Meeting Destiny; Lachlan’s Story (Annalese and the Immortals)

T
he alley was dark. The stench of garbage, urine, and goddess-only-knows what else permeated his nostrils.

From the shadows of the filthy alleyway, he watched humanity. Humans were so unaware of the dangers around them. Clueless.

And he was one of the dangers. Lachlan McCain, soulless creature of the night—
vampire
—needed to feed. He had gone too long between blood meals. His gums were burning. His fangs were fighting to descend.

He noticed an older man staggering—probably drunk. God, he loved this city. Cleveland had so many undesirables. He’d never go hungry again.

Fresh flakes were falling in the late November sky. As Lachlan made his way out of the shadows toward his intended prey, his nose caught the most enticing scent he’d ever smelled. He was distracted long enough for his evening meal to escape him.

“Damn it all to Hell!” Lachlan spoke aloud knowing nobody would hear his centuries old thick brogue.

He shook his head and checked the time. 5:30. Two hours until sunrise. Not that he’d turn to ash in the sun. That was just a myth. But daylight did weaken his vampire strength to that of a mere mortal.

He turned his head south and walked from the alley onto Prospect Avenue, where the scent hit him again like a ton of bricks. Lachlan had no idea what it was, but knew he had to find it, have it—whatever it was.

Then Lachlan saw her: the most beautiful thing ever bestowed on his blue eyes. His chest tightened, he lost breath, and it felt as if his heart would explode.

“No, it can’t be—not after all these years.” Dumfounded, he stared at his Eternal Mate. Lachlan had no idea how he knew. He just did. The beauty standing in front of the nameless all-night diner was his. Strawberry curls fell around her face and she had the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. The uniform she wore told him she was just getting off the night shift. As she stood next to an old jalopy fumbling for her keys, more curls slipped from the knot she’d tied her hair in. Lachlan felt awestruck by the beauty of her.

How he wanted to go to her. He held back so as not to scare her.

He would take his blood from a bottle tonight and eat his dinner tomorrow night in this hole-in-the-wall diner. Every night if need be until he could convince her to go out with him. She was human, so it could take some doing; but after centuries of loneliness, he could wait—he hoped.

* * *

Annalese Romanov was exhausted: feet throbbing, head pounding, and stomach growling-exhausted. She’d boxed up a meal she’d ordered when the night rush came in. Soggy grilled cheese and fries would still do the trick.

As she fumbled through her bag for her keys to the ancient Vega, she noticed a man under the corner streetlight.

“Oh great, one decent night of tips and I’m gonna get god-damned mugged.”

But he didn’t move and made no indication he would. Tall, black hair tied at the nape. Piercing blue eyes. Dressed all in black. Staring right at her.

He was by far stunning. She forced her eyes away. OMG. She was staring back. “Get a grip Lese,” she whispered in a barely audible voice. “He’s just a man.”

No, not even close was he
just
a man. More like an angel fallen from the heavens.

Finally sliding into the driver’s seat, she exhaled loudly and turned the key. Annalese needed food, shower, and her bed—in that order.

* * *

By the time Annalese woke the next afternoon, she felt more exhausted than when her head had finally hit the pillow. She’d had a night filled with images of sexy mysterious men with sapphire eyes.

“Oh my God, snap out of it.”

He was probably some drug-addicted freak. No, more like an Adonis with the face of a cover model. At least from what she’d seen in the predawn hours this morning. And he was actually staring at her. He must have been drunk or delusional. Men that looked like that just didn’t look her way.

Annalese did OK when she wanted to, but men were just a complication she couldn’t afford. She thought of his eyes and said, “Oh girl, you need to get laid.”

Had it really been that long since she’d had sex? Travis from the bar was her last, and it had been what? A few months?
Nope
, she thought. It had been over a year.

Wow, okay, that settled it. She had Friday off and there was a new Goth-type club her friend Gary had been bugging her to try out.

Gary was the first person she had met after coming to Cleveland. They’d hit it off immediately. Gary was true blue. Even after he found out about her, he stayed, saying, “Good people are hard to find.”

Someday he’d find a nice guy, since Gary was gay. But for now he and Lese were thick as thieves.

Annalese had gifts—or curses, as she loved to call them. She saw things in her dreams—like the towers coming down just weeks before it had happened. But each dream’s reality could be altered by circumstances. And she never knew which ones were real and which were just fantasy.

