It's been a rough few months, but the continued requests for my story have helped more than you know. I need the confidence where I am. Unfortunately this is only some of it. I'm going to do everything I can to finish it in a timely manner. I might even go for a book out of it (but I will still finish this here). The world I'm creating is intriguing and Damien is a fun character to escape in. Oh yeah, these places exist in Houston and I've been to most of them...but they are not exactly as the are in reality. Keep in mind, I'm writing fiction here.
Now, without further ado...meet Damien Night.
"Oi! TEN THOUSAND YEARS...will give you such a crick in the neck!"
Damien laughed and popped another cheese puff in his mouth as he lounged across the soft white cow hide of the couch in a pair of boxers, the incarnation of every woman's fantasy. If he wasn't then he could fix that, but at the moment he had no designs on fulfilling any fantasies. The only thing he wanted to do was laugh about scantily clad women in a children's cartoon and eat junk food.
Ten thousand years.
He rolled onto his back, lacing his fingers behind shaggy sandy brown hair, and stared up at the ceiling with luminescent green eyes. His appearance may change according to the whims of those he pursued, but the eyes were always his.
Ten thousand years was a long time. To any human lying there it would have been unfathomable. It was still a leap for him even though he'd already existed half that span. The shit he'd seen, and there was always more. Still, five thousand years may not be a crick in the neck, but the occasional bouts of boredom were certainly a bitch.
He didn't bother to hang around and witness the aftermath of his latest conquest. The sexually repressed always 'tasted' best, but they were a dime a dozen. He didn't have to see to know what she would do, where she would end up. Or he didn't care. He wasn't sure today. Regardless, he'd set pretty little Makayla on a whole new path and some sort of chaos was bound to ensue. And she'd been fun, for sure. It was a little work worming his way into an executive position in her office, but he was a master of getting into tight spots and the look on her face was more than worth it. There was also a certain satisfaction in knowing how badly the dominoes would fall when the promising young new VP simply vanished off the face of the planet. The scenario wasn't new, though. He'd done it all, seen it all, fucked most of it. For the moment the prevailing attitude was 'same shit, different setting'.
That was a week ago and, while he was content to gnaw on food that didn't exactly fit that definition, it was simply for the taste. It certainly didn't provide the things he needed to survive. Not that it would have even if he did require such nourishment.
A week wasn't exactly long. He could go months, but boredom made him harder to satisfy. He could feel the itch; a stiffness in his muscles, a twitch in his groin, a need to feel the flesh of the softer sex writhing beneath his expert touch, the shock that coursed through her body the moment... He reached for the remote and silenced the sixty inch LED screen without looking at it. Suddenly Disney's "Aladdin" wasn't exactly the entertainment he desired.
He was still in no mood to put on some grand production. It took time. Find one he liked, invade her dreams, invade her life, invade her body...not necessarily in that order. At the moment he just wanted a willing victim, and he knew exactly where to get one. He glanced at the ten foot tall stretch of windows that opened over the Houston skyline and noted with annoyance that none of the clubs would be open for several more hours. At least it was an Underworld Saturday. Women of the gothic scene generally didn't need much prodding. When you open yourself up to the occult, you open yourself up.
He rolled off the couch and marched towards the bathroom. With a thought the integrated sound system keyed up Stevie Wonder's "Superstition" as he made his way past an open kitchen equipped for a gourmet chef in black marble and stainless steel, up the industrial style stairs that somehow looked like they were floating, and into the bedroom that might as well have been an entirely separate apartment. The bathroom was just as over the top. It was his version of a 1/1 efficiency, and completely unaccommodating to guests. Other than the cleaning crew he was the only being that stepped foot on the plush cream colored carpet, not that he needed to put a foot down. The only reason he walked the distance this time was because, to date, the sun was one of the few things in this corner of the universe that he couldn't bow to his whims and he had time to kill.
