donut?” |
| The hammer banged loudly against the wall as Roman nailed his shelves back in place. A black trash bag sat behind him with the bits and pieces he couldn’t save thrown in them. There was a dull pain in his gut from when he’d thrown the remains of Giselle’s portrait in there and he hated that it was there. He hated that a part of him was lost not even having that small part of her left and the rest was just angry at what she’d done to him. He tried not to think about it, straightening his books on it afterwards and looking back. Giselle sat on his counter, legs crossed at the ankles and her bare shoulder soft and smooth in the dull light. She hadn’t helped him. She’d sat there and watched and he didn’t know what she was thinking or what she wanted from him. There was nothing else for her to take. She toyed with a beer next to her but she’d barely touched it. She held it up to him by the mouth of the bottle, looking disgusted and amused at the same time when she met his eyes. “I can’t believe this is all you have,” she said. “Don’t any of your humans have finer tastes? Didn’t you?” He sighed and walked over to take it from her. “Why are you still here?” he snapped. “Won’t Solomon be missing you?” She shrugged her shoulders like it didn’t matter, and to her it probably didn’t. “He has Melanie to keep him busy for a while,” she said. A smirk pulled across her lips and her fingertips brushed his hand as she went to take the bottle back. The touch was cold and the feeling lingered after she pulled away. Just cold and empty because that was how she had left him, with nothing but his hate for company. Their relationship hadn’t died a quick death. It had been slow and painful and he hated what she had done to him. “She was that precious little thing in the red dress. Don’t pretend like you didn’t notice.” “So you’re still playing that game,” he spat. “What do you mean?” She frowned in confusion, an innocent look on her face that he didn’t believe. “If he wants to fuck her when he’s done feeding, why should I care? It doesn’t mean anything.” The words hurt with their familiarity. He took the beer bottle and threw it into the sink, disappointed when it didn’t break. She lifted an eyebrow at him and he fought the urge to scream at her, to start the same old argument over again. She wouldn’t understand. She didn’t want to because broken hearts were crude and awful and she didn’t want anything to do with them. “Why did you ask me to come with you?” he snapped. “My father clearly didn’t want me there. Why not just let it be?” She shifted on the counter, crossing her legs the other way and tilting her head to the side to study him. Her hair fell around her face in thick waves, bangs threatening to fall in her eyes. His hands were braced on either side of her, muscles tense and rigid. She licked her lips before she reached over to brush her hand over his, her fingers cool as they ran over his skin. “Maybe I was scared,” she said quietly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe I just wanted you at my side, like how we used to be.” Her other hand moved to his chest after she spoke the words, pressing it flat as she smoothed down the fabric. He caught her wrist and held it away from him, her touch leaving ice in its wake. “It can’t ever be like how it used to be,” he told her. Her face fell at that and he wondered again just what the fuck she wanted from him. “You destroyed me. Can’t you leave my corpse in peace?” She frowned, pulling her hand back and running it along her arm. “That hurts me, Roman,” she said quietly. “Good,” he spat, and the hatred in his voice was something she’d put there. There was something like surprise and pain on her face as she studied him, eyes wide and confused. “Roman…” she whispered. Her hand lifted, running her fingers over his cheek and then she shook her head. “Why are you doing this to me? It’s cruel of you.” “Doing what?” he snarled. “Telling you the truth?” He didn’t know if she was going to answer him or not. His knuckles were white, he was gripping the edge of the counter so hard and then suddenly he could smell it. His head turned over his shoulder, the familiar scent of cigarettes coming from the hallway. Giselle’s eyes flicked over his shoulder, watching the shadow appear under the door. “I’ll get it,” she said, shoving herself off the counter. Roman grabbed her arm before she could move towards the door, holding her in place. He heard the quiet knocking and he felt the immediate rush of hunger at the sound. “No you won’t,” he told her. “In fact I think it’s time you were leaving.” She frowned, yanking her arm from his grasp. “Will you punish me if I don’t? Do you think I’ll do something wicked to your friend?” “Yes,” Roman said over his shoulder. He heard her let out a quiet laugh behind him but it was fake and nasty. He didn’t care. He felt the harsh need of his growing hunger, made worse by the knowledge that it was Sam behind the door. His tongue ran over his teeth, feeling the sharp fangs and needing her with a fierce intensity. He pulled the door open, arm resting against the frame for a moment as his gaze found Sam. A warm smile spread across his lips and he couldn’t have said why it was there. Maybe it had something to do with the short skirt she was wearing and he wondered if he shouldn’t enjoy that as much as he did. “Sam,” he said. “Hey Roman.” He felt warmth spread through him at the sound of his name on her tongue. She looked tired, but better today than she had the night before. He didn’t expect the relief he felt that she was here, because he’d worried after she left that he wouldn’t see her again. Her arms crossed over her chest as she waited, lifting one eyebrow at him and then nodding at the door. “Are you going to invite me in or just stand there looking stupid?” He snorted and pulled back, holding the door open so she could enter. As soon as she did he realized Giselle had come up behind him and he felt the smile slip off his lips. Sam paused in her steps, gaze flicking to Roman’s for a moment as the vampire walked up to her, tilting her head to the side and studying her face. “Is this one of the blood junkies you’ve been fucking?” she asked, glancing over at Roman. Sam’s face contorted in anger and Roman felt a snarl curl his lip because she didn’t need to hear that. “She’s cute. Like a little porcelain doll.” Giselle was smiling, fingers running along Sam’s cheek. “Who the fuck are you?” she snapped, shoving her hand away. Giselle pouted, pulling her hand back and shaking her head. “Very rude though. You should respect your elders.” She laughed quietly at her joke before she resumed examining Sam. “Giselle Moreau, childe of Gaius Sabinus and once-lover of Roman Sabinus. He still seems sour about that ‘once’ part, don’t you think?” She gave him a wicked grin over her shoulder and Roman suddenly had the urge to tell Sam that it had been over a long time and he didn’t want her back. He wanted it to be true. Sam snorted and stepped away from Giselle, eyes narrowing as she turned to study her in return. Giselle leaned casually against the wall, a small, amused smirk on her lips as she watched. Roman didn’t like it there. He didn’t like the viciousness she was hiding with that smile. “I don’t know about that, Fang,” she said. “If I were him that’d be my favorite part.” Giselle laughed quietly. “Well, you’ve got a sharp little tongue on you, don’t you?” “Not as sharp as my knife,” Sam shot back. Another laugh left Giselle’s lips and he could hear the faults in it. The forced tones that made the sound jarring instead of beautiful and he hated that once he never would have noticed. “Ah, is this the part where we sling threats at each other? Now I ask you if it’s as sharp as my teeth and you tell me what big eyes I have. I believe that’s how it goes, isn’t it Roman?” Sam scoffed and gestured at her chest. “No one’s going to notice your eyes past the push up you’ve got on.” “Giselle was just leaving,” Roman spat. He didn’t wait for her to obey because he doubted she would, grasping her arm with one hand and the door with the other. She was looking past him at Sam and there was something nasty lingering there. “What if I don’t wish to leave?” she said. “Maybe I’d like a taste of your foulmouthed little junkie.” “I don’t give a shit what you want,” Roman growled. He shoved her at the door. “Get out.” Giselle didn’t stumble. She caught herself on the doorframe and turned gracefully on her heel, head tilting back in a challenge. “I see,” she said, quietly and dangerously. She smiled at him and then her hands were reaching up to brush his cheek. “It isn’t as though I haven’t watched you fuck other women before, Roman. It would hardly disturb me now. But I will do as you say.” The hand moved to cup his face and he saw her expression soften, something pained and gentle in the look. “Let me know what you intend to do about Gaius, will you? The old man still loves you, no matter what he says to the contrary.” He reached up to pull the hand from his face and he hated that the touch was familiar and he hated that she could still make him feel anything. He hated her and he’d loved her and he didn’t know where the line was anymore because she’d broken him. She’d turned him into something just as ugly inside as she was and he wished she’d never stepped into his bar. “Goodbye, Giselle,” he said. Silence fell after he shut the door and he ran a hand over his face, trying to shake off whatever emotions she stirred in him. He let the hand fall away and his gaze focused on Sam. She was watching him with a shuttered look on her face. “Your ex seems like a peach,” she said after a moment. Roman snorted and watched her settle on the arm of the couch. “She wasn’t always like that,” he told her. He ran a hand over his mouth and he didn’t know why he was defending Giselle, but he had to believe it was the truth. There’d been a reason he’d fallen in love with her. In his memory she was whimsical and beautiful and full of life, even after her death. She’d had that charming little smile and a sense of humor and he wondered what had happened to both of them. She didn’t mean to be cruel. She just didn’t understand the kind of pain her heartlessness caused. “Maybe she was and you didn’t notice,” Sam said. “Guys tend to overlook personality if there’s a pair of tits shoved in their face all the time. Just because you’re a Fang doesn’t mean you’re any different.” There was something a little mean and bitter in her tone and he glanced at her because he hadn’t expected it. He wondered if anything had really changed between them at all. “Maybe,” he said. He didn’t know. Maybe he had always been so blind. He watched Sam and wondered if she was going to betray him and he wouldn’t notice because he didn’t want to. He almost asked about his father but he didn’t want to push. Sam scoffed, still watching him with that irritated expression on her face. “What, are you going to tell me you’re into that kind of girl?” she snapped. Her glare turned towards the door and she gestured at it like Giselle could still see her or still stood behind it. “Some slutty, stuck-up bitch with shoes you could stab someone with? Or is she right and you’re more into blood junkies and whores?” The last part was said viciously and she kicked idly at his table as she said it. The words stung because they came from Sam. He didn’t understand the anger on her face or why the words hurt but they were like a knife twisting in his chest. He ignored the question, stalking past her towards the refrigerator and yanking the door open. He didn’t have a good answer for her anyway. He opened the beer and thought distantly that maybe he should ask her if there was something else she wanted, if he should start keeping food here or something and he didn’t know why he was wondering at all. She didn’t want anything from a stupid fucking Fang like him anyway. He dangled the beer in front of her and she took it with a frown. “I found out about your father,” she said abruptly. It helped smooth some of the anger off his face and he sat on the couch next to her, trying to ignore the sensations of hunger and pain so that he could focus on her words. “He’s not scheduled for execution. Nolan’s not talking to anyone about him. He’s got him locked up in this facility by the river and everybody thinks he’s got something planned.” Roman rolled the information over in his head, running a hand over his mouth as he did. “Thank you,” he said. She hesitated, running the mouth of the beer along her lips. “What do you plan to do about it?” “I don’t know yet.” He shook his head, watching her shift down on the cushions next to him. She was keeping her distance today and his gaze strayed to her arm without meaning to. He wondered why she cared what kind of women he was into. “Well, don’t do anything stupid,” she spat after a moment. “I don’t need to lose my job because of some fucking Fang.” He scoffed and wondered what he’d done to make her angry today. He wondered if it was just because of Giselle or because she remembered what he was and that she was supposed to hate him and his kind. He wondered if she’d changed his mind and told Nolan that he’d known about him and could expect undertakers knocking down his door. “Don’t worry. I won’t inconvenience you again.” Irritation marred her features and she looked away, glaring angrily at the table. After a moment she leaned forward, settling the bottle on top of it and reaching for her sleeve. Roman couldn’t stop himself from tensing, couldn’t stop the way his gaze flicked to her arm and his whole body went rigid and stiff. He licked his lips, shifting slightly on the couch as he became intensely aware of the blood roaring in her veins and the steady thrum of her heartbeat. She rolled her sleeve up to her elbow and then sat forward on the couch. He stood when she did, going to get a sterile pad. She watched him, the fingers of her other hand covering her arm and as soon as he sat down next to her she lifted her jaw at him in a challenge. “Beg me,” she spat. He stilled at the words, gaze flicking to her face and then back to her arm again. He ground his teeth together, jaw tight as hunger and anger warred in his chest. He’d thought they were past this. He felt suddenly stupid for believing she would ever look at him as anything other than a fucking Fang and it was a battle to force the word through his teeth. “Please.” “That’s not how you beg,” she said viciously. The words made anger burn through his gut. “Beg me for it. On your knees.” His gaze flicked to her face, hands curling into fists and sudden hatred welling up in him. It was worse because it was Sam. It was worse because she knew he would never force her and he wondered why she hated him so much that she would shred the last of his pride. Her eyes watched him and then he did as he said, sliding to his knees in front of her. His arms braced on either side of her legs and some of the anger faded when he became aware of her heart rate increasing, the blood in her veins thrumming loudly. “Please, Sam,” he asked her quietly. |
| The words sent a shiver up Sam’s spine and for a long moment, she kept her hand covering her arm. Her face was cruel and bitter as she looked at him, the way his eyes darted between her face and her arm and she could see the hunger seeping out of his gaze. He was begging and desperate and she wanted to call him weak and pathetic, but she couldn’t get her tongue to move because he wasn’t the one she wanted to aim those words at. She removed her hand from her arm and held it out for him. He grabbed it with anticipation and she turned her head to the side, resting back against the couch as he kneeled in front of her and sunk his fangs into her flesh. She closed her eyes as a sensation of ecstasy ran through her. Her teeth worried her bottom lip and this was what she’d been waiting for all day. This was what she’d come to crave. Only tonight, it wasn’t as satisfying as she wanted it to be. Her mind went to other vampire who’d been here when she’d shown up. Roman’s ex. She shouldn’t care, because Roman’s love life was none of her business. But she couldn’t explain the pain that had struck through her at the other woman’s beauty. She’d been gorgeous. Super model gorgeous and she’d been prim and proper and everything Sam wasn’t. A bitter cloud settled over her when she thought about how perfect she’d be for Nolan. How perfect everyone else was. And then there was Sam. The dirty little junkie whore. She wondered if Roman really did have other junkies come over. It would surprise her and she wanted to believe it was just something Giselle had said to rile them up. Maybe it just hurt to hear someone call her that. The junkie part she didn’t so much mind, because it was the truth. It was the whore part. She couldn’t help it if her bosses all wanted to fuck her. She couldn’t help it if vampires she let feed illegally sometimes tried to take advantage of her while she was drunk on the bite. She couldn’t help it that Nolan had told her to get on her knees. Her own words echoed in her ears and she could hear her own voice saying the same words to Roman. Telling him to beg and to get on his knees and she felt pain etch its way into her chest because she knew why she’d asked him to do those things. He was the only thing in her life she had control over. The one thing yet that would do what she asked and wouldn’t force her to do anything. “Stop,” she said abruptly and she felt Roman tense. She rolled her head back to the side and the room was spinning with the drunken effect. Roman’s eyes shot to her face and she reached to push on his shoulder. “Stop,” she said again, more frantic and she didn’t know why. Roman’s brow furrowed slightly, but then he was yanking himself away from her, his mouth stained red with her blood and he tipped his head as he watched her face. “Sam?” he asked and just the way he said her name made her lash out and shove him away from her, shaking her head as her dark hair fell around her shoulders. She was trembling, her hands shaking as she leaned forward on the couch. She pulled down her sleeve, forgoing the sterile pad, the blood staining her turtle neck. Her legs were weak and her heart was racing in her chest as she tried to pull herself to her feet. “I have to go,” she said, voice trembling just as badly as she was. Her hands clenched at the cushions of the couch and her legs were rubbery, the world around her waving like she were on a boat. “I have to go,” she said again to him. His hand came to her elbow, but she jerked away violently. Her purse was on the armchair and she wanted her cigarettes that were stashed in there. But her head was tipping forward and she was having trouble getting her body to do what she wanted to “Sam?” Roman asked again, having climbed to his feet and now standing just behind her. She snarled and whirled on him with a biting tone to her words. “Go find a different junkie whore to fuck,” she spat and she saw his eyes widen slightly, but he immediately followed it with a frown. She shoved at his chest and took a step backwards and that seemed to do her in. The world suddenly tipped and tunneled out and the next thing she knew, her face was pressed against his chest and he was guiding her back onto the couch. Leaning into him, she groaned when he set her down on the couch, one of his hands coming up to hold the side of her face. “What happened?” she asked, her words slightly ill-paced and slurred. Roman leaned her back against the couch and went to fetch a glass of water, bringing it over for her. He helped prop her up as she took a sip. Roman shook his head. “I must have taken too much,” he said and the guilt in his voice struck at her heart. She shook her head back at him, leaning her forehead against his shoulder and he looked surprised at the motion. “No, that’s not it,” she told him, her hand falling away from the water. Roman leaned forward to place it on the remains of his coffee table. She brought her fingers up to play with the front of his shirt, fisting it in the fabric and Roman reached up to grab her wrist, pulling it away. “I just…haven’t had time to eat a whole lot lately,” she told him and she knew it was partly the truth, but partly because Reno had taken his fair share of blood yesterday too. She shouldn’t have let him take so much. Roman’s eyes glanced across her face, like he was looking for a lie or a trick and she just sighed because she didn’t know what she was doing anymore. She didn’t know why she’d freaked out when he started feeding, maybe because she’d made him beg and she felt guilt and pain race through her that she was so cruel to him when he had only ever been nice to her. “I’ll be fine,” she said, pulling away from him and she thought his hands lingered on her elbows a little longer than what was necessary. She glanced over at her purse again and closed her eyes when the room started to spin. She didn’t expect Roman to suddenly stand up and go to grab her purse. He came back over and reached down to help her stand up. She looked at his outstretched hand with a sudden pained look and she couldn’t help the tears from filling her eyes. “I know I’m not perfect,” she whispered up at him and she saw him stiffen almost imperceptibly. She shook her head again and looked away, hugging herself and rocking a little back and forth on the couch. “I shouldn’t have made you beg. I hate it when people make me beg.” She looked back up at him and he had a strange look on his face. “Please don’t make me leave…” she whispered to him. Roman sighed, leaning down to crouch in front of her, his hands on her knees. She couldn’t read his expression, but it looked like he was trying to read hers, or at least understand her. “I’m not,” he told her. “I’m taking you to get something to eat.” |
| The diner was towards the edge of the district but still vampire territory. The last thing he wanted was to have to deal with judgmental glances and annoyed patrons who didn’t like having one of his kind in their establishment. As it was, the waitress gave him the stink eye after she seated them, pointing her pen at him and snapping “take it easy next time, handsome,” before taking Sam’s order. Even after she brought her a drink, she kept giving him a glare, his side of the table conspicuously empty. Most of the patrons were humans. There was only one other vampire sitting a few booths down from them and he sat with three beautiful blondes. He’d kept an arm around her on the walk there, and if it bothered her she didn’t say anything. He didn’t want her blacking out on him and landing facedown on the sidewalk. Guilt gnawed away at him because he should have known better. She probably hadn’t slept much because she’d been at his apartment in the middle of the night trying to warn him about his father and even if he hadn’t taken too much, it had been enough to hurt her. She’d asked him to stop and bothered him just how hard it had been to do so. “Here you go honey,” the waitress said. “Bacon cheeseburger with fries and a pickle on the side. You need ketchup it’s in the corner there.” She set a plate down in front of Sam, fries piled high around a thick burger. Roman could smell the grease from across the table. He couldn’t stop from wrinkling his nose and Sam shot him a glance. “What?” she snapped, already shoving a fry in her mouth. “It’s good. Leave me alone.” The waitress laughed and tucked the tray under her arm. “Don’t mind him, it’s just a little too well done for his kind. Now you just flag me over if you need anything else.” She had an ease about her that said she’d dealt with this sort of thing before. He laced his fingers behind his head, leaning back in the booth and just watching her eat for a moment. He wondered what he’d done to set her off and he wondered what it meant that he kept trying to figure it out. It occurred to him that he knew next to nothing about her. He didn’t know why she’d gotten upset or why she made him beg but it made a dark feeling settle in his gut. He hadn’t liked those words. He hadn’t liked her saying that she hated it when people made her beg and he wondered who had. His gaze studied her face and he couldn’t stop it from flicking to her arm. He hadn’t taken much. He could still smell her blood and he didn’t like how hungry it made him. On occasion she’d glance out at the rest of the diner but for the most part she focused on the burger in her hands and he was surprised how quickly half of it disappeared. “You really were hungry,” he said dryly. She glanced up, pausing mid-chew and meeting his gaze. She swallowed quickly and then sat back in the booth, setting it down on the plate and wiping her lips off. “I usually skip dinner,” she told him, shrugging her shoulders. “Then I’m surprised you haven’t passed out before now,” he said. “I didn’t pass out,” she snapped quickly. “I just got lightheaded. From the feeding. I don’t pass out.” He fought back a smile, nodding his head in agreement. “Of course,” he said. “My mistake.” There was a curious look on her face as he leaned forward, pulling a fry off her plate and sniffing at it curiously. “Food’s come along way since I was changed. Sometimes I wonder what it would taste like.” He took a hesitant bite but there was just a rush of oil and salt. Sam watched him for a moment before she snorted and reached forward to take the rest of her fry. She popped it in her mouth without hesitation. “Vampires can’t taste?” she asked, reaching for the ketchup in the corner. Roman shook his head. “We can, but it’s not the same. You could taste motor oil, but it doesn’t mean you’d enjoy it.” Sam snorted and pointed a fry at him. “That’s disgusting,” she said. He shrugged his shoulders and watched her go back to her burger, grease dripping out the back of it onto her plate. A strip of bacon came loose and she made a face, ripping at it with her teeth. He bit back a smile and after a moment she looked back at him. “You drank beer the other night. What did that taste like to you?” “I don’t know,” Roman said. “Like beer? I’ve heard it doesn’t taste much better to your kind either, we just can’t get drunk on it.” She gave him an odd look after that, taking a drink of her water before she spoke. “If you don’t like the taste, than why do you always have beers in your fridge?” She quirked an eyebrow at him and he shrugged his shoulders. “I thought you did,” he said. “Should I get something different?” The odd look remained on her face and he wondered what it meant. He felt the buzz annoyance in the back of his mind at Giselle, for everything she’d said to him and everything she’d said to Sam. What did it matter if she liked beer or Chianti? Maybe she’d always been used to the finer things in life, but he hadn’t and he wasn’t ashamed of it. After a moment Sam shook her head, going back to her burger and her attention wandering away from him. “Beer is fine,” she said. “Though coffee wouldn’t be bad either.” He leaned back in his seat, lacing his fingers behind his head again. “You’ll have to settle for the instant kind then.” She smiled and shrugged her shoulders, working on finishing what was left on her plate. He heard laughter from a few booths down and his gaze strayed to the vampire there. He was smiling at one of the girls, fingers brushing her hair from her neck. Roman could see the vein pulsing in it from where he sat. There were scars already all over the girls neck. It was an uncomfortable reminder of what Sam had said, throwing Giselle’s words back at him. “I don’t think of you like that, you know,” he said, glancing at her face. She stilled slightly, meeting his gaze for a moment before looking down at her plate. A look of nervousness crossed her features before it was gone, and he shifted uncomfortably in response to it. “Like what?” she asked. She picked at her plate but wouldn’t look at him. He felt hunger and heat when he looked at her. If she asked him he wouldn’t lie to her and say that he didn’t. She didn’t ask. “A junkie whore,” he said quietly. Sam’s gaze darted to his face before she looked away again but she’d said he was a shitty liar and he hoped she knew he was telling the truth now. “Giselle doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talking about. You shouldn’t listen to her.” Sam nodded her head but she still wouldn’t look at him. “So she was lying?” she asked. “About you fucking blood junkies?” He hesitated and this time he looked away. “That stopped when I started the program.” “You don’t have to explain to me,” Sam said abruptly. She shoved her plate away from her, a few scattered fries left on it and not much else. There was a trace of bitterness in irritation in her voice and she crossed her arms over her chest as she slumped back in the booth. “Really, I don’t need to hear about your sex life anymore than you need to hear about mine.” Roman wondered at the sudden stab of jealousy through his heart and he kept his eyes locked on a spot across the diner. His shoulders were tense and he told himself not to ask the question. “You’re seeing someone?” Sam snorted. “Not exactly. Can we just drop it?” Roman nodded his head and it was easy because suddenly didn’t want to know anymore. There was that bitter sensation of jealousy and he didn’t understand why it was there, but he didn’t like the image of Sam being with someone else. There was still a heated thrumming under his skin from feeding and he blamed it on that. His body was still tense and wound and that was probably the only reason he was thinking this way. “Are you feeling any better?” he asked, sitting forward to start pulling his wallet out. A crooked smile curled her lips and he thought it was cute. “Yeah, actually,” she said. There was a moment of hesitation, her teeth pulling on her lower lip and then she cleared her throat, shifting in the booth. “I know I stopped you early. If you want I could come over tomorrow night. I mean, I told Bobby I’d spend the day with him but if you want me to come by later I could.” Roman watched her face as she spoke, tilting his head to the side because he could hear her heart rate picking up as she spoke. After a moment he nodded his head. “If you want to, I won’t argue,” he said. “But not if you’re going to pass out on me.” She frowned and then picked up a fry and threw it at him. “I didn’t pass out,” she snapped. “I just got lightheaded.” He meant the smile on his face, throwing the fry back. “Of course,” he agreed. “My mistake.” |
| As they left the diner, Sam wasn’t surprised when Roman fell in step beside her, ready to walk her back to her apartment. It was a struggle to keep the smile off her face because she’d been scared. She’d been scared that he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t give a shit about her anymore or he’d think she wasn’t worth his time or he’d open his fucking eyes and see she was no good. She wasn’t. Look at what he’d had before, for Christ’s sake. The city was unusually dark tonight, even the lamp lights seemed dimmer than normal. Roman stuck close by her and she couldn’t say she wasn’t appreciative for that. They passed easily from the vampire district to the human district. She wondered how much longer that was going to be possible. She wondered about Roman’s dad being in custody and what that meant. What was Nolan trying to start? She had to figure out more. She hadn’t seen the man today and she wondered if she’d hear about it come Monday. Sam sighed and thought what Roman would say if she gave Nolan Giselle. He’d probably be mad. She wouldn’t do that to him, but she couldn’t argue that it wasn’t tempting. She couldn’t say why she was as jealous as she was of the woman. She’d somehow deemed Giselle a threat, but a threat for what? Roman? As soon as she thought it, she thought maybe that was the answer and it made her dig into her purse for her cigarettes and lighter. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Because what did she expect from him? “So,” she said as she stuffed one of her cigarettes between her lips. She lit it easily and blew smoke out between them. “Giselle.” Roman snorted, his hands shoved down into his pockets. “What about her?” he asked, something trying to be light gracing his voice. Sam shrugged. “She’s pretty,” was all she said, pulling a deep drag from her cigarette. “She is,” Roman agreed, glancing over at her. Quirking her lips to the side, Sam wasn’t sure exactly where she was going with this conversation, so finally she just sighed and shook her head at him, laughing a little because things were always so awkward and precarious around them. She turned to walk backwards, pointing her cigarette at his face. “So how’d a chump like you score a looker like her?” she asked, raising an eyebrow playfully at him. If anything, Roman looked a little surprised at her tone, more than her question. He smirked and she loved it when he smiled. He didn’t do it enough. “It was love at first sight,” he said dryly. Sam just shook her head, scoffing a bit before she turned back around to watch where she was going. “Yeah whatever,” she told him. “So, what? You still have feelings for this chick or what?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant about it. Roman seemed to calculate his words before he said, “Why are you so interested?” “I’m not,” Sam said too quickly and she just shrugged, trying to play it off. “I’m just trying to make conversation. Now that you’ve broken our nothing personal rule.” Roman lifted an eyebrow and Sam pointed at him before he could say anything. “Yes, you broke it. Completely your fault. So go ahead, chatterbox. Ask me a question.” Roman’s eyes narrowed and if she didn’t know better, she’d say he had a playful look on his face. “Is it just you and Bobby?” “Ouch,” Sam said, flicking her cigarette out into the street. “Straight for the jugular. Yes, it’s just me and Bobby. Yes, Mommy and Daddy are dead. No, I don’t want to talk about it.” She grinned over at him and said, “My turn. What was your favorite food before you turned into a Fang.” She couldn’t stop the slur from leaving her tongue, but there was no bite to her tone and it didn’t look like it seemed to phase Roman. “Lamb,” Roman said easily. “With mint.” “That’s disgusting,” Sam said and Roman gave her a look. She turned her nose up at him. “You liked to eat baby animals before you were a Fang? You’re so gross.” She reached into her purse and grabbed a pack of gum instead of her cigarettes. She pulled out a strip and popped it into her mouth, chewing away. “Okay, your turn.” Sam looked a little flabbergasted at the sudden game they were playing, and it made Sam smirk at him. She wondered if he ever got tired of her moods, because just earlier that night she had him on his knees begging and then she’d been crying on his couch and now she was playing twenty questions. She wondered when he’d get sick of her and push her away and she found herself hoping it wasn’t any time soon. “Did you always want to be an Undertaker?” Roman asked. Rolling the gum around in her mouth, Sam watched the sidewalk in front of them for a moment before she smiled sadly and shook her head, turning to watch his face. “No,” she said. “I never wanted to be an Undertaker until I was one. And then even that went away.” She laughed bitterly and then tried to mimic a proper stance and head posture. “I wanted to be a dancer.” “What sort of dancing?” he asked. Sam snorted. “There’s no poles involved, if that’s what you’re asking.” “It’s not,” Roman answered, no hurt or bite to his voice. “Oh please,” she chuckled, but it was painful and her voice was full of bitterness when she spoke that she couldn’t quite hide from him. “I know what everyone thinks when I tell them that. Dirty little Samantha wants to be a dancer? The only dancing she’ll ever do will be on table tops with her shirt off. If she shakes her ass, I’ll give her a fucking dollar.” The look that crossed Roman’s face was unreadable, but he was watching her closely. He shook his head, a deep frown marring his brow. “That’s not what I thought at all,” he said softly. “Oh yeah?” Sam asked, stopping at the corner of the sidewalk because this was normally the point where she told him he’d come far enough and she’d send him home. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at him. “Then what were you thinking?” Roman shrugged. “Ballet or ballroom.” The words send warmth spreading through her cheeks and she ducked her head because she didn’t want him to see. “Oh,” she said and gave a nervous laugh. “Well, shit, it was a little of both.” She smiled up at him and he smiled back. “Goodnight, Sam,” he said and shoved his hands further in his pockets as he turned around. She watched his back for a moment, the slight slump in his shoulders and she chewed her lip because she suddenly didn’t want him to go home. “You could…come up, if you want…” she called and she saw him pause and turn back around to look at her. She reached up to nervously play with the end of her hair hanging over her shoulder. She turned to look at her apartment building and the light was on in their apartment, which meant Bobby wasn’t in bed. “I mean, to see Bobby. He’s kind of, having this funk at school and he…needs guy advice I guess.” She laughed in hopes to cover up what a terrible lie it was. Roman looked like he was about to say something and she got so scared it would be no, she continued with, “He doesn’t have a whole lot of friends. He’s this ridiculous bookworm and I know he’s been dying to show someone this new book of his. And…I mean, you like books, right? You two can talk books. I have beer. And there might be wine stashed somewhere. Bobby has orange juice if you want that.” Roman lifted a hand to run over his face and she wasn’t sure how to take him giving a small laugh. But then he let his hand fall and he nodded his head. She felt her heart skip a beat at the prospect of it. “Okay,” he said and she couldn’t keep the grin or giddiness off her face. |
| “So how old are you anyway?” Sam asked. She said the words over her shoulder, fingers fumbling slightly as she tried to get her door unlocked. Roman ducked his head to hide his smile and tried to pretend he couldn’t hear the rapid beating of her heart or the nervousness that she was trying to hide. He wondered what either of them expected out of this. When he was around her it was a constant battle to restrain the hunger, for her blood and her body and the warmth it sent radiating through his skin. He didn’t know if it meant anything more than that. Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe she was telling the truth and she just wanted him to come up and see Bobby. It was hard to tell if they were even friends yet. Maybe he should just start with that. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Over a thousand I think.” “You think,” she said. She shook her head at that, a quiet sigh of relief leaving her lips when the door finally clicked and swung open. There was a light on inside, illuminating the small apartment. It was bigger than his, but still small for two people. There was a quiet jingle as she dropped her keys in her purse, setting it on a small table just inside the door. “Do you know when your birthday is?” “Not really.” He paused just outside the door, hands still shoved in his pockets as he waited for her. She ran a hand through her hair before she glanced over her shoulder at him. “It doesn’t mean as much when you don’t actually get any older.” “I guess that makes sense,” she said. When he still didn’t enter a small frown creased her face, followed by dawning understanding. “You need me to invite you in.” Roman just nodded, biting back a smile. A wicked smile curled her lips as she leaned against the door, studying him for a long moment while she pretended to think about it. That flaw in his making was probably one of the things that had kept the humans and vampires from war this long. “Would you like to come in?” “I would,” he said, an answering smile on his lips. He stepped past the threshold and got the vague sensation of warmth that came when entering someone’s home. It was small but comfortable, and he smirked at the shoes resting haphazardly against the door and the drying dishes in the sink. There was a hallway to his left and he peeked down it curiously. He could see three rooms down that way, probably two bedrooms and a bathroom. The living area didn’t have a television but there were books all over the place, including one held in Bobby’s hands. He was stretched out on the couch, a blanket thrown over his legs as he read. “There’s peanut butter and jelly in the fridge,” he said. He shifted on the couch, hand pawing for the bookmark next to him as he hurriedly finished scanning his page. Roman smirked, following Sam towards the living room. His gaze flicked around the place as he did, trying not to smile as Sam hurriedly grabbed laundry off the chair and then leaned down to kiss Bobby’s forehead. “Already ate bratkin,” she said. The boy made a face, finally glancing up at his sister as she walked away from him to put her clothes away. Then his eyes focused on Roman and they widened slightly before a grin spread across his face. “Why don’t you say hi?” “Hey Bobby,” Roman said, running a hand through his hair awkwardly. The kid’s smile didn’t waver. He scrambled into a sitting position and motioned both hands at the empty spot on the couch next to him. “Do you want to see the new book I’ve been reading?” he asked. Sam laughed as she passed him, giving Roman an unreadable look out of the corner of her eye. Maybe this was exactly what she said it was and thought her brother could use a friend. He tried to ignore his own awkwardness as he sat down next to him, resting his arms on his knees. “Sure,” he said, holding out his hand. Bobby grinned and put the book in his fingers, pointing at the cover excitedly. “It’s about a hobbit and he’s trying to steal this treasure from a dragon,” he said. “And along the way he finds this magic ring.” Roman frowned, turning the book over in his hands. “What’s a hobbit?” he asked. He heard Sam laughing as she walked back in the room and Roman glanced up at the sound. It made a smile tug at his lips and he watched her as she went to the fridge, pulling out two beers in her hand. Bobby was still talking but he was only listening with half an ear, his eyes lingering on Sam. The sudden sharp pang of hunger he felt had nothing to do with her blood. “Didn’t you have some girl trouble you needed help with?” Sam asked. There was a wicked smirk on her face as she passed the beer over to Roman, sitting on the arm of the couch next to him. “Maybe Roman could help you out with that.” The kid wrinkled his nose at her. “Sorry Sam, but I’m not going to ask with my big sister around.” Sam laughed and reached over to muss her little brother’s hair. The smile on her face was bright and honest and then she pushed herself to her feet. Her fingers scratched idly at the bloody spot still on her sweater and then she set her beer down on the table. “Fine,” she said. “I need to go clean up anyway. I’ll leave you two to your ‘guy talk.’” Roman watched her head down the hallway but he turned his head quickly when he saw her start to strip the sweater off. There was a lump in his throat the he had to swallow and he felt abruptly embarrassed when he looked back and caught Bobby watching his face. There was a smug smirk on the kid’s face and he frowned and shifted awkwardly because he didn’t know why it was there. “So,” he said. He shifted lower in the chair, taking a pull from his beer. It didn’t taste like anything. “What did you need help with?” “Oh,” Bobby said quickly. “I don’t know.” He looked down at his hands, twisting them around each other before he sighed dismally and slumped down in the cushions. “It’s just there’s this girl at school and I kind of like her but I don’t think she likes me.” Roman coughed and scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I’m not sure I’m the best person to help you with that.” Bobby frowned and looked up at him, tilting his head curiously to the side and Roman wondered why the kid wasn’t more afraid of him. “Why not?” he asked. “I mean, you’re the oldest person I know. You’ve probably had loads of time to figure girls out.” He shrugged and looked down at his pajama pants, picking at the fraying ends by his feet. “And it’s not like I can ask my dad.” Roman stilled at that. “I’m sorry,” he said. Bobby shrugged like it was no big deal. “That’s alright. So what should I do?” The sound of water running came from down the hallway and while he couldn’t tell if it was from the sink or the shower, he didn’t expect Sam to come out and rescue him any time soon. “Well, I’m not sure,” Roman said. Bobby made a disappointed face at that answer and Roman chuckled, sitting forward on the couch. “The thing about girls is that no matter how much you know, they never stop being complicated. The best thing you can do is be yourself and if she’s worth it she’ll like you for who you are, instead of who she wants you to be.” He was proud of himself for keeping the bitterness out of his voice, studying the bottle in his hand. “That’s dumb advice,” Bobby said. Roman laughed and took a pull from his beer. There was a little part of him wishing that he could get drunk because he wasn’t used to these kinds of situations. He tried to imagine his father having this conversation with him and he knew what the old man would say. He’d tell him to take what he wanted and damn the rest. He wondered how he was doing. He caught a mental picture of him with chains around his wrists and neck and he shook his head to get rid of it. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s all I’ve got.” Bobby made a face and then he stretched his neck up to try and look past him down the hallway. Roman could still hear water running and he thought she must have been taking a shower. Hunger clawed at him thinking about her being wet and naked and he cleared his throat uncomfortably because that was her brother sitting next to him. “So do you like my sister?” he asked, looking at his face. The question took him off guard and his eyes flicked to Bobby’s. There was a grin on the kid’s face and he thought for a moment that he was a troublemaker. “I care about her,” he said carefully. He hungered for her, but he wouldn’t tell her kid brother that. “Well yeah,” Bobby said. He rolled his eyes at Roman. “But do you like her? Do you want to date her?” Roman looked down at his beer bottle, tugging at the label with his fingers. He thought about Giselle and the women he’d been with during and after. It had left him broken, and he didn’t think Sam wanted or needed to deal with that. Besides, she’d hated him. If she didn’t still, that didn’t mean that she wanted more from him or that he should want more from her. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s complicated. And illegal.” He smirked and lifted an eyebrow at Bobby. “You do remember I’m a Fang, right?” Bobby shrugged his shoulders, dismissing that argument as easily as that. “So?” he asked. “You’re nice to her. She always comes home safe when she’s with you.” Roman could hear the bathroom door opening and he fought the urge to look over his shoulder in case she wasn’t dressed. Not that the thought wasn’t tempting. “Besides, I think she likes you.” The smile spread across Roman’s face and he ducked his head to try and hide it. “Yeah?” he said, tilting his head to the side to look at Bobby’s face. The kid was grinning back at him and then he pushed himself to his feet, grabbing his book off the table. “Yeah,” he said. Then he turned his head, facing Sam as she came back down the hallway. “I’m going to bed.” Roman glanced over his shoulder at the two of them, the smile lingering on his face. She’d changed into the plaid pajama pants and tank top that she’d shown up at his house in, hoodie pulled around her thin frame. Her hair was damp and pulled back away from her face, band aids still on her neck. “Alright squirt,” she said. She ruffled his hair and he rolled his eyes at her, shoving the hand away as he walked past her towards his room. He shut his door firmly behind him with a quiet click. “So,” Sam drawled, coming over to sit next to him. “What did you two talk about?” Roman laughed, letting his head rest against the back of the couch as he watched her. “Girls.” Sam let out a snort and leaned forward to pick her beer off the table. She took a pull from it before leaning back on the couch and he was surprised when she kicked her legs out across his lap. “Girls like Giselle?” she asked. There was a forced casual tone to her voice, gaze flicking to his face. There was a playful little smirk on her face but he wasn’t sure he believed it. He shook his head, hands settling on her shins. He felt her heart rate pick up and he always marveled at how warm she was. His skin was always just a little too cold, a constant reminder that he was dead. “Not exactly.” She scoffed and pointed her beer at him. “You didn’t answer me you know. You still have feelings for her or what?” A dry chuckle left his lips but it felt somewhat dishonest. He wasn’t sure he knew the answer to that. He still had feelings for Giselle, but he couldn’t tell what they were. She was pain and hurt and anger and hate and love all banging together in a feverish pitch and he couldn’t tell where the lines were between those emotions anymore. His thumbs ran small circles on her legs and he wondered what answer she was hoping for. He thought he knew and it made a small smile tug at his lips. “You didn’t tell me why you care so much.” She shrugged her shoulders, avoiding his eyes by looking out at the apartment. There was a teasing smirk on her face when she tilted her head to look at him and he felt warmth spreading through his limbs. The hunger was sharp and poignant as his gaze settled on her lips. “Just wondering if I need to start wearing stilettos or something to get your attention.” He laughed and it was quiet and sincere. He looked down at his hands, thumbs running small circles over her calves and he shook his head slowly. “No,” he said. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” |
| A smirk crossed Sam’s lips and she wondered if Roman knew what he was doing to her with his thumbs running circles on her legs. She wondered if he knew what he was doing to her just being her and saying the things he was saying. She picked at the label of her beer and bit her lower lip, trying to sound nonchalant as she asked, “Won’t be necessary because I already have your attention? Or because you’re not interested?” Roman glanced over at her, a soft look on his face and she just stared back at him. Maybe because she needed to hear the clarification. Maybe because she’d been afraid to make a statement like the stiletto thing in the first place, but now that she had, she didn’t know where to go with it. Maybe she’d been waiting for rejection and when she hadn’t gotten it, she realized she hadn’t planned on her advances being accepted. “You’re making this difficult,” he said with a half smile on his face and she snorted, wondering what this was. She wondered a lot of things about him, but mostly she wondered when she’d started wanting him so bad. She wondered when this had become more than just a mutual arrangement involving two people who hated each other and each other’s kind. Pulling her legs from his lap, she sighed and instead, swung one of her legs around his, sitting on his knees as she straddled his lap. He looked surprised by the motion and she wrapped her arms around his neck, her beer dangling behind his head. Her shins rested on the couch and her damp hair hung over her shoulder. “Making things difficult is what I excel at,” she told him lowly, with a coy smirk. Then she licked her lips and raised her chin to him. “But, since you seem a little slow, I’ll make this easy for you.” Roman’s hands settled on her hips and it paused her words as it sent shivers through her. “Sam…” he said, like he wasn’t sure what to say and he probably wasn’t. Sam smirked at him. “I have a secret,” she said, dipping her head to look at him. He frowned a little and she saw the doubt pass across his features. “I didn’t invite you up here solely because of Bobby,” she said and saw the frown disappear. “Maybe I just like having you around, Fang.” “Yeah?” he asked, hands tightening on her hips. She brought her beer to her lips, keeping her eyes on his face as she took a swig of it and then let it go back to dangle behind his head. “Sure,” she said with a shrug. “I mean, when you’re around,” she leaned back on his lap, her fingers playing in the back of his hair, just over the nape of his neck. His grip was firm on her as she bit her lip and leaned forward again. “I feel…bulletproof.” It got a small laugh out of him and he nodded slowly. “I can see how that would happen,” he said smoothly and she thought he was just as good at playing this game as she was. She returned the laugh, taking another swig of her beer before letting out another sigh. “So, I have a question.” “You have a lot of them tonight,” he told her and she felt herself blush for reasons she wasn’t quite sure. But she pushed it away and tried to keep her face straight. “Do you hate all humans or just some?” she asked and she saw his face flicker with something like pain. She kept her fingers playing through his hair and waited for an answer that seemed a long time in coming as he sat and thought about it. Finally, he shook his head. “If I hated all humans, I wouldn’t be here,” he said lowly. She nodded, accepting the answer. She didn’t except him to follow up with, “Do you hate all Fangs? Or just some?” She stilled for a moment, eyes watching his face and then she pulled her arms back from around his neck, taking a sip of her beer before she slid off his lap and onto the couch next to him. She sat on the edge, bracing her elbows on her knees and looked down at the floor. “Most,” she answered and couldn’t bring herself to look at him. “But it’s more of a self preservation thing.” She smirked cruelly and it wasn’t aimed at Roman. “Easier to hate all of your kind than try to figure out who the good ones are and who the ones are that just look at you and see a big old t-bone steak.” Roman’s hands had settled back on his knees and it looked like he wasn’t sure what to do with them now that she wasn’t sitting on his lap. She smiled and reached over to grab one of his hands, pulling it over into her lap and playing with his fingers. They were long, a musicians fingers. Her hands were small compared to his. “Is that why you became an Undertaker?” he asked softly. She gave a bitter laugh at that. “No,” she said. “It paid more than dancing.” She smiled up at him, pushing a stray lock of her hair out of her face. She laughed again and then laid down on her back on the couch, her head on his lap as she looked up at him, her legs propped up on the back of the couch. She still had one of his hands in hers, playing with his fingers. “What do you do for fun?” she asked, changing the subject. Roman looked down at her and there was a curious, but playful look on his face. “I don’t have much time for fun,” he told her and she pouted up at him because she thought that was sad. “You play the violin,” she gave helpfully and he snorted, but didn’t elaborate on it. She twined her fingers in his. “You should find something fun to do, then,” she told him. “Maybe you and Bobby could join a book club. He could teach you what a hobbit is.” At the look on Roman’s face, she started laughing and shook her head. “Or…we could go dancing. Do you like to dance?” Roman leaned over her, looking down into her face and she became aware of how close he was, her lips burning and her heart racing. “I haven’t tried in ages,” he told her. Then a sly smile stole its way across his lips. “But I’d like to watch you dance.” She laughed, embarrassed for a moment and then bit her lower lip. “Well, I want to hear you play the violin.” The smile fell off his face and he leaned back against the couch. He pulled his hand from hers and she frowned up at him. He was looking out at the apartment and he shook his head bitterly, his voice angered. “It’s ugly and faulty. You wouldn’t like it.” Sam snorted and sat up, turning around as she scooted closer to him. “Roman,” she said and at his name, he turned to look at her, like just his name on her tongue was enough power to get him to do anything. “You’re talking about faultiness to a chick with more faults than a fucking fault line. I bet it’s beautiful and you’re just too hard on yourself. You should let me be the judge.” Roman reached over and took her hand again. He smirked to himself and she didn’t know what he suddenly found funny. “Maybe,” he said, glancing up at her face before he brought her hand to his lips. Sam held her breath and didn’t let it out again until he let her hand fall back down. “I should go,” he said quietly, like he didn’t like the words. He probably didn’t, probably no more than she did. But she nodded and said, “Okay.” He stood and she was about to stand with him, but he turned and held the sides of her head, leaning down to press his lips against her forehead. She closed her eyes against it and she realized this was what she wanted. She wanted him. She wanted to tell him to stay, come to bed with her, but he’d just gotten done telling her he didn’t think of her as a whore. She wondered what he was going to do when he found out the junkie part was true. Maybe she could stop. Maybe he’d never have to know. “Goodnight, Sam,” he whispered to her. She smiled and stood up, walking him to the door. As he crossed out into the hallway, he turned around and she leaned against the doorframe. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asked. “I’m looking forward to it,” he told her. She blushed and put a hand over her mouth to hide her smile. “Goodnight, Roman,” she told him and he smirked, before he turned and started heading home. She closed the door and turned around, leaning against it. She couldn’t help the content and giddy smile that would stay on her face all night long. |
Chapter Five “Did you get laid last night?” Tessa asked. His gaze flicked to her for a moment because he’d forgotten she was sitting there. She was perched on the bar next to Roman, her legs crossed and her hands braced on the counter behind her. Her head was tilted curiously to look at his face and he snorted at the question, the smile lingering on his lips. “No,” he told her. Her mouth opened to ask something else and he pressed the button the blender, drowning out whatever she was trying to say. A frown creased her brow as she waited for it to stop. “Did your feeder show up high then?” she asked. “You get a little buzz from the bite?” She waggled her eyebrows afterwards, showing her teeth in a fierce grin. Roman didn’t look at her, pouring the margarita into a glass before he met her gaze. “Nope,” he said. He turned his back on her to take it to the woman on the other end of the bar and he heard Tessa growl in frustration. “Then what?” she demanded. “I don’t think I’ve seen you smile this much in… ever.” He heard footsteps on the floor as the other waitress sauntered over to them. Saturday was usually busier than the other days of the week, though he wondered just how much business they would keep getting after this. There’d been a story on the news that morning about Chief Undertaker Byrd and his crusade to find those responsible for the attack. The governor had given him free reign to do what was needed. It didn’t surprise Roman. “I need three Millers and a shot of Jack,” Breanne said. She leaned over the bar as she did, a teasing smile on her face as she looked across at Roman. “And I think it makes you look handsome.” Roman heard a scoff from the other end of the bar. He saw Brock slinging a towel over his shoulder as he braced himself on the counter, his face contorted in annoyance even while a small smirk tugged at his lips. “Bre,” he yelled. “Why don’t you spend a little less time hitting on Roman and a little more time hitting on me. I’m getting lonely down here.” She rolled her eyes and then turned her head to look down at him, a playful grin on his face. “Oh Brock, you look so muscular today. Have you been hitting the gym again?” The man laughed and then held one arm up, flexing the muscle. “Damn right I have. Check out these guns.” “Is it that hottie from Thursday night? The one with that wicked lowcut dress?” Tessa asked, still studying Roman curiously. His smirk faltered at that and he shook his head, not wanting to think about Giselle right now. It would remind him of bitterness and pain and he didn’t want to feel those things right now. There was a warm sensation lingering in his chest, every time he thought about Sam, and he wanted to hold onto that as long as he could. He ignored Tessa, piling Breanne’s drinks on her tray for her. She winked at him afterwards and then swung away to go serve them to her table. It had been the best night he’d had in a while. She’d been funny and playful and he could still feel the brush of her fingers through his hair and her hips straddling his. Her moods were fickle but he thought he was beginning to understand why she was the way she was. He got the feeling bad things had happened to her and it drew out something fierce and protective. There was a shiver that ran down his spine every time he thought about her saying she felt bulletproof and he couldn’t place why. He wanted to know more about her. He wanted to see her dance and learn what else made her smile. He wasn’t sure what they were doing or where it was going but for the first time in a long time he was excited to find out. “Fine,” Tessa snapped. “Be that way. See if I tell you the next time I get laid.” Roman snorted and shook his head, wiping off the counter where the blender had splattered. “Please don’t,” he told her. She laughed and he felt an answering smirk on his face. He didn’t correct her, but if he thought about it honestly then it didn’t matter what he’d told Bobby or Sam. If she’d asked him to stay he would have, curfew be damned. The door slammed open with a bang. He heard Breanne let out a startled gasp and there was a crash of glasses as she dropped her tray. Tessa hissed out a curse as soon as the door was open and she was already off the counter and headed out the back. One of the undertakers hurried after her, launching himself over the bar and chasing through the kitchen after her. Roman saw him go out of the corner of his eye but he was more concerned about the squad of black clothed undertakers currently pointing guns at him. “Hands over your head, Fang,” one of them snarled. His face darkened and he felt hatred spreading its fingers through his chest, his jaw clamping tight together even as he did as they said. In the back of his mind he wondered what this was about but he had a feeling he already knew. He’d been waiting for it since Thursday night and the only thing he wondered was what had taken them so long. “Roman Sabinus,” the one in the lead snapped. He had a gun pointed at his chest and he didn’t doubt there were silver tipped bullets in the chamber. He didn’t think it would take much to get the man to pull the trigger. “You are under arrest.” “For what?” Brock asked the question for him. His eyes were wide and startled as he looked from the undertaker to Roman. “That’s classified information,” the undertaker answered calmly. Roman snorted and then two of them were gripping him by the back of the neck and the arms to shove him against the wall. For a moment he thought about fighting back. He could probably rip through half of them before they got a chance to even pull their triggers. He was old and he’d been a soldier before he’d been a vampire. But even as he thought it he didn’t know where he would go from there. There was hatred burning through him made worse by the silver cuffs being fastened around his wrists. He felt the burning sting of them searing into his skin and he couldn’t stop the angry hiss that left his throat. They wrapped the chain around his throat before dropping the black bag over his head and he knew then that nothing good followed that. Vampires that got black bagged usually didn’t come back. They disappeared or ended up on execution row and he wondered what it meant that all he could think was that he was going to miss his date with Sam tonight. The chain was tight and painful around his neck. It yanked his head back and he could feel it burning into his flesh, leaving jagged marks in its wake. He could smell the smoke from his own skin rising up by his head and the flare of absolute hatred in his chest. Fingers grasped his arms tightly, dragging him away from the wall and shoving him towards the door of his bar. It was awkward with the chain around his neck and the cuffs around his wrist but they didn’t care for his comfort. They shoved him brutally through the door and he heard the sliding of a door before they forced him into the back of a van. He knew what they looked like. It had happened before, just never to him. He’d played by their rules and tried to stay out of it and he wondered why he had bothered. Maybe his father was right. Maybe there was no such thing as peace and he felt himself drowning in the hate as they dragged him away. The van rumbled underneath him as they shoved him onto a bench. He felt the sharp sting of a knife beneath his throat before they yanked the bag off and someone he wasn’t surprised to see Nolan Byrd sitting across from him. His hands were clasped loosely in front of him, dressed in a clean gray suit with the badge hanging from his belt. There was a soft smile on his face that Roman didn’t buy and he felt a growl rising in this throat. The knife dug deeper into his skin and turned it into a hiss. There was another sharp, painful feeling in his chest and it felt like betrayal. He wondered if Sam knew about this. He wondered if she was one of the undertakers in all black pointing a gun at him and he wanted to believe otherwise. He wanted to believe it with a desperation that scared him because his own delusions had helped cause his own destruction once before. “Mr. Sabinus,” Nolan said calmly. “I’d like to talk to you about your whereabouts Thursday night.” “You have an interesting way of talking,” Roman spat. The undertaker next to him snorted and he felt the knife digging a hole up into his skin. The sound of hissing floated by his ear with the smoke and he tipped his head up, teeth clamped tightly shut. Nolan laughed quietly and then nodded his head at the man sitting next to Roman. He felt the pain lessen, but someone else’s hand still held the chains tightly around his throat, the metal slowly burning itself into his skin. “I apologize,” he said, nothing of sincerity in his voice. “But due to the sensitive nature of these things, I find it necessary to take every precaution.” He smiled and then leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “So, Mr. Sabinus, where were you between the hours of eleven and midnight Thursday night?” “I was at home,” he told him through gritted teeth. Nolan smiled and tipped his head to the side. “Can anyone else verify this?” Roman growled and felt the sharp jaws of a trap closing in around him. If he told him that Giselle had seen him then she would be taken in just as quickly. They would wrap chains around her neck and possibly do worse to her because there were some undertakers that got their kicks out of proving just how much power they had over a female vampire. If he told him Sam had come to see him it could be worse. He didn’t know if she was on his side. He didn’t know if he should believe her but he could still feel her fingers on the back of his neck and it was the softest thing he’d felt in a while. “No.” He spat the word out onto the ground and he felt the chains tighten afterwards. A slow smile spread across Nolan’s lips and he sat back against the wall of the van. “I figured as much,” he said. He rested his hands calmly in his lap, fingers lacing together as he watched Roman. “As you may be aware, a group of militant vampires launched an attack on one of our undertaker facilities Thursday night. While the raid ended unsuccessfully for them with three dead and one in captivity, there are still at least three of these terrorists still on the loose.” “How would I know that?” Roman said. He kept his head tilted back because the chain was cutting into his throat and making it harder and harder to talk. He hoped that he was only a shitty liar where Sam was concerned because Nolan was laughing quietly in response, shaking his head. He thought he already knew what the man was going to say but he waited for the words anyway. “Because the vampire we caught was your father,” he said. |
