Tasting Thanatos

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An Excerpt From: TASTING THANATOS

Copyright © SHONA HUSK, 2011

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Chapter One

Maria needed to skewer someone. At this point she’d take anything, even a navel piercing, just to feel the needle push through flesh and watch her victim flinch. Boredom crawled over her like an ant searching for food. Some days just blew.

She flicked the edge of the latest gossip magazine with a long nail. They needed to be redone. The polish was starting to chip. She picked at the edge until a flake of pink polish broke free. Beneath the paint and acrylic nail, her own damaged fingernail was hidden. The only scars that hadn’t healed were her ruined nail beds, so she hid them behind fancy polish and long false nails.

The door chimed. She looked up, a smile pasted on, and dropped her hand to her side as the customer strolled in. Tall and self-assured, he was just the kind she liked to pierce. The scent of arrogance clung to him, but he’d still bleed the same as everyone else. Her smile came to life and her fangs tingled as the dark desire awoke at the thought of spilling his blood.

He nodded at her, held her gaze for a moment too long and then turned his attention to the jewelry on display. While his gaze wasn’t on her, Maria gave him a more thorough once over. Attractive in a dangerous kind of way. He didn’t give off the try-hard air of a poser who thought having a few bits of metal through his skin and a shaved head would make him look hard.

She ran her tongue over her teeth, but knew no piercing would satisfy the craving to taste his blood. His presence in her shop disturbed the need she kept carefully chained. Had it been too long between tastes already? She didn’t need blood to live, but sometimes the craving got too much…and this man made her want with just a casual glance.

She swallowed and forced herself to notice his piercings and not the curve of muscle barely concealed by his snug t-shirt. One ear had two piercings, a horizontal scaffold and a vertical industrial, threaded through the cartilage to form a cross. His other ear sported a stretched lobe with a plug she could’ve slipped the tip of her little finger into. Her gaze settled on the most exotic piercings she could see.

On the underside of his jaw was a ball, the other end of the bar would be under his tongue. A mandible piercing. Her mouth curved in a grin. Mandible piercings were like having a javelin slammed up through the jaw and into the mouth, painful and slow to heal. Pity he wasn’t here for one.

Her gaze dropped to his chest where tiny bumps pressed against the fabric of his shirt. Pity she couldn’t see the rest of the ones he was hiding. Her gaze lowered to jeans where the denim cupped his crotch in a way that made her want to peel open his fly and have look at what else was pierced, a pity indeed.

A hot shiver ran through her and ended in her belly with an explosion of soft heat. It hadn’t been that long between lovers that she was desperate for the first tall, dark and handsome that walked into her shop.

Maria forced out a slow breath and got her lust under control. “Can I help you?” Please don’t just buy jewelry.

If he took off his shirt, she could check him out a little closer. There was something about him that she wanted. Her blood warmed at the thought of getting close, skin to skin, with this man. That he evoked such a strong reaction should have been warning enough and enough of a reason to hurry him out. Desire led to a craving for blood and she never mixed sex and food. She never bit anyone, it was too dangerous.

She licked her lower lip. He was dangerous.

“No.” The man turned and smiled as if laughing at a private joke. “But you can pierce me.” His eyes were unreadable, endless depths of flat, black nothing. How many souls had died trying to fill the void? Maria wrenched her gaze away before he claimed another victim.

“Sure, where’d you have in mind?” With luck, somewhere that would hurt. Seeing him in pain would dampen her need to bite, but her fangs disagreed. They pressed against her jaw until her mouth ached. There would be one less mouse in the cage tonight, but its blood would be a poor substitute when she’d be thinking of this man.

His black eyes seemed to absorb her body, melting the walls she’d built over three decades and tying her belly in knots of need. Her body acted as if had been years between lovers, not months. She fought the urge to step back from the scrutiny, lifted her chin and met his gaze with what she hoped was fiery resistance and not heated desire. She didn’t need anyone.

His mouth turned up on one side. Lips made for sinning and lying. “My cock.”

