BloodlustandMetal Read online

  By the end of the song, I had completely forgotten that I had come to Boston for one specific purpose.

  Focus, Devon. Snap out of it. You have a job to do. Don’t let your dick get in the way.

  Layla

  Our guitarist, Joey Bangs, went backstage for a quick change while the rest of us played. When he came back onstage, he’d added a button-down white shirt and tie to go over his black leather pants. Then he donned a pair of black horn-rimmed glasses and the ladies screamed their approval of the sexy, intelligent persona.

  While Joey distracted the crowd with a guitar solo, I escaped backstage to quickly take off the heels and spandex and throw on a tiny schoolgirl outfit. Plaid skirt, fitted white tank top and chunky Mary Jane shoes.

  When I came back onstage, I took the mic. “Call it heavy metal, call it hair metal, call it rock. We don’t give a fuck. We’re here to play music and have an awesome time. If you’re with us, let me hear you!”

  The crowd responded with shouts and hollers.

  “That’s what I like to hear. Now Rocco is going to start with a little drum solo I think you might recognize.” I turned. “Rocco.”

  He launched into the familiar intro to Van Halen’s Hot for Teacher and the crowd cheered upon recognizing the song. I strutted over to the drum set, moving as sexy as I could to the beat.

  Joey joined in with the guitar and I moved over to him, dancing in a suggestive way as I admired his talents. I mussed up his shirt a little and loosened his tie.

  Mark started with the bass and I sang the beginning lyrics. Joey and I acted out our new stage personas with him as a tempted professor and me as a naughty school girl. At one point I bent over in front of him so he could catch a glimpse of my white cotton panties and he smacked me playfully on the ass. Mark donned a classic brown wool blazer and a pair of glasses to play the part of the principal. He stood between us as an authority figure, pushing his hands out to the sides to keep Joey and me apart while I reached past him to loosen Joey’s tie and unbutton the top buttons of his shirt.

  When Bloodlust Metal hired me to replace the previous singer, I decided not to copy his stage presence. Instead I invented my own. Joey was onboard with the concept of his skirting around a forbidden attraction onstage, flirting with the idea of becoming lovers. The act added a fun, sexy element to our shows. Mark often acted as an opposing force, throwing obstacles in our way or even pulling one of us away from the other.

  So far, our act was working well. It helped get the crowd into the shows as we continued the forbidden lust-addled love story, rather than having four musicians simply play a string of songs.

  By the end of Hot for Teacher, I’d managed to get the shirt, tie and glasses off Joey, so he was now donning a torn Bloodlust Diamond shirt. The ladies loved this part, hooting as I stripped off his good-boy image to reveal the bad boy hiding inside the upright and proper professor. Rock star Joey with his wild brown hair and lean physique then took over the role of seducing me with the sultry stances and bedroom looks he’d perfected; I thought a few women might rush the stage and knock me over to get a piece of him.

  Devon

  As I watched Layla play, the sexy way she ran her hand over the mic stand, I pictured her tiny hand running over my body. Down the front of my chest, over the muscles in my legs, in between my legs, increasing the mounting excitement.

  It’s just adrenaline building. Your body preparing for the capture.

  The hard press of my erection in my jeans told me I was full of shit.

  The music ended, jolting me back to reality. I wasn’t here to ogle her and fantasize about what she’d be like in my arms or in my bed. I was here to capture her.

  I forced myself out of the mindset of a male attracted to a female and back into one of a predator on the prowl. She was prey.

  I watched her say good night to the crowd, thanking them for coming, and then leaving the stage. Swarms of fans surrounded the band members to talk to them. While the females jostled to get closer to the guys in the band, males vied for Layla’s attention. Unfamiliar jealousy stabbed me square in the gut and I forced it away.

  I could wait for her fans to subside. I’d wait for her to be alone or lure her someplace alone if I had to. No rush. Besides, I liked to take my time. Like a cat playing with a mouse. The thrill of the hunt.

  I smiled at that thought. Like a cat.

  The woman who’d introduced them came back onto the stage. “How about a hand for Bloodlust Diamond?”

  The crowd applauded with a bunch of hooting and hollering.

  “I knew they could play, but I had no idea how visually appealing they would be. A feast for the senses, don’t you think? Did you hear the way she sang? And the guitarist? Yummy.”

  More hollering and whistling from the crowd.

  “Lucky for you they’re coming back for another set tomorrow night. So how many of you will we see again tomorrow?”

  More cheering. “Great. We’ll see you again. And now our awesome DJ is coming back to get all your hot bodies on the dance floor. Give it up for DJ Stark.”

  The DJ started up again with The Clash’s Rock the Casbah.People were already back on the floor dancing. I scoured the crowd for signs of Layla, but she’d disappeared. I figured I’d check outside in case she was a smoker. The bouncer stamped my hand when I said I’d be right back. I opened the large wooden door and stepped out into the cool New England night.

  A few people who were smoking had congregated near each other. I wondered if it was a camaraderie thing. With fewer people smoking these days than ten years ago, did they stick together? Complain about being ostracized from the clubs?