| “This thing is broken,” Sam spat. She sat in the middle of her living room floor surrounded by the remains of a box she’d had to pull apart with at least three different knives, and the pieces of a Styrofoam packaging unit surrounding her. They’d bought a little wooden tray table to put the television up on and it sat right next to Bobby’s bookcase. It wasn’t a real big one, but it was a flat screen and it had come with a rebate on a DVD player. She’d bought Bobby a movie with it too. Some lame looking comic book movie, but he’d looked excited about it. “It’s not broken,” Bobby said calmly from the couch, where he had the directions spread out across his lap like a blanket. There were three or so manuals to his side and a little baggy of spare parts down near his foot. He had his thinking look on and his tongue was sticking out the side of his lips as he looked between the picture and the television. “We need a cable wire to go from the DVD player to the tv,” he said. “It’s blue in the picture.” “There’s no fucking blue wire,” she grouched at him, grabbing the remaining wires sitting next to her. “There’s two black ones, a red one and this thing,” she held up strange looking wire that had two extensions on each side and she didn’t remember televisions being this complicated. Bobby nodded his head. “Use one of the black ones. They should be the same.” Sam snorted. “Should be,” she mocked him and she didn’t have to look at him to know he was rolling his eyes at her. She crawled over behind the television and started plugging wires in holes she thought they were supposed to go. She’d never been good with technology. When they’d been growing up, her father had really done all the technology stuff around the house. Yeah, she used a computer in school sometimes, but she’d never really gotten the hang of the whole technology revolution or whatever. “Is it on?” Sam called as she lay on her side behind the television. “No,” Bobby said. “Try flipping the switch on the DVD player that says channel four and switch it to channel three.” “What the fuck,” Sam grumbled. “Who comes up with this shit needing channels. You should just be able to plug everything in and it works. They make this shit too complicated.” She found the small black switch in the corner and flicked it. Instantly, she knew she’d succeeded when music started coming through the speakers. She gave a triumphant laugh and scooted back out from behind the tv to look at the screen. The opening credits of Bobby’s movie was playing. “Well what do you know, it works.” Bobby laughed and then he jumped off the couch, throwing the manuals away. “We need to make popcorn!” he said, running to the kitchen. Sam chuckled, watching him go and she sat on the floor, pushing the leftover pieces and garbage out of the way. She’d clean it up later. She had to revel in her accomplishment for a little while. She glanced at the clock on the microwave and she thought she’d have time to watch this movie with Bobby before going over to Roman’s. The thought of him made her smile to herself and she couldn’t help the warm rush of heat spreading across her cheeks. She wondered what would come of tonight. She wondered what she wanted to happen tonight. She didn’t want him to get the wrong impression about her and think she was a whore or easy or whatever, but she wasn’t sure if the opportunity came along that she would really pass it up. He was incredibly hot. She wasn’t sure he really knew that, because he sure didn’t act like it, but she thought he was. Maybe she’d get him to play the violin for her. A knock on the door instantly killed her mood because no one ever came to visit them that was any good. A small part of her thought maybe it was Roman and maybe that was the only reason she climbed to her feet immediately and went to the door. She heard the popcorn starting to pop from the kitchen and she prepared herself to tell whoever it was that was outside this door to either get ready to watch a movie or get the fuck out of their apartment. She’d promised this day to Bobby and that was that. Only when she opened the door, the words were bit off on her tongue. Two Undertakers stood in the hall and they weren’t wearing the normal uniforms. They were wearing the uniforms of the elite. Which meant they were Nolan’s. They both held semi-automatics in their hands and she thought they were going a little overboard if they thought they were going to need those around her. “Chief Byrd has requested your presence, Ms. Moss,” one of the Undertakers said. Sam snorted. “I don’t work on the weekends,” she told him and started to shut the door. The Undertaker shoved his foot up next to the door and it jarred her arm when she tried to slam the door. The Undertaker tilted his head to the side. “It’s not an optional request.” Sam scowled at the man and from behind her, she heard Bobby’s feet on the carpet and then her little brother was standing beside her. “Sam?” he asked. “Everything okay?” For a moment, she just glared at the Undertakers out there because she hated this. She wondered what they would do if she continued to say no. Would they kidnap her? Threaten her life? What would they do. In normal times, she’d think what could they do. But this was Nolan she was talking about and that meant they could pretty much do whatever the fuck they wanted because it was becoming clear to her just who was in charge of this city. Turning around, she sighed and held the sides of Bobby’s head, leaning down to kiss his hair before she crouched down and looked him in the eye. “Everything’s okay,” she told him, licking her lips because it felt like a lie. “I’m being called in to work.” “By that Nolan jerk?” Bobby asked, not ashamed to say so in front of the Undertakers. Sam smirked. “Yeah,” she told him. “But save some popcorn for me. We’ll have to watch the movie tomorrow.” Bobby didn’t look upset or disturbed, he just turned a sour look on the two Undertakers standing in the doorway. Sam reached up and grabbed his cheek, turning his attention back to her. “Hey,” she said. “This is for the new job, remember? This is what bought us that tv.” “Then we should return it,” Bobby snapped and she didn’t think she’d ever heard him so bitter before. He was starting to take after her. She smiled and ruffled his hair. “I’ll be back tonight, bratkin.” Then she stood and turned to the Undertakers, ready to go with them. One of them held out a hand, keeping her from leaving her apartment and she lifted an eyebrow at him. He just returned his hand to his gun and lifted his chin. “Mr. Byrd says to wear something nice.” |
| They dragged him into the room with a man on each side, both holding tightly to his bicep and one of them keeping a firm grasp on the chain around his neck. They led him like a dog, and the hatred burned through him with every step, driving him to act like the beast they thought he was. He wanted to snap at them, rip off the hands that held him and bleed dry the men behind them. They’d put the black bag back over his head but he could hear the rumbling of a gate opening and hear the clink of keys as they led him deeper into whatever hole they’d decided to dump him in. He wondered if this would be the day he finally died a true death. They shoved him roughly down into a chair and then they were undoing the cuffs so they could chain him to the chair instead. As soon as one hand was free he wrapped his fingers punishingly around the wrist of one of his captors, squeezing with inhuman strength. He could hear the hiss of the metal cuff still around his skin but it was quieter than the answering scream as bone cracked beneath his grip. Immediately the chain around his throat tightened, yanking his head back while something hard struck him in the chest. Another blow caught him across the jaw and then again in the temple and it jarred him enough that the man managed to yank his arm back. A choking sound left his lips as they pulled his head back, someone hurrying to get his hands secure before hitting him again for good measure. The blow knocked his head to the side and probably wouldn’t even leave a bruise in an hour. “Fucking Fang,” someone spat. He felt them kick the chair and then the chains around his neck were loosening as they adjusted them, securing them to the chair’s back. There was a hiss as the metal slithered along his skin, leaving burning lines in their wake. The black bag was the last thing to come off, leaving him looking into blinding lights. He blinked heavily against them, trying to focus on where he was. There was the chair he was seated in and another situated across from the table in front of him. Someone had set up a pitcher of water and two glasses which seemed stupid to him because his hands were chained down to the fucking chair. His gaze flicked to the right and he could see a two way mirror next to him, showing nothing but chains floating in the air. He heard the door open behind him and in the mirror he saw Nolan Byrd making his way to the other side of the table. A manila folder was held loosely in his hands and he flipped it open on the table in front of him. He wore a calm, unruffled smirk on his face and Roman felt hate and loathing burning its way through his chest. He couldn’t stop the snarl that curled his lips at the sight of him. If Nolan noticed, he didn’t care. He didn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes focused on the folder in front of him. The smile lingered and he finally looked up, studying the vampire across from him. “You’re a model citizen, Mr. Sabinus.” “I try,” he gritted out. Just speaking rubbed the chain against his throat, a quiet hiss reaching his ears in response. He laughed at that and nodded his head like it was funny. “No record of you before you signed up for the program, but there’s been no repots of illegal feeding, no complaints or hospital visits from your designated feeder.” Roman felt himself tense at that, aware that Nolan was probably looking at Sam’s name. “You get your supplements from the Red Cross. You live in government housing, where apparently you’ve received one or two noise complaints, but that’s about it. I wish more of your kind was so cooperative.” The snarl never left his lips. “Then why am I here?” “Because a week ago something changed.” The smile never wavered on Nolan’s face and his hand moved to deliberately close the file. “Monday night five men are killed in a church. Just men, an innocent bible group who happened to be in the wrong place, and your feeder informs me that it was a retribution killing. No names of course. But it’s an interesting coincidence, don’t you think?” Roman didn’t answer. He kept his jaw clamped tightly shut and tried to ignore the hurt and pain that sent lancing through him. He watched Nolan’s face and kept his own cold and expressionless, ignoring the dark feeling of betrayal that was ripping through him. Nolan waited a moment and then nodded his head, fingers playing across the surface of the manila folder. “A day later, only a day, after this, your fine establishment becomes the scene of a murder, one that still has no suspects in custody and no indication of motive. The only person killed is one Captain Diamante of the undertakers. But, since he was killed with bullets instead of fangs, you are released. Again, an interesting coincidence, don’t you think? Two seemingly unrelated events, oddly connected to you.” “I had nothing to do with that,” Roman snarled. The man tipped his head to the side and studied him, the smile playing across his lips. “Of course,” he said. “After all, you had a witness that claims you saved her life. How fortunate for you.” He leaned forward, fingers laced together and eyes narrowed as he looked across the table. “But that brings us to the crux of the matter. Thursday night your father is caught in a raid on an undertaker facility. And while you claimed before that you had nothing to do with that, we’ve got no witnesses this time. Just your word. You have to admit, given the sequence of events, this looks suspicious.” “Sounds like you’ve already made up your mind,” Roman said. He thought about arguing, pointing out that there were no witnesses that put him there either, but what would be the point? Human justice served only humans. His father had told him that enough times. His hands were curled into tight fists and he wondered if he would be walking out of here alive. He didn’t believe the understanding smiles or the relaxed air of the man across from him, not for a second. Nolan smiled and then reached over to pour himself a glass of water. He took a sip before setting in on the edge of the table and lacing his fingers back together. “Tell me Roman, may I call you Roman? Do you have a close relationship with your father?” “I don’t see how that’s relevant.” It was a battle to hold himself still. “No?” Nolan lifted an eyebrow. “Your father is a word away from execution. I wondered how you felt about that.” There was a rattle of chains as Roman jerked in the chair, unable to stop the wave of anger and hate that made him strain against his bindings. Smoke hissed and rose up around his face in small tendrils as it cut into his throat and there was a line of fire around his wrists reminding him that he wasn’t going anywhere. “He’s my father,” he snarled. “How do you think I feel?” Nolan laughed quietly, pressing the tips of his fingers together and keeping a calm mask in the face of Roman’s anger. If anything it made it worse, his muscles tense as he yanked at the cuffs again. “I imagine you are quite upset. If it were my father I believe I would feel similarly.” He sighed and stood, bringing the glass of water with him. His hand gripped the back of the chair, pulling it closer to Roman and he thought it was a stupid move. “But the way things stand, I can’t justify releasing him. You must understand, your father is a criminal. He is a murderer and a terrorist who is trying to destroy the truce we maintain.” He dropped the chair next to Roman, settling in it and taking another sip of his water. He had to look out of the corner of his eye to see him and that was probably the point. His hands gripped the arms of the chair and he wanted to rip them off and throw them. They were going to execute his father. It didn’t matter that the old bastard had brought it on himself, it was still his father and the thought of Nolan killing him filled him with rage. Gaius was too old and too powerful to be brought down like this. Nolan watched him for a moment and then he smiled, setting the water on the table next to him. “You’re angry. I understand. Our parents never really lose their hold on us. Which is why I believe you were a part of that raid. Even if you weren’t, I believe you knew about it. I believe you know what your father plans and who is involved. Tell me, what does he want? Does he want to take the city?” Teeth snapped down over his answer because the anger was making him stupid. He wanted to tell Nolan that his father wanted every one of his miserable kind dead or made servants but he doubted that would keep Gaius from the gallows. Something dark crossed Nolan’s face and he sighed. “Do you understand what a war would do to this city?” “I remember,” Roman snapped. There was hate in the words because he’d been around the first time, before the rules and regulations. It had been a dark time. It had brought about the undertakers and there had been massive death tolls on both sides. Nolan was too young and too stupid to understand what that looked like, but he smiled like he did and nodded his head. “Then you understand that we can’t let that happen again.” He leaned forward, his face intense as he studied Roman’s. “I’d like to believe that you don’t want that any more than I do. That’s why I need your help.” The words were almost sincere. But Roman could hear the faults in it. He didn’t ask what the man wanted but that didn’t stop him from saying it anyway. “I need to know who else is involved in your father’s militant group and just how far it spreads. I need to know what they plan. We can’t allow them to start a war with us. You must understand, no one will be safe if it happens. Not undertakers, not vampires, not children.” He smiled and Roman felt his eyes narrow because there was a quiet threat in those words he didn’t like and it made his mind go to Sam and Bobby. “I don’t get involved,” Roman spat. He wondered how true the words were anymore. He felt the walls of this room pressing down on him and crushing him and the chains around his neck choking off his options. Underneath it all was a seething hatred for this man and his pressed suits and calm smiles and he could hear the loathing in Sam’s voice every time she mentioned him. His face fell and he looked down at the floor. “That’s unfortunate,” he said. “I’m afraid that means I have no choice but to schedule your father for execution. Had you said yes, we might have been able to let him go when this is all over.” The man rose to his feet and Roman tensed, chains pressing against his throat. “Wait,” he said quickly. Nolan paused, hand still resting on the back of the chair. In the mirror Roman could see the small smile tugging at the man’s lips because he thought he was right. Then a hand settled on his shoulder and he couldn’t stop the snarl that pulled its way from his throat. “Take some time to think about it,” Nolan said cheerfully. “Your father isn’t going anywhere. There will be another undertaker coming in to continue the discussion and if he finds nothing further I see no reason you can’t be released afterwards. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other business to attend to.” |
| “Where are we going?” Sam asked. She sat in the back of a limousine between two Undertakers with their guns still held in their hands and again she wondered what they expected her to do that they weren’t letting up on those guns. She wore a black and white checkered dress with nude tights and lacey black high heels. She had a small black sweater pulled on over the dress because her lifestyle dictated she could never wear anything without long sleeves. Not if she wanted to hide what she was. When she didn’t get an answer, she snorted and reached into her purse, pulling out her cigarettes. She had her legs crossed in front of her, her foot bobbing nervously, but she lit herself a cigarette and it helped to calm her nerves. She had no idea where they were going. They’d driven into vampire territory and once they’d passed that line, she’d figured they couldn’t be going anywhere good. She blew smoke at them to see if she could get a reaction out of either of them, but they did nothing but stare back at her. She sighed and leaned back against the seat, watching the scenery pass instead of the two fucking mutes in front of her. She wondered if Roman would wait up for her. She wondered when exactly he slept. In a city where it was night twenty four hours a day, people sometimes developed odd sleeping habits. It was made more complicated with the fact that he was a vampire. That made everything more complicated. But still, she hoped he would wait for her. She hoped she had the opportunity to see him after whatever Nolan had planned. The limousine pulled up in front of a strange looking building that must have at one time been a museum or something. Maybe an art museum, by the looks of the architecture. It looked like the kind of place Sam liked going to when she was a teenager. She doubted it was that kind of place anymore. Not in the vampire district. The city didn’t put anything nice in the vampire district. The two Undertakers hopped out of the limousine and held the door for her. She scowled at them and then climbed out, cigarette held loosely in her fingers as her heels clicked on the cement sidewalk. She looked up at the building, dark except for a single light. If she had to guess, they were a few miles from Roman’s place. It was out of walking distance. But she thought it was closer to Reno’s place by the river. To the abandoned subway station. The thought made her shiver. “Samantha,” came Nolan’s voice and the shiver escalated up her spine. She turned and saw Nolan walking from around the corner, two guards of his own in tow. He was dressed in another fine suit and just the sight of it made her sneer at him. She couldn’t help but think of him forcing her to her knees inside his apartment. He was cruel and powerful and she thought she hated him more than anything. “I’m so glad you could join us.” Sam snorted. “I didn’t really have a fucking choice,” she spat and then flicked her cigarette onto the ground, rubbing the toe of her heels and stomping it out. “Your goons made that clear enough.” Nolan tsked her as he came to stand in front of her, his hands coming to her shoulders and she tensed at the touch. “You always have a choice,” he said and she doubted he actually meant the words. She thought of Roman telling her that he believed no one could force her to do anything she didn’t want to and she wondered what he’d think about Nolan. She wondered what he’d think about what the prick did to her and she liked to think he’d be mad. She liked to think he wouldn’t just turn the other cheek to it. “Sure,” she scoffed and then hooked her arm into his as he held it out for her. They started walking inside the building and Sam hated that she even had to touch him. She looked around her as they went inside and said, “Why are we here, anyway?” “We’re meeting a business associate of mine,” Nolan said casually. Sam frowned and wondered what business associate Nolan could possibly have in the vampire district. The man hated vampires. “I need you at my side tonight, Samantha.” He paused and turned to look at her. “Do I have your support?” Sam chewed her lip nervously and thought about an answer that would appease him. She finally nodded, swallowing before she said, “I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep getting paid.” The answer made Nolan smile and she cringed when he leaned forward to press his lips against her cheek. “That’s my girl,” he whispered and she immediately wanted to tell him that she wasn’t his fucking girl and she’d never be his fucking girl. Not in a million years. “Now, come on, I don’t want to keep our associate waiting.” They walked up a set of winding stairs. The hallway was darkened and Sam got a bad feeling about the whole thing, like she was part of a fucking horror movie or something as they walked pass room after room of just emptiness and abandonment. In some of the rooms, there were old, left over paintings hanging there and she was sure of it then that at one time this had been an art museum. She wondered if she’d ever visited it before. She wondered if the vampires would ever want to fix it up and put their own art in it. Some of them had to have art from centuries ago, right? As they came to the only room with light filtering from beneath the doorway, Nolan paused and unhooked his arm from hers. He straightened his jacket and turned to her. “Wait here,” he said. “I have some negotiating to do first.” He nodded to the two goons who’d followed them in and they followed Nolan to the door, stepping to either side of it and standing there to guard it. Sam crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes, looking around the hallway. The door hadn’t closed all the way and Sam heard a man’s voice greet Nolan from the other side. “Ah, Byrd, you’re late for our weekly engagement.” Sam listened only half heartedly, her mind straying to what Roman was doing and if he was starting to think she wasn’t coming. She wondered what type of music he played on the violin and maybe she could get him to play something for her tonight. She wondered if he’d want to go back to her place and watch a movie with Bobby, or if he’d want some time just the two of them at his place. She smirked when she wondered what his bed felt like. “Something unexpected came up,” Nolan answered. She heard something click and squeak open before Nolan added, “This seems less than normal.” “What can I say,” the other man said. “Business has been slow. Your rules have tightened so much, it’s hard to find junkies who are willing to pay, when there are so many hungry mouths out there who would gladly pay for a bite.” Sam frowned and glanced towards the door. She saw the two Undertakers look at her and she looked away again, pretending to be interested in the wall. Her mind started racing. She knew what this sounded like. This sounded like a payoff. This sounded like a blood dealer. Nolan’s answer was quiet and she didn’t quite hear what he had to say in response, but then his voice lifted and she heard him clearly. “I have someone I’d like you to meet, Octavius.” She glanced at the door when it opened a bit and Nolan stood there, waving her in. Sam licked her lips, tightening her arms over her chest before she walked over and slipped into the room in front of him. The room was ornately decorated. Old and musty. A man sat on the couch, but it was clear just looking at him that he wasn’t alive. He’d been dead a long, long time. He was an old vampire, that was for sure. He had the features of ancient times and his skin had the pallor that only the eldest of vampires had. She wondered if he was a master. There were few of them around anymore. The Undertakers had all but killed them off. This vampire was slightly overweight, and he must have been that way before becoming a vampire because she knew they didn’t gain weight after becoming one. His hair was gray and slicked back and his eyes were pale blue. He wore a suit in the same style as Nolan’s and she wondered how good of friends they were. She couldn’t say she was surprised that Nolan was corrupt and taking payoffs, but she could say she was surprised he tolerated any vampire – whether they paid him or not. “Samantha,” Nolan said, his voice low and smooth. “I’d like you to meet Octavius.” Sam dipped her head in greeting, but chewed her lip and didn’t say anything. A slow smile spread across Octavius’s face and he rose up from the couch he was seated on. He stood a little shorter than Sam and he was meaty all around. She wondered who’d turned him into a vampire because most vampires chose the better looking people to turn. Like Roman and she wondered why her mind kept going to him at the most inopportune times. “Hello, Samantha,” Octavius said and it sent a chill across her skin, bringing goosebumps up on her flesh. He was old and powerful, she was sure of it. “It’s quite a pleasure, my dear.” He moved to stand in front of her and she held her breath as he took her hand and pressed his freezing lips to her skin. Sam smiled politely, but fearfully at him before turning to look at Nolan, who stood by her side with a smirk on his face. When he noticed her watching him, his smirk grew and he held his hand out towards Octavius. “Octavius here helps the Undertakers with anything they need. He’s one of the few vampires out there who loathe all of his kind.” “Dreadful creatures,” Octavius said. “Horrid monsters, all of them,” Octavius said and she shrunk in on herself, not liking the way he was looking at her like she was a piece of meat. He looked hungry, but not in the way Roman did. This was something more primal and animalistic. This was something dangerous. He still hadn’t let go of her hand. “Not like humans. So fragile and precious. So beautiful and innocent.” He reached forward and pushed some of Sam’s dark hair over her shoulder and her eyes went wide to his face before she took a step back. Nolan’s hand on the small of her back kept her from going anywhere. He didn’t even look at her, just smiled at the vampire. “Octavius has been a good asset to the Undertakers and to me. So in exchange, I try to make him comfortable and give him whatever it is he desires.” Sam felt her heart pick up and by the sudden spark in Octavius’s eyes, he’d heard it too. Nolan leaned towards her. “And tonight, he desires company.” Sam turned to give Nolan a shocked look. “I can’t do that,” she whispered to him. “Yes you can,” he told her and there was no question or encouragement. Only solid enforcement. “Please, my dear,” Octavius said, coming forward again and she cringed when he started pulling her button up sweater off of her. She shivered as it left her shoulders bare and arms exposed. “You have nothing to fear from me.” He bunched up her sweater, but his eyes were on her arms. He looked between both of them and something familiar crossed his features before he lifted his gaze to her face. “Why don’t you take off that pretty dress of yours.” Sam swallowed and her mind went to Roman. She couldn’t help but feel like this was betraying him somehow. She pictured sitting on his lap or laying across the couch and him leaning over her. She pictured and felt his lips pressing against her forehead and she had wanted to pull him onto the couch with her and keep him there all night and show him exactly what she thought of him, but she hadn’t and she wondered if she went over to his place tonight if all he’d see when he looked at her was Octavius and Nolan. She wondered if he’d toss her out and get mad and the panic and fear she felt at that thought was enough to get her heart pumping. She reached up to the straps of her dress and slid them down her shoulders, her eyes watery and her lips quivering slightly. She tried to bite them to get them to stop, but she couldn’t help it. She tried to picture Roman in Octavius’s place, but that didn’t help because it wasn’t Roman. It wasn’t him and it might not ever be him after this if he ever found out. When her dress fell to the floor, she crossed her arms over her chest and stood there in her underwear, looking at the room and not any of the occupants standing in it. Her teeth worried at her bottom lip and she felt her mouth turned downwards and couldn’t get herself to smile at all. She shivered at the sheer coldness of the air and she wanted to be anywhere else but here. She thought about Roman telling her that no one could force her to do something she didn’t want to and she thought she was turning him into a liar. Cold fingers found their way to her shoulder and as soon as he touched her, she panicked. “I can’t do this,” she said, shaking her head and reaching down to grab her dress. She hurried back out the door and she would have taken off down the hallway if Nolan’s hand hadn’t caught her arm and yanked her to a stop. “Samantha,” he demanded and she whirled on her, tears in her eyes as she hit his chest. “I’m done!” she yelled at him. “I can’t do this for you anymore.” His grip tightened on her arm and she let a small cry leave her lips as she tried to pull her arm away. “You walk out on this and don’t you bother stepping foot in the office again,” he told her threateningly. “I don’t care,” she told him. “You take your job and shove it up your ass!” She didn’t expect it. She didn’t expect him to raise a hand to her or to feel him slap her head to the side. It left a stinging mask on one side of her face and she tasted blood in the corner of her mouth. Her head jerked to the side and she hugged her dress to her chest with one hand while the other came up to touch her face. Her hand shook as it hovered over her cheek and she could feel her skin getting hot to the touch, her eye and cheekbone and the corner of her mouth burning. Nolan leaned in closer and his face was right near hers. “You’ll get in there and do whatever he asks of you,” he said dangerously low. “Because if you don’t, if it’s not you in there, it’s going to be that sweet brother of yours. I can assure you that Octavius doesn’t have a preference when it comes to who he shares his bed with. That’s how they did it in his time, you know. Young boys.” “Fuck you,” Sam spat and she felt anger and rage boiling up inside her, but it only made her shake harder and she glared at him. “You don’t lay a hand on my brother. I’ll fuck your ugly Fang friend and I’ll scream and call him Daddy if that’s what he fucking wants, but you don’t ever threaten my little brother. Ever.” If anything, Nolan grinned wider, leaning against the wall with his face closer to hers. “Be careful,” he said quietly. “He gets rough.” Then he grabbed her arm and shoved her towards the door. She stumbled a little in her heels and closed her eyes to wipe away the sobs threatening to tear up her throat. There was no way she was going to let Nolan near Bobby ever again. No fucking way. “Oh and Samantha,” Nolan called. She paused in the doorway, turning to glare at him, her face wicked and bitter. She tensed when she felt Octavius’s hand run up her bare back and over her shoulder. Her lips quivered with barely contained tears. “Save the Daddy’s for me.” |
| Roman’s knees struck the sidewalk before the rest of him, elbows banging off the cement before his head finally hit the ground. There was the sharp tang of blood in his mouth and he could smell the stench of burning skin. His hands were cuffed behind his back, shoulders sore from the strain of it. His gaze was blurring and there was a red haze covering one of his eyes. For some reason he was thinking about Gaius, how he believed their kind were Gods among men. He didn’t feel like a God. He felt like flesh and blood and it didn’t matter if he was immortal, he could still feel pain, lancing through all of his muscles and focused on his ribs. Someone crouched down next to him. He smelled familiar. He smelled like the man that had come in after Nolan, the one that had hung him from the ceiling by his cuffs and watched while two other undertakers took over the interrogation with clubs and silver knives. He thought two of his ribs were broken. He couldn’t tell anymore. There was a cigarette dangling from his fingers and he blew smoke over Roman’s face. “Mr. Byrd will expect your answer by Monday,” he said calmly. The man pushed himself back to his feet and he felt the chains finally loosen. His fingers had gone numb a while ago and his hands fell loosely to his sides after they were free. A boot landed squarely on his back, holding him down while they pulled the chain from around his neck and he couldn’t stop the hiss of pain as it slithered over his skin, leaving stinging, smoking marks in their wake. The undertaker kicked him one more time in the side for good measure and he could still feel the blow after the man was gone. He focused on holding himself up on the sidewalk, half in a puddle that had collected in the cracks. He heard the roar of the engine and the spinning of the tires as they drove away and left him there. He was bruised and battered, blood soaking into his shirt from the holes they’d left in his chest. It didn’t matter. They could stab him a thousand times and it wouldn’t kill him, not unless they took his head off. But the pain of it, that he could feel. He felt his skin throbbing as it tried to knit itself back together but he hadn’t fed since the morning and he was weak and drained. His mind was working slowly and sluggishly, most of his focus just on crawling to his feet. He used the wall to hold himself upright as he let himself into his apartment building and he swore it took a year just to make his way up the stairs. He kept one hand on the railing, dragging himself up to his floor and trying to think of anything except how much everything hurt. The keys rattled in his hands as he fumbled with them, and it was stupid just how grateful he felt when the door finally clicked open. He stumbled inside, kicking it shut behind him. He had to use the back of the couch just to keep himself upright. There was bitterness churning in his gut as he ripped the last plastic bag of blood from his fridge. His supplements. He’d played by their rules. He’d done everything to keep his head down because he’d thought maybe one day that would be enough. He just felt stupid now. He sucked the bag dry and then tossed it in the sink, resting his hands against the counter and just focusing on keeping himself standing. He could feel his skin burning as it tried to knit itself back together but it would take some time to heal, even for him. He stared at the floor and he felt hate running through his veins, feeding his anger and his loathing. Nolan wanted him to turn on his own kind. He thought he could manipulate him and bully him into it and he couldn’t stop the snarl that left his throat. His cowardice had its limits and he was aware as he thought it that Nolan had finally pushed him past it. He wouldn’t leave Gaius in his cage. That meant he couldn’t stay in his own. This time when he ripped his apartment apart, the motions were deliberate. He yanked the curtains down and there were little enough of them that he didn’t care if he took them with him or not. He threw them in a pile in the corner and kicked the couch aside as he headed towards all the memories and reminders he had on his wall. By tomorrow night, everything he cared about had to be gone from here. Sheaves of musical composition got tossed on the coffee table and then his eyes were drawn to the sword and shield. He left the shield in its place but he took the blade down and kept it with him as he finally slumped down onto the couch. As soon as he did he knew he needed sleep. He needed rest and blood and he felt the hunger clawing at his insides even with the cold blood trying to dull its ferocity. It wasn’t the same and he thought abruptly about Sam, pain jamming its icy fingers into his chest as he did. Had she known? Did she know that Nolan was going to black bag him and dangle his father’s freedom in front of him? Nolan’s words gnawed away at him, the subtle implications that Sam was his creature and he hated that thought with a dark intensity. His hand ran along the edge of the blade, trying to focus on how dull it was instead of on the painful feeling of betrayal that was ripping through his chest. He’d trusted her. Maybe he shouldn’t have, but he had. He’d believed her and he’d let himself feel something for her. If his eyes shut then he would recall the feel of her hands on his skin, warming him all the way to the bone. He would think about how she’d looked straddling his hips, how much he’d enjoyed having her there and just how badly he’d wanted to do more. He knew the taste of her blood but he wanted to know the taste of her skin and her lips. If she hadn’t known than she might have come and gone already. She might have discovered his apartment empty and gone home alone. His face softened and he slumped back farther into the couch because even if that was the better option, it was still painful. He could imagine her cursing him as just another fucking Fang and he almost preferred that option. Her honest hatred he could handle. Lies, deceit, that he couldn’t. That would break him all over again. A sigh left his lips and he let the sword point fall to the carpet. His gaze focused on the shield and he wondered how he was going to break Gaius out of an undertaker facility. He would need Giselle. He would need her friends. He didn’t expect the knock. Normally he could hear when people approached his apartment but his senses were dulled with pain and it caught him by surprise. His gaze focused on door as he pushed himself to his feet and when he did he got the dull scent of cigarette smoke. He heard the quiet hitch of breath every time she drew air into her lungs and he wondered what it meant. The feeling of betrayal darkened and intensified until it felt the same as one of the silver blades they’d put in his chest. He kept it bottled right up until he opened the door and saw her and he couldn’t explain the chaos of emotions he felt afterwards. His hand came out to grasp her upper arm and he saw her lips part, her mouth forming his name as he pulled her into his apartment. “Roman,” she started, and he couldn’t stop the growl that left his throat or how hard he slammed the door behind her. A startled gasp left her lips and then his other hand was wrapping around her arm and shoving her hard against the wall. He couldn’t meet her eyes. “Tell me you didn’t know,” he growled. His voice was cold and angry and his fingers tightened around her arms. He heard her breathing hitch again and it sounded like it hurt every time she did. Her eyes were wide as they scanned his face and they were red like she’d been crying. There was the sharp scent of blood in the air and as soon as he caught it his gaze snapped to her neck, the hunger rising in a dark wave inside of him. “Sam.” He felt like he was begging her. “Tell me you didn’t know.” “Didn’t know what?” she asked. A growl left his throat and he shoved her harder against the wall. She winced when he did, a small whimper of pain leaving her throat and it helped dull some of the anger. His grip relaxed but he didn’t step back. “Nolan had me black bagged.” He ground the words out through tightly clamped teeth, watching her face for a reaction. Her eyes widened and she scanned him anew, a small little gasp leaving her throat as her eyes lit on the still healing marks around his throat. His shirt was matted to his chest with his blood and he saw the moment she noticed that too. “I fucking hate him.” The words were a quiet whimper and then she shook her head, eyes glazed with tears. “I didn’t know.” Relief swamped him as soon as they left her lips and it didn’t matter all the reasons he shouldn’t have believed her. He did. He believed the words and his fingers loosened on her arms, sliding up and down them in slow motions. His eyes closed as he pressed his forehead against hers and he wondered what it meant that he would believe anything that came from her lips as easily as he did. His fingers kept moving up and down her arms and after a moment he felt her hands settle on his chest, hands fisting in the bloodied fabric. The only noise was the sound of her breathing and the steady pounding of her heartbeat against her ribcage. After a moment she licked her lips and her voice was shaky. “I’m sorry I’m late,” she said quietly. There was that hitch in her breath again. He frowned, eyes opening so he could focus on her and he tried not to let his gaze stray to that vein throbbing steadily in her neck. It stirred the hunger in him and it was already clamoring loudly for her blood. “Sam?” he said quietly. He settled his hand on the side of her neck, skin cool against hers, fingers tilting her chin up to look at him. Her eyes were glazed, and it was a moment until he realized it wasn’t just from her tears. He could already smell her blood in the air. That and something else, someone else, and he felt a growl rising in his throat as jealousy hit him hard. His gaze swept her form and it was easy not to get distracted by how beautiful she looked because there was blood on her thighs. “You’re bleeding,” he told her, gaze flicking back to her face, and there was a dark feeling of hatred in his chest. He wondered if it was Nolan, but it didn’t smell like him. It smelled like one of his kind, like something already dead. He wondered if she’d wanted it and it was no consolation that he thought the answer was no. “What happened?” he demanded harshly. Sam shook her head and tried to look away. He shifted closer, hands cupping her face to force her to look at him and he saw her flinch when he did. He felt her fingers tighten in his bloodstained shirt and then her eyes finally met his. As soon as they did, she broke. He saw it happen, her knees giving out on her and the tears coming in a rush. A sob left her throat as she fell and his hands caught her before she hit the ground. He went with her, collapsing to his knees and holding onto her as she sobbed. They were harsh and ragged and every one of them tore at his heart. His hand slid through her hair, holding her head to his chest as she cried. |
| Sam sat on the counter as Roman gently wiped the blood from her thighs with a washcloth. His touch was soft and careful, mindful of her and the soft hitches of her breath. She watched him as he worked, watched the way his hair fell, the way his brow stayed furrowed with contained anger and pain. She watched the lines around his neck, burned into his skin by silver chains and similar ones around his wrists. She just watched him and didn’t think about anything but him because if she did, if she let her mind wander, she’d think about Octavius and the thought of him made her sick to her stomach. Roman had just let her cry when she’d broken down. He’d hugged her to his chest and she’d tried to stop, but she couldn’t. She’d been so afraid that his anger had been over what she’d done. So afraid that he was going to push her out the door and tell her not to come back and if that happened, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle that because it had happened one too many times to her and she couldn’t have it happen again. She didn’t even want to think what she was going to tell Bobby. Probably nothing. There were some things he didn’t need to know. “Did it hurt?” she asked and her own voice sounded distant and hollow to her. Roman’s eyes rose to her face and she saw concern pass through his features before he looked back down at her legs. He must have been finished because he stood then and rung the washcloth out in the sink, leaning against the counter afterwards. “It’ll heal,” he told her gently and it looked like he wanted to ask her about what had happened. She wasn’t sure she was ready yet. She wasn’t sure she ever would be. She reached over into the sink, ignoring that her own blood stained the towel now. She grabbed it and rinsed it before she reached over to grab Roman’s arm and pull her towards him. His shirt was stained with blood and she didn’t like it there. She didn’t like that it was his. Her fingers played with the hem of his shirt and she started to pull it up. “Sam,” Roman said, stopping her with a gentle grip on her wrists. She just looked up at him and she felt dazed and slow. “You help me, I help you,” she said and then tugged up on his shirt again. This time he let her. He helped her get his shirt up and over his head and when she did, her eyes fell on the wounds on his chest and stomach. They looked like they were already starting to heal, but they were bright and painful looking still. And blood still stained his skin. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she began to wash it away. She wiped away the blood on his skin and she imagined him with a black bag over his head and she felt anger burning in her chest because Nolan was the cause of this and he seemed to be the cause of every hurt and pain she felt in her life. She didn’t care that she’d only known him less than a week, she’d never hated anyone more than she hated him. “I’m sorry that he did this.” Roman was quiet as he watched her and they stayed like that for a while, with Sam running the washcloth over his skin and wiping the blood free from him. She tried to be gentle and she tried not to hurt him and any time she saw his muscles tighten, she berated herself because she didn’t want to hurt him. When she got his front clean, she pulled his arm and made him turn around. She guided him back towards her, so he was leaned up against the counter between her legs and she started to wash the blood from his back. “Nolan took me to see a vampire,” she whispered and she saw him turn his head to try and look at her over his shoulder. She didn’t meet his eyes and she focused on cleaning the blood off him and not on the look on his face. “I think he’s a blood dealer and he’s giving Nolan pay offs. He says he hates his kind.” She paused when Roman turned around, his hands coming out to take hers. He pulled the washcloth from her fingers before tossing it back in the sink. She stared at his chest and it wasn’t until his hand came to lift her chin up that she met his eyes. “He did this to you?” he asked gently and Sam felt her face fall. But she swallowed thickly, keeping the tears back and she nodded slightly in affirmation. “I didn’t want to,” she added quickly and she saw anger flash across his face. She shook her head because she didn’t want him to be angry with her. “He said if I didn’t, he would bring Bobby to see him and I can’t take that chance, Roman, I’m sorry. I have to protect my brother.” Roman’s hands came up to the sides of her face and she realized her voice had become a little hysterical. His thumbs rubbed soothingly against her cheekbones and he shushed her, leaning his head forward to press his forehead against hers. “I know,” he whispered to her. “I know, Sam,” he repeated and she hoped he did. She leaned forward and Roman held her against his chest and it didn’t go by her unnoticed that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. She clung to him anyhow and she closed her eyes against his skin. It was odd, not hearing a heartbeat or feeling how cold he was and if it weren’t for the hand running up and down her back, she would have felt the need to open her eyes and make sure he wasn’t dead. Of course he was dead, but a different kind. “Were you scared?” she whispered to him. He stiffened slightly and then he was pulling back. She looked up at him and he held her hands, meeting her eyes. “I’m not going to stay here much longer,” he told her and her eyes widened with the panic that he was leaving. He squeezed her hands and said, “This apartment. I’m going to need to lay low for a while.” Sam licked her lips. “Because of Nolan?” she asked. Roman nodded slightly. “Partly.” He watched her face for a moment, seeming to study her and she wondered what he was looking for. Maybe to see if he could trust her and it made sense as soon as he spoke. “I’m going to get my father out.” Sam couldn’t explain the unexpected panic that welled up in her chest. She thought about Caleb Rourke telling her that the facility was vampire-proof. She shook her head, grasping at Roman’s arms. “No, you can’t,” she said, her voice panicked and pained. “It’s too dangerous.” “I’m not leaving him there to be executed,” Roman told her firmly. “I’m not letting Nolan kill him.” “Then let me help you,” she begged him, her arms starting to tremble and she felt him move closer to her, his hands running along her arms in soothing motions. “I could distract Nolan, or the guards. Or I could get blueprints or…” “Sam,” Roman said, reaching up to push some of her hair behind her ear. She bit her lower lip and cut herself off. “I don’t want you involved in this. I want you at home, safe and resting.” Sam reached up to swat away a tear that had managed to slip pass her eye. She looked up at him. “And after that?” she asked, scared of the question but terrified of the answer. “After you break your Dad out and move out? What then? You won’t be able to feed. You’ll be a terrorist. Are you just going to be done with me?” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice, but it surprised and calmed her when Roman held the sides of her face. “No,” he told her firmly. “I’ll come and find you.” Sam smiled at him and leaned forward into his arms again. “Promise me,” she whispered and she knew the words were unfair as soon as she said them. But he whispered back to her anyway, “I promise.” Then he leaned back and ducked his head down to be eye level with her. “Now, let’s get you home, okay?” She nodded her head, a sudden tiredness and soreness threatening to overwhelm her. She accepted his help getting down from the counter and they started for the door. “Roman?” she asked. He pulled the door open and looked back at her. She rubbed at her arms like she was cold. “His name was Octavius.” |
| Sam was quiet on the walk back to her apartment and Roman didn’t push. He didn’t ask her exactly what had happened but he didn’t really need to. He thought if he heard her say the words out loud than he would already be ripping down the city looking for a vampire named Octavius. He stuck close to her, watching her out of the corner of his eye. There was a blank look on her face, her eyes tired and glazed. At some point he felt her warm hand slide into his cold one and he twined his fingers wordlessly with hers. She didn’t ask him to come up but she didn’t tell him not to either so he decided he’d rather risk having her kick him out than letting her walk the rest of the way by herself. Her fingers stayed laced with his and after they stepped into the elevator she rested her head against his arm, watching the numbers tick up towards her floor. “Thank you,” she whispered, the words barely audible. He didn’t say anything, but he lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing his lips tightly against her skin. She squeezed his hand in response, the fingers of her other hand running over his wrist and feeling the rough marks that marred his skin. He couldn’t think about that right now. If he did he’d become aware of the trap he’d been caught in, slowly choking him to death. One of the lights was on in the living room when they walked inside. Bobby was lying on the couch, a book resting on his chest and his eyes closed. Sam paused in the doorway, watching him for a moment with an unreadable expression on her face. She licked her lips and then after a moment her fingers pulled from his, feet carrying her to her brother’s side. She sat down on the couch next to him, fingers running through his hair and Roman saw her force the smile across her face. “Hey bratkin,” she said quietly. “Time for bed.” Her fingers pulled the book off his chest, his eyes fluttering open and focusing on his sister’s face. “Sam?” he said groggily. He rubbed small fists into his eyes to try and clear them and it reminded Roman abruptly of just how young he was. He thought about Sam saying she’d done what she had for her brother and he could understand that. He could understand her wanting to shield him from the worst parts of this world. His hands fell from his eyes and they were wide and innocent as he studied her. Then a frown stole across his features and it was gone. “Are you okay?” he demanded. She laughed and it was too harsh and too fake. “I’m fine,” she told him. By the look on her brother’s face he didn’t believe her anymore than Roman did. “Just tired. But you should be in bed already.” She slapped him lightly on the arm. Bobby kept frowning at her, his mouth opening to say something. Even as he did his eyes moved past her for a moment and noticed Roman standing there. His face fell into something confused and then he nodded his head, forcing his own smile across his face. “Don’t forget you said you’d watch my movie with me tomorrow,” he said, sliding off the couch onto the floor. She snorted and ruffled his hair as she stood. “I didn’t forget, squirt.” “Good,” he said. His hand lifted in a wave as he passed by the door. “Goodnight Roman.” Roman nodded his head, unable to stop the slight amusement he felt at how casually the kid addressed him sometimes. “Goodnight Bobby,” he said. His gaze moved to Sam but her eyes were on her brother before they finally met his. There was something dark on her face, something that made her eyes fill with tears before she looked away. Roman found himself moving across the carpet and crouching down in front of her, hands settling on her knees. She had her arms wrapped around her stomach like that could somehow hold in the pain. “I hate lying to him,” she whispered, a wry smirk on her face. His thumbs moved in slow circles over her skin. “You should get some sleep,” he told her quietly. She nodded her head, reaching down to pull off the black high heels. She held them loosely by two fingers as he helped her back to her feet, hand holding her elbow. “As good as stilettos?” she asked. There was a fake smile on her lips and glossy look in her eyes. “Better,” he told her. She laughed quietly and he wasn’t sure he believed it. She was trying too hard to be okay when she wasn’t. He felt the dark tendrils of anger in his chest, his thoughts straying to the people that had done this to her. She was still moving gingerly, holding herself like she was afraid she was going to break. It made his jaw tight, and he wanted to hit and break. He wanted to destroy those responsible. He kept one hand on her back as she made her way down to her bedroom and he didn’t think anything of that until he was in the doorway. She kept going, heading towards her bed and picking up the pajamas thrown across the bottom of it. His gaze focused on her and he couldn’t stop the sudden rush of hunger he felt for her. It was made worse by the lingering pains in his chest and his stomach and the smell of her everywhere in the room. It was made worse by the dress she had on. There was guilt in the thoughts, even if he couldn’t stop them. She’d already been hurt and bled and he didn’t want to do anything to hurt her more, but he wanted her, and she was right in front of him. “I should go,” he said, his voice harsher than he meant. She looked up at that, clothes held against her chest. “No,” she said quickly. “Please.” “Sam,” he said, but he didn’t know what came after her name. She walked back across the carpet towards him, hand settling on his arm. “Please don’t go yet,” she said. “I’m just going to take a shower. I’ll be quick, just please Roman, stay.” The sound of his name on her lips never failed to send warmth spiraling through his stomach. He licked his lips, watching her face as she looked up at him. “Alright,” he agreed, nodding his head. She smiled and her fingers squeezed his arm as she moved past him into the hallway. He heard the click of the bathroom door shut and after a moment he heard the water turn on. He stayed where he was for a moment, gaze scanning her darkened bedroom. There were some pictures on her nightstand, mostly of her and Bobby and a few people he didn’t recognize. He wondered who they were. He wondered if any of them was a boyfriend or a husband. There was a rookie of the year trophy on her dresser, next to a few dance trophies and he walked over to them, smiling when he saw a picture of a young Sam in a leotard. He wondered what had happened to change her life. He wondered if it was her parents dying or something else. He wanted to know about her and he knew even as he thought it that he should stop. His fingers moved, smoothing out her sheets before sitting on the edge of her bed and he thought that he shouldn’t be here. He didn’t know what he was going to do tomorrow but whatever happened, she shouldn’t be involved with him. There was enough bad shit in her life that he didn’t need to bring anymore into it. The thoughts stung more than he thought they should. The thought of leaving tonight and never seeing her again was like a blow to his chest, and he already had enough wounds there. He rested his elbows on his knees, mouth pressing against his tightly laced fingers. He thought about Gaius. Every time he pictured his father with chains around his neck, it felt like a violation of the natural order of things. Nolan had put him there. Just like he’d put the blood on Sam’s thighs and he felt a low growl beginning in his throat. The intensity of that emotion, the jealousy and possessiveness he was beginning to feel for her was terrifying. He stiffened when he heard the bathroom door open. His gaze flicked towards the hallway and watched her walk through the doorway, scrubbing a towel through her hair. Her skin was still steaming from the shower and it looked raw, like once she’d started scrubbing she couldn’t stop. It made his jaw clamp shut tightly, anger and hate rising in him in a dark wave. His gaze flicked to her face and he saw a relieved smile curl her lips as she walked over to him. “You’re still here,” she said, like she hadn’t believed he would be. Her bare feet carried her across the carpet, stopping in front of him. He didn’t expect her to straddle his lap, hands sliding around his neck like she’d done the other night. His hands settled on her hips, licking his lips before he spoke. “I should go,” he said again. “Don’t,” she told him. Her fingers played through his hair and then her head ducked, warm lips pressing against the marks on his throat. She spoke with her mouth still against his skin, and he wondered if she realized that she was setting him on fire with the small touches. It wasn’t right but it was what she did to him and his fingers tightened on her hips when she spoke. “Stay with me tonight.” “Sam.” He said her name harshly, smelling blood and her and none of the other things he’d caught before. “I can’t.” She tensed over him, before her arms slid all the way around his neck. She buried her mouth against his throat only this time he thought it was more for comfort than anything else. “Please Roman,” she said. “I just don’t want to be alone.” He growled lowly, hands moving around her back and holding her tightly against him. There was blood thundering away beneath her skin and he couldn’t stop his mouth from finding that spot, lips moving against her flesh. She was warm, burning the chill from his body and he couldn’t stop his hand from sliding up her back. “You’re making this difficult,” he said. He felt her smile against his throat before she pulled back. “It’s what I excel at,” she said. Her gaze focused on his and the smile slowly faded from her lips. Her fingers played up and down his neck and his eyes threatened to close at how good they felt against his skin. It felt good having her on top of him and saying his name and he wanted to stay so badly it hurt. She swallowed hard and shook her head, gaze dropping to the neck of his shirt. “Please Roman,” she said quietly. “Don’t make me beg.” He snorted and tilted his head back to look at her. “You’re cheating,” he said. She smiled but it faded when he moved her off his lap onto the bed next to him. She watched him stand and then he heard her breath hitch as he kicked off his shoes. “I sleep on the left.” |
| Sam didn’t have nightmares. At least none that she remembered. She slept through the whole night and it was a heavy sleep, thick and guarded and she thought that had a lot to do with the fatigue and weariness, but even more to do with the fact that she’d spent the night curled at Roman’s side. She had to admit, she’d been surprised when he’d agree to stay. She’d been even more surprised when he’d crawled into bed with her. The thought of taking advantage of that situation had crossed her mind, because she couldn’t deny she wanted him. But her body had other plans and when she’d laid her head into his shoulder and felt his arm protective around her back, she’d fallen asleep quickly. She didn’t know if he’d slept at all. She didn’t know if she’d tossed and turned and had woken him up or if they’d stayed like that the whole night. She’d slept soundly and peacefully and the next thing she knew, it was morning. As morning as it got in a city with no sun. When she woke at last, she was laying on her stomach, one arm beneath her and the other curled up at her side. She didn’t open her eyes, but her hand stretched across the bed and when she felt nothing but empty sheets, it got her to wake up a little more. She finally peeled her eyes open and found her bed empty, the blankets tucked in neatly around her. His shoes were gone from the floor and her bedroom door was closed. She closed her eyes and tried not to feel disappointed that he’d left without saying goodbye. She hugged her pillow tight to her chest and breathed it in because it smelled like him. She couldn’t place what the smell was, a cologne or a shampoo or just his laundry detergent, she didn’t know – it just smelled like him and it was comforting and familiar and nothing like the musty, dank carpet her face had been pressed into in Octavius’s place. The thought made her tense and it shook the rest of her sleepiness away. She pushed herself up and she was sore everywhere. Her legs felt weak and her arms shook as she held herself up, but it was better than yesterday. She’d slept in her pajamas and hoodie and she wondered when she was going to be comfortable enough with Roman to show him her arms. She wondered what he’d say and she wondered what he’d think if he found out that she thought about the bite every day and how it had made getting fucked by Octavius easier to handle than it would have been if he’d kept his fangs out of her. Rolling over, she beneath the sheets and hugged her legs to her chest. She’d looked at herself in the mirror last night when she’d taken a shower and she was bruised everywhere. She could feel it plain as day today. She wondered if Roman’s wounds were healed this morning when he’d taken off. She wondered if he was hungry, because he hadn’t fed last night and she’d stopped him early on Friday. His voice telling her that he couldn’t stay in his apartment anymore send a sudden panic through her chest because what if he was just gone for good now? What if she went to his apartment and it was just an empty hole and she never saw him again? The thought almost brought forth a sob and she quickly shook her head, throwing the sheets from around her and climbing to her feet. She couldn’t think like that. He’d promised he’d come find her once he got Gaius out. He’d promised. She’d heard promises before. Pulling her hair back into a messy ponytail, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and pulled her bedroom door open. Immediately, she was assaulted with the aroma of coffee and food. Strong scents in the air of bacon, eggs and pancakes. She frowned, because that was a lot, even for Bobby. Shed poked her head out of her bedroom door and she felt her heart skip a beat when she saw Bobby and Roman in the kitchen. The table had been cleared off and was set nicely, with a flower arrangement even in the middle. She smirked because the flowers were made out of paper and markers and she thought Bobby must have done that. She pulled her hoodie tightly around her and slipped into the hallway, coming to lean against the wall as she watched the two of them. She knew Roman knew she was there, there was no way he didn’t. But he hadn’t turned around yet. He stood in front of the stove, cooking the bacon while Bobby was grating cheese into the pan of eggs. A stack of pancakes already sat on the table and it made her smile because she thought of Roman talking about what it was like to taste things. She doubted he’d help them eat any of it. “Are we expecting company?” she asked, her voice still groggy, but she couldn’t keep the smile from her face. Bobby turned to look at her, the cheese grater in one hand and she didn’t even want to know when they’d gotten all this food. She wondered if Roman had taken her little brother to the store this morning or if he’d gone himself and she realized that she didn’t care which one it was. She trusted Roman, especially after all he’d done for her and it meant a lot that she trusted him with Bobby. “Morning Sam!” Bobby said, his mouth full and it looked like he was testing Roman’s bacon. He grinned at her and then jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Roman, who stirred his pan before turning his head to look over at her, a genuine smile on his face. “I told him you didn’t like anything but eggs for breakfast, but he said it didn’t matter and you would like what he made you.” “That’s not what I said,” Roman protested. “Close enough,” Bobby shrugged and then pointed at the table. “Go ahead and sit down, we’re serving you breakfast.” He put his utensils down and she chuckled a little when she saw Roman grab up the spoon and start stirring the eggs as Bobby hurried over to her, pulling the chair out for her. Sam ruffled his hair and sat gingerly down into the chair, watching her little brother try to be the little gentleman that he was. “What did I do to deserve this?” she asked, unable to keep the smile from her face. “It’s our way of saying we love you,” Bobby told her and headed back into the kitchen. Sam’s eyes immediately went to Roman and he seemed to tense, before his eyes came back to meet hers. She just smiled widely at him, blushing and dipping her head. “Well I love you too,” she told them both. Bobby pulled his pan off the stove and Roman turned it off, helping Bobby before he spilled it everywhere. He served up both of their plates, leaving his empty. But Bobby put a pancake on his plate when Roman had turned around to return things to the stove. When he noticed the pancake on his plate, he lifted an eyebrow at Bobby, who ran to the refrigerator to get syrup and peanut butter. “I thought you were pass the peanut butter, squirt,” Sam said. “It’s an acquired taste,” Bobby told her and she chuckled, watching as Roman sat in a chair, handing her a cup of coffee and putting one down in front of him as well. Sam’s cheeks were starting to hurt from all the smiling she was doing, but she grabbed her coffee and pulled it to her lips anyway. After a moment, she set it down and looked at Roman. “Thank you,” she told him quietly. “You’re welcome,” Bobby answered and she laughed a little, eyes still on Roman. He was smiling back at her and beneath the table, she felt his hand reach over to take hers. She thought he understood what she was thanking him for. Bobby began to stuff his pancakes into his mouth before he pointed his fork at Roman. “Are you going to stay and watch my movie with us?” he asked. The smile faded slightly from Roman’s face and he licked his lips, eyes flicking to Sam before he looked back to Bobby. “I’d love to, but there are some things I need to do today,” he said. Sam squeezed his hand beneath the table and the words managed to finally dim the smile from her face. Bobby looked up at Roman, like he was studying him for a second before he finally nodded and continued chewing. “I’m sure he could come back some time and watch it,” Sam said quietly, eyes on Roman’s face. Bobby glanced over at him and Roman looked between the two of them before he nodded his head. “As soon as I’m able,” he said and Sam didn’t like or fully understand the implications of those words. Bobby cleared his throat. “You know, my birthday is in two weeks,” he said, giving Roman a look. “You could come over then, too. I’m going to make a cake.” Sam snorted. “I thought I was making the cake.” The look Bobby gave her made her chuckle. He turned his attention instead to Roman and gave him a forlorn look. “The last time she tried to make a cake, it came out lopsided and the middle was runny.” Sam scoffed. “It’s the thought that counts.” “Not with cake,” Bobby told her and she reached over to swat his head. He ducked out of the way and laughed and Sam shook her head at him. He grinned and then looked over at Roman. “So? Will you come over for my birthday? We could have balloons and get pizza.” Sam glanced at Roman and he was watching Bobby with a strange look on his face. But then he smiled and there was something sincere and genuine behind it. Roman nodded and said. “Of course.” |