The words were off Etienne’s tongue before he could stop them. He’d only come in to have a rung replaced in the ladder of piercings that ran from nipple to collar bone, but there was something in the glint of the woman’s eyes that tempted him to go further.

Something he recognized. A longing, a hunger, and he wanted to satisfy her craving. And his body thought so too…it was always better when his mind and body agreed.

Her eyebrows lifted a fraction, surprise? Then her gaze skimmed over him as if appraising him, and he had the distinct feeling she was going to find him wanting. That didn’t happen too often. Women, human or Vampire, threw themselves at him—well, not all the time, only when he was on stage and dressed as Thanatos.

“Wouldn’t you rather have a male piercer attend you?”

“Nope.” He liked the idea of watching her handle his shaft even if he couldn’t feel her touch. His most precious memories were those of how it had felt to have a lover’s fingers on his skin. They were closely followed by the sensation of tasting said lover’s blood. After a couple of centuries, those memories were getting dulled with age and use. But they were the only thing the Revolutionaries hadn’t been able to take.

While his contemporaries had died on the guillotine, he had been tortured. His captor’s hatred and fear of his kind had saved him. Now he chased the need to feel. He hadn’t found it in meditation or celibacy. When William had suggested reforming the band, it had seemed like a good idea. In music he found peace if nothing else.

The woman’s eyelashes fluttered as she glanced away. A flush crept up her cheeks, turning her olive skin pink. Etienne backtracked. He hadn’t meant to cause offence.

“Unless you are uncomfortable piercing such an intimate area.” He placed his hands on the counter and his smile almost slipped off and broke as he inhaled her sweet scent. She was Vampire.

How had he missed that? Usually it was easy to pick out another Vamp among the humans. But not this woman. He let his gaze roam over her features again. With her wide cheekbones, perfect pout and arched eyebrows, she could have been a nineteen forties pinup, maybe she had been. She could be aged from twenty years to…anything. Vampires didn’t die from natural causes.

She recovered her composure first and placed a form on the counter. “Not at all.” She handed him a pen. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the process.”

Her mouth curved in a pale smile, but her eyes remained hungry. He’d gladly spill some blood to have a chance with her. He liked a challenge; it would make a change for him to be doing the chasing.

As he filled in the paperwork, his gaze kept travelling back to the female Vampire watching him watching her. This would be fun.

Maria let her gaze slide from his long fingers, up his arm. She paused on his throat where his pulse beckoned, a flicker beneath his skin that echoed in her ears. She ran her tongue over her teeth and tried to ignore the desire burning in her veins. It was one thing to want someone, but another to need someone.

And she knew this someone.

The thought stuck like a splinter at the edge of her conscience She was sure she hadn’t pierced him before. A man like him would stay in her mind and linger like a post climax sigh. They could have met any time over her short fifty years. Even though she couldn’t place him in her memories, she wasn’t going to ask. So she peeked beneath her lashes and tried to read his details off the form. His writing was illegible upside down, all loops, as if a drunken worm had rolled in an ink pot before falling on the page and crawling home.

His writing gave him away, nobody born this side of World War One wrote like that. He was Vampire. The same faulty DNA marked them both and she had no interest in her own kind. And she was sure they would have no interest in her if they knew what she’d done. Her lust retreated in surprise, but not far enough so she could lock it away and forget about tasting the Vampire in front of her.

He lifted his head. “Why don’t you just ask?”

Maria shrugged as if she didn’t care.

“Etienne.” He offered.

His name meant nothing, but Vampires regularly changed their name, their identity, to stay out of sight of the humans who would either persecute or seek to use them for medical or military research, depending on the decade.

“Maria.”

The silence expanded. He was watching her a little too intently.

She turned the form around and skimmed it for further clues, knowing there wouldn’t be any. She must be mistaking him for someone else. She’d have remembered those lips, sensuous to snarl in a blink.

“A French name, but you don’t have an accent.” She tried to sound casual, when all she wanted was to feel his mouth on her hers. She never felt that way about anyone, sex was about satisfying a craving and then moving on before they realized what she was, especially not a Vampire.

“I haven’t lived in France for a very long time.” Etienne placed the pen on the counter.

