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  Predator & Prey

  Beast

  James D Horton

  Copyright © 2014 by James D Horton

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual or imagined persons, living or dead, or actual or imagined events is purely coincidental.

  www.JamesDHorton.com

  Editing and cover design by Miranda Horton www.bookdesignandediting.com

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  I

  killed someone three days ago. Does it make me a monster that I don't feel guilty about it? I don't think so, but a part of me worries that I should. Maybe I'm just still numb about the whole thing. The man I shot hired a group of thugs to rape and murder me, he deserved to die and mostly I'm glad I was the one to pull the trigger. Wolf gave me that chance to take control of my life and since then I have met him every night after my work at KMC Radio where I host "Overnight with Lily." He is teaching me to be a predator in a city full of those who see the citizens as their prey.

  Vampire Society, their term not mine, knows him as Dallas. I know him as Wolf, my Wolf. I want him to be anyway, sometimes I'm not so sure of what he wants. We walk side by side down the darkened city street, the guns on his hips make a light slapping sound and his cowboy boots clack on the asphalt. We are close enough I can smell the musky scent of him. Low in my belly, muscles tighten and warmth blossoms in desire.

  I ignore my need and look up at him; his height makes me aware of my own tiny five foot two. He towers over me at six feet tall.

  "What is this tonight?" I ask.

  He looks down at me; his amber eyes gather the light and turn them into reflective pools.

  "The Regent called Assembly." His gravelly voice is low.

  I nod as if this means anything to me.

  Wolf doesn't talk much. Before he saved my life he would call into my radio show and say just enough to get me talking and no more. In the past few days I’m sure I've said thirty words for every one of his. Mentally, I shrug. Sometimes, I find his silence comforting, right now though, I’m curious.

  "What is 'Assembly'?" I prod him for more information.

  He turns to look at me and shakes his head slightly. "A chance for the predators to prance and parade."

  His voice sounds derisive and I arch an eyebrow in confusion. "And what does that mean?"

  He pauses in his stride, looks around, sniffs the air, and then puts his attention fully on me. "They hide their nature under social niceties. They cage the beast inside us with laws, rules, social status, and games that pit them against each other for imaginary standing in their 'society'."

  I nod, impressed to get that many words from him.

  "So why are we going?"

  He stares at me, expression flat, before answering. "They asked me to. Nicely."

  I frown, knowing something is missing there, but I'm not likely to find it out right now.

  He turns and starts walking again, I follow and it is not too long before the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I look around, but Wolf grabs my arm and pulls me forward, causing me to stumble. A low growl rolls from him and I take the hint to keep moving. My senses strain out for any sound, some motion, something to associate with the feeling of danger. I thought I had seen something just out of the corner of my eye, but now I spot nothing.

  Again, I think I see a shadow, something big flying at the edge of my vision just over the tops of the buildings. When I turn to look at it directly, though, nothing is there. After a few minutes I can't sense the presence anymore.

  Eventually, we arrive at a large mansion. We are close to the edge of town, on the opposite side from where I work at the radio station and miles from the woods Wolf calls home. A wrought iron fence marks the boundary to the place; each post ends in a sharp point like an arrowhead. The lawn is well maintained, the bushes are perfectly trimmed, and the trees are allowed to grow to the perfect height. Everything is laid out to exacting details. There are even shadowy forms in the yard that I assume are statues. An eight foot gate stands before us with no signs of any guards.

  I feel a tingling as we approach like strong static electricity. It gives me painful goose bumps and I note a slight pause as Wolf approaches the gate, a small hitch in his step. I look up at him and see his eyes narrow as if with strain, his lip pulls back showing a hint of his fangs. I raise my hand to his chest wanting to comfort him, but he shakes his head causing his shoulder length hair that sticks down past his cowboy hat to swing over the collar of the black duster he wears. The moment passes as we step beyond the gate and he relaxes, the strain disappearing from his face.

  "What was that?" I pitch my voice to a whisper knowing he will hear it.

  "Magic," he growls.

  I can feel the tension in his voice, but there’s nothing I can do about it so I focus on what’s ahead. Light streams out of the windows of the mansion and the sound of violins drifts out over the moonlit yard. The building is extravagant in the extreme, at least four stories tall with marble pillars lining the front. The statues in the yard and around the front porch are gargoyles and the massive oak double door has gargoyle heads in the center holding iron rings. Wolf leads us straight to the door, there are no guards apparent which surprises me and I assume it must be due to the 'magic'. As we approach, I see something move off to my left. I spin towards it as fast as I can but I see nothing except a particularly ugly statue. Had it been in a different position a moment ago? I turn to say something to Wolf but he shakes his head before I can open my mouth.

  He grabs a gargoyle handle and pulls the door open, leading us in. My nose wrinkles at the smells; sandalwood combined with pine, something coppery and the smell of sex. The entryway we stand in faces a massive staircase that splits and comes down both sides of the room and is decorated by red plush carpet runners. A marble bust of what appears to be Medusa, snakes for hair and all, sits on a small table to one side of the stairs. All of the furniture looks like expensive antiques, worth more than all the money I am likely to earn in my entire life. Directly ahead of us, between the stairs, is a pair of wooden doors with high polish brass handles and in front of them stands a man.

