Need (26 page)

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Authors: Todd Gregory

BOOK: Need
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I sensed Lorenzo move across to the stairs and opened my eyes. Nico nudged me, indicating I should follow him. My head felt light, my skin sensitive, and again I felt like I could simply float up into the sky if I just willed myself to do so. There was another power surge from inside me, a wave of heat blasting through me, and I rode that wave as I walked down the steps. The grass felt damp and cool beneath my bare feet, and I could feel its energy, its life force caressing the soles of my feet as I walked across it. There was a well-trod path leading down to where a circle of people stood in the flickering light cast by torches mounted on tall rods. They were in the approximate center of the back lawn, halfway between the back veranda of the house and the banks of the river. Their circle was also centered between two enormous live oaks, their long gnarled roots almost reaching the spot where the circle of witches stood.
As I followed Lorenzo, I became aware of colors swirling around each of the people, who were all wearing cowls that concealed their faces. I stared at the colors in wonder.
“You're seeing their energy, their auras.”
Nico's voice sounded delighted inside my head.
“And you can actually control their auras if you want. You can send them different energy and affect their moods.”
I didn't respond, merely nodding as I kept walking. I focused on keeping my thoughts shielded from him. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his own energy, which was a pale red, so pale it was almost nonexistent, and somehow I knew he was drained, that somehow whenever we touched, I drained energy from him, storing it inside of me, like a weird vampiric battery.
And it was making me even stronger.
The colors I could see around the witches deepened as we drew nearer, and I closed my eyes, willing the colors to go away. When I opened my eyes again, the colors were gone.
I smiled to myself.
They parted to let us through, and I saw they were standing around a pit.
There were two men in the pit, and I recognized one as the stripper from Oz. The other I didn't know, but he was equally as beautiful as the stripper.
“What is the meaning of this?” I asked.
“One of them will be your dinner,” Lorenzo replied with a nasty smile. “But first he has to earn that right. They will fight to the death, and the winner will be your dinner.”
C
HAPTER
15
I
wanted nothing more than to wipe the smile from Lorenzo's face. I felt the power within me surge, anxious to be released.
“It would be so easy to destroy him,”
a voice whispered in my brain. I glanced over at Nico, but it wasn't his voice, and he wasn't even looking at me. He was staring down into the pit, his eyes alight with excitement, his mouth open. He licked his lips, and I was repulsed.
I stared down at the stripper and saw details about him I hadn't noticed in the poorly lit bar. His eyes seemed a little glassy, as though he were disoriented and didn't know where he was, but they were a beautiful, vibrant blue. His skin almost glowed in the torchlight, like it was lightly oiled. I could see veins in his arms and in his lower abdomen leading down into the white jockstrap, which was all he was wearing. It was bright in the light and emphasized the big bulge it contained. His cock was semihard, pulling the fabric away from his skin. His legs were just as thickly muscled as I remembered, and his skin was shaved smooth, though I could make out stubble forming on his strong pecs and on his legs.
He looked up, and our eyes met, and I went inside his head.
His name was Blaine and he was in his early twenties, from a little town in the part of Louisiana called Acadiana. He wasn't pure Cajun—his mother was from Texas, but his father's family went all the way back to the time when the French were driven out of what is now called Nova Scotia by the English. He was proud of his Cajun heritage, even if his parents had kicked him out of their house when he was seventeen because they caught him with another boy. With no money or food or anywhere to live, he had made his way to Baton Rouge, where he got a job working as a dancer in gay bars, living in a homeless shelter until he managed to befriend some other dancers and moved into their house. He got his GED and then met a nice older man one night named Tom who practically adopted him and took care of him. It was this man who got him to become a personal trainer to make more money, gave him a home and love, introduced the boy to his friends, and Blaine's body began to grow bigger and stronger as he flourished with his newfound family. Pictures of him on a muscle Web site led to an offer to make gay porn, and with his daddy's permission, he flew out to Palm Springs to do his first shoot, and he became extremely popular. But even as he kept building his body, doing more porn shoots and posing for photographers, building up his personal training business, he wanted more out of life. He wanted to go to college, like he had always wanted to, and become a medical technician. With his daddy's support, he got into LSU and now was very close to completing his degree. He was happy, he had a good life, and he had worked very hard for it. He still danced every once in a while because the money was good, but he was looking forward to the day when he could finally just work in a hospital and leave the porn and the money from his body behind. Daddy was still Daddy, but their sexual relationship was over—but he would always love Tom.
