Blood Dance Page 7

  His breathing slowed, too—a steady, yet harsh, in and out that burned his lungs. Blood rushed to his cock, making it hard with painful intensity. Even his hole clenched as if demanding to be filled—by Alex, with whatever Alex had hiding within his perfectly tailored slacks. The thought alone made Quinn moan with a wanton need that echoed inside his head.

  And just like that, the spell broke. Alex dropped Quinn’s hand and pulled back. The man shook his head as if he, too, had been caught in some trance. He stood and hopped off the stage, putting a few feet between them. There was no hiding the bulge behind his fly. The guy wanted him, that much was obvious. He also appeared as flustered as Quinn felt.

  Alex flashed a smile. “Sorry. I thought you’d hurt yourself.”

  With slow movements, Quinn studied the palm of his right hand. The skin was slightly abraded. “I guess I did,” he replied with a frown. “I must have given myself a rope burn of sorts.” Even as he said the words, though, he saw no evidence of blood, only red skin. “No real harm.”

  Quinn started to stand. Alex was on him in another flash, helping him, then with an arm circling his waist, pulling him off the stage. Their bodies collided with Quinn’s feet dangling a few inches above the floor and his crotch mashed against Alex’s. Their hard dicks made contact, eliciting a gasp out of Quinn—and a growl from Alex? Yes, low and feral. It gave Quinn goosebumps.

  Alex stared at him, warm, spicy breath bathing his face. “I’m sorry,” the man said in a husky voice. “I seem to lose all sense of propriety around you. I could blame it on the heightened emotions of the day, but that would be a lie.”

  Reaching around Quinn with his other arm, Alex cupped Quinn’s ass and tugged him in even closer. “I find you absolutely irresistible, despite my better nature telling me I shouldn’t. I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” he added with a heavy-lidded gaze that made Quinn’s hole clench once more.

  “I’m not.” Quinn’s reassurance came out in a whisper. With his hands pressed against Alex’s chest, he felt as if he were touching marble. He couldn’t resist caressing what he could reach.

  Alex growled some more and squeezed Quinn’s ass. “Careful, boy. My control is not as tight as I’d like.”

  “What if I don’t want it to be?” he dared to say back before licking his lips.

  Alex’s gaze tracked the movement, and for a second he thought the man might kiss him. Quinn even tipped his head back to give him better access. But instead, Alex lowered his face to place his lips at the base of Quinn’s throat. He didn’t even touch him, merely hovered a fraction of an inch above Quinn’s skin for a few seconds and inhaled deeply. Then, he pulled back and dropped Quinn onto his feet.

  “What?” Quinn blinked at him while he steadied himself. When he rocked back, Alex grabbed his shoulders only long enough to make sure he didn’t fall before letting go again.

  “I think that’s sufficient practice for today. You’re going to have a long night, and given that I woke you early for the police, you should go and take a nap before dinner.”

  Quinn frowned. “A nap? I don’t need—”

  Alex’s expression hardened. “Go upstairs and rest for a few hours, Quinn.” The man’s voice had taken on a hard edge.

  Quinn blinked some more and frowned harder, except that he couldn’t muster the energy to argue. “Yes, sir,” he replied in a voice that sounded petulant to his own ears.

  “Take the elevator.”

  With a nod, Quinn turned. His ass and his palm still both stung from his fall, and a big yawn escaped his mouth before he could stop it. Sleep did seem like a good idea, after all. “I’ll see you tonight, sir.”

  “Fuck me, not if I can help it.” The response was uttered in such a low tone, Quinn wasn’t even sure he’d heard it.

  He turned to look over his shoulder and found an empty room.

  * * * *

  “So, what can you tell me?” Trey stared at the body laid out on the cold, metal table. He’d been a cop long enough to view the remains for what they were—evidence. The man who had once lived, breathed and suffered inside it was long gone. The best he could do for him was find the killer. Weeping over the corpse served no purpose.