| It was hard to say goodbye. It was made worse by the lingering sensation that Roman didn’t know when he’d be able to see either of them again. It felt like a goodbye that was longer for just a day or a week. He wasn’t sure what came next. He had a small window of time to get his father out of his prison and he could feel that clock ticking down in the back of his mind. He knew in his head he shouldn’t have stayed. It was a risk, because he’d broken curfew and if Sam got caught harboring a vampire she’d be in as much trouble as he would. He was aware of it, and he didn’t care. He didn’t want the last time he saw her to be with tears still drying on her face. Besides, he’d enjoyed holding her. It had been hard to sleep with the warmth of her right next to him, stirring the hunger and need he felt every time she was in the room. He’d managed a few hours but he never slept long. Sam followed him to the door, leaning against wall as she studied him carefully, like she was trying to memorize the lines of his face. He braced his arm against the frame and found himself returning the look. “Will I see you tomorrow?” she asked. “I don’t know,” he told her honestly. She nodded her head and looked at the floor, something like disappointment and pain flashing across her face. He didn’t like that it was there, or that he’d been the one to put it there. He wondered just when she’d gotten so far under his skin that he couldn’t just tell her goodbye and be done with it. Instead he found himself wanting to promise her tomorrow too, but he didn’t know what was going to happen today. If he got his father back it might be too dangerous to come to her. Nolan would know it was him, without a doubt. He would be watching. “I’ll come to you as soon as I can.” She managed a laugh and rested her head against the wall. “You better,” she told him. “You promised.” The words made him smile and he wasn’t sure why. His hand came up to cup her face and he felt her shiver under the touch. “I did, didn’t I?” he said. She nodded her head, watching him as he ran his thumb along her skin. He leaned forward to kiss her forehead and he told himself to pull back but for a moment he couldn’t manage it. He felt her hand come forward and fist in his shirt, holding onto him tightly. His lips pulled away but they hovered near hers, need clawing desperately at him. “Goodbye Sam,” he whispered. “Roman,” she said, and his name on her lips was a breathy sigh. It sent a jolt right through him and it was a battle just to let her go. His hand left her cheek, moving to pull her fingers from his shirt and he pressed a kiss against her knuckles instead of her lips. She let out a breath as he let her go, pulling her hand to her chest. She tried to smile but it was weak and shaky. “I’ll see you around.” “Take care of yourself,” he said. He smiled at her but he knew it lacked something because there was a finality and uncertainty to the words. He didn’t know if he’d ever see her again after this. He liked to believe he would. “You too Fang,” she shot back. It kept the smile on his face as he walked away from her apartment. As soon as he was out of sight, it fell off his lips. He shoved his hands in his pockets and ducked his head, taking the stairs down away from her apartment. The dark feelings he’d been trying to ignore hit him hard and he wondered just what he was going to do. All he’d wanted was to stay out of this war. All he’d wanted was to be left alone and now that wasn’t an option anymore. His hand rubbed over his chest and he felt dull pain when he did. The wounds had scabbed over and were on their way to healing but it would take another day or two until they were gone completely. There was no doubt in his mind that if he flat out told Nolan no, he wouldn’t just execute Gaius. He’d drag Roman right in beside him and burn them both alive. It should have made him scared, but instead it just made him angry. He thought about Sam asking him if he’d been afraid and he hated that he had been. Most vampires that got black bagged were never seen again. He walked a little easier when he finally passed through the chain link fence back into the vampire district. He didn’t hold himself quite as stiffly and he didn’t strain as much to listen to every passing footstep wondering if it was an undertaker. He’d heard curses and slurs slung his way but he’d gotten good at ignoring them. There was no point in responding, not knowing what was going to happen next. His thoughts were moving slowly but it was sinking in that no matter what happened in the next few days, he was going to make Nolan pay for what he did. And it wasn’t because of what he’d done to Roman or because of what he’d done to Gaius. He was going to make the man pay for what he did to Sam, because he couldn’t live with the kind of anger that stirred in his chest. As soon as he took care of Gaius, he was going to find a vampire named Octavius and he was going to die. There was no one waiting outside of his father’s warehouse. He wondered if that just meant they were trying to lay low or if they’d relocated in his absence. That thought made him more nervous than he liked because if Giselle had gone somewhere else he didn’t know how he was going to find her. He needed her help and her connections because she had been at his father’s right hand while he launched his own private war against the humans. To get him out, he would need her, more than he liked. The door scraped against the cement floor as he forced his way inside, the bottom level always a mess. A rat skittered across the floor in the corner, rusted and twisted pieces of metal lying across the floor. The air was thick and musty and it didn’t smell like anything living resided here. It was true, in a sense. It was also the point. Most undertakers didn’t look farther than the first floor. He took the stairs up towards the second level, yanking the metal door open. It was like walking into a different building. The carpet was plush and red, dim lights hung on the wall to illuminate the way. Roman followed the hallway to his father’s study, opening the door and pausing there for a moment. It was lit, but empty, and he felt something like pain at the sight of it. The last words he’d said to his father had been harsh ones and no matter how hard he tried to hate the old man, he could never quite manage it. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the doorframe as his eyes scanned the vacant room. There were paintings on the wall because that’s how his father had amused himself. The one of Roman had been taken down and the hollow spot on the wall reminded him of his failings in his father’s eyes. He wondered what would have happened if he had gone with him. Maybe he’d be dead already. He heard the door open behind him and he couldn’t help but tense when he heard the quiet footsteps behind him. Giselle’s arms slid around his waist, her chin resting against his shoulder as she looked past him into the room. The motion was intimate and familiar, her hands pressed flat against his stomach. “I knew you’d come,” she said. “You assume a lot about me.” He snorted and pulled away from her arms. He couldn’t help but think that they were colder than Sam’s. She radiated heat, sending it spiraling through him every time he saw her. He wondered if he ever would again. Giselle sighed quietly behind him, lingering in the doorway as Roman walked into the room. He didn’t look back at her, fingers trailing over his father’s desk as he rounded it. There was a battered leather journal sitting on its wooden surface, hastily scrawled notes sticking out at odd angles. He thought about opening it but he couldn’t get himself to do so, not while the old bastard still lived. He slumped down in the chair, finally tilting his head to look at Giselle. She watched him through dark lashes, a black dress hugging every curve on her body like a second skin. The locket hung around her neck, framed by thick hair that fell around her face. She smiled crookedly when he finally met her eyes and then she followed him across the carpet, sitting herself on the edge of the desk. “I know you, Roman. You love your father as much as he loves you.” “I should leave him in the pit they’ve thrown him,” he spat. His anger rose as he watched her and it wasn’t all for her. It was the position she and his father and Nolan had put him in. “I wanted nothing to do with this war he’s trying to start.” She sighed and swung her legs around so that she was sitting facing him. “And now?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow. “My choices have become limited,” he admitted. A smile curled her lips and she moved forward on the desk, her legs straddling his. The short skirt of her dress rose up as she did, her fingers cool as they slid around his neck. “It brings back memories, seeing you like this,” she said. Her head ducked and he turned his to the side before her lips could meet his. He felt her mouth moving over his jaw and it was so familiar it hurt. She ran kisses along his skin to his neck before breathing him in. “You smell like that pretty little porcelain doll of yours,” she said casually. Roman snorted and his eyes narrowed at her. He leaned back, fingers digging into her hips and trying to put distance in between them. His thoughts strayed to Sam and he realized he wished it was her on his lap and her hands in his hair. He’d spent the night just holding her and it meant something, even if he wasn’t sure what yet. “It’s none of your business,” he said sharply. She laughed, leaning back to look at him. “I can’t be curious about what an old friend is doing with his time? Or rather, who he’s doing? No matter what you think of me Roman, I do want to see you happy. So, did you fuck her hard? Did you make her scream?” “Nolan Byrd has Gaius in a facility by the river,” he said. It cut off questions he didn’t want to answer Giselle. “Sayre Penitentiary.” She stilled with her hands still wrapped around the back of his neck. There was concern and something like fear on her face. “Are you certain?” she asked. At his nod she spit out a curse in French, pushing herself to her feet and off his lap. He watched her walk away from him, her hand pressed across her mouth before she finally turned halfway to look at him. “Then he’s already dead,” she whispered. “The only way we could get in there is with a black bag over our heads.” Her face fell and then she walked back to him, hands cupping his face and pressing her forehead against his. “Roman I am so sorry.” He stood quickly, grasping her wrist and pulling her hand from his skin. “Don’t give me your apologies,” he snapped. “We’re getting him out of there. Just help me do it.” Her face was still dark and sad, her gaze scanning his quickly. She licked her lips and started to shake her head so swallowed his pride, gritting his teeth as his hand tightened on her wrist. “Please, Giselle.” She sighed, her hand settling on his chest. He allowed it, watching her as she considered it. He couldn’t help but think about how scared Sam had been when he mentioned it and that Giselle felt similarly worried him. “How long do we have?” she asked. “A day,” he answered. She laughed and shook her head, hand coming up to cup his jaw. “We’ll need more time than that, love.” He looked away, gaze focusing on the empty space on the wall. He wondered what his father had done with his portrait. He wondered if he’d destroyed it and he hated that thought. His mind strayed to Nolan and his offer and he felt a sick feeling churning in his gut because he knew where this led. He wondered what he would have to sell to get what he needed and he found himself thinking of what Sam gave for Bobby. “I can buy us time,” he whispered, and he hated that he said the words. He hated that he’d have to tell Nolan yes. |
Part II Chapter Six The restaurant was on the top floor of a high rise, with windows on every side, overlooking the city. It was fancier than any place Sam had ever been in before and she found herself wondering why Nolan brought her to places like this, where she was obviously the dirtiest thing in the room. The other tables were mostly full and Sam recognized a few of the people in the restaurant. They were the city’s rich and powerful. The governor himself sat over in a corner booth with a woman who was definitely not his wife. Other city officials sat scattered around and there was a man seated at the bar who Sam recognized his voice as the radio talk show host she listened to sometimes while driving Bobby to school. This was above her social status and she knew it. Everyone in the restaurant knew it and most of all, Nolan knew it. But he’d brought her here anyway. He’d bought her a fancy orange dress and what she thought were real pearls to put around her neck. Her hair hung down around her shoulders and he’d made her take her jacket off when they sat down. The scars on her arms were obvious and glaring and she didn’t miss the way the waiter had eyed them and turned up his nose. She thought that was the point. Nolan wanted everyone to know what she was. To know how charitable he was with the needy. It had been a week since she’d said goodbye to Roman in the doorway and she hadn’t seen him since. Nolan had been tightening his grip on the vampire menace, as he liked to call it. Until further notice, the vampires were quarantined to their district, for their own safety of course. He’d abolished the feeder program and had replaced it with a program that handed out animal blood to the vampires, trying to rid them of their taste for human blood. He’d publicly declared that the Undertakers would make random housing searches in the vampire district, claiming to be looking for signs of vampiric terrorism. He gave the Undertakers free reign to arrest and detain anyone they deemed a threat. And through it all, Sam just wondered where Roman was. She hadn’t gone to see him on Monday, since the feeder program was abolished. But she’d tried to visit him Wednesday and when she’d gotten to his apartment, it was nothing but an empty shell. Only the lingering dents and broken furniture any indication that Roman had been there at all. He’d promised her. But she’d been promised things before and she knew she shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up. “You don’t like it?” Nolan’s voice came and she looked up from the bowl of soup, or so she thought that’s what it was, sitting in front of her. He had a napkin in his lap, his utensils held in his hands and he was so prim and proper that it made Sam want to gag. At the blank look she gave him, he pointed to the bowl in front of her. “Your gazpacho? You don’t like it?” “It’s cold,” Sam said, stirring it a little before setting her spoon down. “That’s how it’s made,” Nolan said, giving a small laugh like he found it cute. She doubted he did. She doubted he even brought her here to feed her. He was going to want something tonight. Whether it was to let a vampire feed, which he’d been having a lot since the abolition of the feeder program, or to come home to his place or to fuck another of his vampire friends, she didn’t know. He hadn’t made her do that since Octavius. And he’d hadn’t brought her back to his place since that first time. But she wouldn’t put either of them passed him. Sam shrugged a little. “I’m not used to it.” Nolan smiled warmly, but it just made Sam hate him more. “Of course you’re not,” he told her and then he set his utensils down as well. “Samantha,” he said and she hated her name on his tongue. “I know these past couple of weeks have not been the most pleasant for you. I’ve made you do things that you’re ashamed of.” Sam licked her lips and looked away from him, her mind going to Octavius and she couldn’t help the knot building in her gut at the thought of him. Reaching across the table, Nolan wrapped his hand around hers and she stared at it with disdain. He squeezed her fingers and she finally looked back up at him. “But I want you to know, that you have nothing to be ashamed of. Each of us has a place and a purpose in this world. We have a destiny and yours is to help me make the world a better and safer place. Sacrifices must be made in order to do that, and your sacrifices will not be forgotten.” Sam scowled at him and thought about asking him what the fuck he ever sacrificed. But she just took a deep breath and nodded. “Whatever I can do to help,” she forced the words out. Nolan smiled. “That’s my girl,” he told her again and let go of her hand. She immediately pulled it back and let it lay in her lap. Nolan picked up his fork again, the smile still on his face. “If I may make an observation?” he asked, taking a bite of his steak. Sam shrugged to let him know she could give a crap. He swallowed and then leaned against the table. “You’ve seemed lonely and distant lately. What, without your vampire to go and feed three times a week, you must barely get out of your apartment.” The words sent a spike of pain through her chest. “I have my brother,” she spat. He smiled at her. “Well, there is that. You know your vampire is on my leash now. He works for me. He was smart enough to come to my side.” Sam’s eyes shot to Nolan’s face and she felt anger rushing through her chest. “You’ve seen him?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous. Nolan nodded. “I have contact with him at least every other day,” he said and Sam felt her eyes start to sting. Roman was working for Nolan and in contact with him and what about her? Was he just ignoring her? He’d promised. He’d promised Bobby and she wanted to think that hurt more than any promise he’d made to her. If Nolan noticed her sudden mood drop, he didn’t say anything, but she thought he was probably aware of it. “Perhaps you should come over to my place tonight,” he said, reaching across the table to take her hand again. She looked down at it, his thumb running along hers and she wished it wasn’t his hand. She wished it were Roman’s. “I can show you just how much I appreciate your talents.” Sam nodded her head, because what choice did she have? When Nolan pulled his hand back, she reached for her glass of wine and took a swig of it, looking around the restaurant again. A part of her wished Roman would just walk in, just so she could see him and know that he was working for Nolan. She didn’t understand how he could do that. She thought maybe it wasn’t by choice, because Nolan still had his father, but a part of her was terrified that he’d played her all along. That’s he’d betrayed her and now she was caught in this by herself, without any out. She felt suddenly panicked and she put her napkin down on the table. “I have to go to the ladies room,” she said. Nolan smiled at her and nodded, before he turned and gave the Governor a wave as the man was leaving. Sam grabbed her purse and rushed towards the bathroom, flinging the door open and not caring who else was in there. She went over to the sink, running the water and patting it against her cheeks, careful not to make her mascara run. She leaned over the sink, trying to just breathe and not cry. “Rough night?” a voice came and Sam looked sidelong at a girl who was sitting on the counter. She wore a tight black dress, her legs crossed. She leaned into the corner, her blonde hair pulled tight and she was a skinny little thing but taller than Sam. “Yeah,” Sam whispered, wiping the water off her face. The girl snorted. “Boy trouble?” “Something like that,” Sam nodded, looking at herself in the mirror. The image she saw looking back disgusted her, so she turned around and crossed her arms over her chest, looking instead at the stalls. The blonde woman leaned over, pushing something along the counter towards Sam and when she turned to look at it, she saw a small mirror with a line of white powder on it. Sam’s eyes shot to the woman’s face, but she was just watching Sam with glazed eyes and a lazy smile. “Honey, try this. It makes dealing with men’s shit so much easier.” Sam shook her head, licking her lips and it wasn’t the white powder she was suddenly craving. She scratched at her arms. She wanted Roman. She wanted his bite and she thought even more than that, she wanted him. She wanted him back in her bed with no doubt in her mind that he was with her. That he hated Nolan. “I can’t,” she whispered. “Oh come on,” the girl said, nudging her with the toe of her high heels. Sam glanced back at her and then down at the powder. “Doesn’t it hurt to be sober?” Sam stared at her for a moment before she nodded. She turned around and bit her lip, looking down at the white line. She finally leaned over it and plugging one side of her nose, she inhaled sharply. She stood, hands against her nose as it burned along her sinuses. She opened her eyes and looked at herself in the mirror and almost immediately, the edges started to dim and the world seemed to go soft around her. “Now doesn’t that feel better?” the woman asked and Sam glanced over at her and nodded. The woman held her hand out. “Dulci,” she said. “You need anything, I’m your girl.” Sam licked her lips and felt herself start to relax, a smile pulling at her lips as she took the woman’s hand. “Sam.” |
| There was a portrait lying on the ground. It was half propped against the wall, some of the oil paints blurred and smeared with age and water leakage. At one point it had been a portrait of a woman, a beautiful one, sitting by a window with the light shining in behind her. There was a half smile on her face, hands resting demurely in her lap and hair pulled over one shoulder. Now it was hard to make out her features, her hair running into her dress and the colors swimming together on the canvas. Roman glanced at it as they passed. They were quiet in the hallway, even though they were expected. Giselle walked just at his elbow in a slinky red dress and black boots. Solomon followed after, silently smoking his cigarette and brooding even if he pretended he wasn’t. The marks he’d acquired on his face and his chest had finally healed up a few days ago, but the rift with Giselle had not. Roman pretended not to notice. He stepped around a statue that had fallen half into the hallway and made his way towards the room with the sliver of light shining out from underneath it. There was anger and anticipation starting to burn slowly in his chest with every step he took. It had been a week since he’d last seen Sam. Less than that since he’d told Nolan he’d be his man. Nolan thought he had him on his leash, and Roman did everything in his power to keep it that way. It was funny, because Sam had told him not long ago that he was a shitty liar, and now it was all he did. He gave Nolan what scraps he could to keep him busy and buy himself time to get his father out. He hated that it was taking so long, hated that everyone around him was in agreement that what he was asking was the impossible. He refused to believe it, because otherwise he was trapped without a way out. He had to watch his back all the time now, tense and worried that today would be the day that Nolan figured out the game and had his father burned alive. His hand grasped the handle, tongue running over his teeth as he did at the surge of hate he felt. It almost worried him how much time he’d spent thinking about this moment. The door swung open easily and his shoulders were tense as he let himself into the room. They’d had to grease some palms to get a private meeting with the vampire, but money wasn’t an issue. The vampire in question was sprawled on a sumptuous velvet couch, a glass of wine in his hand. He was old, probably even older than Gaius, and soft around the midsection. His skin was like parchment and pulled tight around his lips when he smiled. Roman stilled his steps right inside the door, wondering if the vampire could see the hate etched on his face as he studied him. “You must be Octavius,” he said. He forced a tightlipped smile and it was cold and fake even as it crossed his features. Giselle slid past him, immediately starting to circle the room. She focused her attention on the paintings on the wall, while Roman’s eyes couldn’t help but drop to the carpet. There were old blood stains in the fabric. He wondered if any of it was Sam’s and suddenly the hate was all he felt. “You would be correct,” the vampire said. He watched them with narrowed eyes, swirling the wine in his cup before taking a sip. He didn’t make any move to get off his couch, and there was a small, disdainful sneer etched on his face. “And you must be Sabinus. I heard you had a business proposition for me.” His gaze snapped to Giselle abruptly. “Don’t touch that.” Her fingers were halfway to one of the portraits on the wall but she glanced over her shoulder at the vampire when he spoke. She pouted at him, gesturing at the painting. “Did you paint this?” she asked. “It’s beautiful.” Octavius lifted his jaw at that, a smirk on his face. “I did. Humans are beautiful subjects. So fragile and flawed.” Giselle smiled back and tilted her head at him. “I agree. But are you aware of the faults in it?” Immediately a frown stole across Octavius’s face and he sat forward slightly. She didn’t wait for his answer, turning to run her fingers over the canvas. “You lack the technical proficiency to make it truly perfect, and you lack the artist’s touch to make it truly divine. It’s beautiful, but faulty.” “I thought you were here for business,” Octavius snapped. “I was told you were hoping to form an arrangement regarding the particular services that I provide. That doesn’t involve taking criticism from a stupid, bloodsucking child.” “We are here for business,” Roman said calmly. “But you may have been misinformed about the nature of it.” The frown on Octavius’s face darkened and his gaze flicked across the three of them. He heard Solomon moving behind him, flicking the cigarette out onto the carpet before he tugged gloves out of his pockets. Octavius swallowed and then stood, walking by them towards the door. His hand curled around it, yanking it open and glaring at Roman. He imagined the vampire with his hands and his teeth all over Sam and anger spread through his veins like poison. “Indeed?” he spat. “Then I think it’s time that you left.” Roman moved first, his hand hitting the door and slamming it shut. Octavius started to bolt as soon as he did but Roman caught one of his arms, Solomon grasping the other and snapping the silver cuff around his wrist. The ancient vampire hissed in pain, whirling and striking out at Solomon even while the silver dangled from around his arm. He hit the wall hard, plaster cracking beneath his weight. It was Giselle that hit him, moving across the room in the time it took to blink. Her foot came out, sharp heels striking Octavius in the side to spin him and then slamming her boot against his back to pin him to the wall. Roman ignored the burning pain as he grasped the silver cuffs, snapping it around Octavius’s other wrist. He couldn’t resist slamming the vampire’s head against the wall afterwards, one hand on the back of his neck. Giselle withdrew her foot casually, walking over to Solomon as he picked himself off the floor. “I’m sorry,” her lover said, rubbing at his jaw and casting a glare at Octavius. The vampire was struggling against the wall but Roman had a hard grip on him. “That shouldn’t have happened.” “No,” she agreed, dusting his jacket off. “Probably not.” “Tell me something,” Roman said. His fingers were bruising around the back of his neck and it made him think of the bruises on Sam’s skin. There was something dark stirring in his chest, the smoke from burning skin trickling up in front of his face. “Rumor has it that you do business with Nolan Byrd. Maybe you could explain the nature of your dealings with him.” Octavius paled slightly and swallowed nervously. He cast a glance over his shoulder at Roman, the sneer lingering on his lips even in his poor position. “I do what any vampire would do in my position,” he said. “I give him what he wants so he leaves me alone.” “Is that so?” Roman asked. His voice was calm and deadly, belying the anger in his chest. “Then explain Sam.” “Sam?” Octavius asked. He frowned, still looking at Roman over his shoulder. “The junkie whore?” The rage he felt surge through him was dark and familiar and the worst it had ever been. He moved before he was aware of telling his body to, slamming Octavius’s head against the wall. The vampire let out a strangled cry as Roman yanked him back and then spun him around, his back against the wall and his feet hanging off the ground as Roman lifted him up by his throat. There was something red clouding his vision because that was Sam he was talking about, not some junkie whore. It was Sam and suddenly feelings he’d been ignoring for the last week were rising in him and making his throat tight with emotion. He’d tried to stay away from her. Every time he met with Nolan’s man, he'd been followed after. He told himself a hundred excuses, that it was too dangerous for her or that maybe he couldn’t trust her. She might betray him if he told her the truth. He might risk her or Bobby by putting them in the middle of this stupid war but suddenly his excuses didn’t matter. He missed her. He missed her teasing smiles and the memory of her fingers running through his hair. He missed her scent and the way she’d looked curled up beside him. “That junkie whore is the reason you’re a dead man,” Roman told him. Then his teeth were digging sharply into his neck, sinking through the soft flesh. Octavius cried out in response, struggling against the chains binding him and the cruel hand around his jaw. Thick, bitter blood ran down his throat, vile and disgusting as it ran over his tongue. He ripped out a chunk of Octavius’s flesh before he turned and spat it out onto the ground because his kind wasn’t meant to drink dead blood. He tried to ignore the taste of it because this was important. It was important to him that he died like the animal he was, his throat torn out and his body abandoned. Octavius’s screams were cut off when Roman’s teeth tore out his vocal chords. He kept making a dark gurgling noise and if he stopped now the vampire still might be able to heal from it. It would take a long time, and a lot of blood, but he could recover and come back because there were only two ways to kill his kind. Burning, either from fire or sunlight, or losing their head. Since he had neither fire or sunlight, he dug his teeth in tighter until he felt them close around his spine. There was a crack as his teeth closed over the bone, and he tightened his grip on his neck, jaw tight as he tore him apart. He yanked him in separate directions, letting the body fall to the floor as he grasped his head. It dangled from his fingers. Giselle watched him toss it to the carpet, her hand resting on Solomon’s chest and an odd look on her face. Roman didn’t know how to read it so he didn’t try. He licked the blood from his lips and then spat the vile liquid onto the carpet. It sank into the musty fabric, soaking through the fibers and turning it dark with dead blood. It stained his lips and his jaw and he felt only satisfaction. “This was personal,” Giselle said after a moment. “I thought you said this would strike a blow against Nolan.” “It will,” Roman told her. “That just wasn’t the only reason.” Solomon snorted but didn’t look like he cared. He looked down at the body, kicking idly at his head before rolling his body over. The gloves were still on his hands as he worked on undoing the silver cuffs. Giselle’s eyes never left Roman. A crooked smile creased her lips. “I see,” she said. She stepped forward, fingers running along his jaw as she tried to help him clean the blood off. He caught her wrist, pulling her hand from his skin. He didn’t miss the jealous glance that Solomon aimed in his direction but he pretended that he did. “And what are you going to do now?” she asked. “Go tell your little porcelain doll what you’ve done for her?” She laughed quietly, tossing a glance at his shirt. “You may want to clean up first.” Roman snorted and tried to pretend that wasn’t exactly what he wanted to do. Maybe not the details, but he thought she should know Octavius was dead and was never going to hurt her again. He thought she should know that he hadn’t forgotten about her. “I’m going to go tell Nolan’s dog that his blood dealer is dead,” he said, spitting dark blood out onto the floor. Giselle snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, if you do go see her,” she said. “Promise me you’ll be careful.” |
| Sam stumbled as she crossed the threshold into Nolan's apartment. She chuckled, one hand coming to her eyes while the other gripped firmly to Nolan's bicep. She could feel his fingers curling around her arm and she tried not to think about how she wished they were someone else's. She wished they belonged to a fucking Fang who had promised he'd come back for her but never had. Gaius was still in prison, no attacks had taken place and Nolan had said he'd been in contact with Roman almost every other day. That meant it was by choice. That meant Roman didn't want to see her. The thought hurt worse than anything. She knew it was something she'd done. It was always something she'd done that made people turn their cheeks to her. Nolan laughed a little and it was a gentle thing that she wouldn't expect from him. His hand stayed on her arm as he helped her into his apartment, letting her sit down on the couch before he took off his suit jacket and headed into the kitchen. She watched him go, licking her lips and she liked the way the edges of the world were blurred and the colors not so bright and painful to her eyes. She liked the way she didn't care about things and she liked that she had Dulci's phone number in her purse when she wanted more. And she knew she'd want more. Dulci had given her a present for later and she thought she was going to need it, because she was in Nolan's apartment. "Perhaps you've had too much wine, Samantha," Nolan called from the kitchen and she heard him clinking glasses around in there. She slumped on the couch, her legs bent together at the knees and it was an improper, drunk way to sit, but she didn't care. There was no one around and Nolan already knew what a dirty little whore she was. There was no point in trying to convince him otherwise. He'd been there while Octavius had fucked her. He'd watched the whole damn thing with a smirk on his face. She let out a small chuckle. "Yeah, maybe," she mumbled to herself. She let her head roll along the back of the couch and she looked towards the piano. Smirking, she stood up and it was a lot harder to walk a straight line than she thought it should be. She ran her fingers along the sleek edge of the grand and turned to try and catch a glimpse of Nolan. "Do you play this thing?" she called. Nolan came out of the kitchen, two glasses of red wine in his hands. He came over to her and handed her one. She wanted to ask him why he thought she needed another one if he just got done telling her she'd had too much, but she didn't. She just sipped at it and watched him slide onto the piano bench. "I dabble," he said, smiling up at her. He patted the seat next to him. "Come, I'll show you." Licking her lips, she slid onto the piano bench next to him and watched him place his fingers along the ivory keys. She was immediately reminded of Roman's fingers, his long musician's fingers and she'd never heard him play the violin. Pain struck at her chest and she glanced over at her purse because there was a small baggie of white powder sitting in there that she was craving. It would take the pain away. It was almost as good as going to see Reno, which she'd done several times since Nolan had abolished the feeder program. "There are only a few songs I know how to play," he said and she glanced back at his hands as he started. It was a sad, slow song and she found herself not impressed. It wasn't because it was bad or even because she didn't like the piano. It was because it wasn't the violin and it wasn't Roman. It was because she was in Nolan's apartment and blasted almost out of her mind and none of these things were okay with her and she was getting too sober to forget. Nolan continued to play with one hand, just a soft melody and she felt him brush her hair away from her neck. A moment later, she felt his lips press against her skin and she tensed, closing her eyes and pretending that she was okay wtih this. She knew this was why he'd asked her to come back to his apartment, she had no false intentions with what he wanted from her. "You know," Nolan whispered, his mouth pressed against her skin and she didn't like the warmth. She didn't like the feel of him or his touch along the scars and lines of her body. "I found out some unfortunate news at dinner tonight." "Oh yeah?" she asked, slipping off the piano bench and walking back over to the couch. She snatched up her purse and pulled her cigarettes out. "You mind?" she asked and he just smiled and shook his head, closing the case to the piano and standing up, coming over to help her light her cigarette. "It seems our friend Octavius was murdered," Nolan said. The words nearly made her drop her cigarette. Her eyes widened and she looked at Nolan's face to see if he was lying or toying with her, but there was just a studying expression on his features. She wasn't sure how she felt. A part of her felt great, great relief. Relief that Nolan would never take her to see that fat bastard again. A part of her was terrified of what Nolan was going to say next, of who'd done it, and what they were going to do to avenge the fallen vampire. A part of her already knew who was behind it. "That's bad news for business, huh?" she asked and she was proud of herself for keeping her voice calm and collected. Though her hands were starting to get shaky. Nolan shrugged and pulled her purse from her hands, throwing it back on the couch. "The thing about business is, there's always competition." He smirked and his fingers ran up her bare arms, slipping beneath the straps of her dress. She tipped her head to the side and blew smoke out into his apartment as he pulled the straps down her arms, peeling her dress down to her waist and letting it sit on her hips, her bra exposed. His eyes were on her chest and she just sneered at him while he wasn't looking. "Octavius is easy to replace. There are always others willing to take his place." "You don't seem to broken up about his death," Sam said, holding her cigarette between her fingers. Nolan glanced up at her face and his smile was slightly crooked. He reached to pluck the cigarette from her fingers, putting it out in the wine glass that sat on the table. Then he stood squarely in front of her, hands coming to her shoulders. "He's a Fang," Nolan said. "And the only good Fang, is a dead one." Sam felt her heart skip a beat at that because there was a threat there she didn't like. A threat against Roman, because he was working for Nolan now and no matter her doubts about Roman, she didn't like Nolan threatening him. She didn't like Nolan talking about him like that. Lenaing forward, Nolan pressed his lips against Sam's neck, his hands wandering down her skin and pulling her dress over her hips and letting it fall down to the floor. She stepped out of it and stood stock still as Nolan ran his mouth over her neck and collarbone. She felt that sickness welling up in her stomach and that dread starting to form a pit in her gut. She felt that fear settling into her chest and her mind just kept going back to Roman. Kept going back to him promising her. He'd promised. Pulling away, Nolan reached up to grab her chin, making her look at him. "I don't mind if you use on the side," he said and her eyes widened because she hadn't known he'd been aware of what she'd done in the bathroom with Dulci. He gripped her chin hard and she whimpered at the sudden threat in his eyes. "Just no needles. You're already obvious enough." He let her go and ran his fingers back through her hair. Then he turned and started walking towards the hallway. "Meet me in the bedroom in five minutes," he called over his shoulder. "Try to pretend like you want it." He disappeared down the hallway and Sam felt anger burning in her chest. She sat down on the couch, down to her bra and underwear. She rifled through her purse and pulled out the bag Dulci had given her. Her hands were shaking so horribly with anger and disgust that it was hard to line up the powder on the glass coffee table, but she did and when she snorted it in, it burned on the way up, but immediately dulled the roiling rage in her chest. It immediately pushed back her fear and reservations. She pictured Roman beckoning her into the bedroom. She pictured Roman beneath her sheets. It made it easier to fuck Nolan when she barely remembered who it was she was with. |
| It took him a while to get the blood off his skin. Roman showed up at Legion’s like usual, but he never stayed long anymore. Anymore it was just to meet with Christian, the lapdog that Nolan sent to meet with him. He hadn’t seen him in person since that first time, but it was probably because he didn’t have silver cuffs around his wrist or a black bag over his head. Christian made up for it. He hated Fangs just as much as Nolan did if not more, and he got his kicks out of reminding Roman that he was a dog on a leash, and he should thank his master for not putting him down. He bit back a snarl and passed along the message. Octavius was dead. Unfortunately Roman hadn’t had time to warn him before it had happened. They’d made him do it to prove his loyalty. No, he didn’t have the position of their headquarters yet. No, he couldn’t give him any names. The lies flowed easily off his tongue anymore and he disliked how comfortable he was becoming with it. He wondered if Sam would have recognized them for what they were. He wondered if she would believe him when he swore they were just lies he told. He wondered if she would turn him into Nolan if he told her what he was doing and he hated that thought. Roman washed the blood off his skin in the unisex bathroom and he changed into a black shirt he’d left here a while ago. Outside the door he could hear Tessa laughing loudly and Artie’s softer voice as he spoke to his customers. It was more his bar than Roman’s anymore. He’d had to pick up hours in the last week because Roman was never around. He couldn’t afford to be here any longer than it took to give Christian what he had and disappear again. There was no guarantee Nolan wouldn’t burst in with a squad and a black bag again. This world felt distant and foreign to him anymore and he hated it because that had been his life. It just felt gone now. He felt like everything was gone and even as he thought it he realized he missed Sam the most. He slipped out the back without a goodbye and he was aware of the man that pushed off the wall and followed him. He tried to be discrete. They always did. He acted like he’d just been smoking a cigarette but he tossed it into the gutter before it was down to the filter so that he could try and tail Roman. He kept his head down and didn’t let him know he was aware of being followed. He always took a different route back to his father’s warehouse but if he was honest with himself, that wasn’t where he planned on going. A puddle splashed beneath his shoes as he turned down an alleyway. The bar was already close to the edge of the slums and the route he walked took him even closer. The gates were closed all the time now, because vampires weren’t allowed out of their hole. Humans were, the ones that wanted to come here anymore, but his kind were cut off from them by a silver chain link fence. It was easy to lose the man. He wasn’t human anymore and it didn’t take much effort to double back on him. As soon as that watched feeling left his shoulders he angled his way towards the fence, following the silver line that cut him off from Sam. There was a blind spot where the fence ran into old Section 8 housing and most undertakers didn’t patrol there. A lot of it probably had to do with the payoffs they were getting because it was a favorite spot for junkies to go when they were too afraid to actually set foot in the district. The vampires knew where to find them and there was already an aberration in the fence where it had been repeatedly peeled back. Someone had left fabric tied around the ends of it and it made it easy for Roman to yank it out of the way and slip through. It brushed his hands as he did, leaving smoking marks in their wake, but they would heal before he turned the block. He thought he should have been more afraid to be on the other side. His kind was the enemy here and if anyone noticed what he was than it wouldn’t take long until he had a black bag over his head. It had happened to enough vampires in the last week, and they’d been on their side of the fence. He felt a familiar anger at that, at the war that Nolan had declared on his kind. They’d taken away the few scraps they’d been granted and replaced them with bags of animal blood and silver cuffs. Roman refused. He’d gone back to hunting illegally and more than a few of them had been junkies that he’d met before. Some of them had been women he’d fucked in the past, and he wondered if Sam would be hurt by that. He wondered if she’d missed him. He wondered if she’d be happy to see him or if she would tell him that he never should have come. It was easy to imagine her voice telling him that he was a stupid fucking Fang because she’d said it before. She’d hated him for a long time and doubt coursed through him at that thought because maybe she’d never stopped. Maybe she’d been reeling him in for Nolan. The thought of it made his chest constrict painfully because he hadn’t been able to go a day without thinking about her. He kept his head down and still had to avoid two separate patrols of undertakers on his way to her apartment. One of them had called him out and come after him. He’d had to cut through back alleys and crouch on a fire escape until they passed. By the time he got to her apartment he was tense and anxious, straining to hear footsteps behind him. It made it easier for him to knock on the door, but after he did he felt a different kind of anxiousness. He told himself he just needed to see her. He just wanted to make sure she was okay. After that he would go back and keep trying to find his father a way out. He’d leave her alone. But he’d promised, so he needed to see her again, at least just once. The door cracked open and he tilted his head when he saw narrowed eyes looking up at him. The door shut quickly when the boy saw him and it stayed that way for a long moment. When it finally opened again he didn’t expect the small fist that hit him in the arm. “Where have you been all week, asshole?” Bobby asked. He crossed his arms over his chest afterwards, a dark scowl on his face. He was in his pajamas but Roman could hear the television on, so he hadn’t been in bed. He wondered how late it was because clocks didn’t mean much to him anymore. He’d cared when there was a curfew. Now that didn’t matter to him anymore. All the rules and laws he’d tried so hard to follow didn’t mean shit because they’d taken his father and locked him down in the slums like a rabid dog. His gaze flicked past Bobby but even as he did he felt a sinking feeling in his chest. Sam wasn’t here. He knew it without setting foot in the place. He wondered what he’d thought would happen. Did he think she’d just wait around for him? He tried to fight back the feeling of disappointment and regret and focus on the boy still glaring up at him. “Does your sister know you curse like that?” Bobby snorted and didn’t back down. “Does my sister know you’re even alive?” The words stung and Roman ducked his head because the kid was making guilt churn in his stomach. “Is she here?” he asked. Bobby was quiet and Roman didn’t like the silence. He wondered where she was and if she was seeing someone and he felt foolish for coming. It was an unnecessary risk and he should have kept his distance. Easier to drown in his hate and his anger. “No,” Bobby finally said. He turned his back on Roman and walked back inside the apartment, but he left the door open behind him. He took it as an invitation and followed him in, pulling it shut after. He licked his lips, gaze scanning the place and straying towards the hallway where her bedroom was. “Her asshole boss came and took her to dinner.” Roman grew still at the words, gaze flicking to Bobby. For a moment he couldn’t call him on cursing again. All he could think was that Sam was with Nolan and he felt colder than he usually did. His hand scrubbed over his mouth and his skin and his fingers were cold because he was dead. He was a fucking Fang and she made it clear where she stood with his kind. Bobby didn’t look back, crawling onto the corner of the couch and hitting play on his movie. “You mean Nolan,” Roman said, his voice harsh. Bobby’s brow furrowed but he didn’t look away from the television. “Yeah,” he said. He picked at his blanket and he looked sad and upset. “It’s not her fault. Well, this time it’s not. She doesn’t want to go but he makes her.” Roman let his face go blank at the words, his head turning towards the television instead of at Bobby. He knew what kind of leverage Nolan had over her. She’d said it herself. If she didn’t do what she was told than he would hurt her kid brother and he felt a wave of hatred steal over him. He believed that, believed her, whether or not he was damned for doing so. “She misses you, you know,” Bobby said. He said the words matter of factly, and he felt warmth spreading through his chest. He glanced down at him but Bobby was still just watching the screen. “She went to see you on Wednesday but you weren’t there anymore.” Then he frowned darkly and his head turned towards Roman. “You said you’d keep her safe,” he said bitterly. Roman frowned and he didn’t understand the anger on his face. He walked stiffly over to the couch, sitting on the opposite end of it and resting his elbows on his knees. He licked his lips and he could still taste Octavius’s blood on his tongue, bitter and vile. “I’m trying,” Roman said. He wondered why he couldn’t meet his eyes when he said it. Bobby made a face and looked away. “Well try harder.” Roman looked sidelong at Sam’s brother but he didn’t see any malice on his face. Just concern and fear and he didn’t miss how he licked his lips and glanced at the door when he thought Roman wasn’t looking. He thought about Sam coming to see him and just finding an empty apartment instead and he couldn’t help but feel guilty. He hadn’t expected her to come to him. If she’d needed him he wouldn’t have been there and he thought he would have to show her where to go in case she ever did. Even as he thought it, he knew it should have crossed his mind that she could turn on him. She could show Nolan what he wanted to know and get them all killed. But the thought of her needing him and not knowing where to go somehow hurt worse. The warm feeling in his chest intensified and he looked down at the table, his mouth moving and making promises for him. "I will," he said. |
| Sam walked alone in the dark. She'd lost her jacket somewhere between the restaurant and Nolan's place, so her arms were bare and crossed over her chest, new bruises along her biceps because Nolan liked to get rough. She'd expected it from him. She'd expected him to leave bruises and marks on her and it had been made better by the high she'd been on. It had just been sex. It didn't mean anything other than she could keep her job. She wondered if she even really wanted it anymore. Maybe she was just too scared ot tell Nolan no. Her heels clicked along the sidewalk as she made her way across the city. He hadn't offered her a ride home or even one of his many bodyguards to walk with her. He hadn't even gotten out of bed afterwards. He'd just rolled over and had told her it was probably time for her to go. She'd gotten out of bed, put her dress back on, and left. Just like that. She'd always known what Nolan wanted and she hated him but it still hurt to just have him kick her out when he was done with her. She was coming down off her high by the time she made it into the elevator. It just left her tired. Tired and sore and she wished she could crawl into her bed and not ever get back out again. Maybe for Bobby she would. But not for anyone else. Not for anything else. She wondered how she'd let herself get this way. This uncaring, used and abused junkie whore. She'd never felt at a lower point in her life and her hand lifted subconsciously to her side. She could feel the marks on her skin beneath her dress. Nolan hadn't said anything about the marks. He hadn't said anything really, except to roll over and get out. When she opened the door, she felt her stomach drop out from beneath her. The television was playing lowly and Bobby was curled up on the couch on one side, a blanket pulled around him. He looked sleepy, but his eyes shot to her as soon as she entered. She barely spared Bobby a second glance, her eyes falling and staying on the vampire who sat next to him. Roman's head was turned slightly towards her and there was a needy, guilty look on his face. She wasn't sure whether to buy it or not. She wasn't sure whether she could even do this with him right now. "Sam.." Bobby started and she wondered what her little brother thought of her. She was afraid to find out. "Well, well," she said and there was something cruel and nasty to her voice that was accentuated by the bruises on her skin and the drugs still lingering in her blood. It was made worse by the weakness in her legs and the lingering feeling of Nolan all over her. She shut the door behind her, tossing her purse onto the chair and kicking off her shoes. She smirked cruelly at Roman, who was watching her with a slight frown on his face. "I'd say it was good to know you're still breathing, but that wouldn't exactly be a politically correct statement, would it, Fang?" she spit out the slur and it was meaner and nastier than usual. She saw Roman's face fall. It was only slightly, but she caught it and she wondered how when the edges of the world were still dull and her mind was still reeling. A part of her was so fucking relieved that he was alive. A part of her wanted to run to him and wrap her arms around him and beg him to stay with her and never leave again. She didn't know what was stopping her. She didn't know why she was spitting venomous words or sneering at him so cruelly. It was just what this world had made her. It was just what was left of her. "Sam..." Roman said, pushing himself to his feet. "Did you kill Octavius?" she asked, heading towards the television and switching it off. She didn't miss the way Bobby tensed, or looked between the both of them like he didn't understand what was going on. He wasn't the only one. She didn't understand her own anger and her own rage towards Roman. Roman nodded his head. "Yes," he said simply and she saw his eyes start to move over her body and she turned around so he couldn't see her arms. "Because he was a blood dealer," Sam said instead of asked. "Because he was Nolan's foot solider." Roman licked his lips. "Yes," he said again. "And for what he did." Sam turned sharply at that and she glared at Roman with sudden seething and anger stemming from a place she didn't know. "Oh, you mean because he fucked me," she spat and she heard Bobby's sharp intake of breath. Roman's eyes flickered to him and then he frowned, looking back towards her with a curious and worried look on his face. "Tell me something, Roman," she said, leaning against the edge of the couch. She saw his eyes go to her arms and she didn't bother trying to hide the many bite marks, one arm clean and pristine and that was Roman. The other arm was a mess of bites and tears and those were all the others. "Is he dead because he fucked me, or because you didn't?" The look on Roman's face was unreadable. He finally dipped his head slightly and said quietly, "I should go." "What?" Bobby croaked and he stood up. "No wait," he turned to look at Sam and she met his petulant gaze. "Sam, what are you doing? You've missed him all week." Sam snarled at her brother, shoving him towards the hallway. "Go to bed," she spat at him. Bobby turned around to frown at her. "What's wrong with you?" he yelled and she was surprised and angered to see tears in his eyes. She glared back at him, fully aware that Roman still stood in the room, awkwardly. Bobby's hands were curled into fists and he looked more angry with her than she'd ever seen him get. "You're acting like a bitch!" he spat and she growled, reaching down to grab the first thing her hand could curl around, which was the remote. She hurled it at Bobby and in the back of her mind she was eternally grateful that he was able to duck beneath it. It cracked against the wall, the back of it and the batteries falling out onto the floor. "Go to bed, damn it!" she screamed at him. "I hate you!" Bobby screamed at her and the words were like a blow to the gut. The next ones just twisted the knife home. "You're the reason everyones leaves us!" And then her brother was running down the hallway to his bedroom and she heard the door slam. For a moment she just stared at it and there was an empty, terrible shock inside of her that threatened to take the ground out from beneath her feet. Then she remembered Roman and she turned back to look at him. he stood by the door, his eyes on the hallway before they came back to her. "What are you still doing here?" she snapped at him. "I thought you were leaving." "I am," he growled back at her. But his actions didn't follow his words as he took a few steps towards her, grabbing her wrist and holding her arm out so he could see. Sam just glared defiantly up at his face. "Octavius called you a junkie whore," he said, something dangerous and low in the tone of his voice. Sam felt like he'd slapped her in the face and she knew where her anger was coming from suddenly. She hadn't known where he'd been. She hadn't known if he had forgotten about her or lied to her or was dead. She'd thought the worse and when Nolan had said Octavius was dead, she'd realized she hadn't trusted him. She'd given up on him and how could she expect him to trust her when she couldn't trust anyone. Not couldn't, but wouldn't. "Well he was right," she said and she felt tears leak out onto her cheeks. She didn't try to take her arm back from him. "I like it when Fangs bite me. I used to go every day in between seeing you because you just weren't enough." She saw something flicker across Roman's face and she heard her own voice shaking. "I would go find someone right now to bite me if I weren't already high. Octavius was right because I am a fucking junkie and I'm a whore because I fucked him and guess what, tonight I fucked Nolan too." Her voice cut out at the end she let out a small sob. Roman growled and his fingers tightened around her wrist. Next thing she knew, he was slamming her up against the wall. She gasped as his hand slammed into the wall beside her head. "Were you just using me?" he snarled lowly. "Everything you told me, was it just a lie to get close to me?" She cried, her lips trembling and she couldn't look at his face. "What if I said yes?" she asked and she heard him snarl and hit at the wall again next to her head. "Would you kill me? Would you bite me?" she sneered at his face. Roman watched her for a moment before he let go of her wrist and took a step backwards. He shook his head and said quietly, "I wouldn't believe you." He turned towards the door and his words lingered in the air for a moment. Sam brought her hands to her face and she felt panicked and terrible and desparate not to let him go. "I wasn't," she cried to him and he paused in the doorway, but didn't turn around. Sam slid down the wall to sit on the floor and she tried to cover the bite marks on her arms from the world. "I didn't lie to you," she whispered and held her head in her hands, crying quietly into them. She felt her mascara running and she felt the breeze from the open door and she wanted desperately to tell him that she wasn't using him and she hadn't lied to him and she needed him more than anything in the world. She needed him. And she thought if he walked out the door now, she'd have nothing. If he walked out the door now, she should just go to her room and lay down and never get back up again because it would be better for everyone. It would be better for everyone if the world was rid of one less junkie whore. "I thought you left me," she cried softly and she wasn't even entirely sure he was still in the room, that's how silent he was being. She shook her head and her face was still burried in her hands, her tears staining her skin. "I can't do this by myself," she whispered. "I can't do this." |
| Roman stood in the doorway for a long time. He didn’t turn around but he could hear her crying quietly into her hands and the sound tore at his heart. A mix of anger and pain made him want to walk right out the door and slam it behind him and he’d been a second away from doing that. He knew if he did he wouldn’t come back. There was a dark voice in the back of his mind telling him that she’d only ever wanted one thing from him and that was the feeling of his fangs in her skin. She was a junkie. Just another junkie that wanted to use him because the only thing Fangs were good for was a high. His hands were shoved in his pockets and his shoulders were tense, his spine a rigid bar of steel. He didn’t know what he thought was happening with her. He didn’t know why he thought she would be any different and that thought twisted in his gut like a knife. “What is it you want from me?” His voice was low and quiet, calmer than he felt. It felt like his insides were being put through a blender and he wondered why all of this hurt so fucking badly. He still didn’t turn around to look at her. He heard her breath hitch and her voice turned angry again. “Nolan said you were his bitch,” she spat. “Is it true?” He turned his head to the side, voice emotionless and cold. “He said the same thing about you.” She laughed and it was a bitter thing, broken up by a quiet sob that she choked off. She tipped her head back to rest it against the wall, arms wrapping around her knees. The orange dress she wore was wrinkled and it stank of Nolan. The smell of him was all over her skin and it didn’t do anything but make him angrier. It stirred dark jealousy in him and he wished it didn’t hurt because she had never been his. There was pain clawing away at his chest just thinking of her teasing smiles and asking what it took to get his attention and he wondered if she’d meant any of it. “Well, I fucked him, so it must be true, right?” A snarl left his lips and he couldn’t stand to hear anymore. He was out the door before she could say anything else because he didn’t want to hear the words or smell the stink of Nolan and dried sweat on her skin. He slammed the door shut behind him and didn’t look back. He felt sick and violent and there wasn’t anything close enough to break except himself. She’d used him. She’d played him and he’d been stupid enough to believe her because at some point he’d decided he’d wanted her. His father had warned him whose pawn she was. He hadn’t listened. Even if she wasn’t, even if she’d told him the truth about that, she’d still fucked him and that made him sick with jealousy and hate. The only thing she’d wanted from Roman was his bite. Maybe she would have fucked him if he’d asked, but it wasn’t what she wanted and she would never have been his. Hatred churned in his gut and made him blind. He didn’t pay attention to where he was going and he didn’t remember that he was out of his district and out past curfew. It didn’t occur to him because he didn’t care anymore. He wasn’t sure he cared about anything. He didn’t see the undertakers until he was too close to avoid them. They were walking side by side and blocking the sidewalk ahead of him. For a moment he considered trying to duck off down the alleyway and then one of them frowned in confusion at him, probably not believing any Fang was that stupid. He held up his hand to stop his friend and then he lifted his gun. “Hold it Fang,” he snapped. “Hands above your head and face the wall.” Roman’s eyes narrowed but he did as they said. He lifted his hands and he turned towards the brick wall beside him. As soon as he felt the sting of silver closing around one wrist he was moving. The man had enough time to gasp before Roman’s fingers closed over his wrist and then he was screaming as the bone twisted and snapped. He didn’t care. He wanted him to hurt because he was in pain. It intensified when the gun went off and he felt something burning and searing its way into his shoulder. It didn’t stop him. He kept moving forward, hand wrapping around the barrel of the gun and forcing it upwards. Another shot rang out and that was all he got off before Roman ripped it from him and tossed it off down the alleyway. His fingers wrapped around the man’s throat and then he shoved him hard against the wall before bringing his teeth down into his neck. There was a gasp of pain as his fangs tore through his skin, blood bursting in his mouth and coating his tongue. It was hot and metallic and flooded him with strength and he didn’t care. It wasn’t Sam, and he hated himself and her as soon as he thought it. Her voice whispered in his head, a quiet whimper as she said she didn’t lie to him. He hated that he still wanted to believe her. His jaws clamped tighter around the man’s throat and he kept going long after he normally would have stopped. He drained him until his skin was cold and in the back of his mind he knew he was crossing a line he couldn’t get back. He’d spent years trying to convince himself he wasn’t that monster anymore and that things like Galveston weren’t going to happen again, at least not at his hands. Here he was, doing the same thing all over again and there was a crunch as his fangs finally crushed the man’s windpipe. Roman let his body fall to the ground, tongue coming out to lick the blood from his lips. He wasn’t thinking about consequences. He wasn’t thinking how it would look tomorrow. All he was thinking about was just how much everything hurt right now and how much he wanted to break something. He heard the click of a safety coming off and it reminded him of the second undertaker. The man’s teeth were gritted in pain, his arm lifting his gun and trying to focus it on Roman. He got it up and pointed and then he let out a hiss when he found him crouched beside him. It was all he had time for before Roman’s jaws sunk into his throat. It should have been satisfying. The line he’d walked for years was destroyed in those quick moments and he should have felt free. He didn’t. He didn’t feel anything but the same rage and hatred in his chest, coupled with the sharp knives of betrayal and jealousy and the memory of Sam’s fingers on the back of his neck. He’d killed Octavius like he’d promised himself and come back like he’d promised her and it hadn’t meant anything. He didn’t mean anything and he hated that it hurt this badly. He let the bodies lie where they fell and tried to pay attention this time. He dodged two more patrols and there was a part of him that wished they saw him. He wished they would try and stop him so that he had an excuse to take out his rage and his hurt on something flesh and blood. Never mind that at one point this could have been Sam, because he swore to himself over and over again that he didn’t care. She was just another junkie and he hated that he was the one thinking it because he’d thought she was more. Words repeated themselves in his head, the things she’d said to him and the sight of her arms littered with scars. She had used him and he still hadn’t been enough. No wonder Bobby had come to him begging him to stop. No wonder she’d offered herself to him so willingly and he felt disgusted with himself and with her. He’d built up years of distaste for junkies because they got off on it, off the feeling of death in their skin. He’d never have lumped Sam in with them. She’d hated him and she’d taunted him because of his hunger and all the while she had wanted it from him. She’d made him beg when he could have done the same to her. It was a long time until he got back to the warehouse he called home now. He couldn’t stop his hands from wrapping around a rusted chunk of metal and tossing it across the basement. It slammed into a cement pillar and showered rusted flakes off onto the ground as it did. His fingers ran over his face and back through his hair and his steps were quick as he made his way upstairs. He couldn’t stop moving. He couldn’t stop himself from ripping one of the lights off the wall on his way and it shorted and sparked beautifully in response. He slammed his door open and as soon as he did he upended one of the boxes that held his life in it. Books and bookends scattered across the floor and he scooped one up and hurled it against the wall. It thudded against the plaster and he sent another one to follow it, hands finding anything he could grasp to throw and break. There wasn’t much left. He’d moved quickly so that Nolan couldn’t change his mind and black bag him again and now all he was left with were a few broken remnants. His fingers flexed and he felt blood soaking through his shirt and he didn’t care because Sam had broken him all over again. That knowledge stung. He slumped down on the edge of his bed, some of the violence finally seeping out of his skin and he just rested his head in his hands. He didn’t know her. He’d been stupid to think a few kind words and a few soft touches changed anything. His bed behind him seemed empty and cold and all he’d wanted for the last week was to have her in it. Now he couldn’t remember why. The door creaked open and he glanced over his hands to the intruder. A snarl curled his lips and the heels of his hands ground into his eyes. “Not now Giselle,” he spat. He knew it was a small hope that she would actually listen to him. A quiet laugh met his words and he heard her heels on the carpet. “Your temper seems worse than usual,” she said playfully. “I said not now,” he snarled. There was a book by his feet and he picked it up just to throw it against the wall. She pouted and then her fingers were wrapping around his wrists, pulling his hands from his eyes. “Roman,” she said, his name rolling off her lips. It was as familiar as the pain it brought with it. For a moment he thought he was destined to love women who would ultimately destroy him and it was stupid to think that about Sam. It hadn’t been love. It had been lust and infatuation and an overwhelming urge to protect her, but it hadn’t gotten as far as love. He tried to believe it was better he knew now. “Go away, Giselle,” he snarled, yanking his hands from her. He pushed himself to his feet and they carried him back and forth across the apartment, the wretched feelings in his chest spreading their fingers through his veins. He could still taste blood on his lips and he barely remembered why. All he could picture was wiping the blood off Sam’s legs and her hands as she did the same to him. “You’re bleeding,” Giselle said. He blinked and he didn’t understand what she was talking about at first. Her hands gripped his arms and she pushed him back towards the bed before swinging a leg over his lap. A hiss left his lips as her fingers prodded his skin. “It’s nothing,” he told her. “Nothing? There’s a silver bullet in your shoulder love. Those things tend to fester.” She smiled at that and he finally looked up at her. Dark hair fell around her face, the kind that artists and sculptors would die to recreate. She had always been beautiful. Rotten on the inside, but then wasn’t he? Nothing but a Fang, good enough for a high, but not for anything else. He winced when her nails dug into his skin but he didn’t pull away. They dug into his flesh and he saw her face contort when she finally pulled the bullet from inside his skin. It was hissing as it touched her fingers and she tossed it quickly onto the floor. When her head turned back to him the smile was back on her face. She slid her arms around his neck, her other leg coming to rest on the bed next to him. He felt her fingers playing through the back of his hair and they were as cold as ice against his skin. They weren’t what he wanted. She wasn’t who he wanted, but his hands settled on her hips and he wondered if he shouldn’t just be content with the scraps he was thrown. Giselle would never be his alone, but she could be his, at least for a little while. “Tell me what’s bothering you,” she said. Her hand moved to his face and he felt her fingers running along his lower lip before lifting it to her own. Her fingertips were bloody, and he wasn’t sure if it was from him or the undertakers. He wasn’t sure he cared. His head tipped up and then his mouth was meeting hers, kissing her with bruising strength. She laughed quietly against his lips and he felt her hand settle on his chest. She started to push him away but his hand came up to tangle in her hair, dragging her mouth against his. “I just want to forget,” he told her. “Please.” “Roman,” she purred. “You know I hate it when you beg.” |
