Master: Crimson Page 17
Raiden tossed him a pair of sunglasses, indicating for him to put them on as he produced another pair from his pocket. “Wasn't planning on it, but now I kind of want to ask you why—”
“Stuff a dick in it.” Raiden hooted. Though his eyes were now obscured by the sunglasses, Gabriel had the feeling they were dancing with mischief and perhaps something deeper.
“In due time, Brie. In due time.” Swaggering to the parking lot, Raiden glanced over his shoulder at a bewildered Gabriel. “Coming?”
You bet. The younger vampire hurried to follow him. Once he had caught up, they quietly talked together, planning their next kill. Under the rising moon, their shared darkness turned to light. Their rapidly retreating figures cast graceful shadows, and their voices merged together in a way that was almost melodious. Although Gabriel's bloodlust started to roar at the first mention of their next victim, he was too preoccupied by Raiden's moving mouth to truly embrace the urge. Judging from the way his maker edged nearer to him as they walked, Gabriel wasn't the only one who might soon want something closer than blood.
Chapter 12
The Mark
His image gleamed, glamorous, glossy in its glaciered glory.
My fingers stretched to steal a piece of his arrogance,
But they slipped on his buttons;
One by one, I popped them off.
Time passed. As it tends to do, Gabriel reflected. Life began, life ended, and on the eve of his seventh kill, he realized his hunger had grown too strong to share. At Raiden’s recommendation, they still chose only one prey per feed, but the limited portion of blood allotted was no longer satisfactory. Increasingly, he fantasized about taking his own victims. The older vampire had told him he still wasn’t ready to hunt by himself, but that didn’t stop Gabriel from imagining how much sweeter the victims they had taken would have tasted, had they been his alone. His greed grew, and the part of him that tried to stay human was quietly horrified. Still, all the human horror in the world couldn’t keep him from imagining the satisfaction derived from a solitary bloodbath. To deflect attention from this unsettling new development in his psyche, the actor instead tried to focus on rehearsing for the movie.
Luckily, his plan to trick Raiden into making Luna Sunset was moving along quite smoothly; their rehearsals had managed to distract him from the various visions of sustenance cluttering his brain. Even so, as the singer dully recited Akemi’s vampiric ramblings, Gabriel found himself drifting into another world, where faceless bodies would rain from the sky, where the ruby-drenched earth would open its jaws, welcoming him into its copper depths, where he would gladly drown in a rushing ocean of everlasting blood. Where the dead have no names.
“You have the next line, dummy.”
Sluggishly, he looked at Raiden, who was currently perched on the windowsill like a cat ready to spring. Tonight was a scorcher; the only circulation of air originated from the open windows. The breeze, however, was unpleasantly desert-dry, and offered absolutely no relief from the heat. Gabriel noted with more than passing interest how the humidity had wrapped itself around Raiden. His skin glistened with a diaphanous sheen of sweat, and his shirt was visibly damp. The younger vampire frowned, grimacing at the strong odor drifting from those garment-smothered pores. At that point, Raiden’s cheeks, already flushed from the heat, darkened further, as if he were mortified by his body’s generous secretion of sweat. Gabriel was mystified by his creator’s unexpected embarrassment. I guess some small part of the human race yet remains in him. The lame part, at least. He sighed, shaking away thoughts of mass destruction and bloodshed. Raiden crossed his arms, the picture of contrariness.
“So are you going to do the line or what? I mean, you’re the one making us practice this crap unnecessarily, so if you don’t even want to read your own shitty script, I’m sure as hell not going to, either,” Raiden muttered, standing up.
A bug of irritation skittered behind Gabriel’s eyes. “Do you always have to insult me?”
“No, but it’s fun.”
The brain-bug burst babies out of its belly, and a million tiny organisms of annoyance swarmed like tiny locusts inside his head. I can’t take this anymore. I have to find someone else to eat. Alone.