  Almadeo pulled off his shield and ran his fingers through his damp hair. “TOD was sometime between ten and midnight. I can’t pin it any more accurately than that.”

  “You don’t have to. We know from what the club’s owner told us that he booted the vic out shortly before eleven. That narrows it down.”

  “If we can believe the guy,” Karl added.

  “Everybody’s story confirms that fact, and before you say it,” he added, raising his palm, “I get that Stelalux runs a tight ship. If he said the sky was green, I’m betting his people would back him on that. We’ll see what other patrons have to say about it once we track and interview them.”

  Karl just grunted. “It’s a weird group working there. They give off an us-vs-them kind of vibe, almost like it’s a cult, especially the family members.” He gave an exaggerated shiver. “Biggest fuckers I’ve ever seen, and what kind of name is Stelalux, anyway?”

  Almadeo pursed his lips before saying, “Starlight, roughly translated from Latin.”

  “Oh, yeah? The owner said they were from Romania, not Italy.”

  Trey resisted rolling his eyes. Karl was a great cop but not a scholarly guy. “It’s a Romance language, so Latin is embedded in it. Anyway, their first names ring true, and I put in a request to ICE for confirmation of their immigration status. According to their statements, they came over about fifteen years ago and were eventually naturalized. I don’t think their ethnicity is going to turn out to be relevant.”

  The coroner smirked. “You might change your mind about that once you hear the rest of my report.”

  Trey raised his eyebrows, not liking that prediction at all. “Oh?”

  “Yeah.” Almadeo lost his smile. “Take a look at the edges of the wound.” They all peered at the gaping hole that used to be the victim’s throat. “The cause of death was exsanguination, no doubt. This is the only exit site on the body.”

  “So, having his throat ripped open is what caused him to bleed out.” Tray stated it as a fact, not a question, because even a two-year old could see where this was going.

  “Correct.” Almadeo hovered his finger over the jagged edge of flesh. “The tear marks on the skin suggest that the weapon used was teeth.”

  Karl swore. “Shit. I hate the freaky ones.”

  Trey had to agree with his partner, although he wasn’t yet buying the coroner’s findings. “You’re telling me that a human being managed to do this kind of damage using only their teeth?”

  Almadeo nodded. “They started here”—he pointed to the base of the neck—“at the jugular, then ripped up and at an angle, stopping right beneath the chin.”

  A cold streak gripped Trey’s spine. “That would have taken a great deal of strength.”

  Almadeo gave him a hard look. “Determination, I’d say, more than anything else—and perhaps fury.”

  Memories of the corpse as he’d seen it in the alley rose in Trey’s mind. “There wasn’t any blood on the victim’s face and hardly any on his clothes. Ripping open the jugular would have caused a massive spray.” The coroner’s expression caused even more cold to seep into Trey. He ignored it.

  “Yes. I’d say that almost all the blood had left the body before this wound was created.”

  The man’s words hung in the air. Karl swore again and paced away. More irritated now than freaked out, Trey studied the body again. From what he could see, there was no bruising marring the skin except near the shoulders. He focused on that.

  “Is this the only evidence of a struggle?” he asked, pointing to the mottled spots.

  “Yes. The killer grabbed the victim by both shoulders and pinned him. Other than a little scraping along the palms, I see no sign of the poor man reacting. He rubbed them along the pavement, hard enough that pebbles imbedded into hi
s skin. I’d say he lost consciousness very quickly.”

  Karl rejoined them. “Are you saying that the blood got sucked out of him?”

  Almadeo gave a frosty smile. “Of course not. It would be impossible for a human being to ingest another’s entire body of blood—in one sitting, at least.” He shook his head. “No, you’d have to drain it by some artificial means, even if your kink runs to vampirism.”

  Trey’s stomach roiled. “Is that really a thing?”

  “Everything is a thing when it comes to humans. There are people who get off from drinking other’s blood. But, as I said, it would be impossible for someone to simply drain a body completely by sucking on their jugular.” He shook his head. “No, your killer used something to accomplish it after he incapacitated the victim then ripped the throat open. It’s the only explanation. I’m running a tox screen to see if the victim was knocked out by a drug. Although if he was, I haven’t found a puncture wound.”