| Sam stared at the closed door for a moment, feeling a scream building up in her chest. She felt dizzy and hot and there was panic threatening to close off her throat because he'd left. He'd slammed the door and he'd left and she had no idea where he would go or if she'd ever see him again and a little voice was screaming at her to go after him. Don't let him walk away, but she couldn't move. She couldn't keep him from leaving because that's just who she was. She was a good for nothing junkie whore who according to Bobby was the reason everyone always left them. And suddenly she couldn't be in the apartment anymore. She felt like she'd been slapped in the face or punched in the gut and she wasn't even crying anymore. She didn't think she had anything left in her to cry out. She'd finished off Dulci's good will present at Nolan and there wasn't a beer in the fridge and she was too sober to stay here. She'd tried to change who she was for him. She'd tried, but now there was no point because he knew and she'd let him walk away and she wasn't good enough. She'd never be good enough. Shoving herself up, she didn't bother pulling her heels back on. She slipped on her tennis shoes and left her purse behind and she was out the door, slamming it behind her the same way he had. Her dress was rumpled and dirty and she was a mess with her mascara leaking all over her face and her eyes red and puffy. It was late and dark but she couldn't be here and she couldn't be sober. When she reached the elevator, she heard the door open and she didn't have to turn around to know it was Bobby. "Sam!" she heard her little brother cry and she refused to look at him because she could tell he'd been crying. She could tell by his voice and his sniffling and she'd made him cry and she felt tears brimming at her eyes again. "Where are you going?" Bobby demanded, running over to her as she waited for the elevator. "Don't worry about it," she told him, her own voice heavy with emotion. "Sam, please don't go," Bobby cried, stepping in between her and the elevator and she growled because what was taking it so long. "I didn't mean to say that," he cried and sucked in a sob afterwards. She had to bite her lips because if she didn't, she'd echo it with a sob of her own. "I don't hate you and I don't really think it's your fault..." "It is," she snarled at him and he jerked in surprise when she pointed her finger at him. She almost backed down when she saw the tears on his cheeks and his flushed face. She almost backed down because it had been a long time since she'd seen him cry or get upset. "I'm a junkie and I let people fuck me, Bobby," she told him and it made Bobby sob and shake his head. She didn't let him talk. "I could stop it if I wanted, but I don't. So get used to failure and disappointment because that's all you're ever going to get out of me." Bobby shook his head again and cried out, "Don't say that!" The elevator dinged and the door slid open. Sam manhandled her little brother out of the way and stepped inside, jamming the button to try and get the doors to close faster. Bobby stood in the way, putting his foot in the elevator door so it wouldn't. "Get back inside, Bobby." "I need you, Sam," he cried and the words hit her hard. She felt them deep in her chest and a small sob left her throat before she managed to shut it off. Her eyes darted around his face and she felt nothing but hatred and loathing for herself. This was all her fault. Bobby's fucked up life and her Roman's hate and anger. "Please, I need my sister." Licking her lips, her face quivered and she was gentler this time as she reached out and pushed him back, away from the doors so they could close. She stood back and tried to pretend she didn't care about the tears on Bobby's cheeks, dripping down to his chin. "I'll be back in time to take you to school," she told him and tried to offer him a smile but she couldn't get one on her face, so she just looked back at the buttons and jammed them again. Bobby didn't stop the door this time when they closed, but she heard him sob after they did. She fell back into the corner of the elevator, crossing her arms over her chest, one hand coming to her face as she tried to hold the sobs back. What was she doing? Why couldn't she stop ruining their lives? Why couldn't she just stop? It didn't take long to find Reno's once she stepped out of the elevator. The Undertakers didn't give a shit about a tear-stricken, half crazed junkie wanting to get into the vampire district. She heard their comments as she passed, but they were probably thickening their pockets by turning their heads the other way and letting her go. They probably all knew where the blood bank was and they probably all bought their groceries with the money they earned pretending they didn't. The blood bank had been booming since Nolan had stopped the feeder program. Sam had been trying to stay away, for Roman, and for Bobby, but she knew deep down it would only be a matter of time until she came back here. It was noisy when she got there. It was bustling and she wasn't used to that, but it didn't surprise her. She made her way down the stairs and the vampire who stood by the gate smirked when he saw her, but didn't say anything as he opened the gate and let her inside. Reno stood by his little podium, leaning onto it and flirting with a blonde vampire who wore some skimpy purple lingerie thing and leather boots. Sam thought all she needed was a whip and the set would be complete. Reno must have heard and smelled her coming, because he turned to look at her as soon as she stepped into view of him. He grinned and Sam immediately made her way over to him, giving the blonde vampire a once over before she looked directly at Reno. "Well hello, hello, pet," Reno said. "You know what I'm here for, so get to it," she said and she saw Reno lift a brow at her. He snorted and then glanced at the blonde, winking. "I'll be back with you after," he told her, holding his hand out to Sam. She didn't take it, just moved pass him and pretended like she knew where he wanted to go. She was too sober, that was the only thought moving through her mind and she was frantic for Reno to bite her. She was frantic to feel the fangs and make this pain go away. She just wanted it to go away and she didn't care how she made it go, she just wanted it gone. They turned the corner to a row of rooms and this was a part she'd never been to before. They didn't make it to any of the rooms, over even truly out of sight of the entrance. As soon as they turned, Reno grabbed her by the back of the neck, slamming her up against the wall. She gasped, her face pressed against the brick, feeling it scrape at her skin. His other hand grabbed her hip and his mouth hovered just over her neck. She bent her head to the side, exposing it for him, and she could feel the tips of his fangs scraping just above her skin. "Bite me you fucking asshole," she growled at him. Reno laughed. "Sammy, you've got to ask nice." She growled and bucked against the hand on her neck because she hated his games and she just wanted him to fucking bite her. "I'm not playing, just do it," she said through grit teeth. "Say please," Reno whispered, his tongue coming out to run down her jaw. Sam let out a whimper. "Please," she grit out. Reno's chuckle was cruel and she sucked in a breath when she felt his hand pulling her dress up so it was settled on her hip. She felt his fingers hook into her underwear and pull them down. She closed her eyes and liked her lips and Reno's mouth was just over her ear as he whispered, "Say, Reno, please fuck me." Closing her eyes, she nodded her head and whispered, "Reno, please just fuck me." He laughed, pausing in his motions and for a moment Sam didn't think he was going to do either, fuck nor bite. But then he said, "You've really sunk low, pet," and she gasped as his fangs sunk down onto her neck at the same time he entered her and she pressed her face against the bricks and begged for her sobriety to go away. She just wanted everything to go away. |
Chapter Seven There was blood soaking through the neck of his shirt. It wasn’t Roman’s. Not the blood or the shirt. It belonged the undertaker he’d taken it from, a man whose body was floating somewhere in the river with twelve of his friends. It was the most they’d killed so far. He thought he might have felt worse about that, but they’d all been part of a black bagging team and Roman hadn’t felt anything when he’d killed them. There’d been no guilt and no satisfaction. There’d been nothing but the cold that had settled into his chest. It had been three days since he’d seen Sam. Somewhere in the back of his mind there was a voice telling him that it was Wednesday and it was supposed to be one of her nights. She would come over and roll up her sleeve and then she would make him ask like a good dog for his treat before she let him. He’d played along. Not because it was the rules. He’d played because he didn’t want to force her. He wondered now what the point was. She had wanted it just as badly and she didn’t care who she got it from. She didn’t care if it was Roman or Octavius or someone else he didn’t know about. She had used him, and he had to remind himself he didn’t care. Solomon glanced at him as he stepped up into the back of the van. His jaw tightened before he looked away and he didn’t look at Roman again as he shoved his way out the back. He didn’t blame him. He remembered what that felt like, the dark jealousy that choked off every other thought and made him sick. Giselle had done it to him and it felt odd that now he was responsible for that same sort of agony. He knew the lies the man was telling himself. He loved her. It didn’t matter if she was fucking someone else because it was just sex and it didn’t mean anything. Her heart was still his. Better that he take her scraps than get nothing at all. The words were all familiar but they didn’t hurt anymore. It didn’t hurt knowing that Giselle climbed out of his bed when they were done and went back to Solomon’s arms. It didn’t hurt that she wasn’t his girl or that he was just the fuck on the side because there was nothing left of him to hurt. The only thing that hurt was that sometimes when she was underneath him he closed his eyes and he pictured Sam. He imagined it was her nails scratching down his back and her lips sliding over his chest. It wasn’t. It was never Sam and it was never going to be Sam because she’d never been his. She belonged to Nolan. The man sitting on the bench inside was breathing heavily, his heart racing. There were silver cuffs around his wrist and a black bag over his head and Roman thought he should have found more humor in that. That’s how they left half of the dead undertakers. Black bagged and thrown in the river so that those finding them didn’t know if they were human or vampire. Roman pulled the bag off his head before he sat down across from him. He held the fabric in his hands and remembered the feel of it as it clung to his face. It helped remind him why he was doing this. It helped remind him that Gaius probably still wore one. “I’d like to ask you some questions,” Roman said. His voice was quiet and calm and as cold as he felt inside. The man blinked in the light, his hair mussed around his face from the black bag. He was middle aged, his hair a light brown with a matching, closely trimmed beard. He still wore the uniform he’d left work in, a pressed black suit with a badge still hanging from the breast pocket. They’d picked him up after watching him leave the Sayre penitentiary and no one had stopped them. They were dressed like Nolan’s black baggers. No one had anything to fear from them except Fangs and Fang lovers. “I don’t have anything to say to you, Fang.” The man’s eyes were glazed as he tried to focus on Roman, wavering slightly on his feet. There was a cut on the side of his head from where Solomon had slammed it against the side of the vehicle. Roman could smell his blood from across the van but it barely stirred his hunger. He’d already fed on the undertaker he’d stolen these clothes from. “You do,” Roman told him. There was no question in the words. He rested his elbows on his knees and his face didn’t change expression. “I know you work at Sayre. There are things I’d like to know about it.” The man met his gaze before he looked away, steeling himself against whatever he thought was coming. “Go to Hell, Fang.” “What defenses does the prison have?” Roman asked. He ignored the words and he didn’t correct the man. He didn’t tell him that he didn’t believe in Hell or Heaven or God or the Devil. When he’d been turned there’d been many Gods and he’d killed men for refusing to pray to them. He’d killed them because he was a soldier and that was what he’d been told to do. His Gods had still died. “I’m not telling you a fucking thing,” the man spat. “You’re just going to kill me anyway, so you better do it now.” Roman sighed and leaned back against the wall of the van. “What’s your name?” he asked. The man looked over at him and it didn’t matter how fearless he was trying to be. Roman could hear his heart thundering away in his chest. He could hear his breath quickening and he could smell the sweat breaking out on his skin. “Eddie,” he said. “Eddie,” he said. The man’s gaze flicked over his face and Roman studied him in return. He wondered if he had kids. He wondered if he had a kid like Bobby and he felt the dullest sensation of pain through the ice in his chest. He wondered if the kid hated him now. He wondered if he would forgive him for walking away. “I’m not going to give you my name because if you tell me what I want I don’t see any reason you can’t leave this van alive. I have no interest in killing you. All I care about is getting into that building.” Eddie laughed bitterly and his head tipped back against the ceiling. Roman could hear the steady pounding of his heart, see the pulsing of his veins beneath his skin. The man licked his lips and tried to pretend he wasn’t scared and tried to pretend there weren’t tears pricking his eyes. “You’re lying,” he said. “You’re one of the fucking fangs that’s been ripping through the street crews.” A smile tugged at the corner of Roman’s lips but it was gone in the next moment. He wanted to blame Nolan for turning him back into this monster but he wasn’t sure he’d ever stopped. “I was just a bartender,” he said. “I’d like to go back to that.” Eddie frowned and lifted his head. He studied Roman for a moment before it dropped again. “You’ll really let me go?” There was hope in the question. There was surrender and fear because no matter what he said, Eddie didn’t want to die at the hands of vampires. He didn’t want his blood drained out of his body and he didn’t want to find himself dumped in the river. Roman smiled and leaned forward again, resting his elbows back on his knees. Beneath him he could hear the rumble of the engine as they drove back through the gates. Giselle was driving and if she couldn’t convince them to let her through than no one on earth could. “What defenses guard the gate?” Roman asked him. He didn’t mention that he already knew half of them, just by watching. Eddie hesitated and then he nodded his head before letting it fall back against the wall of the van again. “The fence keeps pretty much everything out,” he said quietly. His voice was low and harsh and he paused for a long time between his words. “It’s made of silver, so your kind can’t touch it. Even if you do get close enough, someone will see you. There’s spotlights on every inch of the wall and guards at every corner. And even if they don’t see you, the flamethrowers will go off when it detects motion.” “Impenetrable,” Roman said. Eddie nodded his head and looked like he wanted to smile and couldn’t quite make it. Roman tilted his head to the side. “What happens if there’s no power going to the gates?” he asked. A frown danced across Eddie’s face for a moment as he sat up. He shifted uncomfortably, hands tugging at the silver cuffs around his wrists. “There’s back up generators,” he told Roman. “Even if you cut the whole city block, the place would keep running.” He smirked and ducked his head. “Sayre’ll keep running even after the rest of the place is burned to the ground.” Roman nodded his head. “I believe you,” he said. “I assume everyone that works there is loyal to Nolan Byrd?” Something flickered across Eddie’s face for a split second. “Of course,” he said. Roman let the lie hang there. He stood and pounded his fist against the top of the van. After a moment it pulled to a stop and Roman stepped forward, holding the keys up for Eddie. “You’ll understand if I don’t do it myself,” he said. He dropped them into the man’s hands and then pulled him up by the arm, pushing the door open and letting him out the back. Eddie stumbled on the sidewalk and turned around with wide and confused eyes. His head turned his gaze darted down the street like he was waiting for death. Maybe Roman should have killed him. He considered it and the longer the man stood there the more he thought that’s what he should do. But he’d given him what he wanted and if he killed him, Nolan would know it was his hands involved. He already knew more than Roman was comfortable with. He wondered just how much Sam had sold him for and he hoped she got a good price at least. “You should run,” Roman told Eddie casually. The man’s eyes widened and then he did as he was told, turning and racing down the street like there were fangs right on his heels. He thought again that maybe there should have been, but he might come in handy again. Giselle rounded the corner of the van, hand resting against the door as she watched him run. “That was… naïve,” she said. Roman snorted and then hopped out of the back of the van. Solomon came from the passenger side, pausing to light a cigarette up and the smell of it was painful in its familiarity. For a moment that was all he could feel, the pain cutting through him with sharp, burning intensity. It reminded him of walking Sam home in the aftermath of Howard’s death, of lighting her cigarette and watching her walk away. It reminded him of the way she’d looked huddled in her apartment, bruised and hurt because that’s all people did to her. “Maybe,” Roman admitted. If he was lucky, Eddie might not say anything. He might not want to admit he’d been abducted and questioned by vampires. He ran a hand over his mouth and then turned to them, nodding his head down the street. “Hide the van and go home. I’ll be back after I meet with Christian and tell him what I can afford to let him know.” Giselle smiled and her fingers rose to run against his jaw. They were cold and they echoed the cold feeling in his chest, but it was still soft and affectionate. He heard the faint snarl from Solomon’s lips but he didn’t look up at him. “I’ll be waiting,” she said. |
| Dulci lived in a little trailer at the edge of the vampire district. It was easy to see this is where junkies of all sort lived. Dulci had her coke, Sam was pretty sure there was a meth lab up the street, and on every corner there was a whore or a Fang junkie trying to score something or other. Sam wished she felt out of place here, but truth was, she didn't feel judged. Dulci smiled when she showed up every day and she thought the girl was just happy to have someone to snort stuff with. Three days. Three days since Roman had walked out and she let him. It didn't seem like much, but mostly because Sam spent every moment she could high on something or other. She'd been back to see Reno twice and she hardly ever left Dulci's any more except to go drive Bobby to school and go to work. Nolan hadn't invited her back to his place again, and mostly she'd just been reading magazines in his office. She was surprised he hadn't asked her for a blow beneath the table, but maybe he was getting ready to toss her to the side and leave her, just like Roman. The thought hurt, but she didn't think it was because she had any feelings but hatred for Nolan. She thought it was because anything that reminded her of Roman these days just felt horrible. It was Bobby she felt bad for. She'd pretty much checked out on him and they both knew it. She'd woken up one night to him tucking her in and she hadn't had the heart to tell him to stop or don't bother. He still made her breakfast in the morning and he still asked her if she would be there at night and she would always tell him the same thing. She'd be home in time to drive him to school. She didn't know what was going to happen on the weekend. "You know, you're my best friend," Dulci said and Sam smirked, letting out a laugh. She sat on Dulci's dirty couch, her feet propped up on the coffee table. There were beer cans and ash trays set up all around the table and Sam had a cigarette hanging from between her fingers. She rolled her head along the back of the couch to look at Dulci, who was laying across a loveseat, her head hanging over the side and her blonde hair hanging all the way to the ground. She was pointing at the ceiling, like she was counting the spots on it or something. Sam laughed, rubbing at her nose, the after burn of the drugs still making her face tingle. "Are you talking to me or the ceiling?" she asked. Dulci laughed and it was loud and obnoxious. She sat up quickly and pointed at Sam. "You, sweetheart," she said. Scoffing, Sam shook her head, her dark hair falling about her shoulders. "You don't even know me," she said, taking a drag of her cigarette. "If you knew me, you'd send me packing. I'm trouble." "Nah," Dulci said. "I know you." She leaned forward and tipped a little out of her chair trying to reach for a beer can. She had trouble picking between three different ones and Sam wondered when those had gotten there because she hadn't drank anything since coming over here. "You're just like me," Dulci winked over at her. Sam stared at the girl for a moment and she was absolutely sure it was supposed to be a compliment, but she didn't take it that way. She turned away from the blonde, eyes roaming the apartment. Dulci was a whore and a drug addict and she escorted big time officials anywhere they wanted her to go because they paid her money to keep her mouth shut. She lived in filth and spent her time high and if Sam was just like her, then this wasn't where she thought she'd be twenty years ago. She wondered what happened to the dancer. A knock on the front door saved Sam from explaining to Dulci that she didn't want to be just like her. The girl leapt up from the loveseat and went to the trailer door, kicking it open. She laughed and leaned against the wall. "Well hey there handsome," she said and as soon as she said it, Sam knew who it was. "Fucking Christian," she spat, taking another heavy drag of her cigarette. "Hey bitches," Christian said and she rolled her eyes as the man stepped into the trailer. The bastard always seemed to know that she was over at Dulci's. Sometimes he stopped by just for the heck of stopping by. She didn't know where Nolan had found the creep, but he was nothing like the other Undertakers. He was a punk and a jackass and worse of all, he was one of Nolan's favorites. His face held a tangle of scars, one of his ears ripped and the other pierced. He grinned when he saw Sam and after he leaned over to slap Dulci on the ass, he came to stand next to the couch, looking down at her. "Hey Sammy," he said and she sneered at the nickname because it reminded her of Reno and things she didn't want to admit she'd done. "The fuck do you want?" she spat at him. Christian snorted, putting his hands on his hips. "That's no way to talk to someone who's about to ensure your paycheck." Rolling her eyes, Sam let out a groan and looked towards the wall. She'd just gotten done doing a line with Dulci, she really didn't feel up to doing whatever the hell Nolan wanted her to do tonight. She ran her hands over her face and wondered when this had become her life and how she'd sunk so low so fast. She'd been happy less than two weeks ago. Happy for the first time in a long time and she realized abruptly that she missed Roman, even if she had ruined things with him. She wondered what he was doing and if he thought about her or if he'd already moved on to another junkie whore. "Can't you find someone else?" she spat, already knowing the answer. Christian must not have been in a giving mood, because he told her, "Well, what time does school get out?" The words made anger and hatred spike through her chest and she snapped her head back at him. He was grinning, pretending to look at a watch that wasn't on his wrist. "Fuck you," she spat venomously. She pushed herself to her feet, wavering a little and she shoved off Christian's hand when he reached out to steady her. She grabbed her purse off the table and looked up at Dulci. "I'll be back," she told the girl. Dulci smiled, nodding as she kicked up her feet on the sofa. "Later, darling!" Sam stumbled on the way out of the trailer. She would have landed on her hands and knees, but Christian's arm snagged around her waist, holding her up. She tried to fight him off, but he just grabbed her wrist and laughed. "Chill out, spaz," he told her. "You can do another line in the car. I don't give a shit if you're blasted for where we're going." "I don't need your fucking permission," she told him. Christian just snorted. "Jesus, you're a real peach, you know that?" Sam kept struggling with him until he pulled the door to his car open and shoved her inside. She fell into the backseat, growling and he slammed it shut behind her. Straightening herself, she caught sight of her face in the rearview mirror and immediately she looked away. Christian rounded the car and climbed into the driver's seat, turning around to look at her. "Comfortable back there?" "Just drive," she growled at him. "You know, you better be nice to me," Christian said. "You never know when Nolan's going to get sick of your fucking junkie shit. Then who's going to keep you around? The people who know you're best on your knees, that's who." Sam didn't turn to look at him, just tried to pretend the words didn't hurt, even through the haze of drugs she was in. "I'm not sucking your dick, Christian," she said. He just laughed and started the car. "You say that now. You just wait." Sam laid her head back against the seat. She hugged her arms in on herself and closed her eyes. She wasn't doing a very good job of making the pain go away. It just seemed to get worse and worse. |
| There was a story on the television about two dead undertakers. Roman watched it with a dull expression on his face, arms crossed over his chest and back against the bar. Legion’s was mostly empty, but that wasn’t any different from how it had been the last week and a half. Ever since Nolan’s restriction on vampire activity, the only people that ever came and went were undertakers and junkies. It wasn’t worth it for anyone else to walk into vampire territory just for a beer. There were plenty of human bars for that. “I’m serious you know,” Tessa said. “You’d look like ten years younger without the beard.” Roman glanced at her out of the corner of his eye before he looked back at the screen. She was smiling and flirting with one of the undertakers down at the end and he wondered if she knew that’s what he was. He thought about warning her but he didn’t think they’d give her a hard time. They were there to watch Roman. They were there to make sure he didn’t set a trap for Christian and to give their best shot at tailing him when it was done. He didn’t think that they knew he’d caught onto their games yet, but if they did they didn’t care. Christian was late. He wondered if he should be concerned about that but he’d stopped being concerned about much anymore. If it was a trap he would kill them. If they killed Gaius, he would kill them. There was a part of him that still felt the icy fingers of fear wrap around the back of his neck at that thought. Anymore that was the only thing he cared about. He wanted his father freed and he wanted Nolan dead and he didn’t know what he would do after that. The only possibility that gave him some small pleasure was the thought that Christian was dead. If he was than he wouldn’t shed a tear and they would send someone else as soon as they could. He heard the bell over the door jingle and it was with dull eyes that he glanced over at it. He saw Christian angling his way through the archway and he felt a surge of hatred and loathing for the man. He was one of the worst and he thought Nolan had sent him just for that reason. He hated Fangs almost as much as his master did, and he enjoyed pointing out to Roman just how short his leash was. There was someone else behind him and Roman tensed because the man usually came alone and drank alone. He didn’t expect him to bring a date and he didn’t expect him to bring a junkie. She smelled like sweat and drugs and death and something familiar. As soon as Christian moved he realized why. His shoulders tightened and he couldn’t move or tear his eyes away for a long moment. It was Sam. She was stumbling and Christian was holding her up with a hand around her waist. Her eyes were glazed and high and he didn’t think she was even aware of where she was. The smell of her was clouded underneath everything else she’d done to herself, cigarettes and stale beer coupled with drugs and the something dead that lingered on her skin. She looked just as bad, her hair falling loose from her ponytail around her face. Day old make up was smeared on her face and her shirt was hanging off her shoulder. “Get the fuck off me,” she spat. “I don’t need your help.” She shoved at Christian to untangle herself and the man just laughed as she careened away and hit her hip off one of the tables. The man laughed and held his hands up, letting her try and straighten herself out. She barely caught herself from hitting the ground and she gave a weak laugh, body braced over the wooden surface. Roman felt disgust and pity welling up in his chest and he hated that it was Sam he was looking at. She didn’t look like anyone he would recognize or even look twice at. She didn’t look like his Sam and the pain he felt at seeing her like this was indescribable. “Why don’t you get me the usual, Fang,” Christian said, snapping his fingers at Roman. “And another for my friend.” “Fuck you,” Sam spat. “I’m not your friend. And I don’t want you buying me drinks.” She wavered on her feet and Christian smiled, going back to sling an arm around her shoulder. “Relax Sammy,” he drawled. “I’m not paying. It’s on the house, isn’t that right Fang?” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows at Roman. It was an effort to get his hands to move, pulling two glasses out and slamming them down on the counter. She still hadn’t looked up. “Now say hello to Roman.” Her head jerked up at that, eyes going wide as she focused on him. “Roman?” she whimpered. There was something hurt and lost on her face for a moment all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her and make sure no one could hurt her again. “Sam,” he said. He ducked his head and made their drinks, his body tense and stiff as he tried to ignore it. He tried to remind himself that he didn’t care but it didn’t help. Last time he’d seen her she’d been huddled against the wall in her apartment with tears on her face and the smell of sweat and sex on her skin. She’d stank of Nolan and the same drugs she smelled like now and that had hurt almost as much as the harsh words she’d flung at him. It was easy to remember she was a junkie when she was like this but it didn’t make it easier to take. He heard her make a strangled noise and then she was turning away. “Fuck you,” she snarled at Christian. “I’m not staying here with that fucking Fang in the room.” She shoved at him and he heard her stumble to the door. He couldn’t stop his gaze from flicking to her again and part of him wanted to stop her. He wanted to beg her to tell him again that she hadn’t lied to him and she wasn’t using him because the thought of it hurt so fucking badly. Christian caught her arm roughly, stopping her at the doorway. “Yes you are,” he growled lowly, a smile on his face. He tried to speak quietly but Roman heard him anyway. “You are because that’s what you’re told to do. Now be a good bitch and sit your ass down.” Roman felt a swell of hatred for the man, his gaze shifting to Christian instead. Sam yanked her arm away from him but didn’t say anything else. She stumbled to the bar stool and slid into it, keeping her gaze on the bar and away from Roman. He couldn’t read the look on her face and he tried to remind himself that he was nothing to her but a Fang. Nothing but something to feed her addiction and the proof of that was all over her arms. It didn’t chase away how he’d felt with her curled in his arms all night and it didn’t chase away the sudden thought that he should never have walked away from her. He’d promised to come back. Her fingers curled around the glass and she tossed the drink back in one quick swallow, not looking at him the whole time. He wondered if she even tasted it. Christian looked on with an amused expression on his face before he dug his cigarettes out, lighting himself one and blowing smoke out his lips. “You want one babe?” he asked, offering the pack to Sam. She just shook her head and looked away, wavering on the stool. Christian shrugged and turned his grin to Roman. “So,” he drawled. “What’ve you got for me?” Roman snorted and nodded his head at Sam. “I didn’t expect you to bring company,” he said. She let out a loud scoff and dug for her own cigarettes, gripping the bar to keep herself steady. His gaze flicked to her for a moment and skimmed over the new scars she had on her flesh. It stirred the jealousy and possessiveness he felt for her and he hated that he couldn’t stop it. Christian grinned and blew smoke at him before he took a swallow of his drink. “It’s not for me,” he said. “It’s for you. Since you’ve been such a good dog, boss decided to throw you a bone.” Then he leaned forward. “But only if you’ve got something.” Sam looked up and she scoffed again. “Fuck you Christian,” she snarled. “Keep offering and I might take you up on it.” He smirked and waggled his eyebrows at Roman. “Did you find the bodies in the river?” Roman asked. He tried to keep his voice cold but it was harder than it had been an hour ago. It was hard to feel anything but the anger and jealousy churning in him, mingling with the sensation of loss and guilt and the sharp desire to get Sam away from the people that had done this to her. He couldn’t believe this was what she wanted. He couldn’t believe she would do this to her brother and he heard his own voice, telling Bobby he would keep her safe. “Now what bodies might those be?” he asked. “Undertaker bodies?” Christian lifted an eyebrow and leaned forward. He pointed his cigarette at Roman’s eye, watching him with a careful expression on his face. Roman returned the expression and tried to pretend he wasn’t watching Sam out of the corner of his eye. She was looking out into the bar with a miserable look on her face. “Twelve of them,” he said. Christian’s eyes widened slightly but he didn’t say anything to that, putting the cigarette to his mouth. “Killed during an attempted black bagging. The two vampires they were taking into custody were recruited to the cause.” “Your terrorist cause,” Christian spat. He looked annoyed, watching Roman with narrowed eyes. He took a drag from his cigarette before tapping the ash out onto the floor and reaching for his drink. “Is that it? Who killed them?” He downed it before slamming it down on the counter, gesturing at it with his cigarette. Roman bit back his annoyance and refilled his glass, getting a water for Sam and sliding it across the bar towards her. She glanced down at it with annoyance and shoved it roughly away from her. “This junkie whore doesn’t need shit from you, Fang,” she spat. There was hate and venom in her voice and he tried to pretend he didn’t feel hurt just hearing it. He tried to pretend he didn’t feel anything but the emotions tore away at him anyway. He wondered if she’d thought of him at all or just about what he could do for her. Probably not even that. She had other Fangs for that. “My father’s inner circle,” Roman said, turning back to Christian. “They’re recruiting, building strength for a large attack. I don’t know where yet.” He glanced at Sam and wondered if she could still tell when he was lying. He’d been getting better at it. Christian tipped his drink at him. “Find out,” he ordered. “You do that you might even get a Christmas bonus.” Roman snorted but didn’t answer. He watched the man down it and then start to stand. Sam was already moving, pushing herself off the stool and trying to hold herself upright. Christian laughed and caught her by the waist before she could go anywhere. “Oh no honey,” he said. “You’re his for the night. Don’t suppose a junkie whore like you will mind though, will you?” “That’s not necessary,” Roman said. His voice was cold and harsh because he didn’t like seeing Sam passed around like that. It didn’t matter how they saw her or how she saw herself, he would never use her as either of those things. “Nonsense,” Christian said cheerfully. He had Sam by the back of the neck and he shoved her against the counter. “It’s a gift.” |
| Sam felt a growl bubbling up her throat and there were tears stinging at her eyes but she didn't think she knew why. She didn't think she really gave a fuck if Christian just wanted to pass her off as a junkie whore who would sit and beg whenever he asked her to. It shouldn't matter to her, because it was the truth. She thought maybe the tears and disgust forming on her face was because he was doing it in front of Roman. The only thing worse than having him witness it, would be if Bobby were here. She never thought she'd see Roman again. And now it hadn't even been three days and here she was, being offered up on a fucked up silver platter to none other than Roman Sabinus his fucking self. The last person in the world she'd ever wanted to see this side of her. It was made worse that she was the worse she'd ever been. So high she couldn't even stand without holding on to something. So scarred and such a mess and Roman was just looking at her. "Have fun, Sammy," Christian said and finally let go of the back of her neck. She gripped the counter hard, keeping herself from slipping to the floor and she stood there even after Christian had left, just staring at the counter of the bar and she hadn't been back to this place since the night Howard was murdered. There was so much emotion swelling up in her chest, she thought she was going to drown in it. "I'm not going anywhere with you," she snarled, not bothering to look at Roman, who still stood on the other side of the bar and hadn't said a thing. She wondered what he was thinking. She wondered if he was just affirming in his head that she was nothing more than a junkie whore and he was right and he was glad he'd walked off and left her crying in her apartment. He was probably breathing a sigh of relief that he hadn't gotten tangled up in the mess that was her life and the thought hurt more than she figured it would. She wondered if she'd be like this if he'd stayed. Roman's voice was quiet and bitter when he spoke. "I'm not making you," he said. Her eyes finally came up and she glared at him. His face was soft, the frown furrowing his eyebrows wasn't malicious or cruel. He looked like he was the witness to a train wreck, coming up on nothing but bodies and metal with nothing to do but wonder who was responsible. She didn't like that look. She wanted him to be angry because it would be easier to remember that he'd walked away from her. "Why not?" she spat and he lifted a brow curiously at the question. "Am I not good enough for your taste anymore? Too dirty? Afraid you'll catch something?" The look that passed across Roman's face was quick, but visible. His fingers curled around the edge of the bar and he leaned across it, his voice a low growl. "I'm not using you like that," he grit out. She wasn't sure how she should take the words so she just took them like she took everything else. An insult. A slap in the face and a judgment on who she was. She let the words burn down to her heart and steel her emotions and she used them to fuel the memory that he was the one who walked away. He was the one who decided she wasn't good enough. "Fine," she slung at him and then pushed herself away from the counter. "Have a nice eternity." She stumbled on her way to the door, hip hitting one of the tables and knocking over the ornaments and condiments there. She cursed the table and slapped it before finding her way to the door and throwing it open. She needed to be out of this place, needed to be away from him before she remembered his arms being wrapped around her or the gentle way he'd cleaned the blood off her thighs or the way he'd killed the fucker who'd put it there. She didn't make it far down the sidewalk. She used the wall to balance herself, but the sidewalk was uneven and her head was spinning like the world had suddenly sped up and hadn't told her. She wanted to find Reno or go back to Dulci's because the pain was starting to come back and she just wanted it to go away. The door to Legion's opened behind her and she was surprised when a hand gripped her arm and shoved her roughly against the wall. She gasped and her eyes widened at Roman standing in front of her. The softness of his face was gone, instead replaced with the anger and rage she knew was within in. He pinned her to the wall and he was growling low in his throat. "Why?" he demanded and she didn't know what he was asking. He growled again at the openness of his question and there was a torrent of emotion racing across him. He leaned forward, like he wanted to hit her or throw her or rest his forehead against hers or something, but he stopped himself and bared his fangs and she watched them because she wanted them in her neck. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but an angry yell came out instead and he hit his fist against the bricks next to her head. Sam tried to push him away from her, but she was weak and he was a fucking vampire and he didn't even budge. "Why what?" she demanded harshly. "Why come here? Because Christian was right and I should do what a good bitch does and do what I'm told. Why am I a junkie? Because I'm fucked up and it feels good to not remember that I'd be better off dead. Why did I fuck Nolan? Because I was mad at you because you'd said you come back and I didn't think you would." Roman growled and his grip tightened on her arm and he was hurting her, but she didn't care. This pain was nothing compared to what she was feeling already. "Why did you say you weren't just using me?" A sob escaped her throat and she thought about just saying she lied. She thought about just telling him she was afraid he'd walk away, but she couldn't get the lies to get off her tongue and the truth was what came out. "Because I wasn't," she sobbed and her head ducked forward, tears spilling out onto her cheeks, smearing her already smeared makeup. She tried to rest her head against Roman's chest, but he stayed just out of her reach. She let her head hang anyway, the sobs coming freely now. "I didn't lie to you," she cried. "I've only ever lied to you about being a junkie and I can't change that. I can't change that that's what I was...that's what I am." A harsh noise escaped Roman's mouth and Sam just continued to sob because she wanted so badly for him to believe her. The veil she'd pulled over her eyes that she didn't give a fuck about what he thought about her or that he'd walked away was burning away and leaving her pain raw and exposed. The last three days were a blur of drugs and fangs and fucks. She wouldn't survive long like that and she knew it. And maybe that was the point. Maybe she didn't want to do this anymore. The grip Roman had on her hand loosened, but he didn't let go. His fingers brushed over the bruises he'd left there just now and the touch was soft and gentle. It sparked something needy and desperate in her. She needed him and it wasn't for his bite and it wasn't for his bed. She needed to feel like he'd pull her out of the line of fire and shield her from raining glass and she needed to feel bulletproof again. Her shield had been shattered the moment Nolan told her to get on her knees. "Please, Roman," she begged, her knees giving out beneath her and Roman had to grab her beneath her arms. Her head finally came to rest on his chest as he held her upright. "Please, I need help." |
| Roman didn’t move or answer her for a long time. He held her upright, her back braced against the wall and her fingers twisted in his shirt. If he turned his head to the side he would find his face buried in her hair, his mouth close to her neck and the blood that thundered away beneath her skin. Somewhere beneath all the smells that covered her and lingered on her clothes was still Sam. His nostrils flare when he caught her scent because it brought back memories of her wicked smiles because she wasn’t afraid of anything. “Why did you do this to yourself?” he said, his voice harsh and ragged. She sobbed into his chest and he felt her tears soaking through his shirt and burning his skin. His arms tightened on her and he stepped forward to lean her against the wall. He was sharply aware of his body holding her upright as one hand lifted to tip her chin up. His eyes scanned her face desperately. “This isn’t you.” She sobbed and her hand hit at his chest but he didn’t flinch. Her face contorted with anger and hatred and he couldn’t tell who it was for. “Yes it is,” she told him. There was black smudged under her eyes. “This is all there is. Just a junkie whore.” “Stop,” he growled. She hit him again and he caught her wrist, slamming it against the wall. “Just stop.” His head ducked and his forehead pressed against hers. There were tears smudged on her face and her breath hitched in her chest. It reminded him painfully of how she’d been after Octavius, bruised and bloodied and barely aware of where she was. His fingers tightened around her waist and abruptly he couldn’t hide behind his anger and his hate because this was Sam. Underneath all the things she’d done to herself she was still Sam and he needed that to be true with a fierce desperation. His mind kept flashing to the girl he’d walked away from a week and a half ago and he had wanted her so badly that not even Giselle’s arms could erase her. “I told you I’d come back for you,” he said. All the pain and heartache he’d been trying not to acknowledge came pouring out in the words, making his voice harsh and ragged. He’d told her he’d come back. He’d promised. She was all he’d been able to think about and it had killed him to see her walk through that door stinking of drugs and sex and Nolan. They jealousy choked him and a yell left his throat. His hand slammed against the brick wall behind her. “Why didn’t you believe me?” Sam just cried, her fingers digging tighter into his shirt. She was broken and weak and he barely recognized her. He hated the doubt he felt, that maybe he’d never known her at all. “Why would you want to?” she whispered. The pain was sharp and poignant, ripping through him like a blade in his gut. His hand slammed against the wall again and his head turned away from her because he hated seeing her like this. He hated seeing what she’d turned herself into because that wasn’t the Sam he knew. “I cared about you,” he said, voice loud and angry and hurt. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” “But not anymore?” she spat. Her voice turned bitter and she tilted her head back. “Not interested in dirty little Sammy anymore?” There was a mean smirk on her face, hand coming up to tug at the neck of her shirt and he stopped her with a hand around her wrist. She didn’t bother to hide the scars anymore, not the ones on her arm or on her neck. His lip curled in a sneer and he hated that part of him was mad he hadn’t put them there. They were all someone else’s marks left by someone else’s teeth and he’d wanted her to be his. He’d wanted all of her to be his. “When was the last time you were sober?” he demanded, shoving her against the wall. She laughed and her back arched against the wall, pressing herself against him as she did. He let out a hiss because there was something wrong about it but it didn’t stop the hunger that clawed away at his insides. It didn’t stop him from wanting her. “When was the last time you fed?” she asked. Her head tilted to the side, hair falling around her face as she bared her neck to him. “So that’s it?” he snarled. He tried to ignore that his body was pinning hers against the wall and that his mouth was close to her neck, her blood roaring underneath her skin. He bared his fangs when he spoke. “That’s all you want? Someone to feed on you?” The tears filled her eyes and he heard another sob leave her throat. “That’s all I’m good for. Do you want me to beg?” “No,” he spat. He shoved himself away from her, turning his back and crossing his arms over his chest. He heard her let out a noise and when He glanced over his shoulder she was sinking to the ground, covering her face with her hands. “Do you want me to take you home?” he asked, smoothing his voice into something calmer than he felt. His insides felt like they were shredded. She shook her head quickly. “No,” she said, her voice a whimper. “I don’t want Bobby to see me like this.” Roman watched her for a moment and he thought it was the first thing she’d said that sounded anything like the girl he’d known. Her head was resting in her hands, clothes disheveled and hanging off her frame. He wondered when the last time she’d eaten was. He wondered when the last time was that anyone had touched her without leaving bruises. He wondered why he hadn’t been there to stop it. He licked his lips and then he turned, holding his hand out in front of her face. “Come on,” he said. She rubbed her hands over her face before she tilted her head back against the wall. Her eyes were lidded and she looked hollow and lost as she sat looking up at him. She hesitated as she stared at the offered hand and he couldn’t read what was going on in her head. Then she cleared her throat and looked away. “I told you I wasn’t going anywhere with you,” she said quietly. “I’m not making you,” Roman told her again, but this time the words were softer. Her gaze flicked back to his face, brow furrowing with confusion. “I’m offering Sam. I’m not making you do anything you don’t want to do.” She licked her lips and her gaze went to the offered hand. Then hers slid into his, fingers warm against his cold ones. Sam stumbled against him after she stood and he just held her steady, hand resting on her hip. He kept his arm around her waist because she kept tripping over the sidewalk. One of her hands fisted in his shirt as she tried to hang onto him. It made it harder to lose the undertakers. It took longer than usual and he thought it was a sign of just how bad she was that she didn’t question where they were going. She didn’t notice what they passed by and once when he looked down her eyes were shut, just holding onto him and letting him lead her where he wanted. He wondered if she trusted him that much or if she just didn’t care anymore. Roman wondered if he knew what he was doing. It was stupid of him to bring her back to the warehouse but he did it anyway because he wasn’t going to leave her at the bar and she didn’t want to go home. She stumbled up the stairs and he had to stand behind her to steady her. She tripped once, landing on her knees in front of him and she turned her head over her shoulder after she did. “See anything you like back there, Fang?” she said. She laughed like she’d said something funny and he just helped her back up. Giselle was waiting in the doorway of his room. She’d probably been waiting inside it up until she smelled something warm and human enter the place. She wore something slinky and red and smiled when she saw him. “You brought dinner? How sweet of you.” “Not now Giselle,” Roman snapped. He didn’t want to deal with her right now, or what he’d started. Sam laughed bitterly, leaning heavily on Roman and slurring her words. “Why not? If you won’t feed let someone else.” Her eyes widened slightly and she tilted her head to the side to look up into Sam’s face. The smile on her face brightened when she saw her, hand coming out to brush the hair out of her eyes. Sam slapped weakly at the hand, trying to knock her touch away. “Porcelain,” she purred. “I didn’t recognize you under there.” She laughed quietly and then her attention shifted to Roman, hand lifting to his face. “Maybe tomorrow then love.” Her lips followed, pressing against his cheek before brushing past them. He barely got Sam through the door before she was pushing at his chest. “What the fuck was that?” she demanded. She started to fall and he caught her around the waist as her knees hit the ground. His things were scattered around them, still lying broken on the floor because that was all he’d done for three days. Break everything he could get his hands on. “Why did you bring me here?” “So you could sober up,” he told her harshly. She cursed at him and tried to yank her hands away but it just made her fall on her ass on the carpet. Roman sighed and crouched next to her, trying to steady her with a hand on her arm. “Fuck you,” she snapped. “I don’t need your pity or anything else.” She pushed weakly at his hands and Roman caught them in his. “Stop,” he told her. His hand came out and he grasped her chin, tugging her head towards his. “Sam,” he said harshly, and for a moment he couldn’t get past all the anger and pain he’d felt for the past weak. He couldn’t get over the way she smelled or the way she looked and he didn’t like what he was looking at. She glared back at him, her eyes swimming with tears and her jaw clamped tightly shut. There were cigarette burns on her shirt and tangles in her hair. “Go take a shower,” he said. “Sober up. You asked for help and I want to, but I want to help Sam. Right now you don’t look like her and you don’t smell like her.” Sam’s eyes widened slightly and they were glazed with pain and hurt. She put a hand over her mouth and looked like she was holding in a sob. Her body shook and she ducked her head, covering her head wither hands. “Roman,” she started to say, but a strangled sob was all that came out. He felt himself tense with the pain that sent lancing through him, his fingers tightening around his arms. His voice softened and he leaned forward, lips pressing against her forehead and that was all he wanted. He just wanted his Sam, the way she’d looked curled up beside him in her bed. “Go take a shower,” he said softly. “I’ll still be here when you’re done.” |
| Sam heard Roman shut the door behind her and for a moment she didn't move. She stood there, inside his bathroom, with a towel clung to her chest and she didn't know what to do next. She was really messed up, that much was clear to her. It had hurt so bad when Roman had told her he wanted to help her, but only if she was Sam. He didn't recognize who this sniveling junkie on the floor was, and Sam didn't either. She was glad Roman didn't have a mirror in his bathroom, because she wouldn't have been able to stand looking at herself in it. She set the towel down on the sink and her hands were shaky and slow as she pulled her clothes off. She felt disgusting and gross and she let her clothes drop to the floor where she stared at them for a moment before she went to the shower and started the water. The tears didn't come back until she was under the steaming stream of water and once they came, she couldn't stop them. She braced her hands on the sides of the shower and she just cried. She stayed beneath the water until it ran cold and even then she stayed there. Her hands scrubbed at her skin, pink from the heat and blotchy from the cold. She scrubbed like if she tried hard enough, she could erase the signs of what she was. She could get rid of the scars and the bruises and she could be the girl Roman wanted to help. She could be the girl her brother needed and at the thought of Bobby, she abruptly slammed her fist into the wall because he deserved better. He deserved so much better than her. Turning the water off, she grabbed her towel from the sink and wrapped herself in it. She looked at her clothes on the floor and she kicked them away, wanting nothing to do with them. She sniffled a little, shivering from the cold water of the shower. "I don't have any clean clothes!" she yelled and she thought for a moment that she wasn't sure if Roman would hear her, but then she remembered what he was and it made it all the more painful because he thought she just wanted his bite. It wasn't true. She knew it wasn't true. The door opened a crack and Roman's hand stuck in with one of his t-shirts and a pair of his shorts. She sniffled a little and snatched them from him. She didn't say thank you because a part of her was still mad at him. Mad that he walked away, mad that he'd taken too long to come back to her - but mostly she just thought she was mad at him so she wouldn't be mad at herself. Pulling on his clothes, she looked around and yelled out. "I don't have a hair brush." A moment later, the door opened and Roman's hand stuck in with a brush. She glared at his hand before snatching that away too. She opened her mouth to yell something else, but his hand stuck in with a toothbrush and toothpaste a moment later. She grabbed them but spit out, "I wasn't going to ask for that!" "Okay," Roman said from the other side of the door and there was doubt and patience in his voice. She glared at the door, muttering under her breath and a part of her was aware he could probably hear her. "Thinks he knows it all," she muttered. She sniffled and brushed through her hair and brushed her teeth and when she was done, she thought about going out there, but she couldn't just yet, so she turned around and sat down on the toilet. She put her head in her hands and just sat there, with the room still spinning and the drugs starting to make their way out of her system. The door creaked open after a bit and she felt Roman's hands rest on her arms. She let them fall away from her face and she licked her lips, emotions barely contained, but she felt like she had no more tears to cry and now she just felt tired and dead. She looked at him as he crouched in front of her, waiting for him to say something or do something. He didn't say anything. He just kept his hands on her arms and crouched there and watched her back. She didn't know what he wanted. She didn't know why he was here and suddenly she couldn't keep her thoughts in anymore. She needed him to know. "I didn't want to fuck Nolan," she told him. His hands tightened almost imperceptibly on her arms. He kept watching her face and there was something like hurt in his eyes, but he just nodded and still didn't say anything. Her eyes widened when she thought he didn't believe her. "I didn't," she demanded. "Okay," he said against and her face fell. She yanked her hands away from him and shoved at him before wrapping her arms around her waist and turning to the side so she wasn't facing him. "Fuck you," she snapped at him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him sit down on the bathroom floor, leaned back against the wall. She just hugged herself tighter, trying to disappear. She closed her eyes, leaning her head against the wall and she thought about Nolan telling her to get out, or Reno asking her to beg, or Octavius pressing her face down into the carpet and she licked her lips, sniffling again. "I always thought I would wait until I was married before I had sex," she said and she scoffed afterwards, giving a small laugh. She turned to look at Roman and he was watching her with a frown on his face. "What do you think about that?" Roman was quiet a moment before he said, "Plans change." She gave another bitter laugh and sniffled, running her hand across her nose before tucking it back down to hug herself again. "You know the first guy I was ever with was this kid named Greg and he dumped me right after he fucked me in the back of his car. I guess he was the first to know I'm not ever good enough for anyone." Roman climbed to his feet after that and she shied away from him when she thought he was going to take her hands again, but she was surprised when his arm went beneath her legs and he lifted her into his arms. She thought about fighting or yelling at him but she was so tired and she just rested her head on his shoulder as he carried her to his bed. He set her down on the bed and she crossed her legs beneath her, hugging herself. When he sat down beside her, she couldn't help herself, she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder again and she felt warmth and comfort race through her when his arm wrapped around her. "You are good enough," he said quietly. She laughed quietly, but it was broken and she was having trouble keeping her eyes open. "You're the only one that thinks so." She closed her eyes and tried to snuggle further into him because she was shaking and shivering from the shower and she didn't care if he was cold and dead, he felt warm and alive to her. "I'm sorry," she whispered to him and she wasn't sure exactly what she was apologizing for. "I bet you wish you never met me, huh?" He didn't answer her at first. He pulled back the covers of his bed and laid her down, tucking her beneath them and she was already drifting off, the drugs and the day's events finally catching up. He laid down next to her, above the covers and she turned to press her face into his shirt. She felt his hand settle on her arm and it reminded her of how he'd slept next to her that night after Octavius. "No," Roman whispered and she'd forgotten already what she'd asked him. "I wish I met you sooner." |
| Roman woke to the smell of something familiar and warm. At first he didn’t comprehend what it was because he was always groggy and confused in the morning. It was part of why he didn’t sleep much. It wasn’t so different from coming back from the dead. His hands moved before his eyes opened and he felt warm fingers tangled in his. There was the sound of quiet breathing and her back was pressed against his chest through the covers. His head was resting near hers and her neck was just inches from his mouth. His eyes slid open and his fingers tightened around hers when they did. He could see the vein running underneath her skin and smell the sharp metallic scent of her blood. His teeth felt sharp in his mouth, his eyes dilating and focusing on her throat as the hunger clawed to life in his chest. His jaws ached to close around her flesh and his head moved forward before he could think about it. Fangs hovered above her throat, need and want scrambling desperately against the walls of his control to just bite down, to feel that euphoria and strength that came with feeding. He wanted blood. He wanted Sam’s blood and the thought hit him hard. “Sam,” he said quietly. His voice was barely more than a whisper, lips brushing over her skin as he said her name. He heard her make a noise and he couldn’t tell if she was asleep or not until he felt her fingers untangle themselves from his. He thought she was pulling away until they slid through his hair, the touch warm and affectionate. It fed the hunger in him, the ache he felt from her because he loved having her hands on his skin. It was hard for him to remember that she’d hurt him or might not want him because she was right here, pulling his mouth against her neck with quiet insistence. “Do it,” she breathed. The words helped wake him up faster than anything. He blinked the sleep from his eyes, a low growl leaving his throat. He wanted her, but he didn’t want her like this, not with someone else’s fang marks in her skin. The jealousy was the worst part, because it was stronger than the fear and the anger and the disgust he felt. He reached up to pull her hand from the back of his head and yanked his mouth away from her neck, jaw clamped tightly shut so he didn’t bite down. She rolled over, eyes lidded and tired but not glazed with some sort of high anymore. “Right when you’ve finally sobered up?” he asked bitterly, snarling the words out between his teeth. Something hurt and pained flashed across her face and made him regret the words. “Fuck you,” she said quietly. Her voice was still harsh from sleep and she rolled her head to the side for a moment. There was a lost, empty look etched on her features but it looked more like Sam. She looked like he remembered, even if she hated him again. His fingers tightened around hers, his voice low and gruff. “You’re playing with fire,” he said. She smirked but the smile never reached her eyes. She was scanning his face, something shuttered and distant in the expression. “Maybe I like getting burned,” she said. Roman hated that he couldn’t tell if the words were mocking or playful. His fingers were still grasping hers and he held her arm out in front of both of them. It wasn’t the arm he’d fed from. It was littered with jagged scars and his eyes scanned the mess that someone else had left of her, the anger starting to burn a hole in his chest. Her gaze didn’t follow his. She was just watching his face. “What you’re doing is stupid and dangerous,” he told her lowly. She snorted and then tried to pull her arm back. “Good morning to you too,” she spat. Roman paused and let go of her arm, running his hand over his mouth instead. She pushed herself into a sitting position under the covers, hand traveling over her face and wiping the grit from her eyes. “Good morning,” he finally said. Sam scoffed and then her hands dropped into her lap. “See? Was that so hard?” she asked. A sigh left Roman’s lips and he sat up next to her. He didn’t miss the way she shrank into herself, looking away from him and at his room. She was probably taking it in for the first time, because last night she’d been lost and out of it. He’d be surprised if she remembered the way here, and maybe it was better that way. If she didn’t know the way then she couldn’t betray him, and that thought sat in his chest like a dark weight. “Sam,” he said. She still didn’t look at him. “We need to talk.” She laughed and it was strangled and overly loud. “About what?” she said. “If you want to tell me how much of a fucking wreck I am then don’t bother. I already know. I get it, I’m a junkie who hasn’t been sober in three days and a whore and I fucked Nolan and I don’t know why you’re still wasting your time.” She poured the words out quickly and then started to pull herself out of bed. “Stop,” he snapped. She glanced back at the force he put into the word and the fingers that wrapped around her arm. He loosened them when he saw the bruises he’d left last night, moving to sit next to her on the bed. “Stop trying to tell me what to think of you.” She snorted and looked down at the carpet. “I’m just telling it like it is.” “Sam,” he said, his voice softening. His hands moved to take hers, fingers twining in hers before he lifted it to his lips. He kept his gaze on the bed but he couldn’t get his emotions under control. “You need to stop getting fed on.” She snorted and yanked her hand away from him. He growled and shook his head, running a hand over his mouth. “You have no idea what you’re doing.” “What the fuck would you know about it?” she snapped. She pushed herself to her feet but didn’t go far, walking to the middle of the room and crossing her arms over her chest. She looked like she was holding herself together. Roman moved before she’d turned around, anger and fear hitting him hard and fast. His hands grasped hers and she let out a small gasp when he pushed her against the wall. She was wearing his clothes and it was his smell on her skin. He bared his teeth as he leaned closer to her and he felt her let out a quiet breath when his mouth moved towards her neck. “You can’t understand this kind of hunger,” he growled lowly. “It’s a battle to stop feeding, every time. It’s hard for me and I’m older than most. You keep doing this and one of these times whatever Fang you’ve got feeding on you isn’t going to be able to stop, because they can’t or they just don’t care.” Her breath was quickening in her throat, eyes locked on his mouth as he spoke and even as he said the words he felt the need to feed on her, to feel her blood on his tongue and taste her on his lips. He wanted her in the worst way and it was a battle to let his hands loosen on her arms. Sam leaned forward, hair falling around her shoulder and baring her neck to him. Her hand came up to rest on the back of his neck. “So what?” she said quietly, and there was something dark in her voice. “Maybe I don’t care either.” Roman growled and turned his head so that his mouth was by hers instead. He felt her breath, warm on his lips and it made it hard to hold a conversation with her. “I don’t believe that,” he spat. “I don’t believe you’d be that fucking selfish.” “Fuck you Fang,” she spat. She shoved at his chest, hard mask falling over her face. “You don’t know shit about me.” A noise left his throat and he slammed his fist against the wall. “Will you just stop?” “It’s my life,” she spat. Her expression didn’t change as his fist hit the wall again, her jaw tilting up and watching his face. He wondered what she’d see on it. He wondered if she’d understand that he couldn’t stand seeing her like this because he cared about her. Because he wanted her and he wanted better for her than the path she’d chosen. “I’ll do what I want with it.” He growled and braced his hands on either side of her head. “And if you get yourself killed, who’s going to look out for your brother?” Her eyes widened slightly at that and she looked away. “I’m not a fucking human Sam. I can’t take custody of him.” She licked her lips but there was no venom in her voice. “No one asked you to.” He snorted and turned his head to the side. His violin was lying against the wall but he hadn’t touched it in days. Not since before he’d seen Sam curled against the wall of her apartment. His hand moved and he rested it against her neck, feeling her heartbeat thrumming underneath her skin. “No,” he agreed. He shook his head and felt pain lancing through his heart because he didn’t know how to get through to her or what he expected out of any of this. “Please,” he said quietly. “I’ll beg if that’s what you want. Just stop.” She scoffed but he still didn’t look at her. “Beg like a good dog for his treat?” Roman’s fingers tensed against the wall but he didn’t answer her because the words were cruel but they were familiar. They lacked the venom she used to be able to put into them and after a moment he heard her let out a breath, her voice quiet. “If I stop going to the others, will you still feed off me?” Roman let out a low growl, gaze flicking to her face. “That’s not fair.” She smirked and let her head fall back against the wall. “No one ever said I played fair.” He ground his teeth together and he wanted to say no because she was a junkie and an addict and he didn’t want to be responsible for her fix. He didn’t want to be her source and he slammed his fist against the wall. “Tell me the truth,” he said, and he hated how much it sounded like begging. He needed to hear it from her lips again. He needed her to say that he meant something besides just a drug that she wanted just to escape the pain of being sober. “Is that all you want from me?” She made a noise but he wasn’t sure what it meant. He wanted to look at her but he was afraid he’d just see a nasty sneer on her face and he wondered why he cared so much if there was. If she said no, he wondered if he would do as she asked and he hated that he was even considering it. The longing he felt for her was sharp and poignant. “No,” she said quietly. “You’re killing me.” He snorted and shook his head before turning back to look at her. She was watching his face with that shuttered look, arms crossed over her chest. “It’s been a long time since a woman’s had me this tangled up.” At first she didn’t react. Then a smile curled her lips and she looked away, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. His chest tightened when he saw that smile, eyes watching her mouth as she bit her lower lip. It made him smile hesitantly in return and for a moment he forgot about everything else except how she looked in this moment. “I warned you,” she said, and there was something almost playful in the way she said it. “I excel at making things difficult.” |