Of course at five thousand years, give or take a few hundred, you get pretty damn good at passing hours. By the time the sun fell below the horizon he was walking down Westheimer, legs encased in black leather. It was early November yet unseasonably warm, not that Houston had seasons, still almost too warm for leather. The mesh shirt, that left nothing of a hard etched torso to the imagination, compensated somewhat. He heard a male voice yell 'nice ass, honey' from somewhere behind him prompting him to let some of the more heinous things he was capable of roll off of him in an invisible wave. Now the surrounding populous made way for him the same way they would a side show freak. It didn't quell all interest but there was something for everyone in this city.
Hair like fine black silk hung nearly to his waist making the various bits of silver jewelry across his body stand out that much more. It wasn't his cup of tea but it was all the rage with the kids these days. Besides, his appearance would change a dozen times before he finally made a choice most likely. A pair of dark wraparound shades completed the look but they had a function. Dark clubs had a drawback when it came to eyes that gave off their own light, but they certainly didn't hurt when you were seducing a vampire bait wannabe.
He stilled the negative energy just before he cleared the front door, it wouldn't do to scare away the prey. Wandering through the crowds he listened for something easy. Some poor twit wondering why the hell she couldn't find someone to belong to or just longing for the ride of her life; someone who would fall without a fight. He moved towards a corner where a small group huddled together talking over the electronic notes, laughing. The girl, surrounded by 4 men, didn't exactly fit the profile...as far as he knew. He couldn't read her. Not something new, but not something common. In his present apathetic state she had the same effect on him that sirens did on water weary sailors, though he had far less to worry about than those sailors.
He caught thoughts of Facebook, computers, and that game World of Warcraft from the flock that currently fawned over her. It was just yesterday to him that computers were room sized metal boxes of beeping lights. Now they fit inconspicuously in small corners and occupied large spaces of the human mind, even overshadowing basic life requirements like food and sleep and sex...mostly. Sex seemed to be part of the intent at the moment as far as the men were concerned. He'd caught a few fleeting images he wouldn't mind making a reality. The fact that the girl was uninterested was painfully obvious, but the little tattooed pierced heroes of the cyber world seemed blissfully unaware.
She didn't belong there. That wasn't to say that she didn't look damn good in the black satin corset that hugged her torso beneath the pale swell of cleavage it supported, but something was off about her. Even her hair, dark enough to fade into the dim lighting of the bar and of considerable length, and the skin that contrasted it did not abate the inclination. He could not shake the feeling she simply wasn't where she was supposed to be, and it was more than the standard contented failure that infused the human populous.
While he contemplated an approach she presented one for him. The boredom finally caught up with her and her planned escape would take her right to him. He let the crowd swallow him and waited against a wall, keeping her in his peripheral vision to avoid alarming her. His inability to read someone was generally indicative of a more sensitive mind, and he didn't want her to panic before he had a chance to get close.
Annabelle listened with only half her attention. She just wasn't feeling it tonight. She came here to let loose and have an excuse to wear a corset, but she'd been up late the previous night with inventory and the feel she loved so much was closer to a hungry python wrapped around her body. Even the music did nothing to enliven her dulled senses.
"I have a little pick-me-up if you want." One of her companions mentioned. "Free for someone as lovely as you, Belle."
"No, thank you. I'll just get another drink." She needed a drug around this place like she needed another hole in the head. And the line was just lame.
"I'll get it." One of the other's piped up.
"No, I'd like the walk...alone." The last word came out more harshly than she meant but the attention was grating on her solitary loving nerves. Did someone spread a rumor she was easy or something?
She made for the bar feeling something out of place but couldn't put her finger on it. She tried to forget it, letting the industrial heartbeat of "KMFDM" wash it away. She did love this music. Leaning against the bar she waited to get the tender's attention when that something out of place suddenly felt right next to her.
"Get you a drink?"
'Dark sunglasses at night. Here's someone who takes himself too damn seriously.' She thought to herself.
"Na, I've got it. Thanks." She answered, ignoring the alarm bells that were going off for whatever reason. It wasn't the first time someone set her on edge like that, but she'd never been able to figure out why so there was no point in giving it a second thought anymore.