“I’m done for the night. I’m tired, I’m hot, and I want to be alone,” Gabriel announced. He avoided eye contact. Somewhere in his peripheral, Raiden made a rapid movement, and the actor perceived tiny droplets of perspiration decorating the air. Upon further inspection, he noticed that Raiden was shirtless and considerably drier than he had been a few seconds ago. Before he could say anything, the older vampire suddenly disappeared, alarming him with his Houdini act. Bemused, he scanned the room with wide eyes, spotting no sign of his maker. Now how the fuck…?
“Are you sure you want me to go?”
Raiden popped onto the bed beside him like Satan’s apparition. Gabriel shrieked, instantly regretting it.
“Shit, I forgot to say ‘boo’!” the singer laughed. He gave Gabriel’s stomach a playful poke. “That would’ve been even more classic. Still, the look on your face was—”
“Will you just leave?” Gabriel interrupted, rudely shoving him off the bed. Raiden had the gall to pout, as if the younger vampire had actually hurt his feelings. As if he actually HAS feelings. Raiden got up slowly, leisurely even, and regarded him; Gabriel realized this was the first time he had gotten a glimpse of him without a shirt. Oh. His mouth went dry. Raiden’s skin was radiant, but not in a living way. Its rosy tinge, attributed to the recent feed, lent him a quality of warm-bloodedness, but Gabriel could spy the coldness beneath. The deadness. Still, he was fascinated by his maker’s pert, pebbled nipples. They look hard enough to bite. His eyes moved up Raiden’s torso, which actually bore more of a resemblance to a lifelike sculpture than to a real person’s body. Though his muscles were small, they were fiercely toned, and the actor could vividly imagine how they must feel, like steel encased in cold satin. He wanted to touch. He wanted to take. He wanted to taste. Which part would I try first? Raiden watched the progress of his gaze with no expression.
“Well, this is a first, trying to kick me out of my own house. Why are you being so bitchy tonight? Didn’t you get enough to eat?”
“Actually, NO. I didn’t.”
“I gave you more than half.” Raiden carefully circled around him like a buzzard, naked from the hips up.
Still very, very naked. Gabriel had a strange, childish urge to flick his nipples and then run away with his shirt and throw it on top of the roof. That would teach him to keep his clothes on. “It doesn’t matter how much you ‘gave’ me. I’m still thirsty,” he responded.
The singer bit his lip, still pacing as he scrutinized Gabriel’s answer.
When Raiden turned his back, the younger vampire spotted a small cross tattooed on his smooth left shoulder blade. Its design was simple, but its blue, red, and green colors had a rare vibrancy that lent it undeniable appeal. How fitting. A vampire with a cross. That must be beyond paradox.
“I knew this was coming,” Raiden announced, spinning around to face him again. Gabriel narrowed his eyes. He decided to disregard his creator’s peculiar tattoo for the moment. “You knew what was coming?”
“This. You. The irritation, the instability, the increase of appetite—”
“Oh, so you can read my mind? You’re a vampire, Raiden, but you’re not a damn psychic.”
“I don’t have to read your mind. The same thing happened to me,” Raiden revealed, breezily shrugging his shoulders.
Gabriel’s mouth disappeared; the line of his lips was sharp enough to stab. “Thanks for heads up.”
“Hey, I didn’t know how it would be for you. Everyone’s different.”
“You could have at least warned me there was a possibility I’d have to take more victims!”
“Would it have mattered?” The singer donned his usual sarcastic half-smile.
Gabriel sprung off the bed, well on the way to completely losing
his shit. “I don’t know! Does anything matter to you? Do you ever stop to think what this is doing to my brain?”
“Why would I care about what’s happening to your brain?” Raiden looked out the window, seemingly unaffected by Gabriel’s tirade. Still, there was visible stress in his shoulders; the muscles beneath his tattoo tensed and flexed, indicating some sort of inner struggle.
The younger vampire suddenly knew why. Slowly, he walked toward Raiden’s turned back, training his eyes on the rigid flesh. “You care because you changed me. I know you didn’t have to do that. In fact, it would have been easier for you to have simply eliminated me. So why didn’t you?”
“I wasn’t in the mood.”
The older vampire attempted to sound dismissive, but Gabriel knew better. He actually feels guilty. He moved even closer, the distance between them closing to a gap of only four feet. “Oh, but you were in the mood to risk your career and everything you’ve built for yourself by ‘saving’ me? I don’t buy it.”