| Sam wandered the room for a while, going through the boxes Roman still hadn't unpacked. He watched her and if he minded it at all, he didn't say anything. It looked like he hadn't really unpacked since he moved in and she wondered if he planned to or if this was just a temporary thing and tomorrow if she came back, she'd just find an empty space. She wasn't exactly sure where she was, because she hadn't really been in the state of mind to pay attention last night, and she thought that should worry her, but she trusted Roman. She found it weird that she trusted him so easily. "So this is where you live now," she said casually, opening a box and looking inside. There were books scattered in the box. She lifted one out and blew dust off of it. It was old and falling apart and she thought again that it was exactly the thing Bobby would love. At the thought of her brother, a slight pain went through her heart because even without a clock to tell her what time it was, she was sure that she'd missed taking him to school. She wondered if he'd even go without her to drive him and she thought the answer was yes. It was going to be hard going back to him. She wondered what her brother would do if she went and picked him up from school. Roman snorted, sitting down on the edge of the bed as he watched her. The mood in the room had lightened slightly, but there was still the dark overtone that Roman knew what she was now and it was like walking on eggshells. She didn't want to make a false move with him and he seemed to be very wary of her. "This is where I live now," Roman verified and she turned to look at him over her shoulder. He didn't even look like the conversation interested him, his eyes were solely on her and she suddenly became very conscious that she probably didn't look her best. Better than last night, but she was wearing his clothes and no makeup and her hair was probably a mess from sleeping on it wet. "Better than the last place, right?" he asked. She smirked, turning around to look at the boxes. "You need to unpack," she told him, pulling another box over to her. This one was all clothes and she grabbed one of the shirts, holding it up and tilting her head as she examined it. She thought it would look good on him if they ever went dancing. She had a dress that would match it. "And you need a stereo." Scoffing, Roman lifted a brow at her as she set his shirt down and turned around to look at him. "I don't listen to music," he said. "It just sounds like noise to me." Licking her lips, Sam shrugged, looking around bored. "God, you sound like my Dad used to," she told him, pain striking her chest for a moment before her eyes went back to Roman. There was a cautious look on his face and she didn't think she was ready to go to that discussion yet. She forced the smile on her face. "I'll tell you the same thing I told him, you must not be listening to the right music." Roman shook his head. "I've had a long time to listen to music. It's gone downhill." Sam chuckled, running her finger along the dresser that held a small portion of Roman's clothes. She wiped the dust off on her shirt and she thought he really needed to clean this place up. She turned around and came back over to the bed, leaning against the bedpost as she looked at him. "I bet I could show you some music you'd like," she said, biting her bottom lip. Roman smirked. "You could try." Sam shook her head. "You need a stereo first." Snorting, Roman nodded. "I'll get right on that," he said. She chuckled again a little and climbed onto the bed next to him, sitting beside him and kicking her feet over the edge, hugging her stomach as she looked out at the little space Roman called home now. The smile slowly fell off her face and she looked towards the door, sighing. "So you really are working for Nolan?" she asked quietly. She felt him tense beside her and she turned to look at him. He was staring at their feet, but he looked up to meet her eyes. "It's only to postpone my father's execution long enough to figure a way to get him out of there," he told her. She nodded and she wasn't sure if the words made her feel better or not. Roman was working for Nolan. He was doing the man's bidding and she knew what that felt like. She wondered if Roman had to do things he didn't like. The thought hurt. Swallowing, she hugged herself a little tighter. "He knows that you and I are more than just acquaintances," she said softly. "If he ordered Christian to bring me to see you, there has to be a reason for it. Something he wanted to gain out of it. "What have you told him so far?" Roman asked and there was a bitterness to his voice that made Sam frown and glance at him. She just stared at his face as he watched her and wondered if he really thought she'd sell him out that like. Even high as a kite, she hadn't told Nolan anything about Roman or what he was up to. It didn't matter that she didn't know where he was, she wouldn't have done that. "Nothing about you," she snapped back at him and she saw his face soften. She looked away with a pout on her face and she was surprised to feel his fingers pull at hers. She let him pull her hand away from her stomach and she let herself relax when she felt his lips press to her fingers. She leaned over to rest her head against his shoulder. "I haven't really given him much of anything. I think he pretty much gave up on the information part of our deal. He has more use for a junkie whore." A small growl escaped Roman's throat and she smiled, wrapping her arms around his, burying her face in his shoulder and she wished she could just stay here with him all day. She didn't want to go back to Nolan or Christian and she hated that her mind went to Dulci or Reno because if she went to them, they could make this go away. She pressed her eyes tightly shut and squeezed Roman's arm. "Do you really think I'm more than that?" she whispered, because she needed to hear him say it. She needed to know that's really what he believed. "Yes," Roman said, without hesitation and she felt his lips press against her forehead. She turned to rest her cheek against his shoulder so that her mouth was near his. She looked up at his face and he was looking at her with a soft expression. "I think you're more than that," he told her. "What if I'm not?" she asked. "What if I don't know how to be anything else?" Roman lifted a hand and brushed her hair back out of her eyes. She nuzzled further into his shoulder and he pressed his lips to her head again. She closed her eyes against it and shivered. Her body was starting to ache for something. It was clawing at her gut and her chest and making her hands shake and she knew her body was getting tired of being sober, but as long as she had Roman to cling to, she knew she could do it. "Then I'm here to help you," Roman told her. She heard her own voice telling him yesterday that she needed help and she let out a contented sigh, just holding onto him. "Roman?" she asked. She felt him duck his head to look at her face and she opened her eyes to look at him. "I'm hungry." |
| “You should try this,” Sam said. Roman smirked, lifting an eyebrow at her from across the table. He had a cup of coffee sitting in front of him and he’d had a little, but it didn’t do anything for the hunger that had settled in his chest. She was pointing at the plate with her fork, scrambled eggs sitting next to bacon and three pancakes. He’d taken her back to the diner they’d come to after she tried to pass out on him because it hadn’t occurred to him to keep food in the nest when he wasn’t sure he’d ever see her again. “Why?” he asked. “Because I want to know what it tastes like to you.” She shrugged her shoulders and there was something like a playful smile curving her lips. He was glad to see it there because it reminded him more of Sam and less of the junkie. They were still in uncertain territory and Roman wasn’t sure quite where they stood. The doubt he didn’t like. The thought that she might turn around and betray him tomorrow or the next day lingered in his thoughts and kept him on edge. She was right. There was a reason Nolan had offered her up to him and he didn’t know what it was. He had something to gain from it and Roman hated that thought. He watched her for another moment, her hair pulled over one shoulder in a loose ponytail and his clothes hanging off her frame. He thought he liked them on her. It appealed to his jealous nature and that made him wonder just what he expected from her. At best they were friends, at worst they were using each other for their own gain. Either way he couldn’t seem to get her off his mind. “Alright,” he said. She smiled and cut off a piece of her pancake before offering it to him. She watched him with curiosity and amusement as he chewed and then he handed the fork back to her. “It’s what I imagine cardboard would taste like.” She bit her lip to keep from laughing and then went back to eating her eggs. Roman leaned back in his seat, lacing his fingers behind his head and just watching her. Her hands had been shaking when they got here. He wondered what she’d been doing to herself and how long it had been going on. He felt like he would have noticed before now if she was a drug addict but he didn’t know for sure and he hated that. She was better than that. She was better than what Nolan had made of her and what she had made of herself. “So what did you do before you were changed?” Sam asked. “Were you a musician?” She smiled playfully at him at the question, and it drew Roman’s gaze to hers. There were two contradicting images of her in his head. In one she was cursing him and hated him and in the other she was running her fingers over his back to try and clean the blood off it. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I didn’t play until after I was changed.” She nodded her head and waited for him to say more but he didn’t volunteer anything. A frown curled her lips and she ate another bite of her pancakes, studying him for a moment before she got impatient. “Okay, so what did you do?” He smiled playfully and tilted his head back. “Maybe I like hearing you guess.” She pursed her lips and for a moment he couldn’t tell if she was annoyed or not. She was complex and mysterious and he had the worst time trying to read her and her moods. She kept him and his emotions in tangles half the time and he didn’t know if she wanted him or his bite or just to be left alone. Then she pointed her fork at him. “Were you a prince or a king or something?” Roman just shook his head and her eyes narrowed. This time he caught the playful look on her face. “Were you a bartender back then too?” He snorted and shook his head again and she sighed. “A farmer? Are you even going to tell me if I guess right?” “Of course,” Roman said. “Do you give up?” “No,” she said quickly. She tilted her head to the side, giving him a curious look. “What do I get if I get it right?” Roman lifted an eyebrow and then took a sip of his coffee as he considered it. He wondered what she liked. He wondered what kind of music she liked and what she wanted him to listen to. He hoped he did enjoy it. It had been a long time since he could listen to anything without hearing just the faults in it and for that he blamed Giselle. “I don’t know,” he said. “What do you want?” She didn’t hesitate for a moment, the words coming quickly off her lips. “Promise you won’t walk away again.” The playful smile fell off his face at the words. There was something open and innocent about the way she asked and he felt his chest tighten painfully. She wasn’t meeting his eyes, like maybe she was afraid of what he’d say and he felt the fierce need to protect her surge through him. He reached over to settle his hand over hers, feeling sharp need course through him when he did. He slid his fingers into hers and then pulled them to his lips. “I promise,” he whispered against her skin. She let out a breath and then leaned her elbow on the table, watching him over the half empty plate. “But I didn’t win yet,” she said quietly. Her thumb ran over his and he felt warmth at the contact. His mind strayed to the last three days, to the pain that he’d tried to ignore tearing a hole in his chest and the violence he’d inflicted on anything he could break. He wouldn’t walk away again. “I still promise,” Roman told her quietly. She smiled and looked away, a warm flush on her cheeks that he thought was adorable. Her teeth pulled at her lower lip and then she tilted her head to study him again, eyes narrowed as she thought. It was a long moment before she finally guessed again. “Were you a knight?” she asked. Roman laughed and kissed her knuckles, lips brushing over her skin. She smelled like herself again. She smelled like Sam and like him because she’d spent the night in his bed. He couldn’t stop himself from wanting her there again, but he didn’t want to hurt her and he didn’t want to use her. The intensity of his need for her scared him, and he wondered if it would scare her. She had been used and hurt and there was a part of him that was concerned what would happen if he made a move on her. Would she welcome it, or simply allow it because she’d been forced into intimacy before? “Close enough,” he said, giving up the game. “I was a legionnaire.” She snorted and made a face at him. “You are old.” He chuckled and nodded his head, looking down at her hands. Her fingers were trembling in his hand and he held it tighter, bringing his other hand up to run up and down her forearm. There were white scars underneath his fingertips and her gaze moved to watch his hands touch them. It scared him that she might not listen to him. He didn’t like the thought of someone else’s fangs in her skin or the thought that they might not stop and she would end up dead. He hated that she’d done this to herself. He hated that he hadn’t been there to stop it and that she let herself believe she was the horrible things that other people told her she was. He hated Nolan and he hated that she’d been with him, that more than anything else. But he didn’t hate her. He just wanted her for himself and he knew the thought was selfish even as he had it. “Does that bother you?” he asked, tilting his head to look into her face. She laughed and her fingers twined with his, running over the calluses on his fingertips. They’d been left there when he was alive, from wielding a sword, but they’d helped when he’d been learning the violin. “You feed off human blood for a living and don’t have a pulse,” she said with a smirk. “If that doesn’t turn me off than you being an old man isn’t going to either.” Roman couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. His voice was casual as he lowered his lips back to her fingers but he kept his eyes on hers. “So I turn you on?” he asked quietly. An immediate blush spread across her face. “Oh shit,” she said. “I didn’t mean to say that.” He bit back a laugh at that, watching her tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. She wasn’t meeting his gaze, pulling one hand back to pick at her eggs as red colored her cheeks. He let the moment linger there because it fed the warmth in his chest and he felt the best he had since he’d had to walk away from her a week and a half ago. The regret that followed that thought was sharp and poignant because he wished he’d never left. He wished he’d gone back sooner. “Well you won,” he finally said. “What kind of prize do you want?” She tilted her head to look at him and had to look away again, the warm blush lingering on her cheeks. She looked outside, teeth tugging on her lips as she considered the question and then a smile spread across her lips. It was sincere and beautiful and he savored the look of it. “You should take me out dancing sometime,” she told him. “I think I could manage that,” he said. Even as he said the words, he didn’t know when. The world was falling apart around them and soon he wouldn’t even be able to take her places like this. “Will you wear a dress for me?” She smiled playfully. “I think I could manage that.” He let out a soft laugh and nodded his head, glancing up when the waitress came back over. Sam hadn’t finished her breakfast but he got it boxed up for her and paid the bill. The only other people in the place were junkies and he glanced over at them as he walked her out. He didn’t like thinking of her in the same position as them. He didn’t like the thought of her going to one of the nests or worse, the blood bank. He put the thought from her mind because he didn’t want to picture her in a place like that. Her hand slid into his as they walked down the street and he didn’t like that he would either have to leave her at the gate or sneak through. She was quiet next to him, chewing on her lip and he wondered what she was thinking. “Do you think I could come over again?” she asked after a while. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and looked up at him hopefully. “Sam,” Roman said, smiling down at her. “You’re welcome any time you want.” |
| There was a warm sensation creeping it's way around inside Sam's chest. Her fingers were laced with Roman's and she clung to his arm as they walked, her head resting on his shoulder and she felt happy. She realized that it was the first time in a long time she'd felt like this and she just kept her eyes closed and the smile on her face and she let Roman guide them. She knew she probably should have been paying attention to where they were going, so she didn't get lost when she came back to find him, but she knew the general vicinity and she knew she wouldn't be able to mistake the warehouse for anything but theirs. He'd told her she was welcome any time she wanted to come see him. She wondered if he knew just exactly what that meant to her. She wondered if he knew that she was used to getting kicked out or asked to leave or having to wait for an invitation to come over. She wondered if he knew what he was doing to her, driving her crazy and she hoped it wasn't just because he felt an obligation. She hoped he wasn't lying to her when he believed she could be more than a junkie. That part tore her up. She wasn't sure she was going to be able to cut it off completely. She was trying to convince herself that Roman would be enough. That having him feed would be better than nothing, but there was still a strong urge in her to go find Reno and she thought about Roman's warning on how hard it was for vampires to stop feeding. She wouldn't put it pass Reno. She wondered how she was supposed to do this. How she was supposed to just stop. The snorting wouldn't be a problem, it was the feeding that she worried about. They came up on the gate far too fast and Sam looked at the Undertakers who were patrolling there, a frown marring her face. There were too many of them. Normally they patrolled in pairs, or at the most, four to a group. But there were six or seven of them and they were in full gear. She felt Roman tense next to her, his hand tightening around hers and she knew what he was thinking. Something had happened. "What's going on?" Sam asked quietly, looking at Roman's face, but he was frowning at the guards as well. He looked behind them, like he expected to find something there, but then he shook his head and looked down at her. "I don't know," he said and she believed him. She wondered if she could still tell when he was lying and she thought the answer was yes. It didn't seem like he was lying now. He squeezed her hand. "I won't be able to pass here," he said softly. She nodded, looking up at his face. "I want you to come, but I don't want anything to happen to you," she told him, turning to glare at the Undertakers. A couple of them had noticed her and Roman, facing them and preparing for any trouble. She felt her stomach turn into knots because they probably were going to hassle her. They'd probably think she was a junkie whore and she felt ashamed that that's all people would see of her. "I could meet you in front of your apartment," he whispered quietly. She turned back to him, studying his face and a small smile crossed her lips. "You'll be careful?" she asked. He nodded his head and she nodded her agreement back. She squeezed his hand and stepped back, even though she felt like kissing his cheek or his hand or some part of him. But it was illegal. Most Undertakers looked the other way, but she didn't want to draw attention to them like that. Roman stayed where he was, watching her walk to the gate and she felt safer knowing he was there and he'd be there when she got to her apartment. She just felt safer with him around. She felt safe in his arms and in his bed and she wished she could stay there forever. Walking up to the gate, she started to step through, but one of the Undertakers held his arm out. She snapped her gaze to his face, glaring at him. "I have a right to pass," she told him sharply. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Roman standing on the corner and she knew he could probably hear everything that they would say. "Let's see some ID," the Undertaker said. She glowered at him, but yanked her purse open, pulling out her driver's license. She held it out to him and was surprised when he took it and actually examined it. She frowned, turning to look at the other Undertakers. They all seemed on edge. She licked her lips and looked at one of the ones standing near the gate. "What's going on?" she asked. "Are these new regulations?" The Undertaker cleared his throat and shook his head. "No ma'am," he said and she narrowed her eyes at the "ma'am." But any retort or comment she had for him was instantly gone when he said, "There was an incident at one of the schools. St. Jacob's. Kid was killed." Pain and fear instantly spiked through her chest and she couldn't help the small gasp that left her throat. Her eyes widened and she felt like she couldn't breathe. That was Bobby's school. "What happened?" she demanded. The Undertaker shrugged again, eyes going back to Roman suspiciously and she wanted to grab his chin and make him focus on her. This was important. "Group of people were beating on him for being a Fang lover." He nodded his head towards Roman. "You may want to watch who you're walking around with. There's been a few incidents like that. No one ever died before, but that's how it starts..." "Give me that," Sam growled, interrupting the man and reaching over to yank her ID back from the man who was inspecting it. She stuffed it in her purse, turning to look over her shoulder at Roman, who was watching her intently, obviously aware of her distress. "That's Bobby's school," she called to him. She saw his chin lift slightly and then he was hurrying off. She took it as a sign as he would meet her there and she turned back around, elbowing her way through the Undertakers. One of them grabbed her elbow and she paused to scoff and turn and hit him with her purse. "Get off of me, that could be my little brother," she hissed at him and then as soon as his hand was off of her, she turned and ran. Panic and fear made her quick and she wasn't even aware if the Undertakers were following her or not, or if they'd show up at her apartment and arrest her for assault later. Right now, she didn't even care. That could be Bobby. That was Bobby's school. And where was she when all of this was happening? High or coming down off of it. She prayed to whatever god was listening that her little brother was okay. She felt tears welling up in her eyes and panic freezing her lungs in her chest. Her heart was racing faster than she'd ever felt it race before and she was terrified that the kid who died was Bobby. What would she do then? What would she do without her little brother and she felt a sob threatening to escape her throat because she'd been so out of it and mean to him the last few days. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if it was Bobby. She prayed it wasn't. |
| Roman forced his way through the rip in the fence, feeling it tug at his shirt and leave stinging marks on the back of his neck when he did. It made his hands smoke when he pushed it aside but they were small burns and they would heal within the hour. There was a dog barking at him from one of the housing units next to him, a pitbull yanking and tugging at its chain. Somewhere beyond that he could hear a couple yelling and shouting at each other but they weren’t close enough to see him. If they were, he doubted they’d care. Pretty much everyone this close to the fence was a junkie of some kind. They would assume he was here for someone’s fix. He noticed these things with a dull detachment, feet carrying him swiftly past the rotting buildings towards the streets. There was the dark sensation of fear in his chest and he didn’t like that it was there. Part of it was because he was exactly where he wasn’t supposed to be, outside of his district without a black bag on his head. He kept his hood up but it didn’t mean no one would recognize him for what he was. An undertaker would know on sight. Any other human could guess just by the odd silver sheen to his eyes. The other part had everything to do with Sam and Bobby. It was why he didn’t hesitate to follow, even knowing the danger. He’d heard the quickening of her breath and seen the slight widening of her eyes. Her fear had been a palpable thing, because there was a dead child at Bobby’s school and there was the strong possibility that it had been him. He didn’t like that thought. He barely knew either of them but the thought of Bobby being dead caused pain and anger to well up in his chest. He knew his kind was unwelcome but he had to be there because if it was Bobby than he thought Sam would need him. There was the sickening feeling of guilt in his gut because he should have just taken her back to her apartment last night. He should have taken her home and he never should have walked away. He was aware of what he was getting into, starting this war, but it wasn’t right that someone innocent would get hurt in the middle of it. It was why he’d never wanted this. If it was Bobby he didn’t know what he’d do, or what Sam would do, but there was something dark rising in him because either way a kid was dead. He kept to the alleyways and the dark corners of buildings as he tried to make his way there. He knew the general direction of the school but he’d never been there because Fangs weren’t welcome anywhere near children. It was still easy to find it thanks to the screaming alarms from ambulances and police cars and he felt the fear and unease settling into a hard lump in his chest. There was a high fence around the school to keep his kind out but he didn’t get close enough for it to matter. He stopped between buildings across the street from the school and waited in the shadowy alley, his gaze scanning the street in front of him. It was packed with police cars and ambulances, every extra space filled with minivans and sedans. Panicked parents were holding their kids tightly like if they let them go they would suddenly be the ones on a gurney. He could see a cop muscling some teenage kid into the back of his squad car and there were tears on his face. “I didn’t mean to kill him, I swear,” he said quickly. He looked back at the police officer holding him but the man’s face didn’t change expression. The words didn’t mean much now. Especially if it was Bobby. He didn’t see Sam or Bobby. His eyes scanned the crowd quickly and he didn’t like the fear he held for both of them. Someone passed close to him and he stepped back deeper into the shadows. There were undertakers edging their way through the crowd and he wasn’t surprised to see them. The one in the lead he didn’t recognize but he made a straight line for the police officer in charge. He tried to listen to what was said but there were too many people all talking at once. What did surprise him was the group on the outskirts of the school. They were yelling and shouting, wielding posters that proclaimed Fangs were the Devil walking the earth. Roman felt his lip curling when he saw them, fingers digging into his arms as he tried to stay where he was. He didn’t care that people hated him. He cared that these same people had caused the death of a kid. There was a man up and yelling in the face of one of their leaders, his cheeks red and someone trying to hold him back as they screamed at each other. There were teachers at the gates of the school trying to keep order because there were still parents scanning frantically for their kids, demanding to know that it wasn’t theirs. A woman was sitting on the curb crying, a man next to her with an arm around her shoulders. “Bobby!” His head turned towards the sound, eyes finding Sam pushing through the crowd. The fear was etched on her face, still dressed in his clothes and clutching her purse as she shoved her way past the cops and the medics towards the school. A man tried to stop her, reaching for her arm and she didn’t hesitated on turning and hitting him away from her before she kept making her way towards the building. One of the teachers tried to stop her and he saw her mouth moving but he couldn’t hear the words. His fingers wrapped around his arm and he hated that he wasn’t there with her. She pushed the man’s hands away, her head craning towards the schoolyard. She called Bobby’s name again and then an answering call of “Sam!” rang out loudly from inside. Roman felt relief crash down on him, shoulder slumping hard against the building. His view was partially obstructed but he saw Sam drop to her knees and her arms go around the kid in front of her. It was startling, how much he wished he could have been standing next to her instead of hiding in the shadows. If he set foot in the crowd he’d be blackbagged in a heartbeat. He wondered if it wouldn’t have been worth it. The sound of footsteps behind him startled him, because he hadn’t been paying attention. His eyes had been locked on Sam and trying to get a glimpse of the kid he thought was Bobby. He couldn’t see much through the people and the cars, the flashing red and blue lights illuminating his face every few seconds. He tensed when someone walked by him, trying to keep still in case they were undertakers. A man passed by him, a black tee shirt on with bright white fangs and a red circle crossing them out on the front. “Call Jimmy, get him down here as soon as…” The man was talking to the one behind him, four of them pushing their way past Roman to join the group around the school. His words trailed off as he glanced back at his friends because for a moment his gaze passed over Roman, focusing on his eyes. Didn’t matter that he looked away, he knew what he was going to see. He jerked to a stop in front of him, staring with wide and confused eyes for a moment. The man probably didn’t expect to run into a Fang here of all places but he didn’t like the expression that darted across his face. His muscles tensed and he didn’t look away. “What the fuck, Mick?” the man behind him said. He pushed his friend and then glanced over at Roman. Mick snorted and then turned around, blocking the entrance of the alley. “Check out what we’ve got here,” he drawled. The confusion was off his face, replaced by something mean and vicious. He settled himself in front of Roman and he was distantly aware of his friends moving to circle him. His gaze flicked to the side and he straightened up, taking a step back. He spared a glance over the man’s shoulder to try and see Sam but he couldn’t pick her out. He debated running. One of the men laughed from behind him. “Looks like a Fang,” he said. “Aren’t you a little far from your cage, Fang?” Mick smiled in front of him, watching Roman’s face and he wondered just what they thought they could do to him. He wasn’t afraid of them but this wasn’t the time or the place for this. He was here for Sam. “I was just leaving,” he said. “I don’t think so,” Mick said. “In fact, I think you should see exactly what we think of the fucking Fangs in our city.” The man laughed and shook his head. He heard the clinking of metal behind him and his gaze flicked over his shoulder. He saw the man tugging a silver chain from around his neck, holding it loosely in his hands and waggling his eyebrows at Roman. “What the fuck is this?” A sharp voice asked. The man glanced over his shoulder, seeing Sam walking up. The fear was gone, replaced with something like anger. Roman couldn’t stop the swell of relief when he saw Bobby next to her. He had dark bruising on his temple and when he stopped being happy that he was alive he would wonder who had put that there. He didn’t like the thought of anyone hurting Sam or her little brother and he saw that same protectiveness on her face. It was a moment until he realized it was directed at him. She had one arm around her brother’s shoulder and the white scars on her skin glinted obviously in the streetlights. Mick glanced at her and his eyes narrowed when he saw her arms. He moved quickly, hand shooting out to grab her arm and the man next to him grasped Bobby by the shoulders, yanking him away from his sister. He let out a yell and threw a fist at the man, catching him in the stomach before he was pushed to the ground. “I’ll tell you what the fuck this is,” the man spat. He shoved Sam hard against the wall, other hand going around her throat. “This is us fixing the problem. You know what the problem is, bitch?” The man behind Roman laughed. He saw the glint of silver as he took a step closer to Roman. “You,” he supplied. “Little junkie whores letting monsters into our city.” Sam was glaring at the man in front of her, kicking and bucking against the hands holding her there. She landed a knee in his gut and he slammed her back harder against the wall. That was all it took. The anger flared to life and the consequences didn’t matter anymore. One moment the man had his hand around Sam’s throat and the next he found his back slamming into the opposite wall. There was a growl pulling its way from Roman’s throat and he was barely aware of it. His focus snapped to the man behind him, the one with the silver chain, but that wasn’t why he hit him first. It was because of what he’d called Sam. The anger burned away his self control and in a heartbeat the man had his back against the wall and Roman’s fangs were in his neck. He let out a scream and he didn’t care if he brought down the undertakers. Let them come. No one spoke to Sam like that and no one was allowed to hurt him. His friend came at him, swinging a metal pipe at his back. He was aware of the impact but none of the pain. He tore his mouth from the man, letting him fall to his knees in the alley. He wrapped his fingers around his throat to try and stop the blood but Roman could hear him making choked, gurgling noises. He didn’t care. His focus switched to the man with the pipe and he grasped his forearm with his hand, tightening until he heard bones cracking as he threw him against the wall. One of them took off running into the crowd. He let him go and turned his attention to the last two. The one that had been holding Bobby was holding his nose, his blood on Sam’s knuckles. She kicked him again in the groin for good measure. Roman’s attention shifted to the man that had touched her. He was struggling to his feet and Roman helped him, grasping his neck and hauling him up the wall. He let out a strangled noise when he saw the bared fangs in front of him, a snarl on Roman’s face as he leaned closer. “You don’t touch her,” he snarled. Then his teeth were sinking hard into his throat, blood bursting in his mouth in a thick wave. It pulsed over his tongue and he tightened his grasp on the man, not caring about anything but making him bleed. He didn’t care that he hated Fangs. He didn’t care that he’d wanted to hurt Roman or that he wanted to yell and protest those that didn’t feel the same. He hated that he’d touched Sam. He hated that he’d thought he had the right to put his hands around her throat and insult her and the depth of Roman’s possessiveness and protectiveness almost surprised him. It was fierce and uncompromising. He wouldn’t have stopped. He would have kept going until the man was dead but then he felt a soft hand on his shoulder. He yanked his mouth back with a snarl, turning his head to the side. It was a moment until he focused on her face, eyes wide as she watched him. “Roman,” she said. One arm was around Bobby and she glanced over her shoulder at the crowd. “Time to go.” |
| They hurried back to the apartment, but it was mostly in silence. Sam had too many things running through her mind. She wanted to know where the bruises on Bobby's head had come from so she could go and return the favor, and she was thinking about Roman tearing through those anti-fangs and the anger and rage she'd seen on his face. She was thinking about the dead kid at the school and what this would mean to Nolan and the future of the city and maybe she was scared of that the most. Maybe she should go back to trying and covering her scars. Maybe she should just pull Bobby out of school and home school him. She almost laughed at that thought, because that would require her to know things. They hurried into the apartment complex, one of Sam's arms was around Bobby's shoulders because she wasn't ready to let go of him yet. The other was held out behind her, clinging to Roman's hand and whether he wanted to come back to the apartment or not, she wasn't giving him a choice. She'd been scared when she'd seen him with those four men in front of him. She knew he was strong and quick, and he'd been a legionnaire of all things, but that didn't change the fact that bad things could happen to him. She finally let go of Roman's hand when they got in front of the apartment door, digging through her purse for her keys instead. She opened the door and let them in and was quick to lock it behind them. As soon as she heard the click, she breathed a sigh of relief. No one had followed them and they were safe now and if someone had seen her and Bobby with Roman, it wouldn't stay that way, but at least for now, it was fine. Turning around, she saw Roman had gone to the window, leaning against the wall and pushing the curtain back slightly. He was watching the streets like he expected them to have company and she didn't blame him. This was dangerous, him being here and she felt emotion well up in her chest because it shouldn't be. He should be able to come and go as he pleased. She would just have to come to him, that was all there was to it. Her eyes moved to Bobby next and he stood by the couch. She focused on the bruises on his head and his messy hair and it looked like someone had roughed her little brother up. He was looking a little lost, his eyes on Roman and then he licked his lips, gaze coming up to meet Sam's. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to say to him, but she held out her arms for him and she knew her brother was scared when he came willingly and wrapped his arms around her. She held him tightly, her eyes closing and thinking how easily that could have been Bobby on the gurney or her crying on the sidewalk. How easily their little family could have been shattered today. Pressing her lips to Bobby's hair, she reached up and brushed it out of his face, looking in his eyes. "Are you okay?" she asked again. She'd asked him when she'd first found him at the school, but they'd been distracted by Roman's ordeal and right now she just wanted to make sure her little brother was safe and sound and secure. Bobby nodded his head. "It was Adam," he said, eyes glistening slightly. Sam frowned and tried to remember if Bobby had ever told her about Adam. She wasn't sure the kid had many friends. At her confused look, Bobby sniffled and rubbed at his eyes like he hated there was even the shred of tears there. "The boy Jenny liked." "Your science partner?" Sam asked, suddenly remembering this conversation. She'd told Bobby to talk to Roman about it. Her eyes went pass her little brother to Roman, still standing near the window. He glanced back at her with a worried look on his face. Bobby nodded again. "Yeah. Some kids at school found out that his Dad was allowing vampires to come to his garage to fix their cars and they started beating him up." Bobby sniffled against and Sam's fingers ran over the bruises on his head. "I tried to tell them to stop, but they just hit me and then kept on hitting him. Even when he stopped crying." Sam pulled her brother closer to her again, squeezing him to her chest because he'd been there when the boy had died and it was someone he knew and it really could have been Bobby. If the kids had decided to take out their ridiculous anger on Bobby instead of Adam, it could have been her little brother. "I'm so sorry, Bobby," she whispered, holding his head against her shoulder. Her brother squeezed her back, but then pulled away and looked at her, a frown marring his face. "Where have you been?" he demanded and then turned to look at Roman. "Where have both of you been?" he said, sounding a little more angry with Roman than he was with Sam, which would have normally amused her, but Bobby had a point. Standing up, Sam pulled Bobby over onto the couch with her, sitting down holding his little hands in her own. She let out a breath and couldn't look at her brother. The words were hard and she had to force them off her tongue. "It's not Roman's fault," she told him. "I've not been...I've had..." she licked her lips, trying to think of the best way to go over this with Bobby. What did her little brother know about this sort of thing? What had he been exposed to other than the aftermath? Did he know what an addiction was? As soon as she thought it, tears sprung up in her eyes because she never thought she would be explaining this to her brother because it was something he had to deal with from her. She never thought she would be an addict and at the thought of it, she brought a hand up to cover her mouth because what had become of her life? When had she lost control of all of this? Bobby scooted closer to her and she felt him hug her arm, his cheek resting against her shoulder. She turned back to look at him and he was looking up at her with wide eyes, all his fear and shock of the day's events gone, his attention solely on her and she wondered what she'd done to ever deserve a little brother like this. What had she done that he trusted her and loved her so. "I love you," she told him, her voice breaking slightly and she couldn't stop the tears from slipping down her cheeks. "I'm trying." "I know," Bobby answered, resting his head against her arm as he eyes went across the room to Roman. A frown marred his face and then he lifted his head, looking back at her. "Can I talk to Roman alone for a minute?" he asked. The question surprised Sam and she glanced over at Roman, who turned to look at them, an equally surprised look on his face. She tried to smirk at him, but she couldn't quite get herself to smile at the moment. She nodded though. "Yeah, sure," she said, standing up and leaning over to kiss his head again. "I have to go get changed and give him his clothes back anyway." She stared at her brother for a moment and the pain in her chest was heavy and sharp. She hated that her mind went to the little white baggie in her purse or the old subway tunnels of the blood bank. She had to stop using these as her crutch. She had to start dealing with the pain. Standing, she moved pass the couch, touching Roman's arm as she headed back into her bedroom. He smiled at her, his fingers brushing over hers as she moved pass him. Closing the door to her bedroom behind her, she leaned against it and closed her eyes. This was hard. This was all so hard and she didn't know how much of it Bobby understood or how much of it she even understood. She couldn't do this alone and suddenly, the need for her parents was clawing up her chest. She started to cry and sink to the floor, holding her head in her hands. She missed them. She missed them more than anything. They always knew what to do and they always kept her straight. Now it was just her. Her and Bobby. It made it a little better than maybe now it was her, Bobby and Roman. |
| Roman stayed where he was against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and his head turned towards Bobby. He could hear Sam make her way to the bedroom, the touch of her fingers lingering on his skin. He heard the click of her door shutting and he could hear the quiet sounds of her crying. The sounds tore at his heart and he couldn’t stop himself from looking down the darkened hallway after her. The urge he had to follow her, to wrap his arms around her and protect her, was sharp and unexpected. The kid was looking down the hallway after his sister and he looked sad and scared as he did. The bruises on his face were dark and awful and Roman hated that they were there. He hated the look on the boy’s face and that someone he knew and went to school with was dead. He was too young to have to deal with this. He sniffled once and then wiped a hand over his face before turning to look at Roman. A dark look creased his expression and then he was walking over towards the window and punching Roman in the arm. “Fuck you asshole!” he yelled loudly. Roman’s eyes widened and he stood there in blank confusion for a moment. The blow hadn’t hurt, not him anyway, but he hadn’t expected it. He hadn’t expected the curse to come out of his mouth either and he wasn’t sure how to respond. He’d never had kids of his own and he’d never been sure how to act around them. He’d always just treated Bobby like a tiny adult but he felt like he was supposed to say something to the obscenities flung his way. “You should watch your language,” he said. The glare on Bobby’s face darkened and his hands were curled into fists, though he didn’t try and hit him again. There were tears in his eyes but he didn’t think they were for him. He thought they were for Sam and Bobby and what they’d had to deal with all by themselves. “Fuck you,” Bobby yelled again. “You said you would protect her and then you just left.” Roman ducked his head and suddenly he couldn’t meet the boy’s eyes. He stared at the carpet beneath his feet and nothing else because then he’d be reminded of the door he’d slammed behind him and swore he wouldn’t walk through again. He’d promised. He’d promised her he’d come back and he’d promised Bobby he’d protect her and he felt a dark wave of guilt for walking away. It had hurt, knowing that she’d fucked Nolan and was a blood junkie like everyone had said and even thinking it he felt the heartache and jealousy that had stirred in him. He’d thought she was using him. He’d thought she wanted his bite for herself and whatever else he told her was just something she could sell Nolan on the side. It had hurt him more than he liked to admit. It still hurt. The doubt came back whenever she left the room because whenever she was around he felt blinded. “I know,” he said quietly. “You don’t,” Bobby said angrily. His voice cracked with emotion and then he hit Roman in the arm again. Roman didn’t try to stop him. He just pulled away from the window and let the boy take out his anger on him. The tears glistening in his eyes started to slip down his cheek, making the bruising glossy and surreal. “You don’t know because you weren’t here. You left and I lost my sister and I don’t have anybody else.” He sniffled and then dragged his sleeve across his nose. Roman licked his lips and he wasn’t sure what to say. The excuses on his tongue died before he got them past his lips because he didn’t want to insult Bobby with them. He thought about those words, about him losing his sister and he felt that sick feeling in his gut again because he wondered just what Sam had done to herself in the three days since he’d walked out on her. He wondered if she would feel a similar disgust for him. He’d killed two undertakers because he’d just wanted to break something and then he’d fucked Giselle because he didn’t want to feel anymore. He still had to deal with the aftermath of that. “I’m sorry,” Roman said. There was a list of sins he was apologizing for. “That’s not good enough,” Bobby told him, tears still in his eyes. “You can’t do it again.” “I won’t.” He hoped he could keep to those words. It was dangerous for him to come here but it was dangerous for her to come to him too. All of this would be easier and safer if they just kept their distance but he knew even as he thought it that he wouldn’t keep to that. He needed her. Some part of him that he’d thought long dead needed her in his life and he didn’t know what it meant yet. “You don’t understand,” Bobby said. He rubbed his hands over his face and his voice got quiet and sad. He looked down at the carpet and his arms crossed over his chest, mimicking Roman’s position. He was looking at the carpet and his voice was muffled but Roman could still hear him. Even so, he crouched down in front of the kid because he felt odd towering over him. “You can’t do it again,” he repeated. He chewed on his lip and still wouldn’t look at him. “Sam can’t take it, not after what happened with mom.” Roman frowned and glanced over his shoulder at the bedroom. It was quiet in there and he didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse. He licked his lips and then looked back at Bobby. “What happened with your mom?” he asked gently. Bobby was quiet, twisting the hem of his shirt in his small fingers. “Sam doesn’t know that I know about it,” he whispered. Roman nodded his head but he wasn’t sure he wanted the kid to say anything more if that was the case. Before he could say it Bobby was looking up at him with sad eyes, filling quickly with tears. “Please don’t leave us Roman.” He didn’t expect Bobby to suddenly throw his arms around his waist in a hug. His eyes widened slightly in surprise and he glanced desperately down the hallway for Sam but she was nowhere in sight. He struggled for words, resting a hand on the kid’s back in what he hoped was a comforting motion. He wasn’t sure how to respond. Kid’s didn’t hug him or trust him. No one did, because he was a fucking Fang who would devour them whole. “It’s alright,” he said awkwardly. “I’m not going anywhere.” Bobby nodded his head, tears soaking into his shirt as he hugged him. He finally pulled back and then punched him one more time in the chest for good measure. “You better not,” he said. “If you leave again then don’t bother coming back.” “I’m not leaving,” Roman told him again. His gaze scanned the boy’s face and his voice lowered. “Are you alright?” Bobby nodded his head but he was looking down at the carpet again. “They killed Adam just because of his dad,” he whispered. His hands came up to rub at his arms and Roman rested a hand hesitantly on his shoulder. “I can’t believe he’s not going to be in school tomorrow. I can’t believe he’s really dead.” He shook his head, his voice lost and a little broken and then he looked up at Roman’s face. “What would they do to us if they found out my sister was dating you?” Roman’s eyes widened slightly but he chose not to correct Bobby. He didn’t know what he and Sam were, but the specifics didn’t really matter at the moment. “I’ll try and protect you,” he said, ducking his head. “But you two need to be careful. You probably shouldn’t be seen with me in public.” The words hurt to say, and he felt the familiar hatred that it was necessary. “Does this mean you’re not coming over for my birthday?” Bobby asked quietly. Roman’s head lifted at that and he felt a stab of guilt because he’d forgotten. He scanned the boy’s face and he couldn’t remember what day it was. He’d have to ask Sam. “I said I’d come over and I will,” Roman said, offering him a small smile. The kid made a face at him and then shoved him towards the hallway. Roman moved because he wanted to, and because he thought maybe Bobby was just as embarrassed by the unexpected show of affection. “Good,” he said. He wiped his sleeve across his face again. “Now go get my sister and tell her she needs to get in here and watch this movie with me.” Roman lifted a curious eyebrow and he wondered for a moment how it was the kid wasn’t afraid of him. He’d watched him tear through four men like they were nothing. To him they had been. All he’d been aware of was the anger and the hate and he hadn’t held back. He wondered if Sam would hate him after this. He wondered if she would hate him if he told her what he’d been doing for the last week. There were dead undertakers all around him and more of them to come. It struck him hard as he walked towards her bedroom. He’d been a killer all his life. Every time he thought he escaped it, he just kept coming back to it. He rapped gently on her door and then leaned against the wall, hands shoved in his pockets in what he hoped was a casual motion. He heard shuffling around inside and then the door opened, Sam’s face looking up at him. Her eyes were red but he didn’t say anything because they were only glazed with tears this time. She had taken his clothes off and replaced them with her own jeans and a tee shirt. “Everything all sorted out?” she asked. Her voice was low and she chewed worriedly on her lip as she looked past him. “I hope so,” Roman said. “Your brother wants you to go watch a movie with him.” Sam glanced at his face and then nodded her head. Her hand slipped into his and started to pull him back towards the living room. Her bedroom door was open and for a moment he glanced in at her bed. The memory of lying there with her came back to him and a large part of him wished he’d never left. “Then we’d better go watch it with him,” she said firmly. “I don’t know how long I should stay,” Roman admitted. He felt like he had to say the words, even though they were the opposite of what he wanted. He didn’t want to leave, and he didn’t try to pull his hand away. “It could be dangerous for you.” Sam glanced back at him. “I’m not afraid,” she said. The words struck a chord in him. Warmth spread through his chest and he squeezed her hand tightly because he wasn’t sure she understood what that meant to him. It was the one thing he had always liked about her, even when she hated him. Even when she made him grovel and beg, she wasn’t afraid. He closed his eyes gratefully and pressed his lips against her fingers. She led him to the couch where Bobby was already sitting, remote in hand. He glanced over as Roman sat at the opposite corner and Sam sat next to him. His arm went around her shoulders instinctively and she pressed close against his side before she held out her arms for her brother. The boy smiled and then he stretched out across the couch, wrapping his arms tightly around his sister’s waist and holding onto her, his head buried against her stomach. “I missed you Sam,” he whispered quietly. He heard the quiet hitch of Sam’s breath as she wrapped her arm around her brother’s shoulders. “I missed you too bratkin.” |
Chapter Eight Sam sat on top of the desk, chewing her thumbnail. She had her legs crossed and one arm leaned back behind her, palm flat on the desk. There was an Undertaker sitting at the desk, talking about something that she wasn't quite sure she was following. She felt bad, because he seemed like a nice guy, even if he was a little bit talkative. But she didn't want anything to do with him. She was just using his desk to sit on and wait for the archive room to clear out. She just needed five minutes alone in the room, but it had been busy for the last hour or so, which left her no choice but to sit and talk to what's-his-name. She nodded like she was listening, and frowned finally when she caught a few words here and there about Eskimos and she was suddenly glad she was zoning out on him. Why the fuck would she want to talk about Eskimos? She smirked as her mind went to Bobby, because it was probably something her kid brother would like. They'd watched a documentary on tv about the north pole and a part of her wished her little brother was normal and wanted to watch cartoons, but a part of her was so fucking proud of him because he was like a little Einstein and at least someone in the family had gotten some brains. Her mind went to Roman after that and she couldn't help the sly smile that lit across her face. She chewed her thumb more vigorously as she thought about him lying on the couch with her through Bobby's movie. Her little brother had fallen asleep halfway through and to be honest, she thought she had too. She just knew that there was no place she felt more comfortable and safe than in his arms. It had been hard to let him leave. She'd had to say goodbye quietly, because Bobby had been asleep on the couch, but she'd asked Roman if she could come see him again tonight. She knew he'd already told her she was welcome any time, but she needed to hear him say it again. She needed to be sure it wasn't a fluke. He'd kissed her cheek and said he'd be waiting and she'd blushed brightly. He'd started to leave, but had stopped halfway down the hallway and she thought he was coming back for her, but she'd laughed at him when he asked what day Bobby's birthday was. Three days. Three days and her little brother was going to be eleven and she still wasn't sure what they were going to do for his birthday. She knew he wanted cake and he wanted Roman there and she thought that no matter what, as long as those two things happened, Bobby would be okay with whatever else they did. She thought about getting him another movie, or a book. Would he want her to pick out his clothes for him? She'd have to really put thought into a gift for her little brother because he'd put up with a lot of shit this year. A lot of shit she'd caused. She wondered if Roman would bring a gift and the thought of him trying to decide what to get her brother made her smile profusely. He'd been sucked into their family and he hadn't protested. Bobby had warmed up to Roman quicker than she thought he should have, and she wasn't quite sure what had caused it, but she was grateful for it. She never thought she'd be grateful that Bobby's father figure was a vampire. The door to the archive room opened and Sam straightened, watching a little blonde chick walk out with a stack of folders in her hands. She smirked and jumped off the desk, turning to give a way to the Undertaker sitting there. "See ya later, Tom," she said. "It's Ted," the man said, frowning at her. "That's what I meant," she winked at him and she saw him smile as she turned around and made a beeline for the archive room. As soon as she crossed the doorway, she turned, looking out at the others and the office was slow and quiet tonight. Nolan had been out when she'd gotten to work and no one seemed to know what sort of business he was attending to. She thought there was a reason for that. Nolan didn't exactly do things by the books. Closing the door, Sam hurried over to one of the computers. She slipped into the wheely chair and started looking through the files. She wasn't sure exactly what she was looking for, but she'd gotten it into her head that if Nolan was done using her for information, then maybe she could help Roman. Maybe she could help him get his Dad back as a show that he could trust her. As a way of saying thank you for pulling her up from the gutter. Opening one of the files on the computer, Sam grinned when she saw she'd found old blueprints from the Undertaker headquarters and prisons scattered throughout the city. "Perfect," she whispered and clicked print for as many as she could access. "Thank god for public records," she muttered. Sam's eyes darted up when she heard footsteps approaching the room quickly. Panic coursed through her chest at the thought that maybe it was Nolan and he'd been watching her, secretly waiting for her to make a move like this. She looked around the room and her mind seemed to freeze on what she was going to do to cover her tracks. She panicked and in a last minute, split second decision, she shoved the computer straight off the desk. It fell onto the floor, the monitor sputtering out and the computer sparking before it died. The noise was loud and Sam had only a moment to think that it was a stupid reflex before the door flung open. "Sam," Caleb Rourke said, looking relieved and excited at the same time. She tried to look casual, but felt relieved as well that it was Caleb and not one of Nolan's goons. Caleb seemed to be a decent enough guy and if there was an Undertaker she had to trust, it would be him. He had a file in his hand and he came over to stand by the desk, excitement and adrenaline making his face red and words fast. "I've been waiting to talk to you alone forever. I've got this file here that you've got to see. I think you'll find it interesting. Why is that computer on the floor?" he asked, not pausing between his sentences as he pointed to the broken computer. Sam glanced down at it, licking her lips before she shrugged. "It fell," she supplied and then held her hand out for the file. "What's got you so excited?" Caleb raised an eyebrow at her, but then slipped around the desk to kneel down next to her. She smirked because he was awkward and oblivious to how this would look. He opened the file and spread it out in front of her. "It has to do with Howard's death," he said and that wiped the smile right off her face. She leaned over the file, looking at the pictures and report. She was impressed that there was this much information. "I didn't know anyone was really investigating it," she said quietly. "No one was," Caleb said. "So I decided to. Howard was a good guy." Sam glanced at Caleb's face and smiled. "He was," she agreed. "Did you find out who was responsible?" she asked, looking over the notes. Caleb nodded his head. "I think I know who did it, but I don't have proof." "Who do you think did it?" Caleb's face fell a little and he met Sam's eyes. "I think it was Nolan." |
| The violin was out of tune. It always was, but Roman found it more irritating today because he was making more mistakes than usual. His thoughts wouldn’t hold still. They kept straying to his father and the unease he felt churning in his gut because the hours kept pulling him closer to the two week mark and he wasn’t sure how long Nolan would keep to their bargain and let him live. The more he thought about it, the more he kept thinking about Sam’s words. He had sent her to him for a reason, and he didn’t trust that reason. He didn’t trust anything about this. He needed to get him out, and soon. He couldn’t help but wonder if his father was already dead. He wondered if he was the only one holding to their deal and meanwhile Gaius had been thrown in an incinerator and burned alive ten days ago. That thought festered in his chest and made his teeth grit tightly in anger and fear. His fingers slipped on the violin. He growled and crushed his eyes closed, trying to concentrate on bending the bow and the strings to his will. Sounds came out but he couldn’t tell if it was music anymore because all he could hear were the faults. He paused to adjust the pegs and when he did he found his thoughts straying to Sam. As soon as he thought of her he felt some of the anger fade. He wondered if she would come tonight and the thought both concerned and excited him. It was dangerous for her, because it brought her through vampire territory where some of his kind were getting anxious and hungry. Bags of animal blood weren’t the same as warm, human blood and he didn’t like the thought of her walking the streets alone. He didn’t like the thought of something happening to her or that he wouldn’t be there to protect her. If he could have stayed with her last night he would have, and if she’d asked he wasn’t sure that he would have said no. Or kept his hands to himself. A hesitant smile still pulled at his lips at the thought and his eyes closed, putting the bow to strings again. Despite his concerns he still wanted her to come. The smell of her still lingered in his bed and stirred the hunger he already felt for her. There was guilt in that thought because he knew now that she craved his bite and he hated being a fix for her. It didn’t stop that his body craved her just as badly. He wanted her and she was putting his self-control to the test because it was nothing he would ever force from her. He wondered if she would bring Bobby. They’d cancelled school in the wake of Adam’s death and Roman was sure there would be backlash to follow. The governor had already gotten on the news and publicly condemned the action, saying there was no reason for humans to turn on humans when they could turn on Fangs. At least, that was what Roman read between the lines. He wondered how the kid was handling it. Not even eleven and he’d already witnessed death first hand. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair and it made him feel guilty about his presence in his life. He was a monster after all. His eyes opened and focused on the boxes on the floor. He wondered what Bobby would want for his birthday. He wondered if he would like one of his books or if he should find something else for him. He thought about asking Sam and it occurred to him when he thought it just how odd it was. It felt contradictory. He was a monster who was supposed to be waging a war on the undertakers to try and free his father from prison and instead he was wondering what he should get a ten year old for his birthday. His gaze shifted when the door opened, focusing on the woman entering. His bow scraped harshly over the strings when he saw her and he didn’t miss her slight wince at the jarring sound. Giselle stepped around the boxes, heels clicking on the floor as she did. She wore a small strapless dress, a string of pearls hanging around her neck. She smiled when she saw him, hand coming out to rest against his hand and still the motions of the bow. His face darkened as he looked up at her and he wondered when her touch had stopped exciting him as it once did. “I have a secret for you,” she said. Roman lifted an eyebrow. “Oh? What is it?” She smiled and her fingers moved to his face. They trailed over his jaw and down towards his lips and he saw hunger looking back at him. He’d barely seen her in the last day or so, and once he would have missed her more. He ducked his head, standing and turning to pack the violin away in its case. He wondered if Sam would hear the faults in it if he played for her. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret.” Giselle laughed quietly, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. She crossed her legs demurely, fingers pulling at his sheet. She tilted her head curiously and then lifted it to her mouth, sniffing at the fabric. “How was she?” Roman snapped the case shut, leaning it against the wall afterwards and turning to face her. “What’s your secret?” She laughed again, her hand smoothing the sheet back over the mattress. He didn’t acknowledge the words or the wry amusement with which she asked. It didn’t surprise him anymore. There’d been a point where he’d loved her and a point where he’d hated her and now he didn’t know if he felt anything for her. At one point he’d wanted to make her jealous so that she knew half of the pain she put him through, and it had hurt more than anything when he’d realized she had just found his attempts amusing. “You don’t want to talk about this?” she asked. Her head tilted to the side, dark hair framing her face. Her lip stuck out in a pout, leaning back on her arms on his bed. The sight of her there was familiar and stirred up memories. Centuries they’d been together and he’d missed how hollow she was inside. “Did you take her to your bed to make me jealous, or because she’s replacing me there?” Roman sighed and ran a hand over his mouth. “What happened between us was a mistake,” he said. She lifted an eyebrow at him. “A mistake?” “You heard me.” His voice was quieter than he liked and he had a hard time meeting her gaze. There was still a part of him that kept forgetting they weren’t together anymore and it struck him as odd. They’d never been just friends. From the moment he’d met her he’d wanted her and once she was his he’d never wanted to let her go. The sharp emotions he’d always felt in her presence had cooled and he couldn’t tell what was left in its wake. “It should never have happened. We’ve been over a long time.” She sighed and he heard the bed creak when she stood. “Ah Roman,” she said quietly. She came to stand in front of him and he glanced up when she slid her hands around his shoulders. Fingers played with the ends of his hair, gliding over the nape of his neck and they were cool against his skin. She offered him a small smile but it was surprisingly soft and honest. “Was it ever over? I don’t recall either of us ever saying that. You banned me from your bed, but it doesn’t mean you were ever unwelcome in mine.” Her voice lowered and her head tipped back, lips parting breaths away from his. “It doesn’t mean I stopped loving you.” He snorted out something like a laugh and looked away from her. The words burrowed underneath his skin and he wondered if she knew just how much time he’d spent loathing her for what she’d made of him. He couldn’t be the man she wanted him to be so she’d tormented him and destroyed him and now she wanted to do it again. “I’m not convinced you ever knew what that word meant.” “You can be so cruel when you want to be,” she said, and if anything her voice was breathier when she spoke. One hand slid up into his hair and he felt her lips press against his jaw. “Do you want me to leave Solomon? Is that what you want? Me to be yours alone?” Roman let out a growl and pulled her fingers from his hair. The words were a sharp blade in his chest and he couldn’t recognize his own emotions that stirred in response. His mind strayed to Sam and he wished suddenly it was her hands on his skin and her standing in front of him offering him the world. It was a stupid reaction because he didn’t know what she wanted from him, if anything, but it didn’t stop him from releasing Giselle’s fingers and stepping back. “What was your secret, Giselle?” he snapped. She watched him for a moment, eyes lidded and judging while her lip stuck out in a pout. “You’re so fickle sometimes Roman,” she said quietly. “I would have sworn that was all you’ve ever dreamed of. Just me and you, like it used to be.” His expression didn’t change, watching her with gritted teeth as she turned to sit on his bed. “Tell me, do you ever think of Galveston?” “I do,” he admitted. “What did you come in here to tell me?” She sighed and crossed her legs again, the black skirt of her dress riding up around her thighs. “I was speaking with Gloria, one of our new friends you recall, and she had something very interesting to share with me. Would you like to hear it?” “I would,” Roman told her. He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to remain patient. Giselle smiled and looked at her hand, pretending to examine her nails. “It would seem she used to be on the program for good little Fangs, and she became something like friends with her feeder.” It made him think of Sam and he wondered if she was really coming over tonight and if he really meant more to her than a fix. He wondered if she wanted him to feed on her and he hated himself because part of him was still excited by the prospect. He still craved her blood and the taste of her on his tongue. “Alright,” Roman said. Giselle seemed to be waiting for something, watching him curiously out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t know what she wanted and he didn’t know what she expected him to say. He felt a small amount of concern because it was possible she was about to tell him that Gloria’s feeder was a junkie and had seen something he didn’t want to know about. Giselle smiled and then looked away again. “It would seem he’s something of a junkie. He came to find her even after the restrictions were laid down. Not hard, considering he’s an undertaker.” Her grin widened and Roman lifted an eyebrow curiously. “In fact, I believe he happens to be one of the gate guard at a certain penitentiary by the river,” she said casually. Roman stilled and he felt his chest tighten, a smile tugging at his lips. “Sayre.” |