And she could see auras and read emotions. “An Empath,” her aunt had said the one and only time she’d been to the old country. As of late, she’d found she could move small objects with a bit of concentration. Gypsy blood.

She prayed for normal but the normal never came. She’d left upstate New York two years ago. Fresh new start, new town, new people who didn’t know her or her family. She found a duplex in the suburb of Lakewood—an upstairs unit. Decent size—two bedrooms with a nice balcony for the summer nights.

Painting was therapeutic. That and Johnnie Walker. So she set the second bedroom up as a studio for her therapy sessions. When painting failed to calm her, she’d call on Dr. Walker. There wasn’t anything in the world that a little—or a lot—of scotch couldn’t cure.

Yup. Friday night: new club, new dress, and definitely getting laid.

D
aylight. Vamps slept during most daytime hours, but not Lachlan—at least not today. His mind was filled with the ravishing strawberry blonde beauty. Eternal Mate. He still couldn’t believe it. “How?” was all he asked most of his walk back to The Edgewater. His penthouse, top floor of the building, overlooked Lake Erie.

He’d nuked two bags of blood and poured a double shot of Macallan, his favorite scotch. After he’d drained the bags and disposed of them, he took his drink to the shower, stripped down, and stood under the hot spray until it ran cold. He barely dried himself before he flopped down on his king-sized antique four-poster bed. He needed to talk to someone about this.

Most of his regular Vamp Crew were unmated. They’d be no help. He had one friend halfway round the world who could help. He knew Tepes would laugh at him, but at this point he didn’t care. He needed help, and Vlad Tepes IV, descendent of the Impaler, would help. Now he just had to find his balls and call.

Halfway across the world, Vlad Tepes, or just Tepes as his friends called him, was just waking from his slumber. Lying beside him was his Eternal Mate, Sophie. She had stolen the heart of the most lethal vampire in the world. No one could match Vlad’s gifts.

Every vampire acquired gifts after conversion. Some were minor. Vlad’s, however, were as lethal as they came. And he had all of them. He had blood of the Original.

An Original of ancient Vamps were believed to be directly descended from Judas Iscariot, the First.

Vlad Tepes IV was lethal, cunning, and brutal. And his gifts made him that much more.

Buzzing on his nightstand brought him out of his fog. He glanced at the number, and as he hit talk, he laughed. “McCain, my old friend. What can I do for you on this fine evening?”

“Tepes?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Who the fuck else would be answering my phone?”

He had a point. No one—not friend, foe, or servants—would dare enter his sleeping chambers.

“True, hey, I’ve got a problem and you’re the only one I know that can help. This was a verra hard call to make, Tepes.”

“Problems are my specialty. Am I needed to disembowel someone?” Vlad smiled just before Sophie smacked his arm. Hands on her hips, his tiny pixie was ravishing with her black spikey hair and eyes of silver.

“Geez Vlad, violence already,” she quipped as she paddled across the floor to the bathroom.

“No, no disemboweling Tepes. I have questions for you.” Lachlan went silent for about half a minute. “About women.” He heard the phone hit the floor and Vlad burst into laughter. About that time Sophie picked up the phone.

“Lachlan, it’s Sophia. Tell me your problems since Dracula can’t control himself.”

Oh shit. She didn’t. No one but her would ever get away with that. There was nothing Vlad hated more than being called Dracula. Sophie knew this. She did it because he was being such an ass, laughing at a friend who called for help.

“Well Soph, I donna know if you can do verra much, but okay. I’ll try.”

She listened as Lachlan explained everything. Vlad, tried, but did not succeed at getting his phone back. At the end of it, she said, “Well Lach, I’ve always wanted to see Cleveland. So my asshole of a mate and I will fly over and see what we can do to help you. Won’t we, Drac?”

Vlad growled.

“Is he growling?”

“Oh, he’s just a bit testy. He’ll be fine. Blood and a blow job and he’s good as new.”

“Oh Sophie, TMI.”

More laughter, this time hers.

“Lachlan, listen to me. You’re a good man. You need to bury your demons. Put them to bed forever. If she really is what you think, she’ll need and want all of you. But if you don’t get rid of your demons, it’s going to fail. Every woman wants her man to be in it heart and soul. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, Soph. I do.”

And he did. He understood completely. But the doing was another story.

“Did you still want Vlad? I think he’s done with his laughing fit.”

“Yeah, might as well.”

“McCain,” Vlad choked out, trying desperately not to laugh.

“Tepes, we been friends, what two hundred years?”