“Call it a really bad decision, then,” Raiden mumbled. He sounded less and less convincing with each step the actor took toward him.
“You don’t mean that.” Gabriel’s fingertips hovered over the middle of his maker’s cross, mere millimeters from the skin. One touch would dissolve into disaster. Still, his fingers itched.
“So, did you get this mark to punish yourself?” He asked, painting patterns into the air just above Raiden’s flesh.
“Punish myself for what?” His voice was even, but his tattooed back rippled into a million goosebumps as Gabriel continued to air-trace his cross.
Noticing Raiden’s questionable state, he pressed closer to him, veins still hot and heavy from the night’s kill. “For your sins, of course. For your inhumanity. All sinners bear a mark. You’re a cold-blooded, calculating murderer who doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything other than preserving his own flailing image. At least, that’s the picture you project. But there’s more, isn’t there? You’re not as tough as you seem, otherwise you never would have attempted to help me survive. I see through your bullshit, Raiden. You’re just as scared as I am, but you’ve had more practice with hiding your fear.”
Raiden turned then, simpering in that same irritating manner that he had grown to hate. The more Gabriel glared at him, the more he grinned. “And you’ve had far too much practice running your mouth. You don’t know a goddamned thing about me.”
“Coward.” Gabriel spat.
“As you wish. But what about you, Gabriel? What about the lives you’ve taken? How will you choose to wear your mark? Perhaps a Pac-Man watch would suit you best.”
He winced, abruptly close to tears. The terrible, guilty memory of his first victim fired all its available ammunition into his heart, and he gasped for air. The watch. That stupid fucking watch. He was just a kid.
All the rage and fear and lust he had been holding inside exploded; without even thinking, he head-butted him, knocking their skulls together with a sickening crack. Raiden’s cool composure wavered; though his back was still turned, Gabriel could sense the anger jumping out of his face. Snarling, the older vampire started to face him, about to grab his wrists in an attempt to restrain him. This time, though, he anticipated his maker’s movements before he could complete them. Lightning-quick, the fledgling vampire grabbed Raiden’s arms, crossed them behind his back, and shoved him against the wall with a resounding thud. The singer struggled; then, Gabriel brought his arms tightly together, effectively dislocating his shoulder. A cry of pain filled the actor’s ears, but he coldly dismissed it. He wanted Raiden to suffer.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?”
Incredibly, Raiden managed to smirk, despite the agony Gabriel was inflicting upon him. “You’re catching on rather quickly.”
“I have no choice, remember? You’re the one who told me that.”
“But you still have so much more to learn,” Raiden chuckled almost paternally, momentarily distracting Gabriel with his erratic behavior.
Two seconds later, the younger vampire was on the floor, struggling to gain back his breath. Glancing downward, his creator regarded him with amusement. Then, without warning, he popped his shoulder back into place, only wincing for an instant. Gabriel couldn’t repress a shudder, even though he was still smarting from the blow Raiden had delivered. Dazed, he shook his head, the anger temporarily knocked out of him. He couldn’t believe that the older vampire had bested him yet again, especially at the peak of his own short-lived victory.
“How the fuck did you do that?”
“Put your money where your mouth is and figure it out,” Raiden retorted. He grabbed his crotch as if to say, I win! Suck it, bitch! Gabriel rolled his eyes, too humiliated by defeat to remember his rage. His ability to breathe magically returned.
“I’m sure you’d like to put something else in my mouth.”
“Yeah, a gag.”
“Don’t forget the blindfold,” he shot back, unable to help himself. Raiden smiled gently, ruffling his hair too quickly for Gabriel to stop him. The actor was positively baffled by this surge of affection. Then again, the singer’s very presence baffled him.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, my Brie.”
Gabriel sneered, secretly enjoying the oddly charming nickname his maker had bestowed upon him. “I’m not yours.”
“You’re more mine than anyone else’s.” Bending down, he put his mouth on Gabriel’s ear, licking his earlobe just the tiniest bit. Gabriel inhaled his scent, a heady musk of slick, steamy skin and sinful sweat. Instantly, he hardened.