  Shoving his hands in his pockets, Trey rocked back on his heels. Various scenarios for what had happened swirled in his head. “All of that would have taken some time. If it had been done right where we found the body, it would have been a big risk. Someone could have seen it happening simply by walking past one of the ends of the alley. The area isn’t that remote. If it happened somewhere else, the killer would have had to transport the body back, and that could have been seen, too.”

  He paced away. “And why bother?” He turned back to Karl. “Why kill someone in a place where people are still out partying? Or why dump the body by the club? The Starlight clan strikes me as being too savvy to shit in their own bed without sanitizing the mess right away, even if I buy into the idea that Crowell pissed the head guy off that much.”

  “It’s the boy,” Karl interjected. “Cooper. Alex likes him. You can see it in the way he hovered when he brought the boy to be interviewed. It’s in his eyes every time he looks at him. Crowell put his hands on what’s Alex’s, so he lost his temper.”

  “Maybe. It still doesn’t explain why we found the body in the alley.” He started pacing around the small, cool room. “Let’s play it out. Fresh-faced Quinn Cooper comes in for a job as a go-go dancer. Part of the job description is getting pawed by patrons, I’m assuming, at a minimum, if not more. Stelalux interviews him, and maybe part of getting the job is you let the boss paw you first.”

  Karl flanked him. “Sure, why not? What’s the point of having pretty boys working for you if you don’t get to sample the goods now and again?”

  Trey shook his head. “Yeah, but if that’s the way the game is played, how does that square with the guy getting into such a fit of jealousy within hours that he kills a man? See, even if we treat the guy like your average pimp—and the private rooms the club offers its members kind of suggests that—you make your money off your stable. You can’t afford to be stingy, even with your favorite. The most that makes sense is that Crowell crossed a line in public and the boss man had to make an example of him, again publicly. But, this bloodletting and neck chewing?”

  “Crazy people don’t have to make sense. You know that,” Karl reminded him.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Trey ran a hand over the top of his head. “It doesn’t mean stupid, though. Even if he’s a psychopathic killer with a blood fetish, Alexandru Stelalux is not stupid. Leaving the body near the club is massively so. Why would the perp bother to kill close to an open business or haul it back there? Unless it was meant to be a message?” The obvious conclusion hit him square between the eyes.

  Karl grimaced. “You think there is some kind of vendetta going on here? Mob related maybe? Romania is near Russia, right?”

  “Sort of, except a bullet to the back of the head gives the same kind of warning. Why this elaborate method of killing?”

  “Because,” Almadeo interjected, “the killer liked it. This kind of thing?” he added with a nod to the body splayed out beside him. “It’s a fetish, a compulsion. And I can almost guarantee you that it won’t stop with just this one.”

  Trey’s heart thudded with the news that he’d already known on some level. “In other words, regardless of whatever else we’re dealing with, we’ve got a serial killer on our hands.” He sighed. “Awesome.”

  * * * *

  Boston nights in the early summer could be perfect as far as Alex was concerned. The oppressive heat that humans often loved, but made his species miserable, hadn’t yet settled in. The air ruffling his hair as he stood on the roof of his building was cool and delicious. It helped his warm body calm, although his dick refused to settle into anything more than semi-hardness. It had been plaguing him all day, ever since he’d given in to his baser urges and had practically attacked his new employee.

  Christ, the humans would say. He’d really lost his well-honed control. Bad enough to lick the few beads of blood welling on Quinn’s palms, but to practically fuck the boy through their respective pants was beyond the pale. Hadn’t he resolved only a few hours prior to ignore his interest in the human? That way led to possible disaster for both of them. He had to do better or risk the boy being swept into his private war.

  And, speaking of which…

  Alex inhaled, taking in the scents of the public alley below him. The police had finished their scouring of the place where Crowell had met his fate. He was aware Duncan believed that the man had been killed somewhere else and dumped here after the fact. Alex knew better.