“Something like that, why?” Vlad replied.

“Fuck you, Tepes.”

More laughter. “See you tomorrow night, McCain.”

Call ended, he dropped the phone on the pillow next to him. Lachlan finally closed his eyes. Sleep came almost immediately.

Lachlan woke with a start just after sunset. He was hungry—but not for blood. What he’d had earlier would be good for a few days. A Vampire needed blood to survive. The older the Vamp, the longer they could go between feedings. Lachlan was three centuries old, so he only needed to feed every few days.

Food, however, was a completely different story. Food would metabolize quite quickly so a Vamp could eat massive amounts of calories—several thousand in a sitting. He loved food, sweets especially. Cakes, cookies, candies, anything filled with sugar. It was his guilty pleasure.

Speaking of pleasure and guilt, he desperately wanted to see his angel again. He knew where she would be tonight. The question was would he go in, sit, eat, and talk, or watch her from a distance. Lachlan had no idea which would occur—only that he needed to see her, be near her somehow. He dressed quickly, donning blue jeans that hung low on his hips, a black t-shirt that hugged every muscle, and his favorite pair of Versace boots.

Both his arms were heavily tattooed, sleeved was the term they used now, with beautiful tribal type artwork. He wore a coat of arms and the flag of Scotland on his back from shoulders to waist. He was proud of his heritage. But on this night, the thought of wearing a shirt with long sleeves danced in his head. No, he’d stay with the tee. If the angel liked him, his art wouldn’t matter.

Lachlan stood in front of the mirror, surveying himself. He was handsome enough. Hopefully his scar wouldn’t scare her off. Vampires rarely scarred, but the sword he’d taken to the face those years back had been deep. He had gone without blood long enough, that when he finally did feed and heal, the wound left a nasty scar across his left cheek. The ones who wielded the sword thought they’d done the job and killed him. No such luck. And after a few weeks of healing and a steady blood diet, he had hunted down every one of those bastards. It had been a bloodbath, and Lachlan had reveled in it. He left a sea of blood and carnage in his wake—he’d been a newbie then. He didn’t really understand that even though he was a vampire, he was still human, and that every so often his conscience would come back to bite him in the arse.

Now, three hundred years later it had. Right smack dab in the arse! It ate at him every day, how he slaughtered twenty men and then fed on them as if they were nothing. He could still see their faces and hear their screams.

Sophie had told him he needed to bury his demons. She said to be the man he should be, he had to find a way to do it. But what if he couldn’t? What if they were such a part of him now that he could never get rid of them? No, he couldn’t think that way. Lachlan had to be positive. Vlad had done it right; he was the most sadistic fuck there was, but with Sophia, he was a pussycat. Not that Lachlan would ever tell his friend that.

Vladislaw Basarab Tepes IV was still the most lethal being on the planet. Two hundred years ago they’d forged an unlikely friendship against a common enemy; and as the years passed, they had become more like brothers.

Lachlan stood with Vlad at his mating ceremony, never thinking he would ever be so blessed. Watching the couple together, it was easy to see how in love they were.

Vlad was the man Lachlan wanted to be. He had told Sophia everything he’d done in the six hundred-plus years of his life expecting her to run. Instead, she floored him by accepting every detail. She visited the makeshift grave of his first wife, Elaina, with him. It was pure and unconditional love. And Lachlan wanted to feel it. He wanted someone, no scratch that, he wanted his angel to love him like that.

And with that thought, he left his penthouse and headed to the diner seeking his green-eyed angel.

Annalese was ready for another shift at the downtown diner. Tossing her purse behind the counter, she punched the clock and checked her station. Everything looked to be in order and she got to work. People filtered in throughout the night. Tips were better than normal.

“Hey, so did you see the hottie in your section?” her friend Sam asked.

Lese turned to look and,
Oh shit, him!
She’d know that face anywhere. Streetlight.
Shit, shit, shit!
OK. Breathe. You can do this.

She approached the back corner table and he smiled at her.
Oh shit!

“Hi, I’m Lese. I’ll be serving you tonight. Do you need some time? I could get you some coffee or a Coke.” She was rambling.

Streetlight just smiled and extended his hand. “Hello, lass. I’m Lachlan McCain and I’d love some coffee and maybe something sweet,” he said.

Lese was sure she was six shades of red. “Um sure, we have great pies. I can list them for you if you like.” Oh shit, shit, shit, his eyes were amazing—so blue.

“Not needed. Bring me a slice of everything.” Lachlan grinned.