“Don’t do anything stupid without me,” Raiden whispered, nipping his ear with sharp teeth, sending the tiniest trickle of blood down his neck. Then he left, only pausing to pick up his shirt, never looking back.
Gabriel threw himself onto the bed, shivering, throes of desire coiling inside him. He drives me to the limit, that creature. To the absolute fucking limit. A wicked idea popped into his head. Furtively, he looked out the window, making sure the car was gone, even though his acute hearing informed him loud and clear that the other vampire had departed at least five minutes ago. Even so, he wanted to be certain. Raiden was a tricky little bastard. When he had confirmed for absolute certain that there was no trace of his creator, Gabriel quickly disrobed. Now, he had plenty of time to contemplate how it would feel to fully explore the singer’s damp, iced-tinged heat.
Of their own volition, his nails indented the tawny surface of his skin. Without hesitating, Gabriel split open his wrists from the bottom of his hand to the inside of his elbow, moaning at the sudden flood of scarlet dripping from his arm onto the squeaky clean sheets. How will you choose to wear your mark? Raiden’s question echoed in his head. This is a start. Again, he punctured the shell of his skin. No matter how deeply he cut, or how many times, his raw tissue would heal itself within minutes, itching dreadfully as the flesh rapidly knit together. Fascinated yet aghast at his foray into self-mutilation, he moved the cutting to his legs, making deep gashes and patterns and intricate designs; however, they all disappeared within a matter of minutes. His body was a buzzing pile of pain, yet still he continued, smearing the crimson fluid around like some sort of warped finger-painting. The smell of blood finally got to him; possessed, he lapped it up whence it poured, growing hotter and more desperate with each swipe of the tongue.
It was easy to imagine his blood was that of another. So easy, in fact, that he allowed himself to indulge in a pent-up flight of the imagination. In his mind, he would hover over Raiden’s passive, unclothed figure, agonizing over which spot he wanted to taste first. The different pulse points on his body would sing to him, playing their separate melodies and rhythms, calling to his ears like the Lorelei, powerful and potentially fatal. One could get lost in the maze of arteries and veins lurking below the deceptively innocent-looking pale skin. If one were human. Eyes slipping shut, Gabriel settled into the bed, not caring about the mess of blood he might have to explain later. His hands, sheathed in gore,
wandered to the inside of his thigh. The fantasy intensified, and he lost himself in it.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
HOLY SHIT. Gabriel was so shocked, he couldn’t even move. He tried to talk, but some devilish voice-box fairy had apparently replaced his baritone with a squeak. Raiden was in the doorway, hands on his hips—watching him. The stunned actor didn’t dare check to see where his eyes were focused. Something tells me they’re not looking at my face. His massive hard-on slapped against his stomach as he sat up. No use trying to hide it now.
“Getting off,” Gabriel harshly answered, rediscovering his vocal chords at last.
“Well, can you get the fuck OFF my bed!?!” Raiden shouted. He threw his arms around in a warding-off gesture, which gave him the appearance of a pinwheel-armed midget-demon. Had Gabriel not been so enraged by the singer’s disquieting interruption of his self-love session, he would have surely laughed.
“It’s my bed now. I live here, not you. I can do whatever the fuck I fancy, wherever the fuck I fancy to do it!”
Gabriel felt his control slip further away than he could handle. Instantly, he crawled across the bed, not giving a good goddamn about his state of undress, or the blood still pooling on the sheets. His sole focus was Raiden, the blithe bastard who had stolen his life. Lunging, the younger vampire barreled into him, knocking them both to the floor, pinioning Raiden flat on his back. Surprisingly enough, Raiden didn’t even attempt to fight back, or to release himself from the actor’s grasp. Gabriel bared his teeth menacingly, incisors shooting downward, close to touching Raiden’s neck.
“There’s something I should tell you before you decide to do something really stupid,” Raiden declared. He didn’t show a bit of worry as Gabriel drew closer and closer to his pulsing vein.
“You can’t stop me,” Gabriel scowled, unconsciously rubbing his cock back and forth against Raiden’s leg. He smiled genuinely, a sight that both unnerved and angered the horny vampire.