  “It was Adrian,” he said to the man who came to join him on the roof.

  Val sauntered to his side and sniffed. “Yeah, no big surprise there. He’s always been Dracul’s lap dog. I checked the security footage and the fucker blacked out the cameras. I got a nice picture of a hand before it all went dark. Stupid, really, considering he knew we’d identify him by scent.”

  “It’s a game, as always—a deadly one.”

  “Yeah, he must have crawled down from the roof to take out the cameras. My system only alerts me if it’s been breached, not vandalized superficially. I’m going to have to adjust that now.”

  “Do whatever you feel best, although I don’t expect there will be a repeat performance out here.”

  “Yeah, he must have waited a while for a victim to show.”

  “And I hand-delivered one to him. He must have been delighted.”

  “You can’t blame yourself, boss.”

  “Of course I can. I was in charge. It’s my fault ultimately that we are stranded here and I couldn’t keep the surviving crew together.” Closing his eyes a moment as if to shut out the truth, Alex added, “I keep hoping he’ll stop. After all this time, why does he continue to seek power and wreak havoc on this planet? He knows I’ll never let him achieve dominion.”

  Val grunted. “At least he laid low longer this time.”

  Alex huffed. “Well, after nearly causing the world to implode more than seventy years ago, you’d expect he needed at least a bit of rest.”

  “I bet his whelps have finished growing, too, giving him new soldiers to utilize—and loyal ones at that,” Val said.

  “Yesss,” Alex hissed out. Dracul had been the first to discover a successful way to procreate with humans. Of course he had, not giving a damn how many of them died before his experiments had worked. That gave Alex one more reason to resist the temptation that Quinn presented. Capitalizing on his nemesis’ experiments rubbed him the wrong way. Harry had been successful, of course, as had others of their coterie, demonstrating that breeding with a human could be done in a loving relationship. Still, Val’s foray had ended in disaster, and that was confirmation enough that he shouldn’t try it himself.

  “If this is the opening salvo,” Val observed, “it’s his most subtle to date. I’ll give him that.”

  “It reflects how this world is rapidly changing, I think. A lurid murder at our doorstep can become fodder for the world through the Internet within hours. These days, you don’t have to instigate a multi-country war to sow the kind of fear he likes to feed on. He can sit in that cast
le of his and watch the humans lose their collective minds over the possibility of a superhuman killer.”

  “You think there will be more?”

  “Oh, yes. I expect Adrian’s orders are to litter the streets of Boston with bloodless corpses. Talk of vampires will feed the humans’ natural inclination to see the supernatural. Space travel and pocket-sized computers notwithstanding, as a species, they are still ruled by their baser emotions. What they don’t understand, they fear. And they are prone to concoct the most outlandish stories as to the ‘how’ and ‘why’ of things rather than to seek knowledge and truth. They remain easy to spook and lie to. That hasn’t changed since we first arrived.”

  Val stepped closer to the edge and peered over. “Just because they dumped this at our door doesn’t mean we have to react.”

  Alex scoffed softly. He’d had the same fleeting thought earlier in the day when he’d held Quinn’s delectable body in his arms. Abandoning the fight and letting Dracul do what he wanted in this world was tempting. They’d been fighting so long that he was tired. If this was to remain his home for the rest of his long life, he’d prefer to live it in peace.

  “We have no choice,” he replied, letting his weariness seep through. “Earth has always been a volatile, violent place. The humans don’t need us to accomplish that. But they have been getting better, slowly, yet relentlessly more caring of each other and peaceful. Dracul would end that trend, turn this planet into his personal playground, and humans would become his unfortunate toys.”

  “We could carve out a quiet piece for ourselves,” Val reminded him.

  “We could, ignoring our sworn duties to protect those in need and preserve the hive.”

  “An oath we took for our people, not humans. They don’t even have a collective hive.”

  Alex shook his head. “We never qualified it in that manner.” This was an old debate.