| Sam’s mind was reeling for the rest of the day. After Caleb had left to go on his patrol, she’d gone back to her small desk in Nolan’s office and had just sat there, staring at the magazine in front of her and not really reading it. She hoped Nolan didn’t come back today. She hoped he didn’t come back ever, but she knew that was too much to hope for. Nolan had killed Howard. Caleb didn’t have solid proof and it was all conjecture and would never hold up in court, but there wasn’t a doubt in Sam’s mind that he’d done it. She’d looked at Caleb’s notes and all signs pointed to him. The more she thought about it, the more she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it earlier. Or maybe she had and just didn’t want to acknowledge it. A part of her felt guilty that she wasn’t the one who had been investigating Howard’s death. Maybe she hadn’t really dealt with it yet. She’d tried to convince herself she didn’t care about Howard, but she knew that wasn’t true. She just hadn’t cared for him the way he wanted her to. She thought about herself telling Nolan the first time she met him that it was convenient for him Howard had died. It was true, and apparently she wasn’t the only one who thought so. Caleb had just gone a little further. He’d shown her the reports he’d gotten from the bar and she wondered how she felt about Caleb talking to Roman. His statement was in there and she thought if Caleb was ever going to try to take this to someone official, she’d ask for his name to be taken out because she didn’t want Roman involved with anything that had to deal with Nolan or trying to take him down. Nolan was dangerous. She had no doubt if he ever found out, she’d never see Roman again. She couldn’t take that chance. She absolutely couldn’t and the more she thought about it, the more she realized just what Roman meant to her, whether he wanted it or not. She’d been dying. Maybe not today or maybe not tomorrow, but she’d been on a sinking ship and she knew it. She’d been steps away from leaving Bobby alone in the world until Roman showed up. She’d done what she always did and had been mean to him for months. But the minute he pulled her out of the line of fire the day Howard died, that had all been over. Everything had changed. He’d saved her a second time when he’d brought her back to his bed and held her all night while she sobered up. She craved it, the bite and the coke, but she knew what would happen if she showed up at Roman’s with signs of either of them. She didn’t know if he’d kick her out or scream at her that he’d never want to see her again. But she did know he’d be disappointed. At that in itself was scary enough. She didn’t want to disappoint him. That’s why there were old blueprints to Sayre prison stuffed into her purse. She thought about the danger Roman would be in trying to get his father back, but it was what he wanted and she knew she couldn’t stop him from trying, so all she could do was make sure he had everything she could possibly get him to make sure he was successful and safe. The door to Nolan’s office opened and she glanced up, her stomach dropping when she saw Nolan walk in, his young assistant behind him. He had been in the middle of a sentence, but he stopped when he saw her, that fake smile of his spreading across his face. “Samantha,” he said, nodding to his assistant and the kid turned around and left. Sam didn’t like that she was alone in the room with Nolan and she liked even less when he closed the door behind him. He came over to her small desk, sitting on the edge of it and folding his hands on his lap, as he smiled down at her. “You’re looking rather alert today.” Sam felt anger and loathing well up in her chest because Nolan was well aware of the state she’d been in. He was partly responsible for it. Sure, he didn’t tell her to drown herself in drugs and fangs, but he’d made it worse. He’d played a major part in this. “I’m trying to better myself,” she told him sarcastically and he smirked at her. “It’s a start, perhaps,” he said and she hated the doubt and condescension in his voice. He reached forward and pushed some of her hair back from her shoulder, exposing her neck and the bite marks there. She’d been trying to hide the proof of her addiction. Ever since what happened at Bobby’s school. She’d realized that it wasn’t just herself she was putting in danger by being an addict, Bobby was in danger too. A kid had been killed over what his father was allowing vampires to do. What would they do to a junkie’s little brother? Licking her lips, she glanced at Nolan’s face and tried not to think about how he’d had Howard murdered so he could be top dog in the city. She didn’t want to admit how much more afraid of him that made her. He could turn on her in a heartbeat and she was tense and careful around him now. She tried not to act differently, in case he started to wonder, but she knew she couldn’t help most of it. “Did you hear about what happened at the school?” she asked. Nolan nodded, his hand coming out to touch her hair again. She stiffened at the touch because she could almost confuse it for something loving. She knew it was nothing of the sort. It was lustful. It was Nolan taking advantage of someone beneath him. “I did,” he acknowledged, but didn’t say anything more. He leaned forward and she held her breath as his lips brushed over the nape of her neck. She suddenly wished she wasn’t here. She wished she were with Roman. “My brother saw it happen,” she said, trying to stay focused. “It could have been him.” Nolan’s other hand came up to cup the side of her face as he continued to kiss her neck. He leaned back only to make her take her sweater off and she let him, simply because she was afraid to push back with him. He pulled the strap of her dress down as he stood behind her, kissing her neck and shoulder. “And whose fault would that have been?” Nolan asked and she hated the words. She hated that he didn’t care and hated that he was touching her and suddenly she couldn’t do this anymore. She stood up from the chair, grabbing her sweater and pulling it back on. Nolan stood back and smiled at her, but it was a cruel thing. She turned around and watched him, a glare on her face and she had a few choice words for him, but she bit her tongue to keep them in her mouth. Sighing, Nolan came around the chair to lean against the desk next to her. His hand came out to rub over her back and she tried to turn away from it, but he grabbed her arm with bruising strength and yanked her back into the chair, turning it around and his hands found her shoulders, starting to massage them. She swallowed thickly and the manhandling. “Christian tells me you have reconnected with Roman Sabinus,” Nolan said casually. Feeling her heart skip a beat, she glanced towards the door and wished someone would come and interrupt. “You gave me to him as a gift,” she said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. Nolan nodded. “And?” he asked. She frowned. “And what?” she asked, trying to turn back to look at him, but he shoved her head forward again. “And what happened?” Nolan asked. “What information did you get for me?” She shook her head. “Roman’s one of your own,” she said, the words feeling like the lie they were as they slipped pass her tongue. “Why would I get information from him?” Nolan’s hands suddenly wrapped around her throat and she gasped, trying to suck in a breath, but he squeezed, blocking out all air. He was at her side, choking her as he bent over, his face vicious and awful as he snarled, “Because that was our agreement!” She tried to pry his fingers from around her throat but he just shook her again. “You’re quickly losing your necessity here.” “I’m sorry,” she croaked out, feeling her face get red and her vision start to swim. Roman let go suddenly and she gasped a deep breath of air. It was quickly dispelled when he suddenly backhanded her across the face. She tasted blood in her mouth as her head jerked to the side and for a moment, she didn’t move, leaning over in the chair. Her hand came up to her cheek and she licked her lips, the corner of her mouth bleeding. Nolan leaned on the arms of her chair and Sam moved her eyes towards him, but kept her head ducked. “Samantha,” Nolan cooed. “I am trying to be patient with you. I am trying to protect you, you know that, right?” he asked, reaching forward to push her bangs from her eyes. She sucked in a breath and felt her eyes swirling with unshed tears because she hated him so fucking much. “How can I protect you when you give me nothing in return?” “What do you want from me?” she asked quietly. Nolan sighed. “Something I can use,” he said and then stood up. He walked over to his big desk and Sam glared at his back. He stood by his desk and glanced over at her, a cruel smirk on his face. “Because you were less than satisfactory in bed.” |
| Roman sat at his father’s desk, fingers laced behind his head as he watched Sydney and Hannibal playing Blackjack. Giselle sat on top of the desk next to him, her eyes focused on his. “What are you planning?” she asked him casually. He’d been quiet since she’d told him about one Mr. Dean Singer, and he still hadn’t figured out exactly what he could do with the information. There were dangling bits and pieces but he didn’t know how to get to his father without everyone in the middle dying, including his father. That wasn’t an option, but he had the vague sensation that he was running out of time. “Roman?” His gaze shifted to her and it didn’t escape his notice that as soon as he’d entered the room, Solomon had gone outside for a smoke. The man was avoiding him and he couldn’t blame him. He wondered if Giselle meant it when she said she would leave him for Roman and he wondered if she meant it when she said she would be his alone. Maybe today she did. Tomorrow she might change her mind and then she would destroy whatever was left of him after the last time she’d broken his heart. “I don’t know yet,” he told her. His gaze moved to the window and the darkness that lingered outside. The windows were boarded shut with dark curtains over them, so that no one could see the lights inside. “Just how far is Singer willing to go?” Giselle shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I suppose it depends on what you ask of him.” Roman nodded his head but anything else he would ask or say died on his lips. His head turned towards the door with sudden anticipation as he caught the scent of something familiar. His chest tightened and he sat forward in his chair just as Solomon pushed through it. A growl rose in his throat because the vampire had his fingers around the back of Sam’s neck and another on her arm. “Is this yours?” he demanded sharply, his gaze focusing on Roman. Sam was trying to yank her arm from his grasp, anger etched on her features. She wore a dress again today and he couldn’t stop the sharp hunger and possessiveness he felt just seeing her. “Fucking let me go,” Sam snapped, yanking at the arm holding her. Solomon just tightened his grip. Roman felt a growl leave his throat as he pushed himself to his feet. “Let her go.” Solomon snorted out a laugh and then ducked his head to press his mouth against her neck as he growled. “I should fuck her right here in front of you Roman,” he said. His voice was cold and angry and for a moment his gaze flicked to Giselle before it moved back to Roman. He felt a swell of rage, his feet carrying him across the carpet. Solomon pushed Sam towards him and his hands caught her easily, gaze on the vampire moving past him. “It would be fitting recompense for what you’ve taken from me, don’t you think?” Giselle slid off the desk, her lip stuck out in a pout. She walked over to him, cupping his face in her hands. The vampire allowed it but Roman could see the anger and hurt etched on his features and he felt almost guilty for that. “Solomon,” she drawled. “Don’t be crass in front of our guests.” She smiled and patted him on the cheek, her head turning to look at Sam. “How are you Porcelain?” Roman’s hands rested on her arms and he glanced down at her when he felt her muscles tense beneath his fingers. A frown creased his face when he saw a bruise on the corner of her mouth. “My name is Sam,” she snapped, her glare focused on Giselle. His fingers came up to brush the bruise and she winced when he did. Her gaze shifted to his and took in the frown and the anger that stole across his features. He wanted to ask her about it, but he didn’t want to do so in front of everyone else. He licked his lips and then turned slightly, gesturing at the other vampires in the room. “Sam, this is Solomon, Sydney, Hannibal, and Giselle you’ve already met.” He motioned at each of them in turn and Hannibal glanced up curiously. His tongue played with the sharp point of one of his fangs, eyes scanning Sam in a way he disliked. Giselle had a similar look on her face. “They live here, but they’ll leave you alone.” “Of course we will,” Sydney said. Solomon let out a snort, slumping down in the chair next to him with anger and bitterness still etched on his features. Roman watched him and wondered if this was going to become a problem. Giselle went to him and settled herself in his lap but it didn’t ease the pain there. Then Sydney grinned, holding one of his cards up. “Care to join our game?” “Not right now,” Sam said, shaking her head. Her fingers were gripping her purse tightly and then her gaze shifted to Roman. He could hear the quickened rate of her heart in the presence of other vampires and he wasn’t sure he liked it. “I have something for you.” Roman tilted his head curiously but then nodded. He tilted his head over his shoulder, gaze scanning the room. “I’ll see you all later,” he said. His hand settled on Sam’s lower back and he guided her towards the door. His anger and his curiosity were at war with each other, because there was a prominent bruise on her face and the faint smell of Nolan on her skin. He hated it there. He wanted to erase it and replace it with his. It was a battle to suppress the need he felt for her, and he thought she tested his self-control every time. He led her to his room, relaxing slightly now that they were away from the others. Now that they were alone he felt the thrill of just having her in his presence. He wasn’t sure if she would really come or not, and now here she was looking beautiful. He let her into his room but his head turned to the side, lips pressing against her temple. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come,” he said quietly. He saw her bite back a smile and then she was turning to face him. “I told you I would.” “I know,” he said. He shut the door behind him and she went to sit on his bed, pulling one leg underneath her. He paused in the doorway to watch her, heat spiraling through his stomach at the sight of her on his bed. “I’m glad you did.” A smile spread across her lips, fingers rising to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. There was a faint blush on her cheeks and then she ducked her head. Her fingers pulled her purse over to her to dig through it and she kept her gaze down. “I got something for you,” she said. Roman lifted an eyebrow curiously. “I don’t know if it’ll help any, but I think it will. I hope it will anyway.” Roman smirked and then crossed the room to sit next to her. His arm brushed against hers as he looked over her shoulder, gaze moving for a fraction of a second to her neck. There were already marks there and he thought again that he hated them. He hated that someone else had their fangs in her skin and that she had done that to herself. His attention strayed to the mark on her jaw and then finally dropped to her fingers where she was pulling out a sheaf of papers. He took them hesitantly as she handed them over. “What is this?” he asked. He frowned as he opened them, tilting his head to the side to study the ink outlines. Something in his chest lurched with the sudden suspicion he had, because parts of it looked familiar. His gaze snapped to Sam’s face. “The blueprints to Sayre prison,” she said. She didn’t meet his gaze, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I thought they might help.” The tightness in his chest increased and a slow smile spread across his lips. The papers sat in his lap, maps and outlines of every level of the prison and potentially the key to his father’s freedom. Sam had gotten them for him. He hadn’t asked her for them and he hadn’t expected it but she had done it for him and he couldn’t explain the emotions that stirred him. The possibility that she was playing him and using him slipped from his mind. He leaned forward, one hand rising to cup her cheek while his lips pressed hard against her temple. He pulled back, mouth hovering near hers. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered. She laughed quietly, her head tipping back and it put her lips closer to his. “You’re welcome,” she said playfully. He smiled back, fingers lingering on her cheek. His thumb slid over her cheekbone before it dropped to her mouth. It skated over her lower lip, his eyes focusing there and he wanted to kiss her so badly it hurt. Need clawed away at him and he could hear her breath quickening in her lungs. He was intensely aware that they were alone on his bed and his fingers tightened around the blueprints in his hand. He frowned when his thumb ran over the bruise on her mouth and he pulled back slightly when he did. A dark suspicion settled in his gut and he hated the thoughts that raced through his mind. “What did you have to do to get these?” he asked. The smile on her lips fell when he asked that and she pushed his hand from her mouth. “It’s not what you think,” she said. “It was easy to get these. Nolan just wanted to remind me who’s in charge.” She licked her lips and looked down at her hands and he hated the lost and scared look that stole over her features. “He wants me to spy on you. That’s why he sent me with Christian.” Roman felt hate churning in his gut and his jaw clamped tightly shut. “And what will he do to you if you don’t?” Sam wouldn’t meet his gaze and he felt the hate intensify into a hard, cold lump in his chest. At first he thought she wasn’t going to answer and he felt a growl rising in his throat. After a moment she shook her head. “Whatever he wants,” she said quietly. “I’ll kill him,” he said immediately. She snorted and looked up at his face and he couldn’t read the look she was giving him. He couldn’t have said what one he was giving her. He felt anger and hatred for Nolan and the urge to protect her was just as powerful. He didn’t like the faint scent of him on her skin or the bruise that he’d left her with. He didn’t like the thought of him touching her or hurting her and if he thought he could get away with it he would kill the man tomorrow and never shed a tear. He was surprised when Sam shifted, slinging one leg over him and settling on his lap. She pulled the blueprints from his fingers and dropped them on the bed beside her before her hands moved to the back of his neck. Her touch was warm and soft, leaving fiery trails in their wake and his hands settled instinctively on her waist. “I believe you,” she said. Her mouth dropped to his neck, pressing against the skin there. He tilted his head away to let her, eyes closing and his fingers tightening on her hips. “Tell him what you have to,” he whispered, and he wondered if he was a fool for it. Sam shook her head, lips leaving a trail up towards his jaw. “I won’t,” she said. “I won’t sell you out to him.” “Sam,” he groaned. His fingers moved up into her hair and he wondered if she knew what she was doing to him. He wondered if she understood how much she set his body on fire and how much he wanted her in the worst way. It made it hard to hold any kind of conversation or remember what they were even talking about. “Do what you have to and stay safe. I’ll worry about the rest.” She laughed quietly and he felt her fingers moving through his hair and over the back of his neck. “My protector,” she said. He scoffed but it put a smile on his lips, head tipping back to try and look up at her. She leaned over him and he felt the warmth in his chest spreading through his stomach. Her hair was falling loose around her face, the sweater slipping off her shoulders. His eyes followed the veins running through her neck and he couldn’t stop the urge to bury his fangs in her skin. He thought he hated himself for that. He wondered if she saw the hunger there and he thought the answer was yes. “Do you want to feed?” she asked. There was a hint of desperation in the words and his fingers tightened compulsively on her hips when she said them. The answer was yes, but he wasn’t proud of it and he didn’t like that she’d asked. He didn’t like that she craved that. He told himself it was better she come to him when she felt the itch. He was old and he was strong and it would be easier for him to stop. He could keep her safe, even if it was from himself, and he hated that it was so easy to convince himself that he wasn’t just making this worse. “Do you want me to?” he asked. His voice was harsh with need and regret and he kept his eyes on hers instead of the warm blood he could see running underneath her skin. It felt like forever since he’d fed on her and suddenly he wanted it with a sharp desperation. “Yes,” she said quietly. She watched his face and he saw the need reflected back at him. Roman licked his lips and he hated that she was asking him this and he hated the fear that if he said no she would find someone else to do it. He hated thinking of her as a junkie and he hated that he craved it just as badly as she did. He should tell her no. He should make her stop but a part of him was scared that if he tried she would stop coming. Maybe this was all she wanted from him. His hand rose to her shoulder, thumb hooking under the strap of her dress and he heard her heartbeat quicken when he did. He slid it slowly away from her skin and she watched him with curious and lidded eyes. She shifted in his lap and it reminded him that she was sitting on top of him and wearing a dress and how easy it would be to take advantage of that. He leaned forward, lips pressing against the top of her breast where a vein thundered away. “If you want me to take from somewhere else, I suggest moving,” he whispered. She let out a harsh breath and then he felt her fingers tighten around the back of his neck, pressing his mouth harder against her skin. He groaned and then his jaws were parting, fangs sinking into her flesh and spilling warm blood onto his tongue. |
| Sam’s head tipped back as soon as she felt Roman’s fangs enter her skin. A small moan left her throat and her fingers tightened on his neck, running up through his hair. She felt his own fingers digging into her arms and the effect was immediate. The last time she’d been bit, was by Reno and he hadn’t been gentle or caring, not the way Roman was. Not the way he was being now and she remembered with fierce heat what she had always liked about him, even when she thought she hated him. She knew now she could never truly hate him, not anymore. In fact, she thought it might be the opposite. She loved the feel of his lips on her skin, she loved the way he touched her and the things he said to her because they weren’t cruel and they didn’t make her feel dirty or less of a person. They made her feel good about herself. Like people could care for her. Like he cared for her. As Roman fed, his fangs stuck into her skin just above her breast, she wrapped her arms up beneath his, her head resting against his and her eyes closed, just focusing on the feeling of his bite, what he was doing to her. She moaned a little and tightened her legs around his waist as she sat on her lap. She felt him respond to her and suddenly it wasn’t just the bite she was craving. She felt herself pant with sudden anticipation. “Roman,” she breathed his name and his fingers tightened on her shoulders before they moved down her sides to her hips. She hugged him tightly against her and after a moment, he pulled back, with sudden force, like it was harder than it normally had been. She missed his fangs as soon as they were out of her skin, but there was a second, more desperate need clawing up inside of her. She turned her head and his eyes were closed, head tipped back as he licked his lips. She watched his tongue lap it away and suddenly, her inhibitions were gone. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his, the coppery taste of her own blood hinted on his lips, but she kissed him anyway. She felt his resist at first, like he wasn’t expecting it, but it was quickly gone and he was kissing her back with a sudden ferocity she hadn’t anticipated from him. She untangled her arms from around him and kept her lips pressed against his fiercely as she undid the buttons of his shirt. She felt his hands slide down to her thighs, exposed as the dress rode up on her hips. He ran has hands beneath the skirt and started to push it up, but she was quickly yanking his shirt from around his shoulders. Roman leaned back as she pulled the shirt from him and he caught her wrists before she could start on the buttons of his pants. “Sam,” he said and there was a quiet desperation to her name on his tongue. She tried to lean forward to kiss him again, but he stayed just out of the way and she narrowed her eyes, lips parted with need. “Are you sure?” he asked. There was a pain of doubt in her heart at the words and she leaned back suddenly to look at his face. There was need and want there, and she wanted to believe that he was asking for her sake, but in the back of her mind, she heard Nolan’s words belittling her in bed and she heard everyone call her a junkie whore and maybe she’d misread this. Maybe this wasn’t what Roman wanted. Maybe she wasn’t what Roman wanted. She pulled her wrists from his hands and wrapped them over her chest, eyes going downward. “It’s not what you want?” she asked quietly, unable to look at him for fear of what she’d see on his face. She didn’t expect his hand to come up to her chin, tipping her head up so her eyes met his. There was still a look of desperation and need there, but something else was mixed in, something loving and caring and wholesome that she was elated to see in his features. “Yes,” he told her. “I want you. I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to.” The words made her chest swell with gratitude and adoration. She leaned forward again, her hands coming to the sides of his face and then moving to his chest. She leaned forward, tucking her head up beneath his chin and she just laid there for a moment, her eyes focusing on the wall. She had to remind herself she wouldn’t hear his heart beat. His skin was cold to the touch, but she was growing accustom to it. “You want me?” she asked quietly and she felt his arms come up and run up and down her back. His chin rested on the top of her head and she loved this. She loved being here in his arms. “I do,” he told her. She smiled and then sat up, leaning back. She grabbed the skirt of her dress and pulled it up over her head, leaving herself in her bra and underwear, sitting on his lap. He saw her eyes leave his face, moving down over her body and they strayed to her side. She sucked in a breath and looked down at herself. The ugly, terrible scars marring her side were vivid and they always would be. She reached forward to grab his hand, pulling it to her side so his calloused fingers were overtop the bright white marks on her skin. The natural spread of his fingers fit the lines perfectly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. A small laugh left her lips and she shook her head, lifting her eyes to his face. He met her gaze. “It wasn’t you,” she told him, smiling at him. “It still shouldn’t have happened,” he told her, but he didn’t ask where they came from and she thought she should tell him one day. He should know why she tried to hate him. Smiling again, she leaned back, her arms twisting back behind her to undo the snaps of her bra. She pulled it from her shoulders and took his wrists, bringing his hands up to cup her breasts. She held him there and he just watched her face. She scooted up his lap and her wrists moved his hands from her breasts to her stomach and pushed them downwards. When they reached the top of her underwear, she let go and moved her fingers to work the buttons of his pants. “I want you too,” she whispered, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip. She leaned her head forward, lips pressing against Roman’s. She let out a small noise as he suddenly lifted her, rolling over and lying her on her back on the bed. Her fingers finally managed to work the buttons of his pants and he kicked them off of himself. He leaned over her, hands on either side of her and he just smiled. She quirked her head, a smile spreading across her face in return. “What?” she asked. Roman shook his head. “You’re absolutely beautiful,” he told her. A warm blush flushed her cheeks and reached up to tug at his hair. “Hey, you’re not so bad yourself,” she told him and it drew a chuckle from his lips before he leaned down and kissed her. She felt his hand tuck into the band of her underwear and pull them down. She spread her legs in anticipation as his kisses turn more fierce. His lips trailed down her chin to her collarbone and he hooked one of her legs with his arms, pulling it up. He pressed his lips to her knee and she couldn’t help the school girl giggle that left her lips. He grinned at her and she lifted her hips as she felt him grow near. Her head tipped back with a moan as he entered her. He leaned back over her, hands running through her hair as he began to thrust and with each of them, she let out a small gasp. Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him into her and holding in there. His lips moved to her neck and she rested his cheek against his, moaning and calling his name. The doubts she’d held about him were gone. The worries she’d had about what he thought of her disappeared because it was the first time in a long time that any man she’d been with had cared about her. Cared about the reactions of her body. She held him close and she thought she’d never been happier than this moment. |
| Roman’s fingers wandered up and down Sam’s spine, holding her close against his side as he did. Her hand rested on his chest, her skin warm against his. He could hear the quiet sounds of her breathing, her heart still racing in her chest as she lay next to him. He had one arm beneath his head and his eyes closed, just listening and feeling and enjoying the sensation of her lying next to him. He felt sated and warm, his bloodlust cooled and his body still thrumming with sex and heat. “Did I wear you out?” Sam asked. Roman snorted and opened one eye as he tried to focus on her. Her head was tilted back, hair tangled in a dark halo around her face and a wicked smirk curling her lips. Her fingers kept moving across his skin, leaving fiery lines as they wandered towards his stomach. “I thought vampires were supposed to have more stamina than that.” Roman chuckled and rolled his head to the side, lips pressing against the top of her head. He couldn’t get himself to move more than that, eyes threatening to close again. “Be quiet,” he said, his voice low and playful. “You’re ruining the moment.” “Oh? And what moment is that?” She snuggled closer and his hand wandered up to the back of her neck, fingers running through her hair. He couldn’t get enough of her. He couldn’t stop touching her. The monster in him felt soothed and sated and now he was just sleepy and complete. It was Sam in his bed, Sam wrapped up in his arms and pressing her lips against his chest. That alone kept the smile on his face because he had wanted her so desperately and he hadn’t felt this kind of intensity for anyone in a long time. “You’re still talking,” he said. “I’m trying to revel in my conquest.” Sam scoffed and it barely masked the laugh bubbling up in her throat. She pushed herself upright, leaning over his chest when her hand still pressed against his flesh. Her hair was tickling his nose and it was enough to get him to open his eyes again, focusing on her face. She had one eyebrow raised, a mixture of annoyance and amusement coloring her features. His hand moved from her neck to her arm, sliding up and down in slow motions as he tried to memorize the feel of her skin. There were scars beneath his fingertips, ones someone else had left on her. “Your conquest?” she demanded. “Is that all I am to you? Just a trophy in your bed?” “Not at all,” he told her. He closed his eyes and let a wicked smile curl his lips. “I can’t fuck a trophy.” Her hand hit him hard in the chest and he couldn’t stop the laughter that pulled out of his lips. His eyes opened and she was glaring at him. “God damned Fang,” she spat, and he couldn’t tell if she was teasing or if that was genuine hurt on her face. She turned her head away, pulling herself out of the circle of his arms towards the edge of the bed. Roman followed her, sitting up next to her and sliding his arms around her. His fingers twined with hers, stopping her from reaching for the clothes left piled on the ground. “No,” he told her quietly, lips pressing against her neck. “That’s not all you are to me.” She relaxed slightly, her head turning to the side to look at him. He kept the soft smile on his face and an answering one pulled at her lips. Her bare back was pressed against his chest, skin soft and warm against his. Her legs were tangled in the sheets and the sight of it made him smile. Everything about her made him smile and he never would have guessed that when they met. She had been wicked and cruel to him and even if it hadn’t stopped the physical desire he felt for her, he wouldn’t have thought it would ever become more. That thought made him still, his mouth still pressed against her neck as he considered it. She did mean more to him than a fling. She was all he could think about and now that he had her in his bed and in his arms he realized this was all he’d wanted for a long time. He’d wanted her. He’d wanted her to be his and his alone and in this moment she was. “Well… good,” she said after a moment. Her fingers rose to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear and a soft smile took the place of the uncertainty. She pressed her lips against his and his hand rose to cup the back of her head when she kissed him. “Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted you,” he said quietly. His mouth left hers, moving along her jaw to her neck. A shiver ran through her as his teeth scraped over her skin. “Yeah? Then why’d you never make a move?” Roman chuckled and his hand moved down her side, palm pressed flat as he slid it over her stomach. “Because you hate Fangs, remember?” he said playfully. She wrinkled her nose and it made him smile, hand moving up to cup one of her breasts. She let out a small breath, squirming in his arms. “I was tying myself into knots trying to keep up with you. Figured I better not push it.” “Not so shy now, are you?” she said. He laughed and loved the small moan she let out as his tongue slid over her flesh. “You started it,” he said playfully, and he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. His arms wrapped around her again, hugging her tightly. “I’m still just trying to keep up with you.” “I’m not that complicated.” She smiled in contentment, her head falling back against his shoulder. He just held her for a moment, eyes drifting shut as he rested his cheek against the top of her head. It occurred to him that he was happy, and he hadn’t felt that in a long time. Things with Sam were never simple, but there was something about whatever was between them that felt solid and good. “You are,” he said. “But I don’t mind. It’s part of your charm.” He opened his eyes, looking down into her face where she was gazing back up at him. His hand rose and smoothed the hair out of her eyes, fingers settling on her neck and lingering there afterwards. There were scars from bite marks on her neck and her other arm, but he’d seen them before. The ones on her side he hadn’t. He felt a sharp pain seeing them because she was lucky to be alive after that. He wondered what had happened but he didn’t ask. “I’m not sure if you’re complimenting me or insulting me,” she said. One eyebrow was raised as she looked up at him and he laughed, ducking his head to kiss her. His lips pressed tightly against hers and he thought he could have spent all day just kissing her. “You’re beautiful,” he said, lips still brushing over hers. “Straightforward enough?” She bit her lip, a warm blush creeping over her cheeks and it made him smile. She squirmed in his arms and then pulled herself out of bed, taking the sheet with her. She held it to her breasts, covering them and the bite mark he’d left. He wondered if she was embarrassed because there was a warm flush still lingering on her skin. “Are you ever going to unpack or are you even staying here?” Roman shrugged his shoulders, still sitting naked on the edge of the bed where she’d left him. She nudged one of the boxes with her foot before crouching down next to it. He found he didn’t mind it as much as he used to. She pulled a book out of it, turning it over in her hands and brushing the dust off it. “I don’t know,” he told her honestly. “I’m not sure what’s going to happen once my father is free.” Her gaze darkened at the words but she nodded her head, looking away. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he pushed himself to his feet, crossing the carpet to stand next to her. “Do you think Bobby would like one of these?” He pulled the book from her fingers as he asked the question. He didn’t expect the laughter that came from her lips and he glanced up curiously. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to hide the grin. “Yes,” she told him. “I think he’d love one.” Roman nodded his head and then slid an arm around her waist, pulling her tightly against him. She went easily, fingers settling on his chest and he felt the warmth seeping into his bones from her touch. He was intoxicated by her presence, by the smell and feel of her next to him. He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted to keep her in his bed and never let her go because he was happy here. “Alright,” he said. His head lowered to kiss her and then he tipped his head back when she tried to follow. “Then why are you laughing?” “I just think it’s cute,” she said. There was a wicked grin on her face as she took the book back from him, flipping the pages open and not meeting his gaze. Her voice was a casual drawl, a teasing tone in the words. “I wouldn’t have guessed you for the fatherly type, but here you are, the big bad vampire trying to pick out a present for my little brother. It’s adorable.” He growled and then stepped forward, yanking the sheet from her body as he moved forward, backing her towards the bed. “I am a big bad vampire,” he said. She giggled playfully and he tried not to smile in response, his hands sliding over her skin. “Sure you are,” she said. Her arms slid around his neck as he pressed her down against the mattress. “Will you play for me?” Roman stilled, frowning as he leaned over her. “What?” he asked. She laughed, fingers playing with the ends of his hair as he leaned over her. His hands were braced on either side of her, hips pressing in between hers. She was stretched out naked and beautiful in front of him and he wanted to illustrate vampire stamina for her because he thought he had something to prove. “Will you play for me?” she asked again. Her head nodded to the side. “Your violin.” Roman snorted and his hand came up to run through her hair. His fingers wandered over her cheek and down her throat and then he ducked his head so that his lips could follow the same path. “Remember what I said about ruining the moment?” “Please?” she asked. She pushed at his chest and there was a pout on her face. “I want to hear it.” He growled, his face darkening as sudden nervousness and anxiety stole over him. He rolled off of her, sitting on the edge of the bed and glancing at his case. “You won’t like it,” he said. All he could hear were the faults and he was scared that was all she would hear too. He didn’t play for people anymore. Not since Giselle, because she’d asked him if he could hear how out of tune and terrible it sounded and now that was all he could hear. All he could hear was noise, jarring and discordant as he pulled it from the violin. He felt a hand settle on his arm and he glanced over his shoulder at her. She scooted forward, chin resting against his shoulder as her arms slid around them. “I don’t know if I’ll like it unless you play for me,” she said. There was still a pout on her lips and then they were pressing against his neck, moving up towards his jaw. “Please, Roman.” A sigh left his lips and for a moment he stayed where he was, letting her lips move over his skin. Then he pushed himself out of bed, grabbing the case and bringing it back with him. “Be gentle,” he warned, a self-defacing smirk on his lips. She made a face at him, settling in next to him as he popped the case open. It took him a while to get it tuned because nothing ever sounded quite right to him anymore. He was worried she’d hate it, just as scared that she wouldn’t. It was just noise and faults and broken sounds and it was a poignant reflection of him. It was a reflection of just how scarred he was and how far he’d fallen from what he used to be. He was just as faulty as the music he tried to play and he couldn’t take the thought that she’d hate it. He swallowed his pride anyway, pressing the bow against the strings and closing his eyes as he started to play. |
| Sam laid down on the bed next to Roman as he started to play. Her head rested on his knee, the blankets covering his lap and she watched his face. If she was being an inconvenience to the way he played, he didn’t say anything. His eyes were closed and he was listening intently to the music coming from the violin. She smiled up at him, watching the lines in his face and every so often he would frown or sneer slightly and she wasn’t sure why. The music he played was beautiful. She wasn’t sure if he made it through the whole song, but he stopped abruptly, pulling the bow from the strings and casting his violin to the side. He stared at it like it had burned his hand and Sam just watched his face for a moment. He didn’t turn back to her at first. He simply sat there and she wondered what he was thinking. She wondered why he thought she wouldn’t like his playing. She wondered, at one time, if someone hadn’t liked it and that was why. She wanted to know who they were so she could have a word with them. Finally, Roman licked his lips and turned back. His eyes lingered for a moment out in space before they finally met hers and there was a nervous look on his face. It was something more than nervousness, it looked like downright fear and she was taken aback a little bit to see it there. “I told you you’d hate it,” he whispered to her. She smiled and sat up, pulling herself over to him, sitting sideways on his lap while her arms went around his neck. He rested his hands on her hips, eyes not leaving hers. She shook her head. “I didn’t hate it,” she told him and he looked like maybe he didn’t believe her. She brushed her hand back through his hair and she loved the touch of him. She loved everything about him. “What song was that? It was so sad.” Roman’s eyes went to the side and he frowned before he shook his head. “I don’t remember the name,” he told her, something honest and broken in his voice. “I could never get it right.” Sam leaned forward to press her lips against his chin, running her mouth back along his jaw and down his neck. With her lips pressed against his skin, she whispered, “It was beautiful, Roman.” “There were too many faults,” he said and she responded by squeezing him tightly, resting her head on his shoulder. She felt his hands move up her back and she thought she was falling hard for him. Nevermind that he was a vampire and nevermind that he didn’t age and she did. Nevermind any of that, she thought she wanted to spend whatever time with him that she could. Sighing, she kept hugging him tightly. “The faults are what make it your own,” she whispered. “They’re not bad. They’re uniquely yours. I loved it.” Roman was quiet for a moment and she wasn’t sure what was going through his mind, but he suddenly gripped her shoulders, pushing her back from him. She glanced at his face and his hands came up to the sides of hers, brushing her hair back. “Thank you,” he told her earnestly and pressed his lips against hers. She kissed him back fiercely before he pulled away again, his thumb lingering on the bruise at the corner of her mouth, like he was trying to cover it up and she smiled when she thought about him saying he was going to kill Nolan. “Promise me you’ll be careful,” she said and the words seemed to surprise both of them. She licked her lips and reached up to take Roman’s hands, holding them with her own, in between them. She looked down at his fingers and they were long, musician’s fingers. His fingertips were calloused and rough but she loved his touch. “When you go to get your Dad back,” she whispered. “Promise you’ll be careful.” She glanced up at his eyes. “Promise you’ll come back.” Roman seemed to stiffen at the words and he pulled his hands from hers, wrapping them around her waist. She moved her leg so she was straddling his hips and she rested her hands on his chest. He looked like he was thinking of the right words to say. “I promise I’ll be careful,” he said, but then shook his head. “I can’t promise I’ll come back.” Sam ducked her head, nodding because she knew it was unfair to ask it of him. “Just try, then,” she whispered. “I will,” he told her, his hand coming up to cup the side of her face. She smiled sadly at him and then chewed on her lip, her fingers coming down to trail along the scars on the side. She looked down at herself and Roman’s gaze followed hers. “My Mom gave me these,” she whispered. She glanced back up at him and his eyes were wide, meeting hers. She smiled, even though there was nothing really to smile about. “Whoever turned her, left her to die. My Dad tried to help her. He tried to bring her home and hide her and take care of her.” Roman lifted a hand to brush his fingers through her hair. “A vampire without a sire is dangerous,” he told her quietly. She nodded. “I know,” she said. “She killed him. She killed my Dad. She would have killed Bobby and I, but she stopped.” She shook her head, eyes distant as she remembered the crazed look on her mother’s face. She licked her lips, meeting Roman’s gaze because it was over and done with and there was no point to dwelling on the sadness. She was telling Roman so he’d know, that was all. “I helped her escape. I let her go. I don’t know why. I thought my Mom was still in there somewhere. So I became an Undertaker so I could find a way to help her.” Roman hugged her tighter, but didn’t say anything further. Sam shook her head. “I was doing really good. I wasn’t as fucked up back then as I was now and I actually tried to be a good Undertaker. And then, this one time I came up on a group of Undertakers beating on a vampire. I tried to tell them to stop, but they wouldn’t listen. I was just going to report them, but then I saw the vampire and…it was my Mom.” Sam sucked in a breath and bit her lip. She wasn’t looking at him anymore. “So I tried to step in. I managed to pull a couple of them away.” She glanced up and looked at Roman’s face. He had a curious look on his features and she didn’t know if she could actually tell him this next part because she wasn’t sure what he’d think. They’d just gotten to be friends, maybe more, and she didn’t want to scare him away with her prejudices. “It’s okay,” he whispered to her and she realized there were tears glistening in her eyes. She sniffled a little and swallowed thickly. “By pulling a couple of them away, I gave her the ability to break free. I thought she’d run. I thought she’d just go, but she didn’t. I had my back turned, and she attacked me. She almost killed me, and she did kill the others. She killed them all.” Sam felt a tear slip from her eye and Roman reached up to wipe it away with his thumb. She shook her head again and tried to keep the rest at bay. “They caught up to her and they sentenced her to death. I was still in the hospital when the executed her. I couldn’t even go. I couldn’t even tell Bobby, so I just told him that she was dead. I told him she died in a car accident.” She laughed at herself and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. “How stupid is that?” Roman pulled her hand down into his lap and reached up to grip the back of her head, pulling her forward so he could press his lips against her forehead. “It’s not stupid,” he whispered to her. She smiled and he rested his forehead against hers, their noses touching. “I’m so sorry, Sam,” he told her. She gave a small laugh and shook her head. “What were you saying about ruining the mood, huh?” she asked. He smiled back at her and then laid down on the bed, pulling her with him. She hugged him tightly and just laid there in his arms, her head pressed against his chest. “Roman?” she asked quietly. “Sam?” he whispered back. She smirked as she squeezed him. “Can I come over tomorrow too?” |
| “I need to go,” Sam said quietly. Roman nodded his head in agreement but didn’t pull back. His hands were resting on her hips, her fingers fisted in his shirt and holding him close. Her back was pressed against the metal pole that held up the chain link fence made of silver and next to them was the gap that led to the human side. He’d walked her as far as the gate but he’d stalled when he saw the protestors gathered on the other side. They undertakers had their hands full trying to keep them from getting violent with the few people he’d seen trying to pass. He’d just been trying to say goodbye to her. He hadn’t expected it to be this hard. His lips moved over hers, hands holding her tightly against him while he kissed her. She giggled when his mouth dropped to her neck, brushing over her skin and leaving a trail up towards her jaw. “Does that mean you want me to stop kissing you?” he asked. She laughed again, fingers tugging him closer. “Please don’t,” she said. He grinned as she turned her head, catching his lips with hers. His fingers dug tightly into her hips and he didn’t want her to leave. He hadn’t wanted her to leave his bed at all. “You’re making this difficult,” he told her. She giggled and it put a smile on his face as he kept kissing her. Her lips were warm and soft and it surprised him every time she kissed him back with equal passion. She’d hated him for so long, and he thought about her saying it was a matter of self-preservation. It made sense now. She’d hated him because she kept waiting for him to turn around and hurt her so badly that she ended up in the hospital. That’s what her own mother had done to her, and if she couldn’t be trusted then no Fang could. He didn’t begrudge her that. Too many of his kind were just as bad as she feared. He wished he could have said he wasn’t one of them. For a moment his thoughts strayed to Galveston and he wondered what she would have thought of him if she’d known him then. He wondered if she would still be in his arms kissing him or if she would have a silver knife to his throat and telling him to get the fuck away from her. He thought it was the second one. He thought he would have deserved it and he kept his eyes closed to try and block out the thoughts as he just enjoyed kissing her. “Be careful walking home,” he whispered. His fingers slid into her hair as he tried to get himself to pull back from her. It was harder than it should have been. His fingers moved to her chin, tipping her head up so he could look into her eyes. “Stay out of trouble.” She laughed and leaned casually back against the fence. Her eyes were lidded as she looked up at him, a smile curling her lips and she looked beautiful and sexy. “I’m always careful,” she said. At his laugh she made a face, shoving at his chest playfully. “I am,” she insisted. She licked her lips and then they pressed against the hollow of his throat. “But I wish you could come with me.” “So do I,” Roman said back. His hands moved to her sides and beneath her dress he was aware of the scars there. He thought they ran deep. He thought those scars had defined half her life and he wished he could have erased them for her. He wished he’d known her sooner. He could have protected her. The first years of a vampire’s life were the worst. They didn’t know how to control the hunger. “But I don’t want something happening to you later because the wrong person saw you in the company of a vampire.” Her fingers moved to the neck of his shirt and her voice was quiet when she spoke. They weren’t the words he expected, at least not from her. If she’d said it a month ago it would have shocked the hell out of him. “It shouldn’t be this way.” “No,” he agreed. His thumb moved over her lip and he shook his head. “But it won’t always be.” She nodded her head and he felt the words like a promise. Something was going to have to give. He felt a sudden anxiety in his chest because he didn’t know what was going to happen when he set his father free or afterwards. He hadn’t let himself think farther than that. All he wanted was to make sure Gaius was free and Nolan was dead but now he wondered what kind of state the city would be in afterwards. If it went to full out war between humans and vampires he didn’t know how he’d be able to keep Sam and Bobby safe. His hands dragged her into his arms at the thought and he kissed her hard. She seemed surprised but she responded eagerly, arms winding around his neck and clinging to him just as fiercely. He wasn’t sure what this was yet or where it was going but he knew he wanted her and he wasn’t willing to give that up. Not for anyone or anything. She pulled back slightly, mouth still hovering over his. “You said I was making this difficult,” she breathed. It made him smile and then her hand was running along his jaw. “What time should I come over tomorrow?” “Whenever you want,” he said. “If I’m not there you can wait in my room.” She smirked but a small frown crinkled her brow. “Do I want to know what you’ll be doing?” “Probably not,” he admitted. There were a lot of things he should have been doing but at the top of his list was getting his father out of prison. Once he was free, Nolan had nothing else to hold over his head. Nothing but Sam and he tried to ignore that thought. “But if I don’t meet with Christian tomorrow than Nolan might get suspicious. If he’s not already.” “He is,” Sam said quietly. The words made him tense. “But I’ll do what I can to help you.” Roman frowned and shook his head. “Sam…” He started to tell her to keep out of it, to keep her head down and let him handle it but he wasn’t sure he should refuse her help like that. No matter that it sent guilt churning in his gut. “Keep yourself safe,” he said instead. She smirked. “Of course,” she said, pressing her lips against his. He thought that she was too good at that and far too distracting. In the distance he could hear the dog barking from one of the small apartments and people yelling somewhere down the road, but when he was with Sam she was all he cared about. The lights pooled around them but they were in shadow for the most part and he thought it was how it had to be until this was settled. After a moment she pulled back, tilting her head. “Should I be worried about your friends?” Roman snorted and he wasn’t sure if he could call any of them his friends. They were his father’s inner circle and they had stuck by him and his beliefs, a sharp contrast to Roman. He wasn’t sure if they cared what had happened in Galveston. He thought Giselle at least had enjoyed it. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t promise they won’t bother you but I can promise they won’t hurt you.” She licked her lips and there was a forced casual tone to her voice. Her hand smoothed down the front of his shirt, trying to erase the wrinkles she’d left and she didn’t meet his eyes. “Even Giselle?” she asked. “Even her,” Roman said. “Though she may try to get you into bed with her.” Sam blinked in surprise, looking up sharply at him. “What?” she asked. He saw a faint blush appear on her cheeks. “It’s just the game she plays,” Roman told her. He kept his voice carefully neutral because he didn’t want to think about Giselle and her games, not when he had Sam in his arms. He didn’t want to think about just what she’d done to him and how a part of him still hadn’t gotten over it. She had helped turn him into this, something as broken and faulty as his music and he balked at admitting that to Sam. He wondered if she would think him weak for it. Giselle had turned him into a bitter and hateful plaything, a broken toy that she had cast aside when she had taken him for all he was worth. He hated her for that. He hated that she had left only scraps behind. Sam snorted and he felt her eyes on his face but he couldn’t meet them. His fingers traveled up and down her side, listening to the steady pounding of her heartbeat. She had called his music beautiful. He tried to focus on that, his eyes closing and remember the look on her face because it had meant more to him than he could express. If she’d heard the faults she hadn’t hated them, quite the opposite. She loved his music and he thought he loved her for that. “I thought she was with your friend.” Roman let out a scoff, something bitter in the tones. He shook his head, ducking it so that he could press his lips against the crook of her neck. “That’s never stopped her before,” he said. He tried not to think that he’d been a part of that because it wasn’t something he wanted to admit to Sam. He didn’t know if she’d believe him if he told her she’d been all he could think about since he walked away. Her hand settled on the back of his neck, fingers running up through his hair. “Is that why you broke up?” Sam asked. She tilted her head to try and look into his face and he thought there was something like concern and anger on her features. “One of the reasons,” he said dismissively. He shook his head because there was too much to tell and he didn’t know if he would lose her after he did. It wasn’t nothing he was ready to risk now, not when he had her in his arms. “It’s complicated and nothing I want to talk about right now.” He let a grin steal across his lips and then he leaned forward to kiss her again. She tilted her head back to meet his lips but her eyes stayed open and on his face. “I’m trying to say goodbye to you, remember?” he said playfully. “You’re not very good at it,” she said, smiling back. He laughed and it felt honest and good. It wasn’t a sensation he was used to. Roman wasn’t big on smiling. There hadn’t been much to smile about, but today it felt like he couldn’t stop. He knew it was late and knew he should have let her go a while ago because her brother was waiting for her, but this was harder than he’d ever thought it would be. “You’re not much better,” he said. She smiled and kissed him one more time. He took a step back but kept his fingers twined in hers for a moment, just for that one last sensation before she walked away. “See you tomorrow?” she asked quietly. He pulled her fingers to his lips before he finally let her go. “I’m looking forward to it.” |
Chapter Nine Sam leaned against the back of the elevator, wringing her purse in her hands. She was nervous and she thought Nolan would be able to tell when she went in to his loft. He was going to know something was up and these doubts just kept running through her mind, threatening to make her turn around and leave, but she wasn't about to do that. She wasn't here for herself, she was here for Roman. She was here to keep Nolan busy. A part of her was terrified that she was never going to see Roman again. She'd left his place not an hour ago and he'd told her to stay away from any Undertakers facilities tonight. She'd tried to ask him what he meant and if he was breaking his father out, but he hadn't answered her. At least not with words. He'd just pulled her onto the bed with him again and he'd fucked her like it was the last time he'd ever get the chance to do so. It was all the answer she'd needed. And it was all the persuading she'd needed to know she had to make sure Nolan stayed busy. Not that Nolan himself would show up during a fight, but he would be pulling the strings. And she wanted to make sure that the Undertakers would run around without their puppeteer tonight. She needed Nolan to stay unaware as much as possible. Because she needed Roman to come back. It was becoming clear to her just how desperately she needed him. She'd kept away from the white powder she still kept in her purse and she'd kept away from the blood bank too. She'd been keeping her promises to him that she wouldn't go there, that she'd only come to him when she had a craving and she meant to always keep those promises. She didn't like the look of disappointment that came on his face whenever he saw her scars. The ones Reno had left her. She needed him, not only to keep her sober. But because she felt alive and safe with him. She also needed him to come back so she could yell at him for trying something like this the day before Bobby's birthday. The elevator doors dinged open and Sam licked her lips, walking down the hallway towards Nolan's loft. There were a couple of Undertakers standing on either side of the door and she was sure they were looking at her out of the corner of their eyes, but she couldn't see pass the dark sunglasses that adorned their faces. She came to stand in front of them. She'd never shown up to Nolan's place unannounced. She knew he was there, because she'd asked that slippery little intern of his. "Hey guys," she said sarcastically, reaching pass them to knock on the door. "Wearing your sunglasses at night, huh?" One of the Undertakers shifted his stance, like he was irritated and Sam smirked at him. It fell away quickly when the door opened a tad and Nolan's lazy face appeared. A slow smile spread across his lips and he pulled the door open, leaning against the doorframe. He was in a silk robe and behind him, the television was on, playing a football game. There was a bottle of wine and one glass, half empty, sitting on his coffee table and she almost laughed to know that this was what Nolan did with his free time. "Samantha," he said and she had to suppress the shudder that ran down her spine at the sound of her name on his lips. "What a pleasant surprise." She forced the smile onto her face, tucking her purse under one arm and straightening her tight, little dress as she tipped her head at Nolan. "Nolan," she said. "I was wondering..." she said breathily and took a step forward so she was close to him, her hand coming up to play with the collar of his robe. "If you were getting lonely tonight." Nolan smirked and it was something cruel and wicked. He reached forward to pluck the strap of her dress. "Is that why you're dolled up?" he asked and it was a mean tone to his voice. "A good little whore like you, can't find anyone to fuck?" Sam couldn't help the glare on her face, but she took a breath and calmed herself down, reminding herself that she was here for Roman. She took another step forward and her mouth was close to Nolan's. "Maybe I just like the way you fuck me," she told him and this time the smirk on his face was something genuine. He glanced at the two Undertakers out in the hall before stepping aside and letting her into his loft. "No interruptions," he told the other two and then closed and locked the door behind him. Sam tried not to feel dread at the sound of the door locking. She rubbed at her arms, setting her purse down on the coffee table. She turned around as Nolan started to head back over. He walked with a casual gate and she watched him closely as he grabbed the remote, flipping the television off. Reaching down to grab his half empty glass of wine, she sipped at it. He smiled at her and came forward, taking the glass from her fingers and setting it back down on the table. "That's a $1000 bottle of wine," he told her. She tried not to gasp as he reached forward, hand curling around the back of her neck, the other one grabbing her wrist. His mouth hovered over hers as he gripped her violently. "It's too good for you," he told her. The words hurt, but she forced the smile on her face to stay there. "Tasted shitty anyway," she told him and if anything, he looked surprised she'd said it. He laughed and let her go, shoving her a little towards the couch. He started walking back towards his bedroom. "Give me a minute," he told her. "Don't touch anything." She snorted and once he was out of sight, her eyes went around the apartment quickly. She saw his phone sitting on the counter and she quietly hurried over to it, flicking it open and turning it to silent. She hurried back over to where she'd been standing before and stayed there quietly, licking her lips. She felt like he would be on to her, like he would know she was here for reasons other than she wanted someone to fuck. As he came back out, she pushed all those doubts and fears away. He still had his robe on, but it was open, exposing his boxers. As he came over to her, he smiled and said, "Open your mouth." She frowned at him, tipping her head to the side. "What?" she asked. He held up his hand and she saw a small bottle held between his fingers, white pills inside. Her heart started to race at the sight and she looked back at his face. he was watching her coldly. "Open your mouth," he said again, slower like she'd had trouble understanding him. "What are those?" she demanded. She didn't expect the sudden rage that came over him and he reached out to grab her throat, yanking her towards him. Her hands came up to wrap around his wrists. "You want to be fucked, you'll take one," he growled at her. Then he shoved her back and took out one of the pills. Much more calmly, he said, "Open your mouth." Sam rubbed at her throat and licked her lips again, biting back the tears that were threatening to come. She opened her mouth as he said and when he placed one of the pills on her tongue, she swallowed it. She stood there for a moment, watching him as she closed up the little bottle and put it down on the table. As he stood back up, Sam's head began to swim a little and she closed her eyes. Nolan chuckled. "They start working quickly," he told her. She felt her whole body relaxing and then Nolan's hands came up to run over her face. He grabbed her shoulders, spinning her around and shoving her to her knees, pushing her down onto the couch. Her face rested in the cushions, carpet digging painfully into her knees and she was having trouble keeping her eyes open, her whole body relaxed as he pulled her dress up above her hips. He grabbed the straps of it, pulling it down so it was bunched around her waist. He unsnapped her bra and his hands were rough and harsh as they grabbed her breasts. One of his hands fisted in her ponytail, pulling her head back awkwardly. His lips trailed over the side of her face and he whispered breathily, "It's much easier pretending you like it when you're like this." He kept a hand fisted in her hair, craning her neck back and she closed her eyes when he started to fuck her there bent over the couch. She tried to remind herself why she was doing this. She tried to remind herself that she didn't want it, but she needed to be here. She tried to remind herself that Roman would be there when she got back. She prayed he'd be there. |