It was a lucky stroke for him that the girl headed off on her own to the bar, but their first encounter didn't leave her with the wobbly knees and dripping panties he was used to. So much for easy, yet it presented a challenge and he could never resist a challenge. That's why he'd purposely attempted to avoid them tonight. At least he could get a better look at her now. He liked the corset, the skirt, the legs. Especially the legs. He had every intention of having them wrapped around him by the end of the night. He had to resist the urge to reach out and touch her hair. Pulled back in a midnight pony tail that fell well past her ass, it reminded him of the chick from "Aladdin". Princess Jasmine would never look the same after the things he was going to do to her.
"How about I get the tender's attention for you?"
"With what? Magical powers?" She asked, arching an eyebrow in his direction and oh so obviously unimpressed.
He smiled, stared at the girl behind the bar until she looked his away and then inclined his head in their direction. A second later she headed their way.
"Can I help you?" The blond smiled.
"Yes, my companion here needs a drink."
OK that was a little impressive, she thought to herself. They were at least 5th in line, though that was a complete guess. The bar was crowded.
Annabelle went for a better look at the man next to her and figured out why. He looked like he'd stepped straight of the pages of some Goth magazine; tall, dark and vampyric. Not really her type, but she might have paid to run her hand across the hard lines of his pale chest. The 'shirt with no shirt' look would have been comical to her on anyone else, but she was just fine if he decided to stick with it. Standing out against the smooth flawless flesh of his midsection were dark ink-lines unlike anything she'd ever seen. They reminded her of arcane lines, old spells. She shook her head and looked away.
"Thanks." She said nonchalantly when the tender went to get her Red Bull and vodka.
"You looked a little bored with your earlier cadre. Why don't we go upstairs and grab a table for a bit?" He continued while she waited.
"Watching me?" She quipped
"Isn't that what you do when you see something you want?" He said without looking at her.
It was cliché wasn't it? But, somehow, the arrogant bastard pulled it off beautifully. Her heart beat a little stronger, and she purposefully squashed the little voice that told her it was a bad idea. It wasn't in her to turn away from something that made her curious.
He followed close behind her as they made their way to the upstairs bar after she'd gotten her drink.
"So do you say more than just a few words?"
"Sometimes. What's your name?"
"Damien. Yours?" "Siren."
"It fits." He couldn't help but laugh at the odd coincidence, though he'd heard one of the men call her 'Belle'.
At the top of the steps they took a position against the wall, side by side, looking for an empty table to no avail. It didn't surprise her.
"Looks like we'll have to rain check it."
"Or," he turned and pressed a hand beside her head pinning her between his body and the corner of the wall as close as he could get without touching her, "we could go back to your place."
This close his scent rivaled the stale air of the bar, reminding her of heat and fire and something sweet that made her mouth water, but unlike anything she'd ever smelled before. She fought the sudden strange urge to draw her tongue up the side of his neck just to see what he tasted like. It wasn't easy with the racket her heart started making and the way her knees no longer wanted to support her. How long had it been since a guy made her feel like this?
"What makes you think I'm that kind of girl?" She asked, still trying to play it cool but sure she'd failed.
"I don't. But maybe you'll be that kind of girl for me."
God it was tempting. She stood still, as still as she could trembling as she was, while he closed the distance between them. Her lips parted slightly, something telling her there was no going back the moment he kissed her though she didn't care. She felt the heat of his breath, that first tantalizing brush of soft yielding lips, then was jerked back to reality by his agonized groan as he hit the ground at her feet.
Unexpected was an understatement. Talk about turning the tables. Damien was the one writhing, supporting himself by the wall on his knees, hand at his balls partially as a natural reaction to pain and partially to make sure they were still fucking there.
"What happened?" She asked, dropping down to him. When she reached out to touch him he flinched away from her like she was made of fire.
"What did you do to me you bitch?!" He growled. With the pain coming in waves he didn't have a single civil bone in his body at the moment. He missed something. He knew this feeling. A protective spell. A powerful one. How the fuck had he missed that?