So he was old. For a Vampire he looked old. He wouldn’t pass for a human less than forty. Sometime in his life he’d been given a rough time. Vampires didn’t age unless they were starved of the etheric blood contained. She’d seen the effect first hand. Watched her mother grow old faster than any human could, her eyes bleached white with the need for blood.

“Paris is supposed to be beautiful.”

For a moment Etienne’s gaze softened as if he wasn’t in her shop, and he was lost in his own thoughts. His eyes refocused on Maria. “I guess it is, when it’s not awash with blood.”

No anger distorted his voice. Whatever had happened, Etienne wasn’t sharing. Maria didn’t pry, pretending to care was just part of her bedside manner.

“What type of piercing did you have in mind?” She was half hoping he’d change his mind and leave. Stabbing him with a needle would be more temptation than relief. She pressed her teeth together to keep her fangs from descending and ruining her masquerade.

“Got any favorites?”

Maria rolled her eyes. Like she hadn’t heard that line before. “Apadravya. The needle goes vertically through the glans. Takes up to twelve months to heal.”

A couple of men had fainted. The memory raised a smile. Then she glanced at Etienne and sighed, he wouldn’t be another. He’d heal faster than a human. Vampires just weren’t as much fun.

“Sounds nice.” He said it as if agreeing to the day’s special at a restaurant.

Maria turned away to hide her scowl. Just her luck to get a freak who enjoyed being pierced. For half a second she considered telling him to come back on her day off, but the urge to drive a ten gauge needle through his shaft won, so she smiled and bit her tongue.

“Come through.” She opened the door to the private piercing room. Her sanctuary. Here, she was in control. Her clients the victims. “Take your pants off and lay down.”

“Are you always this abrupt?” Etienne said as he unbuttoned his jeans.

Not always, she usually made more of an effort but he wasn’t her usual clientele. She generally avoided other Vampires, but she was drawn to him like moth with a fatal attraction to fire. Her gaze tracked his movements as he shucked off his jeans without the slightest sign of modesty. He lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. His hands folded on his stomach. Unnaturally calm, he disturbed her peace just by breathing. He was unsettling even for a Vampire.

Tension tightened her stomach and prickled along her skin, and then the old fear broke free and the room became tiny. In her mind, she was caged again. Panic crept through her body, stealing her strength. Her hands trembled, so she fisted them to hide her weakness. She would not have a panic attack now. She could get through this. Maria blinked slowly, forcing herself back to the present. If the reality hadn’t killed over thirty years ago, the memories had no chance. But being close to Vampires always made her edgy.

What if she lost control again? What if she killed again?

No, she wouldn’t because she didn’t bite. She didn’t taste Vampire or human blood, only the mice she kept had to face her true nature and she made sure they didn’t suffer. She had boundaries and they kept her safe. With a deep breath she shook off the fear.

Just pierce Etienne and get him out. This was her place.

She snapped on a pair of latex gloves and picked up a permanent marker. With a Vampire, using gloves was a waste of time. Vampires didn’t get sick. Ever. But humans expected gloves and her licensing required them, so she obeyed.

Etienne lay still while she examined the head of his cock for piercing. He closed his eyes and could’ve been sleeping, except for the tension that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

If they’d ever fucked, she would definitely have remembered him. Thick from head to root with a nice shaved sac. But since she’d never been with a Vampire, that was impossible. If he wasn’t Vampire, she would’ve been interested. Very interested.

“Ever pierced your penis before?”

“Yep.”

There were no marks, but then there wouldn’t be. The etheric Vampires consumed in blood ensured they healed fast and generally without scarring. Something the military had been interested in. They’d tested extensively on adults as well as children. The panic threatened to rise again, but she pushed it down and concentrated on the job.

“What happened to them?”

“Got bored with them.”

She cleaned his skin with antiseptic. More like he took them out before they healed. In which case this one wouldn’t last long. “Healing hurt too much?”

Even Vampires felt pain while they were healing.

Etienne lifted his head and looked at her. She slid into the black of his eyes. Soulless.

“Lady, I haven’t felt anything in over two hundred years.”