Dark Callings Collection

Dark Callings
Elizabeth Jewell
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2009 Elizabeth Jewell

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It was dark in the back rooms at Gomorrah. It was always dark there. Riordan didn't understand that. You came here because you'd found somebody you wanted to fuck, supposedly somebody attractive, with a nice face and a big dick. So why head into the dark to do the deed? He liked to see who he was fucking. But maybe that was just him.

In the long run, it didn't matter anyway. Riordan could see in the dark almost as well as he could see in broad daylight. He rubbed the scar on his neck, staring through the dim light, looking for subtle, telltale signs that one or more of the room's occupants might not be human. The scar tingled -- there was a vamp here somewhere.

He squinted into the corners. Fucking, fucking everywhere. Where was the biting and bloodletting? Had to be here somewhere. The damn scar was starting to burn.

There -- in the corner. Movement against the wall. A big man, dark hair, a wide face. No outward indication he was anything other than human.

Vamp. No question about it. A younger, slighter man knelt in front of him, sucking the vamp's dick enthusiastically. The vamp had his hand in the other man's hair, shifting his head as he worked, varying the angles.

Riordan moved closer. The vamp's attention shifted a little, focusing on him. Riordan gave him a look, a small smile.

The vamp smiled back. It always worked. Vamps were insatiable as a rule; Riordan would get his turn.

Looking away from Riordan again, the vamp closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall. His hips bucked and his body went taut, then released. Through the dim light, Riordan could see the other man swallowing frantically. Riordan's own cock rose hard against his zipper as he watched. The scar on his neck fairly burned, but the sensation aroused as much as it hurt.

After a few seconds, the vamp pushed the man away from him. The man looked up at him and grinned, then stood up and moved on. The vamp looked at Riordan. Riordan smiled.

"You game?" the vamp asked.

"Damn straight." Riordan closed the short distance between them. "You got a name?"

"What the hell do you want to know my name for?"

Riordan shrugged. "Change of pace."

"It's Roarke."

"Riordan." He shoved the vamp into the wall and kissed him. The inside of his mouth was cool, and tasted of blood, but not of a fresh feed. Riordan knew the difference.

The vamp gave no protest. They rarely did, unless they'd just fed. If Riordan's instincts were correct, this one hadn't fed for a day or two. Which probably meant Riordan wouldn't have to kill him.

"Roarke, huh?" he said, drawing back. "Lame name."

"Yeah, and Riordan is so non-pretentious." Roarke clasped Riordan's crotch, fingers outlining his cock. Riordan resisted the temptation to close his eyes at the sensation. "What are you looking for?"

"Vampires."

Roarke quickly withdrew his hand. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Riordan smiled. "I know what you are."

Roarke studied his face, then his gaze fell to the scar on Riordan's neck. "What are you?"

"Horny." He grabbed Roarke's shoulder and turned him around, pushing him into the wall. The vampire gasped, in surprise, no doubt. Riordan was strong, and not afraid to demonstrate that fact.

"Shit..." Roarke let Riordan move him, shifting to allow Riordan access as he reached around and unbuckled Roarke's pants.

"You want it?" Riordan asked, sliding Roarke's zipper down.

"Shit, yes." He hesitated. "You gonna kill me?"

"Maybe not. Depends."

"On what?"

"On you." Riordan stripped Roarke's jeans down and grabbed his ass, the full, solid, rounded muscles filling his hands nicely.

He wondered what the human who'd just blown Roarke had made of the slightly cool temperature of Roarke's body. Probably too drugged to notice. He reached forward, curling his fingers around Roarke's cock. It was erect again, in spite of the recently completed blowjob, fired by natural vampiric hunger, with which Riordan was all too familiar.

Roarke's cock was thick, long, and uncut. Riordan wondered how old he was. Sometimes he could guess, from the intensity of the tingling in his neck, but not this time. A century, maybe more. It was hard to say. Old, though. Older than the one he'd killed last night.

He dug a small tube out of his pants pocket -- enough lube for one application. He carried them whenever he was out cruising vamps, because six times out of ten he ended up fucking them before he killed them, or instead of killing them. Hazard of the job -- pushing them into an intimate situation, where their natural instinct was to feed, was one of the most efficient ways to determine which side of the line they were on. He'd done it with female vamps, too. Didn't matter much.

It had occurred to him, though, that it might be unflattering to go down in history as the vampire hunter who always carried lube.