"Nothing." she answered, her tone one of complete shock.
His shades had been dislodged and he stared at her over the rims with an eerie green glow. She stood up, backing away as the light of recognition broke in her eyes. The entire bar was staring at them, but neither noticed. She was hearing old words from a brittle aged voice.
'Never take it off, Annabelle. Promise your old grandmother you'll never take it off.'
Annabelle grabbed the ancient pewter pendent nestled between her breasts and watched as Damien tried to get up, readjusting the dark glasses. It made sense. The way the bar tender reacted to him, the scent, now this. Maybe her grandmother wasn't so crazy after all.
"Pissed off fucking demon!" He grunted trying to focus on her through the halo of tears. Tears! god-damned tears!
"I swear...I didn't..." She couldn't form a complete sentence. As she continued to back up she ran into a solid mass.
"Is there a problem here?"
Damien stood on unsteady legs, noting the wall of muscle now standing behind his Siren. She was indisputably distressed. So the girl had no clue what she was wearing which must be why he missed it. She was no hunter, and hopefully the one that gave the damn thing to her was no longer around. The bouncer wouldn't have been a problem but he didn't really want to draw any further attention to himself. He would have no trouble finding her later.
"No....I was just...leaving." He panted.
Annabelle watched Damien limp towards the stairs and then disappear into the crowd.
"Are you okay miss?" The bouncer asked, momentarily breaking through the aura of shock.
"Yeah, I just need a cab." She answered distantly, definitely not in the mood to stay now.
She slammed the drink on the way to the front door to calm her nerves, most of her hoping she'd seen the last of Damien.
A hot shower sounded like the perfect cure to the strange events of the night. Stripping off the black steel boned corset was nearly orgasmic. It was probably one of the reasons she enjoyed wearing them so much. Stepping into the streaming heat from the shower did much to finish relaxing her frazzled nerves. She closed her eyes and let the liquid move across her body, slowly unknotting muscle wherever it touched.
Something felt off again, but she ignored it. She was still processing the possibility that all the crap her Gram had filled her head with years ago might be true so that had to be all it was. Shutting the water off, she grabbed a towel and stepped out into the small steam clouded room. She was almost to the sink when she heard him.
"So, do you ever take that thing off?"
Damien waited a moment, letting her get several steps away from the tub before he made her aware of his presence. He expected a reaction. He was an intruder standing in her bathroom and she had no idea what he meant to do to her. The ear piercing, blood curdling scream she gave up the moment she laid eyes on him almost made up for the shit he been through earlier. He watched her pull the towel tight over her body frantically searching for something to defend herself with or her phone. Either way the search was fruitless, he'd removed any 'issues' the moment he stepped into her abode.
"What the fuck?!" Annabelle said with a murderous glare when she could find nothing that she was searching for. Adrenaline burned through her veins, focusing her, making her aware that the only option she had at this moment was to wait and see.
"Surprised to see me?" He nearly giggled, enjoying himself as he was.
"How the fuck did you get in here?!"
"Oh, little Siren, I can get inside anything I want." He answered with a malicious grin. He had to admit he took a great deal of pleasure watching the anger evaporate from her leaving nothing but pure fear in its wake as she backed away from him. She may not have meant to hurt him, but he was tempted to make her pay for it anyway.
"Are you going to kill me?" Her voice was surprisingly strong considering the look of complete terror in her eyes.
He shook his head, still leaning casually against the far wall.
"Tried the necrophilia thing once, just didn't do it for me."
She inched farther from him, a look of revulsion shadowing her eyes. He stifled a smile. It was fun but it was time to dial things down a bit. Revulsion didn't exactly lead to putty in your hands.
"No, no, no, love, I'm going to fuck you." He said casually, pushing off the wall and walking slowly toward her expecting her to continue backing away until her heels connected with the base of the tub, but she stood her ground.
"But you can't touch me." The hand not holding the towel in place grasped that damnable pendent.
"For the moment." He said coolly, circling her. "Trust me you want to take that necklace off." He whispered close to her ear as he stopped behind her.