  I walked down the alley to the main road, which was devoid of people. I saw a black van, which was nondescript except for a few Bloodlust Diamond stickers on the back portion. It must be the band’s van, or some hardcore fans. I hoped for the former, as it meant Layla Costa had not escaped me.

  Although I wanted to hurry to get back inside the club, I resisted the urge to walk quicker. Part of the thrill was hunting her down and I didn’t want the excitement to end just yet.

  Back inside, I searched the crowd for her, a petite woman with distinctive hair. One side so blonde it was almost white while the other as black as midnight. On each side were strips of the other color. She’d be easy to spot in a crowd.

  There she was standing near the bar.

  Bingo.

  She was talking to a few people, taking a sip of her drink from time to time.

  I walked closer while staying behind the crowd so she wouldn’t see me approach. When I was in earshot, I tried to listen to their conversation. Even with my extraordinary senses, I couldn’t hear what they were saying over the sounds of a Siouxie and the Bansheessong, Kiss Them for Me.

  How would I get her alone?

  As I pondered this question, she looked up and noticed me. When her eyes found mine, I froze. Not only did I feel as if I was caught doing something wrong, but something else made my chest tighten. Her dark, inquisitive eyes searched mine as if trying to figure out my secrets. Beyond making me aware that she might be more difficult to capture than a typical human, I was also now aware of parts of my body responding to her inquisitive gaze. My lips felt parched and I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs.

  She was a vampire and vampires had that special ability to mesmerize humans, but I’m not human so she shouldn’t have any effect on me. So what exactly was going on?

  Another part of me, the one that was former military and current bounty hunter, kicked in. Take control of the situation and seize any opportunity. Use whatever options you have to your advantage.

  Now that she’d seen me staring, I’d play the part of a fan idolizing a band. I walked directly up to her and ignored the people around her. I didn’t recognize them as the band members onstage so this might work.

  “Hi!” I said in an excited voice. “I just wanted to say how great you were tonight.” As her eyes focused on mine, I was drawn in
to them. They weren’t black as I thought from a distance, but a rich brown the color of hot chocolate on the outer edge fading to a honey-brown toward the pupil. I’d never seen eyes like that. Could humans even perceive how Layla’s eyes appeared different from theirs? Utterly spectacular. Her eyes flashed excitement and hinted at mystery all at the same time. I looked away briefly to break the eye contact.

  Vampire eyes, vampire eyes, I chanted in my head in an effort to avoid them.

  If she was trying to mesmerize me with her vampire charms, it was working. No, I was a shapeshifter, I reminded myself. Vampire tricks that worked on ordinary humans wouldn’t work on my kind. I focused on a bottle of whiskey behind the bar, took a deep breath to refocus and looked at her again.

  “Thanks,” she said, flashing me a megawatt smile that disarmed me once again. Her teeth were perfectly white, even and gleaming, showing no signs of fangs. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  Whether she was sincere or could see right through me and was playing along, I had no idea so I kept going with my act.

  “I’d never seen you guys play before and I’m so glad I came tonight. I had a smashing time.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Devon.”

  “I’m Angelica.”

  No, you’re not. You’re Layla Costa. I know who you are and why you’re on the run. You’re nothing more than a common thief. I nodded like a devoted fan. “I know.”

  “Devon, you’re British?”

  “Yes. I live in London.”

  When she laughed, the sound was almost musical.

  Vampire trait, I told myself. Don’t be taken in.

  “I hope you didn’t fly all the way to the US just to see us play.”

  “Not exactly.” I didn’t come to see the band, but I did come especially for you.

  “So what brings you over to this side of the pond?”

  “Oh, you know, I like to travel. You ever go to England?”

  “Not yet. I’d like to.”

  Liar. You lived there for years.

  She glanced at my arms. “Sick tattoos.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You get all those in England?”

  “Most. I travel a lot.”

  “For business or pleasure?”

  “A bit of both.”

  “Interesting. What do you do for a living?”

  Hunt down criminals like you.

  A question I would avoid answering directly. “I’m self-employed.”

  She nodded slowly as if assessing my evasive reply. I still couldn’t figure out if my shtick was working. Was she humoring me as a fan? Or on to my ruse and playing with me? Time to turn the focus back to her.

  “Would you mind giving me your autograph?”

  “You have pen and paper?”

  I looked in my pockets even though I knew I didn’t have them. “No.”

  “Go buy a shirt or CD or something and find me later.”

  I smiled graciously and walked away.

  That didn’t exactly go as planned. But it didn’t blow up in my face either. As I walked over to the display selling T-shirts, bumper stickers, CDs and all kinds of merch, I tried to think of what my next step would be.

  “What can I get ya?” a guy showing more tattoos than his actual skin color asked me.

  I grabbed a CD but then noticed it featured the previous singer. I imagined Layla wasn’t with the band long enough to record a CD. “One of these.”

  After paying him, I retreated to one of the back walls of the club so I could think of my next move. I watched her all night. A few times I caught her looking around. A part of me hoped she was searching for me. But I remained in the shadows, lurking and waiting for the right moment. Like a predator.