He wasn't too aware of where he was; all he knew was there were people watching—there were always people watching him. That didn't bother him; he was used to it. There was a man eight feet away from him in a black jockstrap who wanted to kill him, so he had to kill him first.
And looking up into my eyes, he knew that I would be his reward, and that was making his dick get even harder.
I looked away and hated Lorenzo with a passion I'd never felt before. I felt the power surging down inside of me, but it wasn't time, not yet—somehow I knew that.
But I also knew I wasn't going to let this end in death.
I looked back down into the pit, at the other side from where Blaine stood.
The other man was also beautiful but not as ruggedly masculine as Blaine. He was taller—Blaine was maybe five seven at most; this man was easily around six feet tall. His hair was thick and dark, and he, too, had beautiful blue eyes. And while he was muscular and defined, his muscles weren't nearly as thick as Blaine's. His legs were long, and I knew he had a beautiful ass at the top of them. He was wearing a black jockstrap, and his bulge wasn't nearly as big as Blaine's, but there was also a stirring there. He didn't look up at me. His eyes were focused on Blaine across the pit from him.
Look at me!
His head turned upward, and he found me. His face was model pretty, with thick black brows over deeply chiseled cheekbones, a strong square jaw, and a wide mouth that seemed ready to curve into a smile as he looked up at me.
I lost myself in the blue of his eyes.
His name was Robert, and he was twenty-two years old. He wasn't from Louisiana; he was actually from up north—Pennsylvania or Pittsburgh? Somewhere like that, and he was going to Tulane, where he was almost finished with his own degree. He, too, was gay, but his parents were actually fine with it. He was a good student, a good person, and had lots of friends and a good life. He liked wrestling—it was arousing for him—and he often wrestled with his boyfriend, who was named Chip, who was also a student at Tulane. Robert wasn't sure what he was doing here, either, or how he got here. The last thing he remembered was going into Good Friends Bar in the French Quarter with a group of his friends, and everything somehow went green, and the next thing he knew he was in this pit, staring at a man with a godlike body, both of them wearing jockstraps, and he was excited. He loved Chip, but this other guy was a fantasy for him. He'd always dreamed of wrestling with someone with that kind of thickly muscled body, and he wanted to be dominated by him, and—
I looked away, unable to take any more.
The boy had no idea he was in a fight to the death—but Blaine knew.
The unfairness of it all filled me with a righteous fury.
My fingers itched to go around Lorenzo's throat.
The idea of a fight to the death, and that it would be for
my
entertainment, my pleasure, was sickening to me. The idea that this pretty young boy was just tossed into the pit as nothing more than
meat
for Blaine, something for him to destroy—and this was supposed to
entertain
me—infuriated me, and the fury was making that power, that
thing,
inside of me stir, wanting to be let out. It made me want to give Lorenzo a taste of his own medicine. Blaine was a good person, who'd worked hard and overcome difficulties that would have destroyed most people to make something out of himself. He was better than this, didn't deserve to be treated like this. I wanted Lorenzo to suffer. I wanted to feel his bones crack in my hands, crush them into powder while he screamed in agony. I wanted to leap down into the pit, toss Robert over my shoulder, and fly up into the night and away from this place. He had friends, people who loved him, who were probably even at this moment wondering what had happened to him, worried about him—
“How is he different from Jared?”
that horrible voice jeered inside of my head again.
“How is what they are doing to this kid—and to Blaine—any different from what you did to Jared ? You didn't kill him, but you took his life away from him. He can never go back to his life, now, can he? Remember Tori, his fiancée? Right now she is sitting by her phone, waiting for it to ring, hoping against hope that Jared is going to turn up alive, that he isn't lying in a shallow grave somewhere. Tori has a very vivid imagination.”
“Maybe that's true, but that doesn't make this right.”
I closed my eyes and struggled to get the power to settle and subside. Somehow I knew that it wasn't yet time.
But I hoped that it would be before either of them were hurt in any way.
“Aren't you happy?” Nico's voice danced with delight, and I turned to look at him, forcing a smile onto my lips so he would think I was pleased, hiding my utter revulsion. “I got him for you,” Nico went on as I turned back to stare down into the pit. “I know you were attracted to him, but you never got a chance to do anything about it. Now, once he is finished with that boy, you can drink from him and his body is yours for the taking.” He licked his lips, his eyes glittering. “He is quite a specimen, isn't he? Maybe you'll share him with me before you completely drain him?”
I wanted to kill him, grab him and pull him into my arms, sink my teeth into his neck and drink his oh-so-sweet blood until his body was nothing more than an empty husk in my hands.