“Everything? That’s like eleven slices.”

“Yes.” Lachlan kept smiling. “I have a sweet tooth and a very high metabolism.”

Oh man, he must to eat like that and keep a body like that.

“Um, OK, I’ll be back in a few.”

Streetlight just nodded. Oh God, she was staring again.

“Hey Sam, got any of those little shooters in your purse? I need one or eight.” Lese was tapping in his order on the POS system.

“Oh yeah, you know it,” Sam chuckled. “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?”

“Oh yeah, even with that scar on his cheek. Maybe it makes him hotter. I tell you he’s Irish or something. The accent is so cool.” Lese was almost starstruck by him. She glanced back to table five. He was watching her.

There was no way in the world that man had any idea how beautiful he was. And he was beautiful. The body was like a sculpture out of a museum, and his face was like an angel with the most piercing blue eyes she’d ever seen.

With her tray full, she headed back to him, and as she approached, he stood. Like a long lost gentleman, he stood and relieved her of the tray on her shoulder.

“Oh no, my boss will have a fit if he sees you.” Lese was dumbfounded.

“OK lass, verra well, but it seemed heavy and I donna want you to hurt yourself.”

God, she was the most beautiful sight Lachlan had ever seen. He had to fight the urge to scoop her up in his arms and carry her out of that place.

He sat back down and waited as Lese unloaded the tray, placing each plated slice of pie on the table in front of him. Then she poured the coffee.

“Are you sure you can eat all this? Because I could bring you a box for take home?”

“Oh lass, this is just an appetizer,” Lachlan laughed and started on the first piece, getting a bit of the whipped cream on his chin. Lese found herself wanting to lick it off.
Oh shit, shit, shit.

“Um, OK then. Lachlan, did you say?”

He nodded.

“Is that Irish?”

“Oh bloody hell no, lass. I’m a verra proud Scotsman. I even have my kilt at home. I could wear it if you’d like the next time we meet.”

Her mind drifted to what is worn under it and
wow, brakes, girl
.

“So, my Scotsman. I apologize. I’m not very good with accents.” Lese said, excusing herself to tend to her other tables. The rest of the night went well. No major catastrophes, and true to his word he finished all the pie and a double bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate shake. She had no idea where he was putting it. She passed by one last time to drop off his check. Nobody ate $60 worth of food—not one person—but somehow he had.

“So are you full?” she asked, extremely curious.

“For now lass, yes, I’m good.”

“So, um, you can just leave it on the table if you want,” she said, referring to the check. “If you happen to need anything else—”

He cut her off before she could finish her sentence.

“I’d verra much like to call on you for dinner on your next free night.” Lachlan was trying for cool. He didn’t think he was coming close, but gods be damned, he was trying. She was just staring at him like he had something on his face.
Oh shit
, he thought,
the scar
. This couldn’t be good.

“Um, are you asking me out? Like on a date?” Lese thought she may hyperventilate.

“Well, Lese, I was certainly trying, but seems I’m not verra good at it and I think I did it wrong by the look on yer face.”

“Oh, no! I’m sorry! It’s just that, have you looked in a mirror lately? Because, wow, you’re gorgeous, and men that look like you do not go out with girls that look like me.” As she went on, Lachlan was dumbfounded—she was gorgeous herself.

“And don’t get me wrong, I do fine. I’m just not the kind of girl songs are written about.”

“Stop, lass! Please, you’re killing me. I saw you last night.”

She remembered, oh boy, did she.

“You are the most beautiful, intriguing creature I’ve ever seen in my life, and I’ve been around a long time.” A long time – super gorgeous oh boy, vampire.

“How long, Lachlan?” she asked, almost a whisper.

He cocked his head, thought for just a moment, and then it hit him—she knew.

“A verra long time lass.”

Lese sat down with him. Her shift was almost over and no one was in the café anyway. Hands folded on the table, she looked at him, found her courage, and spoke.

“I’m Annalese Demetra Romanov. I have gypsy seer blood, and Lachlan McCain, I know about Vampires… and everything else that goes bump in the night. You can’t compel me, so if it’s a blood meal you’re after, you’ve got the wrong girl.”

Lese went to scoot the chair back, when he caught her hand. “Oh hell, bloody hell, no, lass. There are a great number of things I’d like from you, but blood isn’t one of them.”

Lese was so red, she felt like she was on fire. Just the touch of his hand was shooting flames to a certain part of her body.