  Chapter Two

  Layla

  What was it about that guy, Devon? He acted like a fan of the band, approaching me to get an autograph, but something about the excitement in his tone didn’t match the piercing glint in his eyes. The contradiction captured my interest and made me want to find out more about him.

  Not to mention how captivating he appeared. Tall and muscular, with tattoos covering his exposed skin and a shaved head giving him the look of a total badass. And the eyes. A blue-green hue that stood out against his tan skin. Intense yet gleaming with excitement.

  Something about him bothered me and I wasn’t sure why. My senses stood on alert when he spoke to me and I couldn’t discern between sexual excitement or danger. I tried to catch his scent, but there were too many bodies serving as distractions. Although I tried to put him out of my mind and focus on the conversations around me, several times that night I caught myself looking around the club for him. When I didn’t see him again, I thought he must have left.

  Parts of me felt relieved, while others were disappointed. The contradiction was very unsettling. Deep down I knew I wanted to see him again.

  Devon

  The bartenders indicated it was last call. Time was running out.

  She left the club with the rest of the band. I followed them as they walked up the alley to where the van was.

  I ran up to her. “Angelica, wait. I got a CD. Will you sign it for me?” I asked, smiling broadly.

  She stared at me and blinked a couple of times before answering. “I thought you’d left.”

  She was thinking about me. “No, I’ve been around.”

  “Of course I’ll sign it.” She took the CD from me. “Hey Joey, you have a Sharpie?”

  One of the guys in the band reached into the pocket of a pair of black jeans so tight I don’t know how he fit anything in there. He pulled out a marker and threw it to her.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll catch up with you guys in a minute.”

  Joey sized me up before walking away with the other guys. What was his problem? After they disappeared up the alley, I scanned the area to see if there was anyone else nearby. While she signed the CD insert, I fingered the silver rope in my jacket pocket, getting ready to pull it out.

  We were alone in the alley. It was the perfect time to snatch her. My car wasn’t far from here. It would be better if we were closer to it, but it wasn’t easy to lure vampires where you wanted them to go.

  Ah, another problem. She’d scream. Her cry would alert the band members who were still in earshot. Three guys and a vampire would be a challenge sheerly for the number involved rather than their strength, which wouldn’t compare with mine.

  How could I fasten her wrists while keeping her from screaming? Before I figured out how to capture her without alerting her band members, that guy Joey appeared at the end of the alley.

  “You coming or what, Angelica?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be right there.”

  She handed the CD to me and said, “Enjoy. Nice to meet you, Devon.” Then she surprised me by leaning forward and kissing me on the cheek before scampering up the alley to Joey.

  I watched her slip away and then put my hand over my cheek where she kissed me. Such soft lips. My cheek still tingled there.

  My experiences with vampires led me to believe they were just sacks of cold, dead flesh, but her lips were warm. What would it feel like to kiss those lips? To touch her flesh?

  My mind wandered to a vision of her onstage again. She seduced the audience as she teased them, running her hands over her curves, her voice oozing sexuality. What would it feel like with my hands running over those curves? My eyes locking with those deep, dark, mysterious eyes as I penetrated her for the first time?

  Devon, you’re missing the point in this situation.

  She got away.

  I walked out of the alley just in time to see the black van pulling away. If I hadn’t stood there like an idiot, I could have dashed to my car and followed them, found out where she lived.

  Like a fool, I’d let her slip away.

  I walked back to my car, kicking myself for acting like an amateur. This was supposed to be a straightforward job that I took care of in one night. I should have thought o
f the screaming issue long before instead of drooling over her while she sang. By letting her escape, I’d complicated matters and now had to track her down.

  What was wrong with me? I was a professional. I’d been doing this for so long that it had become natural. A simple matter of luring her away from people and snatching her. I was so good at it that Stefano heard of my reputation and specifically hired me for the job, even though I had to fly over to Boston from London.

  Was I losing my touch? Or was there something about this woman that was throwing me off my game?

  Not a woman, a vampire.

  Perhaps that was it. Somehow she put some sort of vampy mind confusion on me.

  Of all the supernatural beings in the world, I hated vampires the most. Dead bodies surviving off the blood of human beings. Soul-sucking monsters. Voluntary shapeshifters considered themselves superior to other beings since we had the best of both worlds. We weren’t dead like vampires or forced to change during the full moon like werewolves or other shifters. Those of us able to take the form of any animal we chose considered ourselves the best of the best. I favored the magnificence and strength of a lion, but also loved being able to fly so would often transform into a falcon.

  On the other hand, those blood-sucking corpses thought they were superior to shifters. Who knows where they got that preposterous idea. I suppose it was because they were immortal. They could live forever—yeah, only if they found living beings to suck on like a leech, I might add. They looked down upon us shapeshifters, they considered us even more inferior than humans, they called us animals.

  I failed to see what was wrong with that.

  So why did I agree to take a job from a vampire? Simple reason. Money. A large payment for a straightforward job. Find someone and bring her in. And when it came down to it, money meant more to me than my hatred for those dead creatures.

  Back at my hotel, I nursed a Jack Daniels at the bar while I thought about plan B—how to find and capture Layla Costa tomorrow night. At least I knew she’d be back at the club with the band. Tomorrow I’d be more prepared.