  He is tall, almost as tall as Wolf. His hair comes to his waist in long, straight lines and is perfectly white. His skin is alabaster, his eyes are pink with flecks of gold in them; he must be an albino. The white suit he wears is ragged, edging more towards gray from age or dirt, I'm not sure. He is skinny, too skinny. His hands that grip a gnarled wooden staff are bony and skeletal. He smiles broadly, showing fangs, unabashed to show his vampiric nature.

  His fangs are much smaller than Wolf's I notice, an oddity I file away for later examination. I feel the darkness in him; it is different than what I sense in Wolf, almost as if I hear chanting as I look at him.

  "Griogar." Wolf says, stopping six paces from the strange man.

  "Dallas, blessings of the Night Mother on you." Griogar's voice is carefully cultured with just a hint of a Scottish accent to it. "So glad you could join us tonight. It is always a pleasure when you come to town. How is that dark road you follow?"

  Wolf just stares at him
<
br />   The moment drags on uncomfortably, so I clear my throat, but as those pink eyes settle on me I really wish I hadn't. My stomach drops as a chill runs up my spine; my blood turns cold and yet a sweat breaks out on my skin. I feel the monster in front of me and as his full attention settles on me, all hope and color drains from the room.

  His eyes are so deep, I feel myself tumbling into them. It's ok, it won't hurt... I want you to taste me, to feel your fangs piercing my flesh...

  "Dallas!" the cracking voice breaks the hold on me and I blink in confusion.

  The albino is off the ground; Wolf has him by the throat in one hand pressed up against the doors. Claws have grown from the ends of Wolf's fingers where his nails were before, sharp black things that press into Griogar's skin. Wolf growls, baring his teeth, his fangs are extended down and I feel the monster in him rising up. It takes all my willpower to control the part of me that wants to flee, to get far away from these two monsters facing off over me.

  "Wolf," I plead, my voice breaking with the fear I feel. Face it! Mental yelling seems to help in these situations.

  He turns towards me and his amber eyes lock onto mine, my legs tremble as a surge of desire races from between my legs up to my throat, clenching it tight so I can't get the next words I want to say out. Fear and desire wrestle through my system.

  Wolf stares at me as he lowers the man back to his feet. Griogar dusts himself off, raising a fine white powder of some kind as he does. He looks at Wolf and chuckles.

  "You've tasted forbidden fruit again Dallas," he says while pulling at his jacket sleeve. "You couldn't resist my charms if you hadn't." Griogar's smile is not mirrored in his eyes. "Do they know Dallas? How close are you to slipping? Your dance with the darkness has but one end."

  Wolf says nothing, his eyes stay locked on mine. I stumble over to him and he wraps his arms around me, enclosing me. I feel as if we are alone. I lean into him, pressing against the chiseled hardness of his abs and chest. His strong arms are an island of safety, I am his. In them no harm can befall me.

  I wonder, though, what is this darkness Griogar refers to? What forbidden fruit has Wolf tasted? I file these thoughts away for later, questions for when we are alone.

  "No answer Dallas? Has the animal taken over so much of your instinct that you no longer use words?"

  I feel the rumble in Wolf's chest as he growls over my head at Griogar.

  "Leave it Griogar," he says. "Or do you want to push this?" His voice is low and soft.

  The hairs on my arms stand up at the implied danger of the words.

  "Well enough Dallas," Griogar spits the name out. "Let the night's entertainment begin." He turns and steps up to the door, grasping both handles he pushes it open on silent hinges.

  CHAPTER TWO

  V

  iolin music spills out of the room as the scents of sex and incense roll over me like a wave. My vision is momentarily dazzled by the light from chandeliers sparkling off jewelry and elaborate gowns. We enter a large ballroom filled with bodies, all in various stages of copulation. Some are in pairs, some in trios; they are spread around the room on cushions and couches and among them walk the real powers of the city.

  I know from experience that these creatures, these vampires, rule the night. No one openly accepts they are real. I was among the dregs of society for years; the abused ones, the survivors in the night, the prey for these creatures. The daytime city officials are merely puppets of these vampires; they serve them, cover up their messes, and explain the bodies, the murders, and the crimes.

  They are all immaculately dressed, cultured to a tee, not a hair out of place or a smear of mascara is to be found. They carry fluted wine glasses filled with a liquid too thick to be wine as they mingle among the humans. Some stand in small groups watching the couples, some lounge on couches stroking the hair of people with chains hooked to collars around their necks.

  I'm in shock. A hard life has done nothing to prepare me for what I see in this room. I haven't moved from the door and as I stare into the ballroom a woman in an evening gown wearing diamonds worth a small fortune bends down without looking to another woman who is being pleasured by a man between her legs. The wealthy woman takes the other's breast in her hand and drags her fingernail across the skin, opening a wound that bleeds freely. She lowers her glass, filling it from the stream thus created while the other woman moans in pleasure and bucks her hips. Bile rises up in my throat as I watch so I turn away and suppress my gag reflex.