| There was a loud bang as the door slammed shut, but Roman couldn’t see it. A black bag covered his face, cutting off his sight and muffling the sounds around him. He thought it was supposed to keep him oblivious and scared but he knew where he was. He’d gone over the blueprints enough times. Silver cuffs circled his wrists and held him to the chair they’d slammed him down in, and silver chains wrapped around his neck like a collar. There was a quiet hiss every time he shifted as it brushed against his skin and burned through his flesh. He gritted his teeth against the pain of it and shoved it aside because it was nothing to him. “Don’t forget our deal, Fang,” Christian said from next to him. “You see daddy dearest and then you give us the rest. Otherwise neither of you are leaving this place.” His voice was too cheerful and Roman could picture the smug grin on his face even if he couldn’t see it. It made his lip curl up in a snarl and he thought he hated him almost as much as he hated Nolan. His fingers curled around the arm of the chair he was bound to and just listened to the doors slam shut behind him. The man yanked the black bag off his head in the next moment and a bright light met his eyes. It was hung over the wooden table in front of him, illuminating only a small circle in gold. The corners of the room were cast in shadow and he thought that was supposed to keep them unaware of the glass wall to his right. There were probably undertakers with guns on the other side of it. There were another two waiting outside the door and countless numbers in between this room and the prison wall. There was a distinct possibility that he might never leave this place alive but he tried not to think about that. He’d said his prayers to his Gods and to Sam. He’d fucked her long and hard, with desperation he didn’t acknowledge. It wasn’t a goodbye. That was the prayer he said to his Gods. Don’t let that mean goodbye. The door on the opposite side opened and his lip curled at the smells coming through it. He smelled sickness and death and the scent of burned skin. Two undertakers dragged a vampire through it and he felt hatred rise in him in a dark wave because the vampire was his father. It was nothing like what Gaius should have looked like in all his life and he couldn’t stop his hands from curling around the chair with his rage. The silver chains bit into his skin and sent smoke hissing up around his face in thin gray tendrils. They slammed him down in the chair and his head turned, jaws snapping ineffectively at his captors from behind the black bag. His arms were practically skeletal, and he wondered if they’d allowed him to feed. There was a low growl rumbling in his chest and it grew worse when they yanked the black bag off his father’s head. For a moment he couldn’t reconcile that this was Gaius. There were burns around his mouth, his eyes sunken and practically black. He looked like a wild, caged animal, his teeth snapping at the man next to him. He yanked at the chains holding him down but he was too weak to break them and it just burned his flesh. Christian laughed and then backhanded Gaius to get his attention. “Hey Fang,” he drawled. “You have a visitor.” Gaius didn’t respond to the words. He snarled and his hatred and hunger turned its attention on Christian. He was spitting and snarling and Roman felt his own nature growing darker just watching it. This was what they’d reduced his father to. This was the kind of pit he’d left him in and he felt hatred surging through him. Gaius snapped his fangs at Christian and the man just laughed, taking a step back and standing out of the circle of light. The two undertakers retreated to stand by the door, guns held in their arms and silver bullets inside the barrel. Roman wondered distantly if either of them would be the one to kill him or if they’d even get to fire. “Father,” he said. His voice was harsh with anger, made worse by the silver chains around his neck. It didn’t matter if he was here by his own free will. No fang would be allowed to walk around unchained. It was a complication and a risk but it was one he was willing to accept. He’d run out of time. He didn’t have any options left. He would either die here or he would leave this place a graveyard of bodies and he wouldn’t allow himself to feel guilt. Not until he looked Sam in the eye and told her what he’d done. His father’s wild eyes finally focused on him and for a moment he saw the sneer fade, recognition in his gaze. The next moment the snarl was back, his father roaring in pain and anger. “Traitor!” he screamed. “Whore! How dare you claim to be my son!” Christian laughed at the words but Gaius didn’t even glance at him. He fought and bucked against the chains holding him, struggling to get to the son he thought he had betrayed him. Roman felt an answering snarl leave his lips and the bindings around his own wrists hissed as he leaned forward. “I didn’t betray you,” he snapped. “Everything I’ve done I’ve done for you.” A roar left Gaius’s lips and he bucked so hard on the chair that it fell to its side. “I’ll hear no more of your lies!” He kicked at the ground, trying to push himself to Roman’s side. Christian let out another low laugh and then he was crouching down behind him, grasping the chains around his neck and hauling his head back. “That’s enough, Fang.” Roman saw his father’s face contort with pain as it seared through the skin around his neck. It didn’t stop his thrashing or snapping. He was like a wild animal and Roman couldn’t stop the hatred burning in his chest at the sight of it. His father was drawn and sick and wounded, dark blood staining his skin and his clothes. It didn’t matter if he’d put himself here, he didn’t deserve this. “You seen enough yet?” Christian asked cheerfully. His hand was fisted around the chain and he grinned toothily up at Roman. Roman ignored him, hands curled into fists around the chair. “Father, trust me. For once in your life.” “You are not my son!” he screamed. Spittle flew from his lips as he did, feet still kicking and his back arched as he bucked and fought against the chair he was bound to. Roman growled and couldn’t stop the fear that he was going to hurt himself because there were lines burning their way through his skin and his neck but it didn’t stop his struggles any. “My son is dead! You have no right to bear his name or his shield! You have no right to have ever called yourself a soldier of the Legion! You are dead to me!” The words were harsh and hard to hear but it was nothing he hadn’t expected. He’d known Gaius wouldn’t be glad to see him. He’d known his father would call him a traitor and blame him for his capture. He’d think the worst, but it didn’t ease the pain in his chest any. It didn’t make them any easier to take and he knew the only way his father would believe him was through action, not words. “Sorry Fang,” Christian said. He didn’t sound sorry at all and he crooked two fingers at the mirror behind him. “Looks like daddy dearest doesn’t want to talk to you anymore. But we kept our end, so why don’t you give over your terrorist buddies now?” The door opened behind Gaius but he seemed oblivious to it anymore. He twisted and howled and behind him Christian just wore that mocking smirk on his face as he watched Roman. He wasn’t watching Gaius close enough and he missed him rolling his head to the side. He lunged forward, teeth closing around the man’s calf. A startled cry of pain left Christian’s lips and he fell, his leg giving out beneath him as Gaius bit through the muscle. Two undertakers were already rushing through the door but it didn’t stop the blood that spilled out on Gaius’s tongue or flooded the room with its sharp metallic scent. “Fucker,” Christian cursed. He scrambled back, kicking at Gaius to try and make him let go and his face was pale as he choked back the pain. One of the undertakers bashed the barrel of the gun against Gaius’s head, the other grabbing the chain around his neck and trying to haul him off of Christian. He roared and struggled against them, his lips coated with red as he turned and snapped at the man trying to restrain him. There was nothing sensible left in his gaze and Roman felt the situation slipping away from him. Christian was using the wall to drag himself to his feet when the lights flickered and died. Roman tensed in his chair and in the back of his mind there was a mantra repeating itself over and over again. It was a quiet, desperate prayer to his Gods. He needed to live through this. He needed to see Sam again. There was a quiet hum as the generators turned on, the lights dimmer to conserve power. The two undertakers holding Gaius up had paused their motions, still gripping him by the arms and the silver collar they’d made around his neck. He didn’t need the light to see Christian’s head turn towards him, face pale blood splattering his skin. “What the fuck did you do, Sabinus?” he snarled. Then the humming stopped and the lights over their head faded and died. The room was cast in darkness and he could hear shouting outside the room as the rest of the facility was plunged into the same shadowy abyss. There was no sun and no light left here. It was the only advantage they would have. It was the only plan Roman had and he prayed it worked. “Shit,” one of the undertakers breathed. It was the last word he said. Roman could see his father in the darkness, whirling on the men holding him and snapping his jaws around his throat. He let out a scream and then did the stupid, panicked thing and released his grip. He stumbled back against the wall and Roman’s father followed him, hand snapping out to grip his head as he fed. There was no doubt in Roman’s mind that he would bleed him dry and he wondered distantly if he was the one that had taken this too far. He wondered if there would be anything left of the city when this was done. He yanked against the chains holding him, the silver burning into his skin as it scraped over his flesh. He gritted his teeth against it, kicking at the chair underneath him until he managed to wrench one hand free. The cuffs still hung around it but he ignored it, ripping his other hand loose and bolting across the room towards Christian. There was a snarl on his lips and it would be hard not to kill him. There was a thump as one of the undertakers fell to the floor and Gaius turned his attention to the second one. He didn’t have a chance to run, barely a chance to scream because there was fresh blood making his father strong again. Outside this room he believed Giselle was breaching the gates. He tried to believe that, tried to keep faith that she would be waiting for them in the courtyard. Solomon would be waiting for them at the gates of the vampire district and Roman hoped that he did what needed to be done. He hoped they didn’t die tonight and that when morning finally came the city would wear a different shape. That was what he hoped, but the only thing he prayed was that he would see Sam again. That he’d be able to hold her again. His hand wrapped around Christian’s throat and he batted aside the hand trying to angle a knife towards his head. The man cursed as Roman whirled and slammed him down on his back on top of the table. He kicked and howled and Roman just slammed his head back against the metal surface. “Listen closely,” he snarled. “You live for one reason only.” He lowered his mouth towards the man’s head and his teeth snapped near his ear. “Tell Nolan the district is ours now.” |
| Sam lay on Nolan's couch, her head still spinning and her thoughts foggy and slow. They'd tipped his $1000 bottle of wine over and Nolan seemed less concerned that it was now staining his coffee table than he had been that she was drinking it. She wondered why it was she was good enough to fuck, but not good enough to have some of his wine. Didn't matter now. Both of those things were over and after tonight, she'd wouldn't have to come back to Nolan's ever again, unless it was what Roman needed her to do. She knew he didn't want her to, but she didn't care what he wanted on this matter. If he needed information, she would get information. Nolan wandered around his apartment. He'd taken a shower immediately afterwards and she liked to pretend it wasn't because of her, but she knew better. Now he walked around, tidying up and she frowned when he walked pass her, because he was dressed. She wondered if he was going out tonight. He banged around in the kitchen and when he came back over, he had a glass of water in his hands. He sat down on the coffee table and Sam smiled, despite herself, because she was picturing Roman handing her a glass of water. She pushed herself up, her arms shaky and movements slow. He'd been particularly rough on her tonight. She'd be sore in the morning, that was for sure. She sat in front of Nolan and accepted the glass of water, sipping it tentatively as she watched his face. His eyes were on hers and she couldn't read the look there. "I'd ask if it was good for you, but I believe I already know the answer to that," Nolan said and she wasn't sure how she should take the words. So she just kept quiet and leaned back on the couch, trying to relieve the dizziness in her head. Nolan reached to take the water away from her and then scooted closer, sitting on the edge of the coffee table as he touched her knees. "Tell me, Samantha, honestly," he said and she frowned at him. "You didn't come here tonight to get fucked." A sudden tightness in her chest nearly made her squirm, but she managed to stay rigid and quiet on the couch. "What are you talking about?" she asked stupidly. By the slight smile on Nolan's face, she knew he wasn't buying it and she suddenly felt like she'd made a huge mistake coming here. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Her eyes widened shooting to the counter where she'd left it and then moving back to his face. "You know what I think?" Nolan asked and Sam hugged herself, staring at his phone and his hands. "I think you have something to do with what's going on at Sayre prison right now." Her eyes widened slightly and her breath hitched. How did he know? "I don't know what you mean," she said, though the shaking in her voice and the unsteady look on her face probably told him otherwise. Nolan set his phone down and then smiled at her. She waited for him to say something, but he never did. Instead, he swung out at her, a fist striking her hard in the cheekbone. She fell to the side, catching herself on the couch cushions and let out a whimper at the sudden pain in her face. She brought a hand up to her cheekbone and she couldn't believe he'd just fucking punched her. In the next moment, Nolan's hand fisted in her hair, his other hand grabbing her chin and yanking her head back so she was looking up at him. She grabbed his wrists, trying to pry his hands off of her. "My sources tell me that you're in bed with Sabinus," he said and she tried to shake her head, but his hands were just gripping her with bruising strength. "I wanted to see if you would redeem yourself, but when you didn't tell me about what was going to happen tonight, I knew I'd lost you." Sam's eyes widened up at him. He'd known. He'd known about Roman's plans tonight. How could he have known? her mind was instantly racing because if Nolan had known, then that meant he was probably prepared. There were probably people waiting to kill Roman and whoever else was with him and she felt an awful, terrible dread building up in her chest. "Fuck you!" she screamed suddenly and her hand shot out to punch him in the gut. It caught him off guard and she was able to wrench herself from his grasp. She turned and tried to make a break for the door. Her head was still fuzzy and limbs heavy and it didn't take long for Nolan to tackle her to the ground. Her chin snapped off the ground, dazing her for a moment and Nolan pinned her there, a hand in her hair again as he started to climb back to his feet. "I don't take kind to traitors," Nolan told her and she grabbed at his wrist as he started to pull her backwards across the floor, towards the hallway and the bathroom. "I don't take kind to whores who choose vampires over their own race." "Let me go," she grit out, trying to get her feet beneath her so she could stand up instead of being dragged by her hair. Nolan did that in the next moment, throwing her face down onto the linoleum bathroom floor. She started to push herself up, but she was blinded by pain when he kicked her square in the face. The blow sent her reeling backwards, her head smacking off the edge of the tub and her hands came to cover her nose and mouth, blood pulsing out onto and between her fingers. Tears stung at her eyes and she couldn't quite hold back the sob as he crouched down in front of her. She glared at him and he just shook his head. "It really is a shame," he said. "You were very beautiful." The words sent fear lacing through her veins and she found herself calling out silently yet desperately for Roman. She was terrified for him, terrified of what Nolan had done and she tried to think that Roman was smart, he was good at this, he'd figure out a way to get around it. He had something to come home to in his mind. Nolan rose quickly, grabbing the side of her head and bashing it into the side of the tub. She cried out and he kneed her in the face. She fell backwards, slipping to the linoleum with blood seeping down her skin and she cried out when he kicked her in the side, stuck between him and the tub. She tried to shield herself the best she could, but he wasn't holding back and a part of her thought she was going to die in this bathroom. Die here on the floor and she wanted to tell Roman she was sorry because he wouldn't have anyone there when he came home. She wanted to tell Bobby she was sorry because tomorrow was his birthday and she'd promised to be there. They both had. And now they both might not be. They both might be dead and that caused a cry of despair to tear up her throat. Nolan landed a particularly vicious kick to her head and she saw stars for a moment. He stopped after that and bent down, grabbing a fist full of her hair and lifting her head up. Blood dripped from her mouth and her nose and cuts on her cheek and forehead. She was sore everywhere and her side and arms were bruised trying to shield herself from him. "Beauty is only skin deep, Samantha," he said. Then he bashed her head against the linoleum and she didn't remember much after that. |
| “You should have killed him,” Gaius growled. “I wanted to,” Roman shot back. “But he needs to give Nolan a message.” Roman did his best to support his father as they hurried down the hallway. The sound of screaming and pounding feed was just audible beneath the rapid gunfire that rumbled just beyond the walls. It sounded like a storm raging outside and he hoped there was a way through when they made it to the doors. “Bodies would be message enough. You should have killed his dog.” He couldn’t stop the bitter laugh that left his lips because nothing he did would ever be enough for his father. Roman could kill everyone in the building singlehandedly and Gaius would only ask what took him so long. “You’re welcome,” he said dryly. Two undertakers rounded the corner, flashlights bouncing off the wall as they ran towards the cellblocks. They had only a moment to notice they were there before Roman was knocking one out of the way, shoving his friend against the wall. His mouth opened in a gasp and then his teeth were sinking into his throat, tearing through flesh and nerves to rip it out. Blood burst in his mouth, sliding down his throat and giving him strength. He tossed the man aside and whirled to his friend but Gaius already had his neck tipped back at an odd angle, ripping through the soft tissue. His gaze focused on the blood on his hands for a moment before licking it off. Roman snorted and then stepped over the bodies, collecting one of their guns as he did. He left the flashlights there because he wouldn’t need it. After a moment he heard his father rejoin him at his elbow and he didn’t need his shoulder to lean on anymore. The blood coursing through him was making him strong again, his muscles rebuilding beneath his skin. It didn’t erase the marks on his neck or his wrists or his mouth, but they would heal faster now. Maybe they would make it out of here. “Forgive me childe,” his father said. The words were low and he glanced at him because he wasn’t sure he’d heard him right. Gaius wasn’t looking at him, his head held up and his eyes closing for a moment before they looked up towards the ceiling. He thought the next words weren’t really for him and he looked away, his father’s voice quiet and sincere. “Forgive me my doubts.” The prison was in an uproar, the sounds growing louder the closer they got to the doors. He ignored the icy sensation of fear gripping the back of his neck because there was no point in it. They’d passed the point of no return a long time ago. His mind went to Sam and he hoped she was home with Bobby and keeping herself safe. If he lived, he would find her again. They were just around the corner from the doors when the lights came back on. Curses spilled from Roman’s lips as he hurried because this wasn’t something completely unexpected but it wasn’t good either. He’d thought they’d have more time. He’d thought they’d make it to the courtyard before they came back and he hoped Giselle and the others had gotten inside the gate before they did. He snarled when he rounded the corner and saw four undertakers guarding the doors with guns at the ready. He fired his stolen weapon into them and only one of them managed to shout a warning as he crashed against the wall. He lifted his gun to his shoulder and fired sharp bursts down the hall, the muzzle flares flashing brightly in the shadows. Roman threw himself to the side and then Gaius was moving passed him, gripping the barrel of the man’s gun and shoving it towards the ceiling. The lights shattered as bullets ripped through them and in the sparks and flashes Roman could see his father sinking his jaws into his throat. There was nothing neat about it. He was an animal, tearing through his food and leaving nothing but a corpse. He dropped his body to the ground with his friends, blood pooling out around him and his eyes wide and dead. Roman didn’t allow himself time for guilt or regrets. He didn’t stop to think that this easily could have been Sam or someone she’d trained with. There was no point to it. He’d been a soldier before he was a vampire and he’d learned to drown those sensations because they didn’t do anything but hold him back. He crouched by the body, digging for the man’s keys as Gaius crouched next to one of the fallen undertakers. “And they thought they could be masters of us,” he said quietly. His hand came out, running cold fingers along his jaw. Roman snorted and he didn’t know why the words annoyed him. “They were scared. As they should be.” If Gaius caught his irritation he didn’t acknowledge it. He smiled and then he lifted bloody fingers to his lips, tongue licking the crimson from his skin. “Yes,” he agreed. “They should.” Roman ignored him, wrapping his hands around his stolen gun and stalking over to the door. He could hear shouting behind it, loud and angry and a quiet roaring that concerned him. “Be ready,” he told his father. He hated that this was all an act of faith. Faith that a man named Singer could get to the generators, faith that Giselle would help clear the way. Faith that Sam would be waiting for him when it was all over with. “I am,” Gaius told him, pushing himself to his feet. Roman smirked and then he kicked the door open, moving swiftly into the courtyard. His feet immediately stilled, gun held in his hands but his finger unable to pull the trigger as shock and despair struck him in a quick blow. They were waiting for him. A squad of undertakers waited just outside, forming a loose circle around the door. All of them had guns trained on him and he had just enough time to lift his weapon and take a single step back before they were firing. The muzzle flashes were bright in his eyes and he could smell smoke and sulfur rising up into the air. His foot clipped the threshold of the door and he was aware that he was falling. The bullets struck him hard in the chest. They thudded into his flesh and he couldn’t stop the pained hiss that left his lips. The moment had come and gone in a flash and he was landing hard on his back, elbows striking the floor behind him. Gaius was cursing and he saw blood pulsing from a hole in his father’s arm, dark and dead. His skin hissed and burned thanks to the silver bullet embedded in his flesh and he snapped and snarled at the undertakers pounding over towards them. For a long moment Roman couldn’t even move. There was smoke rising up above his head and it came from the fresh holes in his chest. They seared and burned, shifting against his ribs with every small movement. His hand lifted to press against the bleeding wounds and he stared at his own blood with something like disbelief etched on his face. They’d been waiting for him. His head finally rose and he saw the first undertaker reach the doorway. He still had his gun trained on Roman but he didn’t get a chance to shoot as he lifted his stolen weapon and fired into his chest. The man jerked and twisted, falling backwards. Immediately the hallway was riddled with bullets and he cursed and pressed himself against the wall. Sharp pain lanced through his chest with every movement, smoke rising from his lips as it ate away at his lungs. There was something like panic scrabbling at the inside of his chest because he couldn’t die here, not like this. Tomorrow was Bobby’s birthday and they would both hate him if he didn’t make it. She would hate him for leaving her and he couldn’t do that, not to either of them. He needed her. He needed her with a desperation he hadn’t felt in a long time. The feel of her fingers in his hair and her lips on his neck, gentle and caring like he was something worth loving. He choked on the blood in his lungs and he closed his eyes as he whispered a quiet prayer up to his Gods. He needed to see her again. He needed to hold her and tell her he was hers. The gunfire stopped and he heard feet pounding into the hallway. His father snarled as someone struck him across the face and then he was launching himself at them. There was a sharp cry as he pinned them against the wall but he didn’t get his fangs into his neck. Two of them grasped him by his arms, yanking him back and snapping metal cuffs around his wrists. The roar that left his lips was loud and deafening and then he was whirling, backhanding one of them and slamming him into the wall. Roman felt a sharp cry leave his lips as someone fired point blank into his father’s back, his body careening forward against the cement. Then someone was crouching in front of him, silver chain in their hands as they tried to wrap it around his throat. He caught their hands in one of his and he let out his own cry that was a combination of anger and pain. His grip tightened and he could hear a loud crack as the bone broke under his fingers before he was throwing the undertaker away from him. He was up in a heartbeat, fangs sinking into the neck of the one firing at his father but he knew even as he did it wouldn’t be enough. There were too many of them and they were too wounded. He didn’t think he was walking out of here but he wouldn’t be taken alive. The roaring of an engine echoed in his ears but he didn’t acknowledge it as anything more than a potential danger. Not until it skidded to a stop in front of the doors and suddenly someone was ripping past him, long legs kicking the gun from an undertaker’s hand. Giselle didn’t hesitate, landing another spinning kick in their back before she crouched and snapped the man’s neck. Sydney was close on her heels, dropping out of driver’s seat with a gun in hand. He fired off three shots, each bullet finding its mark before he reached down a hand towards Roman. “I’ve had about enough of this bloody place, how about you?” he said cheerfully. Gaius laughed as Giselle reached down to help him up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Good to see you again, sire,” she told him. He smiled and wrapped his arm around her waist. “And you are beautiful as always, childe.” |
| Sam woke up shivering on the bathroom floor. Her cheek was pressed to the linoleum and blood seeped from the wounds on her face and head, trickling into the cracks and pooling out around her like a crimson halo. It was an odd sensation of ache, pain and numbness all fighting for attention in her mind, which was working slow and fuzzy. Her vision was blurred and there was a dull ringing in her ears. But other than that, she couldn't hear anything. She wondered where Nolan had gone and if he was just going to leave her here on his floor until she died. A part of her thought maybe Roman would show up and tear the place down and then take her home to his bed so she could sleep on something that wasn't cold and degrading. She knew that wasn't going to happen and she could hear Nolan's own words telling her that they'd known of Roman's plans. Her eyes filled with tears at that, because what if Roman was dead? What was she supposed to do then? It probably didn't matter because she was bleeding and beaten on the bathroom floor. Her eyes closed for a moment and then she thought of Bobby and she knew she couldn't do this to him. She couldn't do this to her little brother because she was all he had. He'd be okay without her, but she didn't want him to just be okay. She wanted him to be happy and content and everything that a kid was supposed to be and if she and Roman both died on him now, he'd never be that. No matter what else happened, she couldn't do that to him. Curling her fingers along the linoleum, she tried to push herself up. Pain spiked through her head and a sharp shooting pain shot up her arm. She gasped and fell back hard against the linoleum. A soft cry left her lips and she wanted Roman to be here so badly it hurt. Her side was pounding with the beating of her heart and she tucked her injured arm near her chest. It hurt to even move her fingers or draw breath and she was reminded of a time where she lay on the sidewalk with gouges in her side. It reminded her a lot of that. But she thought that was more painful, just not in the physical sense. She jerked when the bathroom door opened. It was instinct to try and crawl across the floor. Panic was coursing through her chest, her eyes wide and wild. She looked behind her and it wasn't Nolan standing there. Two men had walked into the bathroom and they weren't dressed like Undertakers. She thought they were just goons. Just goons Nolan had hired to dispose of his trash. One of them grabbed her beneath the arms and lifted her. She cried out, bucking against him and he let go of one of her arms to clamp a hand over her mouth firmly, shaking her head. It sent the world spiraling and pain lancing through every part of her body and he growled at her, "Shut the fuck up." He slung one of her arms across his shoulders and the other guy came up to her side, taking her other arm and doing the same. Her head hung loosely between them and as they walked out of the bathroom, she could hear Nolan talking on his phone. It sounded like he was yelling at someone. He stopped as they started to pass and Nolan held the phone down to his chest. "Get rid of her," he said seriously, all sense of empathy or kindness gone from his face. He was all business. "No coming back this time or I will dispose of both of you." He turned his back then and started yelling back into the phone and Sam felt one of the goons snort and heft her up higher. Her hair had fallen out of her ponytail and hung about her shoulders. She couldn't help her head falling to the side and resting against one of them. When they were out of the apartment, they headed towards the stairs and one of the men grumbled, "What a cocksucker." "He pays the bills," the other one said. The one guy shrugged. "He's still an asshole. Wouldn't mind if someone popped him." Sam whimpered at the rough jarring. "Please..." she whispered, her eyes trying to focus on one of their faces. The one man just laughed, while the other rolled his eyes. "Don't mistake us for the good guys, sweetheart," he said and she closed her eyes against the words. "I wouldn't wish where you're going on anyone. Fucking hell on earth, is what it is." "Fuck that," the other said. "She'll be so fucking blasted, she won't know what the fuck is going on. Hell, she might even like it." The man hefted her up, making her head roll back so it was facing him. "What do you say? You like sucking dicks?" A whimper escaped her lips because she didn't like any of this. She was hurt and tomorrow was Bobby's birthday and Roman was at home waiting for her. She had to believe that. It gave her strength and hope and her whimper turned into a growl as she suddenly bucked violently against them, her head snapping into one of theirs. It was enough to get one of them to let go of her arm and she kicked out violently at the one who still held her. He swore and backhanded her. She tasted blood in her mouth, but that was nothing new. She kept struggling against them. The other man's arms wrapped around her waist to try and hold her still, but she threw her arms back, letting out a small scream as it jarred her arm and she thought maybe it was broken. But her elbows hit him in the gut and then she was kneeing the one man in the groin. She was finally let go and she tried to take a step forward, but her limbs were clumsy and weak and when she missed the step, she went tumbling down the stairs. It was a painful fall and when she landed on the landing below, she crashed into the wall and lay there dazed for a moment, bleeding into the floor. "Stupid bitch," she heard one of them growl and they accentuated the curse by kicking her in the side. She could only groan, her eyes threatening to roll up into the back of her head. They picked her up again and the rest of the way they didn't say anything. She tried several more times to break herself free from their grasp, but when they reached the ground floor and a junky looking car, they slammed her head against the roof of the car before throwing her in the back seat. The world tipped and twirled and faded and brightened after that. She lay across the dirty back seat and she'd lost her shoes somewhere along the way. Her dress was torn and bloody, her hair matting to the side of her face with blood. She thought she whispered Roman's name several times, hoping he'd show up or stop these goons. But he didn't. He never showed up and when the car stopped and the door opened, she was grabbed beneath the arms and flung to the sidewalk, her elbows and knees scraping across the cement. She lay there limply, small whimpers coming from her throat. "She's all yours," she heard one of them say and her teeth started to chatter together. She was rolled onto her back and she couldn't see, blinded by a streetlight for a moment. She thought she recognized the touch and when he spoke, she felt fear spike through her and she couldn't hold the tears back anymore. "Well, hello there, pet." |
| Roman let out a quiet hiss, gritting his teeth against the pain. His head was tipped back against the wall of the van, the tires squealing underneath him and the engine roaring loudly. It was careening quickly through the streets and he could hear the sound of more cars on their tail. There was a crash as it scraped alongside the cars parked on the streets and it jarred his head against the metal surface with a loud bang. Giselle cursed and the sound was surprisingly unladylike of her. It didn’t get his eyes to open. The bullets in his chest were hissing and burning as they scraped against his ribs and he couldn’t get himself to move. His hands were curled around the gun he’d stolen and he couldn’t get them to uncurl. His body throbbed in pain and he could smell smoke rising up from his own skin. There was still blood bubbling out of his flesh and trickling to the already stained floor. “Get the fuck out of the way!” Sydney yelled from the driver’s seat. There was the sound of a horn and then the screaming of metal as he charged through whatever was in his way. Roman listened to that because it was easier than focusing on the bullets in his chest. Gaius sat across from him, head focused on the bullet in his arm. His teeth were clamped tightly together, lip pulled back in a sneer as he dug it out of his flesh. He held it casually in his fingers once he had it, staring at the small chunk of metal. It hissed and burned at his fingers but he seemed oblivious to it, watching it for a moment before flicking it against the wall. It clinked off the metal surface and then landed on the floor beneath them. Hannibal glanced down at it before looking back up at the small mirrors in the doors. “Might want to drive a little faster.” He yelled the words over his shoulder towards Sydney and Roman didn’t want to know what he was seeing. The sirens were loud and echoed around them, blue and red lights flashing across the inside of the van and he let his eyes close again. Every time he tensed it sent pain lancing through his chest in harsh waves. “Already going as fast as I can!” Sydney yelled back. Her nails dug into his chest, trying to pry the six bullets out of his skin. “Are you with me love?” she asked quietly. “Still here,” Roman told her through gritted teeth. He let out another sharp hiss as she grasped one of the bullets, drawing it out through the bloody hole. He wasn’t sure how true it was because the world was blurring around him with the pain lancing through his chest. His head fell against the wall and he winced as it slammed against the metal again. He could hear sirens on their tail and it had been a close thing just getting out of the prison. In the back of his mind he wondered if Solomon had the gates or if they were fucked even if they made it into the vampire district. If that was the case than he wished he’d killed Christian when he had the chance. He just wanted to crawl back into his bed with Sam and wrap his arms around her. He wanted to hold her, to smell her scent and feel her skin under his fingertips and remind them both that they were still alive. If he kept his eyes closed than it was easier to pretend that’s where he was headed. It was easier to ignore the pain coursing through his veins and believe that any moment he would open his eyes and she would be in his bed. It got harder and harder every day to say goodbye to her and he hoped that hadn’t been the last time. “Fuck,” he snarled, his mind snapping back to reality with painful clarity as Giselle ripped another bullet out of his flesh. She tossed it on the floor, the small piece of metal clinking against the bottom of the bus. She stuck her finger in her mouth afterwards, the skin hissing and burning. Her face was contorted with pain and concern and he was surprised to see it there so openly. He heard gun blasts from behind them, bullets thudding into the back of the van. It was almost enough to make him smile because it was an undertaker’s van and wasn’t going to be taken out by a few shots. That was sort of the point. Giselle let out a gasp and fell forward against his chest when the van turned abruptly. Her fingers grasped his shoulders and he let out a snarl when it pulled at the muscles in his chest. There was a crack as his hands tightened around the gun in his lap and he was pretty sure it wouldn’t be usable when he was done with it. Not that it would matter in a minute. They’d either be safe behind the gate or completely fucked. It was enough to get his eyes to open, twisting in the seat and ignoring the three bullets still in his chest. Hannibal kicked the doors open, gun in hand as he jumped out the back. Roman saw his gun going off in bright flashes and there was a manic grin on his face, something wild and vengeful. Squealing tires and crashing met his ears and then it was followed by several loud screams rising up towards the dark sky. Giselle gripped his arm and helped him to the door. It was a controlled chaos outside. There was blood coating the asphalt and he could smell it, sharp and metallic. Sydney had yanked the van around right inside the gates dividing the districts and the change was obvious and palpable. Half the gate was closed, the other being yanked shut by a vampire. The cop cars were charging through the still open gate, right up until Solomon’s fist slammed into the hood of one of them. It jerked it to an abrupt stop right in the path of the others and there was a loud crash as the others piled into the back of it. They skidded to a stop, spinning and slamming into each other in a large pile up. The sound of breaking glass and twisting metal echoed over the asphalt and it was followed swiftly by screaming as vampires joined Solomon in yanking the police and the undertakers from their cars. It was insanity and chaos and behind him Roman could hear his father laughing. He jumped out of the van behind him and then bolted passed him towards one of the closest cars. Gunshots fired at him but he ducked underneath it, hand shooting through the passenger mirror and ripping the man right out of his car. He slammed down on the roof of the car, spine bent practically in half. Hannibal bolted towards the gate, helping Solomon push the car back towards the other side and draw the gate closed. Gunshots fired from the other side of the gate, dinging off the fence. Solomon stepped back with a grin and flipped off the undertakers. Bullets dinged off the side of the van from one of the cars that had made it through the gates. The undertakers were crouched on the other side of the doors and Roman almost felt sad because they didn’t have a chance. Hannibal kicked one of the doors shut, slamming it into the man’s body. He cried out as it hit him, falling back and scrambling backwards along the ground. Hannibal was on him in a second, knocking his arm aside and then sinking his fangs into his neck. In a moment he was just another body. There was a scream as Solomon ripped through the last one and then he was letting his body drop to the ground. There were piles of them already littered around the guard station. There were bullet holes in the walls and corpses slumped against them. There were other vampires with Solomon, some he recognized and some he didn’t. Maybe the only smart thing he’d done in the two weeks his father had been imprisoned was free others black bagged by Nolan’s men. Not all of them were trustworthy but none of them had hesitated to take on the undertakers that would have thrown them in a pit and left them there to rot. “The gate’s ours,” Solomon said. The words were directed at Gaius and not him but he didn’t resent him for it. Gaius was walking back over towards them, blood staining his lips and coating his skin. It was soaking into his clothes and he didn’t bother to try and wipe it off. He wore a large grin and kicked a body out of the way as he did. “Good,” he said. There was fierce satisfaction in his voice. “When the district falls to us we’ll take the rest of the city.” Roman felt his stomach lurch and his hand curled around the door of the van to hold himself steady. It didn’t surprise him but he couldn’t get himself to respond to it. He knew what he was starting when he’d done this and he couldn’t turn back now. “You did beautifully love,” Giselle said. She stepped passed Roman to wrap her arms around Solomon’s neck. He kissed her and Roman looked beyond them to the gate. There were more lights collecting out theirs but the gates would hold. He would make sure of it until morning came and Nolan got the hint that all he was going to get was more bodies. He slung his gun over his shoulder and watched the undertakers piling out of their cars on the other side. There was the crackle as a speakerphone came to life and he wondered if they knew it wasn’t necessary. They could have been whispering and he would have heard. “Attention, this is Officer Martin. Open the gate and surrender and none of you will be harmed. I repeat, open the gate and surrender or we will be force to open fire.” The voice echoed loudly through the fence but the gunfire had stopped and Roman felt a dull sort of exhaustion sinking into his bones. There would be no going home tonight. There would be no Sam in his bed. Gaius laughed and then he was standing on top of the hood of a car. “Attention Officer Martin,” he called back. His voice was loud and wicked. “This district is ours. Any attempt to reclaim it will result in your death.” There was a moment of stillness and then he heard the whispering start. “What do we do?” someone asked quietly. He heard the man in charge let out a breath and he shook his head. “We wait for Nolan’s word.” |
| There was a mattress in the corner of the room. No bed frame or sheets or pillows, just a mattress and Sam hated the thing as soon as she felt it. It was bloodstained and filthy and there were other stains in it that she didn't want to know what they were. A small table was set up next to it with a dim lamp. Other than that, the room was barren and concrete. The door to the room was padlocked and there were no windows. Sam had trouble telling how much of the darkness was actually the room and how much of it was her head wounds. Reno had carried her in here and he had dropped her on the mattress but hadn't returned yet. She'd gotten herself into a sitting position, but the room had spun violently and she just sat there now, taking it in. She knew where she was and she hated it. It was the blood bank. It was one of the back rooms of the blood bank, the ones she always chose to ignore because she told herself she didn't care. She wondered how many people would ignore that she was back here. She wondered how many people had died or worse because she ignored them and that brought tears to her eyes. The world was a cruel, awful place and she was beginning to realize just how much she added to it. Just how much she'd turned a blind eye to and it was nothing like what she'd wanted when she became an Undertaker. She wanted to do good. She wanted to help. She wanted to save people. And she'd turned her eyes from this place and look how many people she had abandoned to it. She deserved to be here. It didn't mean she wanted to be. The door opened and Sam glanced up. Reno was coming back inside, his arms full. She couldn't make out what he had with him, because her vision was blurry. But he came back over to the table, setting some things down. He glanced over at her and smiled, crouching down in front of her. She shivered when he touched her bare, skinned knees. "Don't worry, Sammy," he cooed and she tried to sneer at him, but it hurt her face. "I'm going to take real good care of you." With that, he leaned forward and started tugging on her dress. She whimpered, trying to grab for his wrists, but she couldn't stop him from pulling her dress up and over her head, leaving her in her underwear. He whistled lowly and she hugged in on herself, whimpering. She watched him go back to the table as she sat on the mattress, feet on the floor and her knees pressed together. "Right there," Reno said and then something flashed in the darkness. It left her seeing spots and she jerked her face away, but heard the familiar sound of a Polaroid printing. She watching Reno start to shake the picture and walk to the door, grinning as he handed it to someone standing there. "Add this under 4B, huh? Write..." he paused, tipping his head at Sam and then grinning viciously. "Sammy B. Good. Undertaker." The vamp at the door snorted and then closed the door as he went back out to the main room. Sam closed her eyes, ducking her head to rest on her knees. She felt tears stinging at her eyes, her face pounding and her side aching. Her arm throbbed painfully and she couldn't stop the whimpers crawling up her throat. She wanted Roman. She wanted him so badly and she didn't even know if he was alive or if he'd come. How would he know? How would he find her? What would Bobby do? "Aww, come on now," Reno said and she flinched when he crouched down in front of her again, his hand rubbing at her arm. "Isn't this what you want?" he asked and she hated that he said the words. "Get fed on every day. Probably get fucked just as much, if not more." She let out a sob at that and Reno chuckled. "I've been wanting to get you back here for a long time. You're going to bring in a fortune, Sammy." "Please," she whimpered and raised her head to look at him. He'd gone back to the table, pulling out a needle and she didn't like the sight of it. "Reno, please let me go." Reno snorted. "I can't do that," he said. "I've got my orders." She felt her heart skip a beat because Nolan had ordered her here, he'd ordered her to be gotten rid of and she hated him. She fucking hated him. Pushing herself from the mattress, she kept her injured arm tucked near her chest and she tried crawling towards the door. Every inch of her body hurt and throbbed, her head spinning. Behind her she could hear Reno start laughing. She didn't care. She didn't want to be here and she just wanted to be with Roman. She wanted Roman. "Where you going?" Reno laughed, coming to stand next to her as she kept trying to crawl. "Huh?" He bent down and grabbed her hair, pulling her head back. "Where do you think you're gonna go?" She whimpered and then spit up and him. He jerked when it caught him in the face and then he stepped over her, wrapping an arm around her chest and pulling her up. He yanked her head back and she cried out when she felt the needle plunge into her neck. Immediately, warmth started to spread through her. Her eyes closed of their own accord and when he withdrew the needle, he pulled her into his arms, lifting her and carrying her back to the mattress. He tossed her down with a chuckle and the jarring hurt, but not as much as it had just moments before. She felt tingling all through her body, her muscles relaxing and her mind drifting. The mattress dipped as Reno put one knee on it, leaning over her. Her eyes fluttered as she looked up at him. He grinned down at her and then reached to push her hair away from her neck. "I told you, Sammy," he said. "We're going to have a lot of fun." "Roman will come," she whispered and she wasn't sure if the words had actually left her mouth or not. But Reno must have heard them. He snorted and said, "No one's coming for you." Then his head dipped and she felt his fangs sink into her neck. Her back arched and he grabbed her shoulders, letting his body press down onto hers to keep her in place. He fed viciously and deeply. Sam's head spun and blurred and all she became aware of was the dim lamplight. She watched it through the blurry world, her hand coming up to try and swat away the pressure lying on top of her, but a hand grabbed her wrist, pinning it back against the mattress. The world was high and fuzzy after that. She thought maybe Reno left for a bit, but then she'd blink against the lamplight and he'd be back. Or maybe it wasn't him. Maybe it was another vampire, she couldn't tell anymore. And whenever she started to become aware of anything other than the lamplight, she'd feel the needle plunge into her arm and it would all slip away again. She dreamt for a bit while she was in this state. She dreamt of Roman and Bobby and his birthday. She dreamt of their apartment going up in flames and she could hear her brother screaming and she would jerk awake and there would just be lamplight and vampires. Fangs in her neck and hands on her skin, violating and intrusive. None of them were Roman and she wondered if he really was dead. |
| By the time dawn came crowds had gathered on both sides of the fence. The lights on top of the fence were bright and glaring and even without them Roman could see all the people moving on the sidewalk and in the street. The cops and the undertakers were trying to keep them back but it didn’t stop the camera crews or the curious from pushing their way forward to get a better look. He imagined they were zooming in on the bodies that a vampire named Diego was dragging out of the streets. Gaius stood next to one of the abandoned undertaker’s cars, giving orders calmly without his gaze ever leaving the armed men on the other side of the fence. Even wounded and thin as he was, anyone watching would be able to tell he was the one in charge. Vampires turned at his word, carrying out his orders with swift proficiency. They were securing the district. By tonight it would be completely theirs. Any pockets of undertakers or humans that put up resistance would be killed or imprisoned. If Roman had his way, they would just be shipped back to their own side of the fence, but he wasn’t in charge anymore. That was becoming abundantly clear. He leaned against the hood next to him, the gun still slung over his shoulder as he kept his eyes on the undertakers. His chest was throbbing but Giselle had dug the rest of the bullets out of his flesh and that was something. It didn’t sear and burn every time he moved and he didn’t have smoke trickling from between his lips. He was still in pain, but he could deal with pain. “Where is Nolan?” Gaius asked quietly. Roman glanced over at him and saw the annoyance etched on his features. Giselle stood on the other side of him, hand resting on his shoulder in a silent show of support. “Why isn’t he here?” “Perhaps he’s busy,” Roman said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. Giselle laughed and tilted her head to the side. “Or scared.” “He should be.” Gaius snorted and his eyes narrowed as he watched the undertakers. They hadn’t tried to breach the fence again but they hadn’t put their guns away and he didn’t expect them to any time soon, at least not until Nolan showed up and gave the order. If he was smart he would tell them to go home and lick their wounds, but he wasn’t going to underestimate the man again. They’d started a civil war. Gaius’s lip curled in a snarl and shook his head. “They all should be.” Roman didn’t respond. He stiffened when he caught a commotion on the other side of the fence, slinging the gun down into his arms. He wondered if this was Nolan making his play or the undertakers getting bored and deciding to try and cross the fence. It was neither. It wasn’t something he expected and he found himself taking a step forward before he processed it. “Roman!” Bobby shouted again. He bolted through the crowd, ducking under the sawhorses set up to try and keep the crowd back. Hands grasped at him, but the kid was small and quick and darted by them. He shouted his name again and he couldn’t stop himself from moving forward. Immediately there was an answering click of guns as the undertakers lifted theirs and pointed at the fence. Someone grabbed at his backpack and he twisted in a circle, wrenching out of their grasp as he bolted for the fence. Roman stepped forward towards him and Bobby’s eyes widened when he saw him. “Roman!” he shouted again. He raced forward until he hit the fence, fingers curling in the links. Behind him the undertakers were shouting and yelling, waving each other forward with guns pointed at Roman. He ignored them because there was panic sinking into his chest. It was Bobby’s birthday and he was alone, the circles under his eyes dark and bruised. He looked like he hadn’t slept and he looked panicked and wild. He took another step and there were only ten yards between him and the fence. “Roman please! Sam’s gone!” Roman let out a hiss and his gaze finally flicked to the undertakers closing in on Bobby. Behind him he heard footsteps as Solomon and a few others gathered at his back, their guns just as ready as the undertakers. One of the men reached for his backpack and tried to pull him back from the fence. “Come on kid,” he said, dragging him back a few feet. “This is no place for you.” “What happened?” Roman demanded. His voice sounded rough even to him. Bobby let out a noise and then yanked his arms free of the backpack. The undertaker cursed and stumbled back and Bobby didn’t waste any time. He threw himself on the fence, climbing up the side of it. Roman let out a hiss and shot a glance at the undertaker. He didn’t look interested in Roman, his head tilting back to watch Bobby climb. He let out another curse and then went to follow him. The shouting and chaos that followed was loud and frantic. “Get back!” someone shouted, but he didn’t know who it was aimed at. Undertakers raced forward, keeping their guns pointed at Roman but he wasn’t focused on them. He was abruptly scared because that was Bobby and he wasn’t with Sam celebrating his birthday. She was supposed to be with him and she was supposed to be safe and he didn’t understand why she wasn’t either of those things. There was panic crushing his chest in a new kind of pain. He heard the click of heels on the asphalt behind him. Giselle sidled up next to him, hand sliding onto his shoulder. “Who’s your little friend?” she asked, a sly smile on her lips. Her gaze was on Bobby and seemingly ignorant of the undertakers. “Shut up,” Roman snapped. Bobby dropped to his feet on the their side, his feet stumbling on the asphalt before he hurried forward. Roman slung the gun over his shoulder again, rushing forward to catch him by the arms before he barreled headfirst into the vampires behind him. He dropped into a crouch, and there was the dull roar of yelling from the other side. The undertaker following on his heels was still scrambling over the top of the fence but Giselle moved forward, curling her fingers around the back of his neck as soon as he dropped towards the ground. He let out a panicked cry as she twisted his arm behind his back and shoved him against the fence. Bobby’s fingers curled in Roman’s shirt and he didn’t seem to notice the blood crusted in it. He didn’t look like he cared, his eyes wide as he scanned his face. “Sam’s missing!” he blurted. There were tears blurring his eyes and Roman felt panic and fear settling in his chest at the sight of it. Every muscle was tense and sore but suddenly it didn’t matter. Bullets in his chest didn’t matter and undertakers didn’t matter. All that mattered was Sam and Bobby and he could barely get his throat to unlock. “What do you mean?” he asked. His fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on Bobby’s arms and he almost didn’t understand the words. He’d said goodbye to Sam last night and then she was going to be waiting for him to come back to her. “I mean she’s gone,” he said, shoving at Roman’s chest. “She went out last night to see Nolan and she never came back.” Pain lanced through his chest to his heart and he couldn’t stop his eyes from widening or the dark sensation of guilt and jealousy he felt at the words. She’d gone to see Nolan. There were only two reasons she would have done that and one of them was one he wouldn’t consider. That meant she thought she was helping. She thought she was doing him a favor and now she was missing. “Sam Moss?” the undertaker said abruptly. Roman glanced up at him and couldn’t stop his lip from curling in a snarl. He thought he recognized him but it was a long moment until he recalled his name. Caleb Rourke. He wondered how he knew Sam but it didn’t matter. The man would be dead in a minute and he shifted so Bobby couldn’t see. The last thing he needed was to see someone else die in front of him and Roman couldn’t help the loathing he felt for himself and what he’d become. “Shh,” Giselle breathed. She nuzzled her mouth into his neck and he heard one of the undertakers on the other side shout in fear and anger. His finger was tight on his gun but he didn’t fire. “It’s better if you don’t speak.” “Please,” Bobby begged. “You have to find her.” Roman scanned Bobby’s face and everything else was forgotten at those words. Sam was gone and he needed to find her because he just needed her. He could have screamed with the sensations crushing his lungs in his chest because he had prayed only to hold her again and suddenly a snarl curled his lips because Nolan had done something to her. Footsteps were loud behind him but he didn’t glance back. “What is this?” Gaius snapped. “We don’t have time for this, childe. And you.” He turned his attention to the undertaker by the fence, a cruel grin curling his lips. “Are a fool.” “I might know where she is,” he said quickly. “I don’t care,” Gaius told him. He stepped in next to Giselle and took over pinning the man against the fence. He leaned forward, his mouth close to his neck and Roman heard his breath hitch, hands pawing at his belt for his gun. Gaius grasped his wrist and pushed him hard against the links, laughing quietly as he grunted in pain. “You should have stayed on your side of the line.” “Take your hands off of Officer Rourke!” One of the undertakers on the other side shouted the words, guns held to their shoulders and focused on Gaius. He grinned and shifted to keep Caleb in between him and their guns. “Wait,” Roman said, glancing up at them. “What do you know?” “Let go and I’ll tell you,” he said, lips curling in a smirk. Roman growled and he let go of Bobby’s arms, by Rourke’s side in a heartbeat. He yanked him from Gaius’s grasp and he didn’t care about the shouting on the other side or the startled hiss from his father. His hand curled around the man’s throat and he slammed him up against the fence, his feet dangling above the ground. “Tell me where she is,” he snarled. Hatred and desperation curled his lips and his fingers dug tightly into his windpipe. “Tell me what he did with her or there will be nothing left of you.” Caleb gasped, pawing at the unyielding hand around his throat. He yanked at the fingers, feet kicking above the asphalt and trying to struggle free. “The blood bank,” he gasped out, and the words were the last thing Roman would have expected from him. He couldn’t stop the hiss of breath that left his lips. “That’s where he puts people to make him disappear.” |
| Sam sat in the corner of the room, huddled against the wall, wedged between it at the mattress. It had taken her several tries, but she managed to kick the mattress away from the wall and she climbed down between it and the wall, hugging herself, her injured arm tucked against her stomach. she shivered and rested her head on her knees. She couldn't find a comfortable position, because her whole face hurt, but she finally settled with just letting it hurt. She stared at the lamp for a long time, huddled there, because it was light and she was so tired of darkness. She was so tired of living in a world where the sun didn't shine and she wondered why it didn't. She wondered what scientific reason the universe had for no sun. She wondered if it was the whole world, of if there was a part of the world now that had sun all the time. Maybe the world had died a long time ago and no one had told it. Licking her cracked lips, her throat was parched and mouth dry. It felt like she had cotton stuff into her cheeks and her ears and her head still spun when she closed her eyes. She didn't know what was in the needle Roman had given her, but he'd been back twice that she knew of to give her more. She shivered and there was a sheen of sweat covering her pale skin, her face slightly pink. She closed her eyes against the lamplight and thought of Roman and Bobby. She pictured herself at Roman's place with a birthday cake and balloons and funny hats. She picture how Bobby's birthday should have gone, how it should be and it brought tears to her eyes that in her mind, Roman was human. She hadn't really given much thought to what they were going to do. A vampire and a human, there were only so many ways that could go. And one of the ways did not include growing old together. She wondered what she'd give to stay with Roman. Or rather, what she'd give up. The padlock on the door clicked open and Sam jerked at the sound of it, her breath hitching. She tried to push herself further back into the corner, her unfocused eyes on the doorway and when it opened, she wasn't surprised to see Reno step in. He had a stupid grin on his face as he looked over at her, but then he stepped to the side and a small girl walked in, holding the hand of a muscled, bald black vampire. At first, Sam's heart skipped a beat in fear for the child, but when she saw the sheen of her eyes and the paleness of her skin, she recoiled in disgust. The blonde little girl in pigtails was a vampire. She couldn't have been older than six or seven when she'd been turned. She wore a cute little skirt outfit and when she saw Sam, her lips curled into a smile too old to be on her face. "This is the one I was telling you about," Reno said. "High quality." "Thank you, Reno," the little girl said, a distinctly French accent to her voice. "That will be all," and she dismissed him with a wave of her hand. Reno snorted, but shrugged and winked at Sam before he closed the door, padlocking it again. The girl let go of the older vampire's hand. He stayed near the door, his arms crossing over his chest like he were guarding it as the little girl came towards the mattress. She stopped near the edge and quirked her head to the side. It was mistakenly child-like and Sam had to remind herself that this was a vampire, not a child. "Bonsoir," the girl said in French. She dipped her head in greeting and then bent over a little to try and get a look at Sam's face. "I am Ninette."Sam closed her eyes and shivered, turning her head back towards the wall. She didn't feel the mattress moved and she jumped when she felt the little fingers start to brush through her hair. She recoiled quickly and reached out to shove the girl away from her, but the little girl caught her wrist and Sam let out a cry at how strong it was. It was easy to forget she was a vampire. "How impolite," the little girl said and shook her head. Scooting back across the mattress, the little girl climbed to her feet and brushed herself off, holding her hand out towards the man standing at the door. He withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her hand off before standing back. The little girl brushed her hands off and was incredibly dainty and delicate as she turned around, her eyebrow arched. "She is a bit dirty," the little girl said, her nose crinkling slightly. She turned towards the vampire at the door. "But if you are hungry, you may feed." The man nodded his head, his low, grumbling voice barely audible as he said, "Thank you, sire." He came forward and Sam sneered at him, trying to push herself up because she wasn't going to be fed on without a fight. Her legs wouldn't cooperate and she couldn't get them beneath her to stand up along the wall. The vampire was across the mattress in a matter of moments and Sam tried to strike out at him as he grabbed her arm and flung her down onto the mattress. She tried to crawl off of it, but a hand gripped the back of her neck, shoving her down. Another hand gripped her wrist and yanked her injured arm up behind her back. She let out a cry at the pain and the cry was cut off short as she felt fangs sink into her side, just above her hipbone. Immediately, the rush coursed through her, her eyes growing heavy and lidded. He held her in place there and he withdrew too quickly to have fed all the way. She started to move, but his fangs sunk into her flesh again, this time just below her ribs. She whimpered slightly and her breath hitched when the small hands suddenly came back to run through her hair. She looked up at Ninette was standing over her with a comforting, warm smile on her face. "Shh," she cooed, petting Sam's head like she were comforting a child. "He has to find the right spot." Sam cried out as the vampire's fangs withdrew and sunk again just below her shoulder. She jammed her eyes shut and cried when Ninette lowered her mouth to Sam's neck, her tiny fangs sinking into the skin there. She laid there and let them feed, her eyes closing and the world sinking and melting away. The fingers of her good hand curled against the mattress and she wasn't even aware that they had finished until she heard Ninette's voice. "Next time, perhaps you could fix up the room?" she was saying and she heard Reno's familiar snort of laughter. The door clicked and creaked as it was opened and the feel of their fangs in her skin lingered. She wasn't aware that Roman had stayed until she heard rummaging near the table. "Enjoy that, Sammy?" Reno asked. Sam kept her eyes closed, feeling warm tears leak out onto her cheeks. "Please..." she whispered. He snorted. "You know I love it when you beg," he whispered back and she jerked at the feel of a needle sinking into her neck. |