Instead, I managed to push that urgent desire aside and say, in a low, lusty whisper, “Of course I will. After you've given me so much, Nico? How could I not share him with you, my love?”
I somehow managed not to choke on the words, and his reaction to them only deepened my contempt. He practically danced in place, licking his lips as he looked down at Blaine's masculine beauty.
I didn't look back down at the two humans. Instead, I looked around at all the witches standing around the lip of the pit and wondered how many times some kind of similar competition had taken place for their entertainment. I closed my eyes and could almost hear the death screams of dozens of men and some women echoing out of the pit. It was a place of evil, haunted by death, drenched in the blood of so many.
This had been Sebastian's coven, and these had been his witches. I wondered if they had been evil to begin with, or had he infected them?
Regardless, they were all evil now, and they had to be destroyed.
As much as I despised Lorenzo, hated sharing the very same air he breathed, his angelic-looking twin was far worse, even more twisted and dark in his soul. Lorenzo wore his evil proudly like a badge, but Nico? He pretended to be something other than what he truly was, while he sat in the shadows moving pieces on his dark chessboard.
Sebastian had never truly been the witchmaster; he had merely thought himself to be their leader all the while dancing as Nico pulled his strings.
As Lorenzo danced even now, not knowing his twin was planning his death.
There was no sound other than the wind in the trees and the crackling of the burning torches.
And again, I sensed something terribly familiar, getting closer. I somehow knew that it was neither Nigel nor Rachel, but the familiarity . . . I sniffed the air again. There was a faint scent in the air, a scent that I knew all too well.
Jean-Paul and Clint were near, certainly near enough for me to catch their scent in the air.
I tried not to smile as I realized just how close to death these evil witches actually were.
“They're going to fight to the death?” I said, wondering if they, too, could smell the approach of two powerful vampires. “For my benefit?” I allowed my voice to take on a timbre of pleasure. Let these monsters believe their barbarity pleased me, aroused me, made me happy! “The blood of the victor will be full of adrenaline,” I went on. “Adrenaline is so delicious.”
“It's all for you, darling Cord.” Nico turned his eyes back to me, and even in the dark I could see that he looked faded, weak. His body was beginning to feel the effects of the power I'd drained from him. I was tempted to reach out and place my arm around him, to take the rest of his power and let him die, but I knew it wasn't time yet.
I wondered if I could leech Lorenzo's power as well.
I allowed my hand to brush against his arm, and he turned to smile at me. The same electrical surge I'd felt touching his brother rushed through me again. My veins felt briefly aflame, and I let my hand drop.
So, I can leech power from witches.
They had wanted to create a god. They just didn't know I was going to be the god of their destruction.
I looked across the pit and smiled at an older woman. Only the bottom of her face was visible to me beneath her cowl, but her wrinkled lips formed a smile in answer to mine.
I closed my eyes and focused, thinking that my skin was coming into contact with hers, imagining how it felt, and I felt a surge.
I opened my eyes and smiled to myself as she staggered a bit before righting herself. She shook her head, confused.
So physical contact wasn't needed.
Excellent.
Lorenzo cleared his throat and stepped forward almost to the very lip of the pit. He spread his arms and began to speak in a loud voice that carried.
“Members of my coven, my brothers and my sisters,” Lorenzo announced, “as you all know, when we lost our master Sebastian, we struggled without leadership, until my brother and I”—he waved his hand at his brother, and Nico inclined his head forward slightly—“decided to take our rightful place at the head of our coven, accepting the mantle of responsibility for all of our well-being. There were those who felt Sebastian's plans were wrong, overreached, and could not possibly come to fruition, that the powers that would be ranged against us would be too powerful to overcome.”
There were murmurs, some of the others nodding agreement.
“Sebastian believed that, after millennia of their rule, the time of the Councils and their rules had passed, that they were nothing more than anachronisms, vestiges of a long-dead past that had no bearing on modern times. Sebastian looked at the world and saw that the humans we had been sworn to protect from destruction were now on a path that would lead to their self-immolation and were determined to take this world with them in the mad rush to Armageddon, and he knew that the time of human ascendancy was past. They were given a birthright and they squandered it, with their pettiness and greed and selfishness and arrogance. As such, my brother and I decided that the best way to move forward was to follow Sebastian's plan, come what may, and that it was better to die for a great cause than to continue to sit on the sidelines. There is a war coming, and we are prepared for it. Some of us may die, but what better way to die than as a martyr for the greater good?”

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