  Wolf's arms wrap around me and his musky smell envelopes me. I breathe deeply of his scent and push the images out of my mind, trying to replace them only with the smell of him. I hear Griogar chuckling next to us.

  "Oh my, that is precious. What a sweet thing you have there, Dallas." His voice drifts away as he talks. "I suppose you know that Angelopolous wants to talk to you? Do you suppose it's about your dirty secret? Oh, don't worry I won't share," his chuckle sounds like nails on a chalkboard. "I can't wait to see what Wolf brings back from the darkness myself, you are the grandest of experiments."

  Wolf's chin presses against the top of my head as he growls at Griogar. I relax, taking control of myself again. Face the fear, predator, not prey, I tell myself in a room full of monsters that could tear me apart with less than a thought.

  "Who is Angelopolous?" I ask. My voice sounds muffled against his chest.

  "The Regent," Wolf says.

  Regent? I still don't know what that means but the thought is pushed from my mind by the smell of lust, the sounds of sex and my body answers of its own volition. I press against him, gently rocking my hips into him. I feel him, something in him answers me, a primal part responds to the call of my own lust. He pushes me away, though, turning as he does. I want to scream in frustration, but I push it down and turn my attention back to the room as a chime sounds with soft reverberations.

  Silence slowly settles over the vast room. The couples and trios continue their copulating, but even they go quieter it seems. Standing in front of a three piece band off to one side is the Mediterranean man with the baritone voice from last week. Wolf had confronted him about the vampire Aiver whose man Stones hired a gang to rape and kill me. Images of Stones's head exploding in front of me wells up in my mind. I shudder and cold chills run down my spine. I killed that night, that night I became a predator instead of prey.

  "Thank you all for coming," Baritone speaks with a curious lack of accent. His olive skin, dark eyes, and lithe form lead you to expect his voice to reflect his heritage, but there is no trace of it in his speech. "There is much business before the Assembly to be discussed, shall we begin?"

  The room shifts as he speaks, people move into new groups forming two lines that lead away from him. I watch as another one of these creatures gently takes the arm of a man who is being pleasured by a beautiful blond. Fangs extend and he bites into the man's wrist, not a drop of blood spilling. The human's moans of pleasure intensify.

  Wolf moves us a few steps to the right away from the door so that our backs are against the wall. He props one foot against it and leans back. I imitate his pose, attempting to look more composed than I feel.

  "Dog and pony show," he says softly without looking at me.

  I nod, watching him from the corner of my eye.

  Ahead of us, I see a beautiful woman with long blonde hair that curls across her marble skin move to stand beside Baritone who I’m assuming is the 'Regent'. Her cocktail dress looks designer, but I have no idea who. Dresses of any kind, much less expensive designer pieces, are not part of my wardrobe, or my life. Those are for people with more money than I’ve ever had.

  An obese woman, stuffed into an enormous red monstrosity of a gown that is stretched taut across her body approaches the Regent and the woman who stands beside him. With each step she takes, a part of her body seems intent on going in a different direction than the rest. The effect reminds me of rolling ship.

  "Regent Angelopolous," the massive vampire’s voice is wheez
ing and high pitched. They don't breath, yet I can't shake the feeling that she sounds out of breath. "The one known as Virgil infringed upon my territory. He is taking control of the warehouse district ‘Bottoms Gang’. They are distributing guns into my territory. I find this action offensive and demand not only cessation of his efforts but retribution!"

  The Regent smiles slightly at her as she finishes speaking. The blonde woman next to him smiles broadly, her tongue darting out to lick overly red lips.

  "Sarah," the woman's words purr and she steps forward in what I can only describe as a sway, her hips move to call attention to the perfection of her form, drawing all eyes in the room. Even fully clothed, she exhibits more eroticism than all the naked coupling around the room. "Are you telling us all there is to this?"

  Sarah's head turns sharply, causing her jowls to shake and it sounds like she hisses.

  "Whatever do you mean Madam Keeper?" Sarah wheezes.

  I feel her step back, though she doesn't physically move. The danger in the room ratchets up as this woman known as Keeper comes to life. I feel Wolf tense slightly but he gives no visible reaction, his cold amber eyes continue watching the scene before us.

  "Well . . ." the Keeper begins to walk around Sarah. She reminds me of a cat stalking its prey, knowing that it has won and is now just toying with the mouse enjoying the moment before the kill. "I have heard rumors ...” her sultry voice keeps each person in the room riveted on her, as if they aren’t already mesmerized by her appearance. The diving neckline of her dress exposes an impossible amount of cleavage; the material wrinkles and straightens as she walks calling attention to her tight stomach and her perfect ass. God I hate her.

  "What rumors! I'm the victim of his attempts to grab power!" Sarah screeches.

  "Oh?" the Keeper purrs. "Victim are we Sarah?"