| Gaius was angry when Roman left. Nolan still hadn’t showed and the standoff continued. There was likely no one in the city that didn’t know what was happening thanks to the news crews. It was something he should have been there for but he didn’t care. His anger was worse. It was slow burning and settled in his chest after Caleb mentioned the blood bank. All he could picture were the scars that littered Sam’s skin, coating her ribs and her arms and marring her neck and the anger burned higher. Bobby and Caleb stayed at his side and he didn’t want them there, but he had nothing else to do with them. He didn’t trust them alone with his father, not with the world falling apart around them. That meant they went with him to the blood bank and there was nothing about that he liked. The only back up he had was Hannibal following close behind because Giselle had insisted someone go with him. He had always known where it was but he had only been to the place a handful of times. He had hated it. He hated the place and the junkies that went there and the thought of Sam in that kind of a place made his stomach churn and his blood burn with hate. She didn’t belong there. She belonged safe in his arms and if he got her back there he would never let anyone hurt her again. There was a vampire guarding the door and Roman didn’t pause in his steps. He was on him in a heartbeat, gripping his neck and slamming his head off the wall. He had time to let out a strangled noise before Roman threw him to the floor. He kicked him again, slamming his boot down on his head. He whirled immediately afterwards and slammed his foot into the door. It opened with a loud bang as it thudded against the wall. “Jesus,” Caleb gasped behind him, but he didn’t turn around. He listened with half an ear to Bobby’s footsteps and that was the only thing distracting him. The boy’s heart rate stayed the same and there was no fear on his face. The vampire at the podium was one he knew by name and reputation but not much else. He had a smirk on his face as he leaned on the wooden stand, talking to a slim blonde vampire still licking the blood off her lips. His head turned towards Roman, eyebrow lifting curiously and by then he was already across the hallway. His arm slammed into Reno’s neck, muscling him back against the concrete. Hannibal was hard on his heels, grasping the female vampire by her arm and shoving her against the wall. “Where is she?” he demanded. The anger was blurring his vision with red and he wasn’t aware of anything but that anymore. The pain in his chest was nothing but a dull, distant throbbing because he could smell Sam. He could smell her on his skin. “The fuck?” Reno snorted and shoved back against Roman, his hand curling into a fist in his shirt. “Listen, I don’t know who the fuck you are or what you want, but you’re in my house now, so you better back the fuck off.” His dark hair was slicked back out of his face, a greasy smirk on his face. A growl left his lips and he whirled, slamming the vampire down on top of his own podium. “Sam.” Her name was barely more than a hiss, said between tightly gritted teeth. Reno smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “Doesn’t ring a bell.” His head tipped back and his gaze focused on Bobby, his grin widening into something wicked and slimy. “Let me know if you feel like selling your little snack. Bet I’d get a nice price for him.” There was a sheen of red coating his vision and his self control started to slip out of his grasp. He hauled back on Reno and slammed him into the wall again, his head cracking off the surface. The smile faltered and fell off his lips, his hands twisting in Roman’s shirt as he snarled back at him. “Where is she?” Roman roared, and he couldn’t think through the anger choking him. “Run along honey,” Hannibal snarled. He heard heels clicking on the floor but he didn’t turn around. His teeth were snapping in front of Reno’s face and his vision was blurred with red. His instincts were reduced to animalistic things and all he wanted was to rip his throat out. He wanted to tear through him and make him bleed and his hands tightened around his shirt, shoving him harder against the wall. He was barely aware of the guard stumbling through the door or Hannibal taking over dealing with him. Reno was snarling but his lips were quirked up in a snarl. “Sabinus, right?” he said. Roman just growled and snapped in response and Reno chuckled. “Do yourself a favor. Forget about little Sammy. Junkie whore like her is happier than she’ll ever be.” The roar that left his lips was loud and violent and his self control was gone after that. There was just anger and hate burning through him in dark waves, his jaws closing down on Reno’s throat. The vampire cried out as he started to tear, kicking out at him hard as his hand came around in a backhanded blow. It struck Roman hard across the face and his grip slipped enough for the vampire to tear himself away. He landed in a crouch and then he was bolting down the hallway into the blood bank. Roman followed after and he didn’t wonder if Bobby and the undertaker would be alright. There was the bitter taste of Reno’s blood in his lips and he wanted to shed more of it. He’d touched Sam. He was covered in her smell and he’d his hands on her and his fangs in her skin and he caught up to him right before one of the rooms. He slammed his head off the wall and he rebounded hard, a snarl of pain leaving his lips. Reno whirled and struck him again and his side hit the wall, growling low and feral at the pain that lanced through his chest. The vampire was on him in a second, gripping his shirt and shoving him against the wall. Reno’s teeth sunk into his chest and he couldn’t stop the roar of pain that left his lips when it did. The wounds already there screamed out at him and fueled the rage that was making him blind. The place stank of blood and dirt and sweat. His fist lashed out and struck Reno hard across the jaw. His head snapped to the side and Roman’s hand came up under his chin, lifting him up and sinking his teeth into his skin again. He screamed as Roman’s teeth ripped and tore at his flesh and when his head rose again it was dripping from his chin. “Where is Sam?” he demanded again. “I’ll show you,” he gasped. There was blood staining his teeth and most of it was his. Roman hauled him upright by his shirt, shoving him forward down the hallway. There were other vampires here, he could smell them and hear them rustling through the rooms but he didn’t think about that until the door opened next to him. He paused, a vampire standing in the door next to him. For a moment his gaze went passed him to the room and he felt a low growl rumble in his throat. There was a woman in there, maybe just out of her teens. She had dark hair but it was stringy and greasy. She was too thin and she was covered in scars from her cheekbones down to her toes. There were even fang marks in her jaw and on her cheeks and the ones on her neck were still freshly bleeding. She smelled like death and blood and it could have been Sam. He didn’t hesitate. There was red blinding him and his hand wrapped around the vampire’s throat before he could think about it. He roared, whirling and slamming him against the wall before his jaws sank into throat. The vampire let out a startled scream, hands clawing at his arms and his face even as his teeth ripped at his flesh. Bitter blood flooded into his mouth and he didn’t care. He wanted to kill everyone in this place. He wanted to kill anyone who might have had their fangs in Sam’s skin and anyone who might have touched her or hurt her and his jaws clamped hard around his spine before ripping it out. He tossed the body to the floor and glanced over his shoulder. Hannibal stood in the doorway. “Free whoever you can,” he snarled, and then grasped Reno by the back of the neck and shoved him forward. “Now take me to Sam.” The vampire stumbled ahead of him as he shoved him down the hallway and he heard shouting and yelling start to break out behind him. Caleb and Bobby followed close behind him and he spared a glance back once only to check on Bobby. The boy’s eyes were wide, hands gripping the straps of his backpack but he didn’t look scared. Caleb had his gun in his hand. Reno pushed the door open in front of him and for a moment he couldn’t move. There was a mattress shoved in the corner, no sheets and no frame on it. There was a table next to it with a dim lamp and all he could smell was sweat and blood. Sickness churned in his gut and he felt a low whimper leave his lips at what greeted him. Sam was huddled in the corner, dressed only in her underwear. There were gashes and bruises on her face, her arm held to her chest and blood coating her pale skin. She was shaking, bites lining her side and her neck. They littered her arms and mixed with the small pinpricks from a needle. He could smell the drugs from where he stood. “Sam,” he whispered, and then he was bolting across the room. He was feet from her when Reno suddenly hit him in the side, knocking him into the wall. His head struck the cement and he rebounded hard, the room suddenly spinning. Fingers fisted in his hair and slammed his forehead against it again before tossing him to the floor. He caught himself on his hands and then the anger was back in a rush, a snarl curling his lips as his head snapped to the side. He didn’t expect Reno’s foot to catch him in the mouth. “You won’t make it out of here alive,” he hissed. He crouched down next to him, grasping the back of his head and yanking it back. Pain danced along the back of his skull and through his chest and sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. Reno shouted in pain when Roman struck the side of his face and then he was up and moving. The anger choking him was the worst it had ever been. It blinded him with red and he couldn’t think anymore. He wasn’t aware of anything except the smell of Sam’s sweat and blood everywhere in this room and Reno was the cause of it. A roar left his lips and he was bashing his head off the wall. The hate was all he felt. He slammed Reno against the wall again and his fist struck him across the face before throwing him to the ground. He heard shouting from out in the hall and two more vampires rushed into the room. One of them reached for his arm but he backhanded him in a quick blow. He straddled Reno and he couldn’t stop hitting him, couldn’t stop slamming his fist against his face until he was barely recognizable. Not until he heard Bobby cry out from the hall as one of the vampires tried to grab him. There were gunshots going off and the vampire going after them jerked back against the wall. Caleb stood in between him and the boy and then Roman was grabbing him and clamping his jaws around the back of his neck. His spine cracked with a loud crunch. Bobby raced by him into the room and he heard him yelling Sam’s name. She groaned but Roman couldn’t look at her yet, not with blood all over his mouth and Reno still alive. He should have protected her. He should have kept her safe and he should never have left her or let her leave. “Sam, please,” Bobby begged. He heard scrambling and then Bobby let out a cry. “Get the fuck off her!” Roman’s head snapped over his shoulder in time to see Reno grabbing Sam by the thigh and dragging her over to him. She cried out and her hands pushed at him weakly. There were still bleeding bite marks on her sides but Reno left his own, his teeth coming down on her thigh and his fangs sinking into her skin. Bobby was lying next to her, a bruise forming on his mouth as he pushed himself to his feet. He turned and his foot hit the top of Reno’s head with all the strength he had. It barely jarred him. He lifted his head, blood dripping from his lips and Sam sobbing underneath him and a roar left Roman’s lips. He charged forward, grasping Reno and flipping him over onto his back. His jaws sank down into his throat again. Reno screamed and bucked and fought but Roman didn’t stop this time. Not until he hit bone. |
| "Sam," it was Bobby's voice and that scared her more than anything. She shivered, clinging to the mattress like a lifeline, but Bobby's voice was scared and small and she felt little hands coming to rest on her head and her shoulder. Her face was buried in the mattress and it was dank and damp. She was vaguely aware of a new stinging in her thigh, but it was dull and distant compared to the rest of it. She couldn't tell what was happening. There was commotion all around her and loud bangs that she thought were gunshots. She heard screaming and yelling and it had her heart fluttering because some of it sounded familiar. Like a voice she knew, but right now she couldn't process it. Right now she could only process that it was Bobby's voice so near to her and what was he doing here? The thought of her little brother in this place had anger and fear churning in her gut. Rolling her head to the side, she tried to lift herself up, but her arm was weak and she couldn't quite make it. Bobby was kneeled next to her, his hand brushing through her hair in a soothing motion that she used to do to him when he had nightmares. "Sam?" he asked again and there was concern and fear in his eyes. "Bobby," she whispered and she saw a smile light up her brother's face. He blinked like he was trying to clear his eyes and then he was leaning forward, pulling her head into his lap. "It's okay," he said. "We're here to rescue you." Sam stared up at his face as it started to blur and she felt her eyelids try to slip shut. But they shot back open when the mattress jerked. She sucked in a breath, whimpering despite herself. Bobby looked up at someone who knelt beside him and Sam thought he looked familiar through the blurriness. He was flinging his coat off and then sliding it around her shoulders. "Hey there, Sam," the newcomer said and Sam frowned at the blurry figure. "Caleb?" she asked. The man snorted, reaching into the belt on his uniform and pulling out some gauze. It was standard to come slightly prepared with medical equipment on your person. He pressed the gauze to her neck and she whimpered again. "Sorry I didn't bring donuts with me," he said and she couldn't even find it in her to smile. Licking her dry lips, she tried to keep her eyes open, but they slipped shut again. She was aware of a dreadful noise going on behind her little brother and Caleb, but she still couldn't make out anything beyond gurgling and scuffling. "Caleb," she said hoarsely. "Get Bobby out of here." "We're all leaving in a minute, Sam," Bobby said. "It's gonna be okay." Caleb started to move closer. "She's right," he said. "Time to go." He started to slip his arms beneath her. Bobby scoffed. "What about Roman?" At his name, Sam felt her heart leap. She couldn't help the small gasp that left her and she whimpered his name. "Roman," flittered out from between her lips and in that split moment, the struggling behind them stopped and she heard low growling start. It took less than a second for him to get to their side and he was shoving Caleb out of the way, his arms taking Caleb's place in holding her. It was familiar and firm. The touch didn't hurt and it didn't send fear through her chest. Cold fingers rested on the side of her face and she felt them leave something wet and sticky in their wake. She didn't ask what it was and when she looked up at him. When her eyes focused on him, he was covered in blood and her breath hitched as she said his name again. "Roman," she whispered, her good hand coming up to clench into his shirt. It was matted with dry blood. "I'm here, Sam," Roman said, his voice a harsh breath. Relief swept through her and she went limp in his arms. She felt them tighten around her and it was a struggle just to keep her hand fisted in his shirt. She frowned when one of her fingers found a hole in the fabric, her eyes flittering open to look at his shirt. "Did you get shot?" she asked breathily. Roman licked his lips, leaning down and pressing his lips to her forehead. She closed her eyes against the motion and he just held her tightly before he pulled back and scooped her up into his arms. She went easily, her head resting on his shoulder. "I'm getting you out of here," Roman told her quietly. Sam whimpered as her ribs were jarred, nuzzling her face into his neck. "Don't forget Bobby," she whispered. "I'm right here, Sam," Bobby called from behind them. Sam lifted her head slightly to make sure that her brother was indeed following them out. He was following close, with Caleb bringing up the rear, gun held up and she'd have to remember to tell him that he looked badass with a gun, and not at all like a donut eating cop. Her eyes went pass them for a moment to a body lying on the floor, the eyes dead and wide as they stared lifeless at the ceiling. Through the blood and gore, she'd recognize that ugly, awful face anywhere. "Is that Reno?" she whispered. Roman's arms tightened around her and she felt his fingers squeezing her shoulder as he cradled her. They were moving quickly and Sam's eyes started fluttering as Roman said, "He'll never touch you again." Sam watched blearily as the world passed by around her. The blood bank was unusually empty, bodies lying on the floor. There was a familiar vampire standing over one of them, wiping blood off his mouth and he looked up as they passed. He started after them, coming to Roman's side. Beyond him, she could see several people limping out of rooms, bit-ridden and bloody and she wondered how long they'd been here and where they would go now. "Roman," Bobby called, trying to run so he was next to Roman, his short legs making it difficult. "Where are you gonna take her?" The question was asked at the top of the steps and the lamplight was bright out here. Sam squeezed her eyes shut, unsure why she felt tears on her cheeks. She could feel how tense Roman was and how tightly he was holding her. But he stopped at the stairs and Sam started to drift off then. "Pass her off to the Undertakers," the other vampire suggested. "Let them get her to a hospital." "No!" Bobby protested and it woke her up a little. "Nolan's on that side of the fence. You can't!" Roman squeezed her again. "I won't," he told Bobby firmly. He turned to the other vampire. "They're with us now," he told him and she saw the other vampire nod his head, accepting this without question. She wondered what they were talking about, Undertakers. Were they afraid they'd get caught. Caleb cleared his throat at that. "Um, I might know a guy, actually," he said and they all turned to look at him. Caleb gave a small, nervous laugh and scratched at the back of his head. "He's a doctor. Set up sort of a...free clinic for junkies on this side of the fence." The other vampire lifted his chin. "And why should we trust you?" he demanded. "He led us to Sam," Bobby supplied. Sam's fingers tightened in Roman's shirt and her eyes closed. She couldn't get them to open again and she didn't know why, but she felt the need to remind Roman what today was. "Roman," she whispered. Roman's head turned so he was looking down at her. She kept her eyes closed. "It's Bobby's birthday..." she trailed off and sighed. Roman hefted her a little so he could press his lips against her cheek. "I know," he whispered back and then looked up at Caleb. "Lead the way." |
| The doctor didn’t live far from the blood bank. He was set up in an old brick building that looked like it might have been an orphanage at one point. The downstairs consisted of a few apartments, some of them empty and some not, but Roman didn’t find that out until later. All he cared about was getting Sam somewhere safe because she had lost consciousness some time along the way and it scared him more than he was willing to admit. She was cold in his arms, her skin too pale and too many marks covering he flesh. There were countless fang marks in her skin, some of them old and too many of them put there in the last twenty four hours. They hadn’t been careful or gentle or nice with her and it was hard to ignore the anger making him want to go back and make sure no vampire in the place left alive. He didn’t have time and it wasn’t important but the urge clawed away at him even so. Then Sam’s fingers tightened in his shirt, still looped in the bullet holes. She let out a low whimper and nuzzled closer to him and his arms cradled her closer against his chest. She smelled like drugs and blood and death and he should have protected her from it. Caleb led them inside the building without hesitation. His jacket was still around Sam and Roman tried not to be jealous about that. It didn’t mean anything and it was the last thing he should be concerned about now. He led them up the small staircase covered in a worn red carpet. There were holes and stains in and the wooden railing that ran up the wall beside it was old and broken. Bobby hurried along beside him, trying to keep up and Roman wished he could have slowed down for him. Hannibal followed at his own pace behind the three of them. He was smoking a cigarette and the smell of it hung around them in an acrid cloud. There was a cross with a figure of Jesus on it hanging on the door just below the peephole. Caleb cleared his throat, going forward to knock on the door before he took a step back. Roman heard rustling on the other side and after a moment the door opened, a woman standing in the way. She was older, her dark hair tingled with gray and it was pulled back out of her face in a messy bun. She wore thin brown glasses and hoop earrings, an apron around her waist and a rosary hanging around her neck. “Officer Rourke,” she said. She kept a hand on the doorway, glancing calmly at Roman and the precious burden in his arms. Bobby had sidled up next to them, his hand reaching up to twine his fingers in Sam’s. After a moment the woman nodded, turning and waving a hand over her shoulder. “Bring her to the back room. Jude will be with her in a minute.” Caleb cast a glance over at Roman before stepping into their apartment after her. “Carmen,” he said quickly. She paused and glanced over her shoulder and he smiled awkwardly at her, jerking a thumb back at Roman. “Would you mind…?” She frowned. “Mind inviting a vampire into my home? I do, actually. Bring your friend, not the fang.” Roman couldn’t stop the growl that left his lips. “I’m not leaving her,” he said. The woman snorted and her gaze shifted back to him. There was something angry on her features and she lifted an eyebrow at him. “That’s too bad,” she said. “Because I’m not inviting you in. If you want me to help your friend than you’ll let Officer Rourke take her. Otherwise you can take her and go back the way you came. For all I know, you’re the one that did this to her.” “He saved her!” Bobby blurted. “You can’t just make him wait outside.” She turned, bracing her hands on her lips as she looked at him. “Do yourself a favor child,” she said. She tipped her head to the side and Roman saw fang marks scarring her skin. “Don’t ever trust a fang. Especially the handsome ones.” Then she turned on her heel, walking back into the apartment. Caleb turned and shrugged helplessly. He was just walking back over towards to take her when he heard the woman’s voice call from inside one of the rooms. “Come on fang. You can bring her in here.” Roman felt relief at the words and he didn’t hesitate to walk over the threshold. There was the familiar rush of warmth that came when entering someone’s home. He heard Hannibal snort from behind him. “I’ll just wait out here then,” he said, his voice a sarcastic drawl. The inside was warm, the oven on in the kitchen and something baking in it. There were books everywhere, framed pictures on top of the bookcase. She led them down a hallway and there were several doorways, all of them with crosses or rosaries hanging on them. One of them was open and he could see a woman lying on one of the beds, a man sitting next to her and holding her hand. “We take in many of those that your kind has injured,” Carmen said, not even glancing back at him as she did. Roman licked his lips and tightened his grasp on Sam. He glanced down at her and he thought she must have felt him move. Her eyes opened and a shaky smile curled her lips when she saw him looking down at her. He tried to return it. “Good,” he said quietly. She led them to a clean room in the back, a simple bed with a steel frame in the middle of the room. There were white sheets on it, a quilt blanket folded up near the base of it. There was a small wooden table next to it with a bible on it and two chairs on either side for visitors. Roman took Sam to the bed, lying her down gently on the mattress. Her hand slid into his as he started to pull away. “Don’t go,” she whispered. Her eyes were still lidded and he smiled down at her, trying to pretend that his emotions weren’t in turmoil looking down at her. He sat down next to her on the bed, brushing her hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. She tucked herself in along his side and she didn’t seem to care about the blood on his skin or on his clothes. Maybe later she would, when she wasn’t half dead and delirious. Maybe when she found out what he’d done she would hate him. “I’m here,” he whispered back. “I’m not going anywhere.” He pulled her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips hard against her skin in a kiss. She was too cold and he glanced over his shoulder for the doctor. Caleb lingered in the doorway but he was alone. Bobby climbed up on the other side of the bed, wrapping his arm around his sister’s waist as he settled in next to her. She twisted, rolling over onto her back and putting an arm around him. She looked like she wanted to say something but she couldn’t get her pale lips to move, her eyes sliding shut again as she held her brother. Roman stayed where he was, fingers running in soothing circles over her hand and just watching her face. The anger had dulled somewhat with Reno’s death but it was still there. It was more familiar and comforting than the fear and guilt that tore through his chest because he hadn’t been there to protect her from this. He didn’t know what she meant to him. He didn’t know if they were dating or if he loved her or if this was just mutual attraction because all of those things were illegal and dangerous. Not that he cared much for the law at this point, but it didn’t change the fact that she was human and he was a vampire. It didn’t matter. It didn’t change that he felt something for her. He needed her and he needed to protect her. He was her bulletproof vest and he closed his eyes against the pain of letting her get hurt. “Officer Rourke,” a man said from the door. He was probably the same age as the woman, if a little older, and he wasn’t what Roman expected. He had long hair pulled back out of his face and he looked more like a hippy than he did a doctor. He smiled broadly at Caleb and pumped his hand with a large paw. “Good to see you again, maybe not under these circumstances.” “I know the feeling,” Caleb said, but he couldn’t manage a smile. “Jude, this is Sam, Roman, and Bobby.” He clapped his hands together and turned, scanning the three of them with surprisingly alert eyes. He crossed over to the bed, crouching down next to Sam. He pulled a small flashlight from inside a worn, brown coat at the same time he pulled her eyelid open. “Blood bank?” he asked, his voice abruptly more serious and cold. “Yes,” Roman answered. The man snorted and glanced at him for a second before turning his attention back to Sam. Her eyes were open and she was watching him, squirming slightly when he put fingers against her neck. She pushed weakly at his wrists and Roman caught her hands, pulling them to his mouth and pressing his lips against her skin. “It’s okay,” he told her quietly. She stilled at the words, letting the man take her pulse. He tipped her head to the side, examining the bruises and holes in her skin. “They really did a number on you,” he said. He pulled the gauze back from her neck and gave a slight wince before pressing it back in place. He pushed himself to his feet and turned to face Caleb, wiping his hands off with a bandanna. “I’ll get some more bandages. She’ll probably need blood. There’s a few bags in a fridge downstairs, you mind going and grabbing it for me?” Caleb nodded his head and Roman watched the two of them leave before turning his attention back to Sam and Bobby. Her eyes were closed and Bobby had his arm around her waist, head pressed into her side. He was sniffling quietly. Roman reached out a hand to rest on his shoulder and he started at the touch. “Roman,” Sam whispered. He glanced down at her and she was looking up at him again. “I’m here Sam,” he told her again, thumb running over her skin. She smiled and then her hand reached to tug weakly at his shirt. It was stiff with caked blood and underneath it there were bullet holes still lingering in his skin. They throbbed painfully through his chest but he ignored them because he would heal. He would heal and be like new again and Sam wouldn’t. She would have scars from this and he hated himself for letting it happen to her. He choked with the pain of it and he had to look away. There was blood welling in his eyes and he wasn’t aware of it until Sam let out a noise. He forced back the tears because he didn’t want to scare her. He wiped the crimson off on his already stained clothes and then looked back down at her face. “Lay with me?” she whispered, tugging on his shirt again. There was need and desperation in the words but he wouldn’t have told her no either way. Didn’t matter that he was hurt and he could smell her blood. It stirred his hunger but he forced it down in his chest where the anger still burned. He shifted on the bed, lying next to her and wrapping one arm around her and holding her tightly. |
| Sam woke to warmth. Warmth and softness and it was an unusual thing to wake up to. Her eyes were heavier than she thought they should be, but when they finally fluttered open, the first thing she was greeted with was a mop of blonde hair. She could feel Bobby’s warm breath as he slept tucked into the crook of her arm. He had one arm slung over her waist and he was curled at her side and he looked so young it was painful. He was just a kid and it was easy to forget that sometimes, especially when he came traipsing into a blood bank to save his big sister. She lifted her hand to run it through her hair, but paused when she saw the bandage wound tightly around her hand. It made it hard to bend her wrist or wiggle her fingers and it was going to be inconvenient because she was right handed and she wouldn’t be able to do much if it was broken. “It’s just sprained,” came a quiet voice, as if in answer to her unasked question. It should have startled her, but it didn’t and she rolled her head to the opposite side to look at Roman. He wasn’t laying on the bed anymore and she distantly remembered the doctor making him move so he could treat her. He sat on one of the chairs, pulled up next to the bed. He had a different shirt on and it didn’t look like something he’d wear. It was a tie-dye shirt with a big yellow peace sign across the chest. She smiled when she saw it and an answering smile crawled across Roman’s lips before he leaned forward, running a hand over her head and pressing his lips to her forehead. “How are you feeling?” he asked quietly. Sam chuckled a little at the question and Roman lifted an eyebrow. “Like I got kicked in the face a few times and dumped in a blood bank,” she answered sarcastically and it didn’t make him smile. His face darkened and he had to break eye contact with her, his hand smoothing her hair down away from her head. His fingers came out to trace what she suspected were the bruise lines all over her face. She reached over to grasp at his shirt because she didn’t want him to leave or be mad. He grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, holding it there with a distant, pained look on his face. Sam wanted to scoot closer to the edge of the bed so she could hold him, but she didn’t want to disturb Bobby, asleep at her side. “Did you get your Dad?” she whispered. Roman’s eyes snapped up to hers and his face seemed to soften a little. He didn’t say anything, but he nodded his head a little. She looked at the blood still staining his pants, because he hadn’t changed those, and then back up at his face. “Did you get hurt?” Roman closed his eyes and then scooted closer. He completely disregarded her question and asked, “What happened? Why did you go to Nolan’s?” The question caught her off guard and she looked away, licking her lips. Roman’s fingers were smooth through her hair. “I wanted to distract him for you,” she whispered and she heard something catch in Roman’s throat. When she looked up at his face, it looked like someone had physically struck him. He leaned over, his lips pressing against hers and she closed her eyes, kissing him back. When he was done, he didn’t lean back, he just rested his forehead against hers and she wrapped her arm around his neck to keep him there. He looked like he wanted to yell at her or scream or cry and she ran her fingers through his hair. There was blood matted into it and she wondered what had happened to him. “Nolan knew about the prison,” she whispered. That got Roman to lean back. He sat up a little, eyes scanning her face. She sighed because she didn’t want him to move away. He took her hand. “What?” he asked, holding her hand to his chest. She remembered the bullet holes that had been in his shirt and she wondered if they were already healed or if he was still hurting. “Nolan knew you were going after your Dad,” she told him. She shivered a little and Roman grabbed at the knitted quilt, pulling it up around her shoulders. She was still in just her underwear and she wondered what she was going to do about that. She didn’t have any clothes here. “I think he has someone on the inside spying on you.” Roman stared at her for a moment, looking distant and worried. He brought her hand up to his lips again. A nervous look passed over his face before he whispered, “We’re taking over the district. We’ve took control of the gate.” Sam blinked up at him. He was watching her face, anticipating a reaction and she wondered what he was waiting to see. “You started a revolution?” she asked. Roman frowned a little and then gave a small nod, followed by a shrug. She smiled up at him. “Does this mean Bobby and I can’t go home?” Despite the worried look on his face, a small smile crawled across Roman’s lips. “It means you’re staying with me for a while.” He ran his hand back over her forehead. “Where I can watch you, and keep you safe.” She smiled, closing her eyes and rolling her head into his hand. Her arm tightened around Bobby and she squeezed her eyes shut. “I thought Nolan was going to kill me,” she said as softly as possible. She was surprised when she felt Bobby squeeze her back and Roman lean over her again, pressing his forehead to hers. She felt her throat choke up with emotion and she started, “Reno, he…” “He’s dead,” Roman cut her off and she opened her eyes to look at him. He shook his head. “He’s never going to touch you again,” he repeated the same thing he’d said carrying her out of the blood bank and she believed him. She recalled Roman’s Dad smelling Nolan on her and she wondered if Roman could smell Nolan and all the vampires that had visited her. “He took my picture,” she told him and Roman’s face darkened. “To put in a catalogue, like I was for sale.” She was surprised when Bobby’s head lifted. “He’s a jackass,” he said and Sam smiled, turning her head to look at her little brother, who rested his chin on her stomach. His face was puckered and he was looking at Roman. She didn’t even have the heart to chastise him about his language. “Roman showed him that no one messes with our Sam, right Roman?” he asked. Roman snorted. “Right,” he answered quietly. Sam smiled, her eyes becoming lidded again. She reached over and ruffled Bobby’s hair. “I’m sorry I ruined your birthday, squirt,” she said. Roman took her hand after she left it fall back and she realized it was shaking. She wondered what the effects of the drugs would be and if she would go through withdrawal. She wondered when she’d start asking Roman to bite her again. “It’s not ruined,” Bobby said. He grinned. “We’ll just have to have it at Roman’s place.” Sam turned to look at him and Roman had a brow lifted in curiosity. He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again when someone came to the doorway. Sam tried to focus her eyes on him and she recognized Caleb standing there. He had a bowl of cereal in his hands and his mouth full. He paused when he saw all eyes were on him. He chewed quickly and swallowed. “Uh, your friend wants to know what you want him to tell your Dad,” Caleb said, jerking his head towards the entranceway to the doctor’s place. Sam watched Roman’s face and he looked thoughtful for a moment. He turned to look back down at her and she smiled up at him. “Go,” she told him. “We’ll be waiting here.” Roman looked torn, but then leaned down to kiss her again. When he stood, he ruffled Bobby’s hair and it made her kid brother laugh, before he scooted closer to Sam’s side. She saw Roman stop in the doorway and point a finger at Caleb. “Don’t go anywhere,” he said, his voice low and threatening. Caleb held up his bowl of cereal. “They keep feeding me, I’m staying put,” he said with a grin. Roman looked like he didn’t know how to take that, but finally he nodded and headed towards the door. “I love you, Sam,” Bobby told her when Roman was gone. Sam closed her eyes and rested her head on top of her brother’s. “I love you too, bratkin.” |
| Roman hurt. As soon as he left the building he became aware of it, each throbbing pain that still lingered in his chest and in his head. He’d been awake too long and it had been too long since he’d fed on anything human. The bitter taste of Reno’s blood was still on his tongue and turned and spat it out onto the ground once they hit the sidewalk. It churned in his stomach and reminded him that his death had been too quick for what he’d done. He should have died a slow death but Roman didn’t have time to drag it out. It hurt to walk away from Sam. It hurt to leave her there with strangers because he still had his duty and he couldn’t turn his back on what he’d started. Relief and hurt and fear warred in his chest because she was hurt badly and it was his fault. He should have told her to stay away from Nolan and he should have kept her safe like he promised. Regret and guilt burned a hole in him. There were more and more vampires the closer he got to the gate, and some of them made him nervous. They stood back and watched and waited in the shadows for whatever came next. He had been one of them, until Gaius had forced his hand. “Where have you been?” his father demanded. He kept his back to Roman and he could feel the heat of his anger even without seeing his face. A few hours had brought a massive change to both sides of the gate. The crowd gathered out there now had grown considerably, more undertakers lining the fence and crouched behind a barricade with guns at the ready. A helicopter circled above them, news crews stationed with bright lights flooding the asphalt. It illuminated a line of men, all bound with silver cuffs that kneeled on the sidewalk behind him. They were all undertakers, dressed like they were ready to go on a raid at any moment. They were alive and conscious but not much else. Fang marks littered their skin, and some of them were leaning heavily on their friends. Roman felt the bitter sensation of guilt just watching them, because a part of him had never wanted it to come to this. Any one of them could have been Sam or Caleb. He imagined his father was holding them as hostages and their display was no accident. He was proving to them that any undertaker on this side of the fence was now either dead or in his hands. It was meant to show strength, because that was all Gaius understood. An expensive black car was parked near the undertakers on the other side and he recognized the man standing beside it. Nolan. Roman felt his lip curling in a snarl as he watched him. He was giving calm orders and he was too far away for even vampire hearing to catch the words. Hatred burned in his chest and he considered for a moment trying to kill him here and now. He could never move fast enough but he almost didn’t care. He’d seen the marks on Sam’s face and he’d smelled his scent on her skin. “Raiding the blood bank,” Hannibal said from next to him. “Setting all the little junkies free.” He said the words casually, a smirk on his face as he stood next to Roman. He fought back the anger at the words, because one of those junkies had been Sam. Gaius snorted. “What for?” he snapped. “They could have made valuable allies.” “Not ones I wanted,” Roman told him coldly. His father’s brow furrowed and he shot a glance over his shoulder at Roman. He met his gaze firmly and he could see the momentary confusion and irritation on his features. He had probably already forgotten just who had gotten him out of his cell. His grand coup was progressing probably just as he’d intended it to and that was all he cared about. Giselle and Solomon were inside the gatehouse with whoever else they’d chosen to guard it and there were more vampires at his back that had already sworn fealty to him. “Roman,” his father said, and then his words stalled like he didn’t know what came next. His gaze flicked over his face and he gave a cursory sniff at his son. He could probably smell the blood all over him, still staining his skin and soaked into his jeans. The he snorted and his gaze grew hard again. “Do I have your blade? Or are you done, now that you’ve gotten what you wanted?” Roman scoffed and he couldn’t stop the bitterness he felt. “You have my blade,” he said, eyes on the undertakers. Gaius smiled and started to turn away but stopped when Roman spoke again. “But only on the condition that you don’t touch Sam or Bobby.” Gaius’s lip curled in a sneer. “Shall I assume those are your humans? You are growing soft, childe.” “Those are my conditions,” Roman said again, and he didn’t respond to the jibe. He kept his mouth shut, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the movement on the other side of the fence. There was a second black car pulling up next to Nolan’s and he watched as the governor climbed out of it. He tilted his head to the side towards his father, keeping his voice as low as he could. “Nolan knew about the rescue, just as he knew about your attack weeks ago. We have a traitor in our midst.” Gaius scoffed and seemed unconcerned with the words. “Then we will find them and they will die a traitor’s death.” Anything else he might have said was cut off by movement on the other side of the fence. Gaius stiffened and straightened as Nolan started walking forward, pausing just beyond the barricade with a bullhorn in his hands. The governor walked next to him, armed men around him. “Gaius Sabinus, this is Chief Undertaker Nolan Byrd,” he said, his voice loud and crackling over the crowd. “I am ordering you and your men to put down your weapons and surrender now. Those who do so now will not be harmed.” Gaius laughed and it was long and loud. He took a step forward, pulling himself back up onto the hood of the undertaker’s car and no one watching could mistake him for anything but the man in charge. Roman moved to stay at his side and tried to pretend he didn’t feel somewhat ridiculous wearing a shirt with a peace sign on it. “Perhaps there has been some confusion,” Gaius yelled back, his voice loud and carrying over the fence. The crowd on the other side was quiet but he could hear the anxious shifting. “I do not take orders from you. This part of the city is now the property of the Sabinus House. My word is the only law here.” “Listen to me carefully,” Nolan started to say. “No!” Gaius barked. He jumped off the hood of the undertaker’s car in a swift motion, ten yards from the gate in the blink of an eye. There was a rustle and a wave of guns rising to focus on him but Gaius didn’t flinch. His lip curled and a sharp, toothy grin met the man’s watching eyes. “You listen to me, Mr. Chief Undertaker. The district is no longer yours. If you try and reclaim it than I promise you, we will take the rest of the city tonight and there will be such a reign of terror and blood as you cannot imagine.” An odd look crossed Nolan’s face and when he spoke it wasn’t through the bullhorn. His eyes were cold and there was a mean smirk on his face. “I’ll burn this whole city to the ground before I allow you to claim it,” he said quietly, but Roman heard the words. For a moment Roman felt hatred wrapping its hand around his heart and he thought for a moment that this was what Nolan had wanted all along. He was smirking and then he was turning to the officer next to him, probably to order them to burn the district to the ground. He tensed, hands curling into fists and he felt the distant sensation of dread sweeping through him. He didn’t expect the governor to shove up next to him or to take the bullhorn from his hands. Nolan glanced up with surprise as the man stepped up to the barricade and Roman echoed the sentiment. He looked soft and weak and he licked his lips nervously before he spoke. “None of us want this to come to bloodshed,” he said. By the look on Nolan’s face, he didn’t agree, and he leaned forward to whisper in the man’s ear. He waved his hand next to him to shoo the man away and he looked stunned by the action. His gaze flicked to Gaius and Roman saw hatred etched on his features. “There must be a peaceful way for us to resolve this.” “A truce?” Gaius said. He grinned and then he was by the gate in a heartbeat, gasps meeting the swift movement. Didn’t matter that humans and vampires had lived side by side for years now. They were still hated and feared and Roman watched them suspiciously as they trained their guns on his father. “Alright. Here are my terms. This part of the city is ours. Your kind is not unwelcome here, but you will obey our laws. Any attempt to bring us back under the heel of your undertakers will be met with further violence.” The governor swallowed and Roman heard Nolan hiss next to him. He grasped his arm and yanked the bullhorn down away from his lips. “What are you doing?” he demanded lowly. The humans probably couldn’t hear the words, but the vampires could. “This is our chance to eliminate the vampire menace once and for all. We destroy them here and it’s over.” “God damn Nolan,” the governor hissed back. “And how many men will we lose in the process? How many have you already lost?” He shook his head and then lifted the bullhorn to his lips, brushing Nolan’s arm off and the man looked shocked. Gaius smiled and tipped his head to the side. “Are these terms acceptable to you, Mr. Governor?” The man swallowed and then nodded his head slowly. “In return, you will stop the attacks,” he said. His voice was shaky, trying to sound firm and demanding and instead they came out like a question. “If a vampire is found to have killed a human you will turn them over to the undertakers for justice. You will stay on your side of the fence and you will return the men you have held hostage.” Gaius smiled and it was wicked and satisfied. “Of course, Mr. Governor.” His head tilted and he focused on Nolan. “And should a human be found to have killed a vampire, you will of course turn him over to me for justice, won’t you?” The governor nodded slowly and he looked like there was a sour taste in his mouth. “My secretary will draw up the documents.” A laugh left his father’s lips. “Sign it in blood.” |
| Low voices drifted in from the living room and Sam thought that's what woke her up. They were trying to be quiet, but the walls were thin and she could hear what they were saying anyway. Her eyes went to Bobby, sitting in one of the chairs with a book on his lap. He sat sideways, his legs hanging over the arm of the chair. He glanced up when he felt Sam's eyes on him and he smiled at her. "Roman's back," he whispered and then looked back down at the book. She thought he was going to leave it at that and then Bobby said, "He wants to take you with him and the doctor says you're not ready." Sam licked her lips, eyes going towards the door for a moment before she studied her brother intently. He was holding up pretty well. He had a bored look on his face, but she didn't really buy it. He'd lost just as much as she had. They wouldn't be able to go home. She wondered where that left them in this revolution of Roman's. "Are you okay, Bobby?" she asked, reached her bandaged hand towards him. Bobby glanced at it and then at her face. He nodded, leaning forward to squeeze her hand before he laid back in the chair. "Yeah," he said. "I just wished I would have packed more books." It made Sam smile and then they both looked towards the door when the voices out in the living room grew inadvertently louder. It was the doctor's wife's voice who was getting loud. "Do you really think leaving an entire district in the hands of a Fang is a good idea?" she was yelling and she heard someone shush her, she supposed it was the doctor, because in the next moment, she turned and said, "Don't shush me, Jude. You don't know this Fang. What if he turns us all into blood slaves?" She heard a familiar growl and she knew it was Roman. "That won't happen," he protested, but she heard the waiver in his voice that told him he wasn't sure he believed himself. It made her nervous, because she knew they were talking about his Dad and she'd met the vamp one time and he'd tried to choke the life out of her, just because she'd smelled like Nolan. What would he do if he found out she'd fucked him too? Caleb cleared his throat out in the living room and threw in his two cents. "The Governor really drafted up the papers? Are you sure you read the fine print and he didn't sneak something...sneaky in there?" "We read them," Roman told him. "The truce is official and we gave back the hostages. Except for you. We're still deciding what to do with you." "Uh, doesn't that break the truce?" Caleb asked, his voice cracking a little and he gave a nervous laugh afterwards. "We didn't kill you," Roman answered. "Yet." "Gee, thanks," Caleb muttered. Sam smiled at the exchange and tried to push herself up. She grunted when pain lanced through her side and Bobby set his book down, leaning forward. "Don't get up yet," he told her quietly. "The doctor said you broke a few ribs. I was watching this cop show where a guy broke a rib and then he got hit in the side while playing basketball and his rib went into his heart and killed him," Bobby rambled. Sam lifted an eyebrow at her little brother and nodded her head, pushing herself up anyway. He came forward and helped her lean against the headboard. Her head was pounding and her mouth dry. She lifted a hand to her face and could feel the bruising along her cheeks. She probably looked awful. Roman spoke quietly and she thought he could probably hear the conversation going on inside the bedroom as well as his own. "The Governor is urging all humans to leave the district," he said. Jude snorted at that. "Truce or not, it doesn't change the fact that people need medical care here," he said and she heard his voice getting closer and feet on the ground as he came towards the room. "We're not going anywhere." "Good," Roman said. "We'll need you." Jude came to the doorway, but his attention was aimed towards the living room. He nodded his head. "You'll have us. So long as you keep the peace. Both districts free, both districts equal and the minute it turns into anything else," he lifted his hand and pointed a finger towards Roman. "You are no longer welcome." "I understand," Roman said. Jude nodded and then turned, his eyes widening a little when he saw Sam sitting up. He smirked and walked into the room. "Well, look who's up and at 'em," he grinned at her. Sam smiled back. "How are you feeling?" he asked, bringing a chair over to the side of her bed and sitting down. He reached out to take her wrist, fingers pressed to her vein as he looked at her watch and took her pulse. "Fine," she said, her voice somewhat hoarse. "She's been shaking," Bobby supplied and she glanced at her brother, frowning at him. He was such a brat. The doctor just smiled and nodded, his face going serious. "It's a side effect of the drugs that were introduced to your system," he said and she had to look away. He checked the bandages around her wrist and on her neck. Somewhere along the line, she'd been put into an oversized shirt to use as a nightgown. "The tremors will go away within a few days. Thought the fatigue and nausea will probably take longer. And I'm afraid with the detox you went through, the only thing you can really take for a couple weeks is aspirin." "That's okay," she told him. Out in the hall, she heard the conversation moving on. "So what are you going to do with me? Can't I just go home? You know I wanted to catch the game this weekend," Caleb said and she could hear the uncertainty masked beneath his humor. "You'll come with us," Roman said and he sounded distracted. "So I'm a POW, huh?" Caleb asked. "Something like that," Roman agreed and then he appeared in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. She smiled at him and realized that whenever he was around, she felt like she could relax and things would be okay. She saw a smile cross his face and he leaned there while the doctor continued his inspection of her. Caleb came to stand behind him and there was a disturbed look on his face, like he'd been ruffled, but all in all he just looked miffed, not scared. Jude finally leaned back and clapped his hands on his knees, looking at her. "Well, you're one lucky girl, Sam," he said with a grin. She snorted, because she didn't hear that a whole lot. "I would recommend plenty of bed rest, but I think your friend has other plans." Sam didn't take her eyes from Roman, but her smiled widened and she gave him a coy look. "No, I don't think so," she said quietly. "It will be bed rest, just a different bed." Bobby let out a groan and she saw Roman grin, coming into the room. He'd changed into something more suitable for him. She'd already spent a day and almost the entire night here. Roman had gone to take care of what he needed to, but he'd come back quickly to collect her and take her with him. Roman walked to her side, leaning down and brushing his hand over her hair. She leaned into him as his lips pressed against her forehead. Then he turned to look at the doctor. "Can I take her now?" he asked. The doctor sighed and shrugged. "Just be careful," he warned and there was a seriousness to his voice that surprised her. "Make sure she gets rest. And watch her closely. She's been through a lot and not just physically." Sam frowned at that, but she felt Roman's chin rest on the top of her head. "I know," he told the doctor, who seemed appeased at the answer, like something silent had passed between the two of them and then Roman was leaning down to scoop her up into his arms. She smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder and she never felt safer than when she was here, being held by him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held tightly to him. "Thanks, Doc," Caleb said, clasping Jude's hand as they started to leave. "I owe you one." "More than one," Jude joked, clapping Caleb on the back. "But for you, Rourke - you know we'd do anything." Caleb snorted, walking backwards and pointing back at Jude as they headed for the door. "Just keep your doors open to anyone who needs it, eh?" "Will do!" Jude called. Sam smiled at that. Caleb was a good guy and she was glad that he was with them. She still had to figure out how that came to be, but she thought he'd get along with Roman. It was good to find people who still believed in right and wrong out there. "Roman?" Sam whispered and he turned his head so his cheek was pressed against hers, letting her know he was there. "Sam?" he asked. She smiled. "I don't have any clothes." She felt his grin spread. "I don't see anything wrong with that." |
| Roman was careful with Sam, carrying her up the stairs as gently as he could. She was drowsy in his arms, fingers hooked in the neck of his shirt. He ignored the aches and pains he felt having her pressed against his chest because she was more important than them. Bobby followed after, walking side by side with Caleb who was looking back down the stairs after them. “I can’t believe it,” he said, shaking his head. “I must have driven by this place fifty times, and never knew you were all holed up in here.” He snorted and glanced over his shoulder at the man. “That was sort of the point.” Caleb got a thoughtful look but then nodded. “Fair enough,” he agreed. He followed them through the door but as soon as they were Giselle greeted them, moving straight to Caleb’s side and sliding her hand into his. “Come with me,” she said. He looked startled but she didn’t say anything else, giving Roman and Sam a wink before she pulled him down the hall. He watched them go and shook his head, wishing he could see Giselle trying to bake a cake. “Where are we going?” Caleb demanded, but he didn’t get an answer. Roman bit back a smile and shot a casual glance over his shoulder at Bobby. He was looking around with wide eyes and if he noticed the exchange he didn’t say anything. He led them to his room, nudging it open with his shoulder before carrying Sam inside. “Roman?” she said, her fingers curling in his shirt. He looked down at her and she nodded her head behind him towards the bathroom. “Do you think I could take a bath first?” She shivered slightly afterwards and he felt pressure settle on his chest at the words. He wondered if she still felt them, all the fangs and hands all over her and he fought to keep the growl down in his throat. “Of course,” he told her. He cradled her against his chest and then glanced back at Bobby, hesitating for a moment. He was looking around Roman’s room with curiosity, eyes wide as he studied the paintings and shelves he’d nailed to the wall. It was in better shape than it had been the first time Sam had seen it, less on the floor and more in its place. The half broken eagle was sitting on his dresser, the sword and shield hung on the wall. Bobby’s eyes widened when he saw it and Roman cleared his throat to get his attention. “You can help yourself to any of the books on the shelf,” he said. Bobby’s head whipped around at the word and he saw a bright grin split his lips at that. His head turned to look at Roman’s collection, scanning the titles with eyes and fingers. “Thanks,” he said cheerfully. Some of them he wouldn’t be able to read because they were in Latin or French, but if he wanted he could teach him that. It occurred to him that Bobby wouldn’t be able to go to school for a while, if ever, not until Nolan was dead anyway. Bobby could pass between districts but he didn’t trust that he wouldn’t get abducted the second he passed through the gate. Roman sat her on the edge of the tub before leaning over to start the water. Her fingers lingered on his skin and moved to the neck of his shirt when he went to crouch in front of her. She held onto him as he started pulling the gauze away from her skin, the medical tape sticking to her flesh. There was a roll of it on the sink behind him and when she was clean again he would help patch her back up. Her arm he left alone, the ace bandage wrapping around it so that she couldn’t strain it anymore. He hated that most of the wounds were from Nolan. He hated that she’d gone there and the faint guilt he felt because if she hadn’t, he might be dead. For a moment he just studied her, the thick bruising and cuts on her face and the scars and fresh bites on her neck. His hand rose and traveled over them and she shivered slightly, head lifting to watch him. The puncture marks were deep and vicious and made with no regard for her. He could still smell the stench of dead things all over her and the drugs that lingered in her system, the ones still making her hands shake. He licked his lips and his gaze moved to hers. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. She shook her head, a weak smile quirking her lips. “You didn’t do it,” she said. He nodded, gaze moving back to the wounds on her neck and he couldn’t get himself to smile. “I know.” He wasn’t sure why that made her smile but it did. He reached up to twine his fingers in hers, holding her hands between his larger ones. She was still trembling under his touch, the drugs making her shake. She would go through withdrawal and not just from them. He wondered what would happen when she felt the urge for the bite. He wondered if he could tell her no. “So what happens now?” she asked him. Steam rose from the tub behind her and softened her features. He laughed quietly and shook his head. “I don’t know,” he told her honestly. He pulled her fingers to his lips and kissed them and he wished he had an answer to that question. “We see how long this truce lasts.” She smiled and tilted her head to the side, a coy look on her face. Her hair fell around her face like a dark curtain and he reached up to brush it back over her neck. “I meant with us,” she said. She bit her lower lip afterward like she was embarrassed and that put an honest smile on his face. His hand lingered on her neck, cupping it in his hand and feeling her heartbeat thrumming beneath her skin. He fought to ignore the ever present hunger, shoving it down into his gut. “What happens with us?” Roman smiled and pretended he didn’t understand the question. “You and Bobby will stay here,” he told her again. “I’ll help get one of the rooms set up for him. We have some food for Giselle’s feeder, but we’ll get more, put a kitchen together or something. Caleb will be staying here too, so we can keep an eye on him, but there’s enough room. Whatever you need, we’ll figure it out.” “That sounds great,” she said sarcastically. He tilted his head to the side, a smile on his face and she rolled her eyes, biting her lip. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his and her voice lowered. “I meant you and me. What happens with us?” Roman smirked and then turned his head to kiss her. He stood afterwards, her hands still gripping his shirt as he leaned over her to turn the water off. Then he helped peel the too big shirt off of her, dropping it on the carpet. He crouched in front of her, helping get her underwear off. His lips brushed a kiss over her knee as he did and he saw her face flush slightly, a smile on her lips. His arms encircled her as he unsnapped her bra, fingers pulling the straps down before he added it to the pile on the floor. For a moment his gaze studied her, hand moving to cover the old scars on her side. She would have them for the rest of her life, the sharp reminders that vampires were monsters and she had to know that he was no better. Anyone he’d somehow left alive yesterday would bear the same scars for the rest of their life and he wondered what Sam would think of him if she’d witnessed it. “I have a secret,” he told her. He smiled but it was shaky and a little uncertain as he looked up into her face. “I don’t just want you here solely for your protection.” The fingers tightened on the back of his neck and she smiled. “I need you, Sam.” She smiled and he felt her fingers playing with the ends of his hair. “Even though I’m human?” she asked him. “You should be saying even though I’m a vampire.” He snorted and moved to lift her into his arms, guiding her legs down into the tub. She moved gingerly, holding onto him as she slipped down into the warm water but there was a quiet, contented sigh as it slid over her skin. Already it was tinged with red and he moved to sit next to her so that he could help get the rest of the blood and the dirt off of her. He wished he could wash away the memories with it because there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she was still hurting. She smirked, leaning her head back and letting him run his fingers through her hair. Her head tilted to the side and she watched him, eyes lidded and tired as he kneaded the shampoo into her hair. After her bath he would take her to bed and he wouldn’t let her leave for a week, not until the bruises and cuts were gone. “That doesn’t bother me,” she said. “You sure?” he asked quietly, the smile faltering on his lips. “Even though I drink blood and don’t have a pulse?" She shrugged it off. “You’re not the one that’s going to get old and die someday.” He smiled and his head ducked to press against her forehead. “You are very fragile,” he said playfully. She made a face and splashed water at him, soaking through his shirt. It drew a laugh from him and he moved his kiss to her mouth. For a moment he just kissed her, hand cupping the side of her face and feeling her warm skin underneath his. He knew what she was asking, and he didn’t know the answer. It was one of the reasons human and vampire relations were illegal. It wasn’t fair to either to have to have one partner grow old and die while the other stayed the same, but making a new vampire was the same as murder. Her human life would be over. He pulled away slowly and he couldn’t read the expression she wore. Her hands were still looped around the back of his neck and the water was soaking into his shirt. After a moment she sighed and licked her lips, tilting her head back to look at the ceiling. “Well, if I’m going to be staying here, you need to get a stereo,” she told him. She glanced at him and he nodded his head, watching her with one raised eyebrow. “And a bathroom mirror.” Then she gave him a challenging smirk. “And I want to sleep on the left.” “No.” He shook his head, trying to manage the frown on his face. “We’ve been over this. The left is my side,” he said. “If you want to sleep there then you’re going to have to lie on top of me.” “Deal,” she said quickly, a grin on her face. He laughed and kissed her again before helping her get out of the tub. She clung to his arms as he wrapped a towel around her, trying to be gentle with her ribs and the marks that lined her side. They were deep bite marks but they’d scabbed over quickly, like the others that lined her flesh. It was the only good thing about vampire bites. They healed quickly, even if they didn’t heal clean. “Roman?” she said after a moment. He lifted his head to look at her, arms sliding around her waist and holding her against him. Her hands rested against his chest, plucking at the fabric before she let her head fall to his shoulder, lips against his neck. “I need you too.” |
| Roman wouldn’t let her walk to the bed. He wouldn’t let her do much of anything, actually, other than just let him help her. He’d combed her wet hair and then towel dried it and she’d told him that wasn’t the way to do it, but he was beyond listening to her now and she thought it was cute. The fact was, she was so fucking grateful he was here, helping her with these things because she was so tired and sore. Every inch of her body was sore and Jude said it would be for a while, thanks to the drugs. When she tried to walk to the bed, he’d just scooped her up and helped her out of the bathroom. Bobby was sitting in front of the bookshelf, cross-legged on the floor with two books in his lap, one closed and one he was already pages into. She smiled at him when he looked up at them. He held the book he was reading up. “The Odyssey,” he grinned and she didn’t remember the last time she saw him so happy. “It’s a translation I haven’t read yet.” “Isn’t it all the same book?” she asked as Roman carried her over to the bed. Bobby just scoffed and went back to reading it. “Hardly,” he muttered and she let out a small scoff of her own at her brother’s reaction. Roman chuckled lowly as he laid her down on the bed. He went to pull back the covers of the bed, but she grabbed his hands and just pulled him closer. He came easily, sitting down next to her and she laid against his chest as he sat against the headboard. She closed her eyes with her arms wrapped around his chest. He’d dressed her in one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers. “What are you smirking at?” Roman asked, his hand running through her damp hair. His touch just felt loving and comforting and she didn’t care if he couldn’t answer what happened with them next, she was content with what was happening with them now. “I was just thinking that I know whether vampires wear boxers or briefs,” she whispered back to him. From across the room, Bobby sighed loudly. “When do I get my own room?” he asked. Sam laughed, but it quieted quickly when it jarred her ribs and she felt Roman’s hand tighten on her arm, holding her steady. Roman cleared his throat. “Whenever we set one up for you,” he told him. Bobby just nodded and went quiet again. Roman grinned and then turned his head so his cheek was pressed against her forehead. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and she had to strain to hear him. “Can you stay awake a little longer?” he asked. She titled her head back, frowning up at him and he was watching her with a devious look in his eye. She wasn’t sure what he was getting at, but in the next moment, the door to his room squeaked open and all eyes turned towards it. Caleb poked his head in, eyes scanning the room quickly and when he noticed Roman and Sam on the bed, he grinned and stepped in, one hand behind his back and with the other, he covered his mouth as he cleared his throat. “Um, I have an announcement to make.” “Roman?” Sam asked, uncertain, but when he just smirked and hugged her tighter, she knew it was nothing to be afraid of. It should have scared her how implicitly she trusted him, but it didn’t. She did trust him. She trusted him probably more than she had trusted anyone. She didn’t know what she’d do if he ever turned on her. It would probably hurt worse than anything she’d ever been through. Bobby turned to look at Caleb with a frown on his face. Caleb waggled his eyebrows at her brother and she thought for being a prisoner of war, he was handling all of this really well. Maybe that was just the type of guy he was. Withdrawing his hand from behind his back, Sam caught sight of a little noisemaker and Caleb brought it to his lips and blew. Immediately, the door opened and Caleb stepped aside. Sam gave a small laugh that sounded mysteriously like a sob as the vampire who’d accompanied Roman to the blood bank walked in, carrying a table. He set it down in the middle of the room and behind him, Sydney walked in with a stack of wrapped presents. Giselle followed afterwards with a blonde girl Sam didn’t recognize and between them, they had a birthday cake balanced with candles burning. Sam looked towards Bobby and her brother’s eyes were wide, like he didn’t know what to make of it. Sam wasn’t sure what to make of it either and she looked up at Roman, who was grinning as he looked down at her. “Did you do this?” she asked. Roman shrugged a little. “It was Sydney mostly,” he said. “I think he’s been jonesing for a party and when he found out it was Bobby’s birthday, he got a little carried away.” Sam smiled, looking over at Sydney, who was shifting through the presents. He turned to look at Bobby and waved him over. Bobby sat where he was for a moment before he climbed to his feet and came over to the table. He looked at the cake, the presents and then up at Giselle, who was standing next to him with her hands folded in front of her. She smiled down at him. “Well, you are a scrumptious looking morsel, aren’t you?” she asked, reaching out to run her fingers through Bobby’s hair. Bobby crinkled his nose at her. “I’m not a morsel,” he told her. She just shrugged and kept playing with his hair. He kept trying to push her hand away, but she just giggled like she was playing with a kitten. Sam wasn’t sure she liked her touching her brother like that, but she just settled in next to Roman. The chatter quieted down as Gaius came to the door, a frown on his face. He scanned the room quickly, frowning at Roman and Sam on the bed. Roman stiffened slightly and started to sit up, but Gaius came into the room and stood in front of Bobby. Apparently, Roman hadn’t been expecting this part. Gaius looked down at him. “Tell me something,” Gaius said. “Gaius,” Roman hissed and his father didn’t even turn to look at him, just held out his hand to shush him. Bobby had no fear when he looked up at Gaius with a curious look on his face and Sam was so proud of her little brother. He stood his ground, but she also felt the breath catch in her throat because she remembered the vampire slamming her against the wall and calling her a traitor. “Do you know how to fight, boy?” he asked. Bobby shrugged. “Not really,” he said, like it was no big deal. Gaius nodded his head and then withdrew a knife from his side. Sam hissed and Roman pulled out from behind her, but they both stilled when Gaius flipped the knife over in his hand, holding the hilt out towards Bobby. Gaius bent, his face close to Bobby’s face. “You ran through a crowd into a den of lions to save the one you love,” he said. “You will learn to fight if you are to stay here. Because actions that bold demand they be backed by blades.” Bobby quirked his mouth to the side, but then smiled and took the knife, turning it over in his hands. “I don’t think you’re lions,” he said, not looking up at Gaius. Gaius raised an eyebrow, looking somewhat offended. “What do you think of us then?” he spat. Bobby just shrugged. “People.” |
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