Immortal Thirst

Published by Evernight Publishing at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2013 Tyler Robbins

ISBN: 978-1-77130-303-3

Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Editor: Karyn White

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

For Jason Griggs,

With awesome people like Jason in the world, it makes me wonder how much trouble we could have started had we hung out in the same circles back in high school. Just proof that some friends are in our lives for a season and some for a reason!

Thanks for unknowingly encouraging me to write a story with your paranormal tastes in mind. You wanted vampires? Well, you got ‘em, love!

IMMORTAL THIRST

Tyler Robbins

Copyright © 2013

Chapter One

Tristan Deveraux peered through his darkly tinted office window, studying the oblivious crowd below. His energy waned by the second as a growing thirst singed the veins throughout his body, threatening to destroy his last shred of sanity.

He had to feed.

Which of the lucky humans would sate his hunger still remained to be seen. Not just any of the walking, talking blood-banks would do. His needs ran a bit deeper than most, especially considering his preferred way to feed.

Lured into the subterranean club beneath the office building Tristan owned, promised hot music and complimentary party-favors, what more could the human morsels want?

See anything you like, Sire?

Tristan glanced over at Caleb, his only progeny and lover. He ran his finger down the edge of the pretty boy’s jaw, his cock stirring at the thought of those pouty lips and the many talented ways Caleb could please him. The crowd looks rather meager tonight.

Perhaps you should choose two. Caleb offered a cocky smile, causing crescent moon creases to spread across one side of his mouth.

Tristan recognized the mischievous gleam in his lover’s eye. Hoping for leftovers?

An amused chuckle ensued as Caleb served up a two-finger glass of Tristan’s favorite bourbon. Just say the word and I’ll take care of it.

You’re too good to me. Tristan drew Caleb in and kissed him, taking a moment to savor the taste of red wine on his tongue. Squeezing Caleb’s ass, he contemplated having his lover take the edge off now, or wait a while longer for a satisfying treat of a much warmer variety. Don’t go too far. I’ll have some of my needs met tonight one way or another.

Caleb moaned and nipped at Tristan’s bottom lip. As you wish.

When the office door closed behind Caleb, Tristan returned his attention to the meandering buffet.

He’d opened the underground nightclub nearly a year ago, and in the last few months he’d managed to keep the crowds plied with enough alcohol and entertainment that they rarely noticed when one or two went missing.

He didn’t kill them. What would be the fun in that? Instead, he seduced them, fed, and then sent his snacks back out into the big, bad world, none the wiser.

The amazing properties in vampire blood included a euphoria-inducing element which not only clouded the memory, it lowered inhibitions, ensuring everyone left happy and fulfilled. Tristan benefited from his life as a creature of the night in every way imaginable—physically, emotionally, and of course, sexually.

Immortality suited him.

Money posed no problems either. His professional ambitions satisfied decades ago, Tristan now concentrated on worldly pleasures, a gluttonous trait he fortified with each seduction.

Having tasted his fill of strapping young men, and fucked as many as he could, lately his appetite hungered for something more. Perhaps a formidable companion.

One possessing a certain je ne sais quoi he would recognize instantly. With any luck, the man would have an exquisite physique and a tantalizing scent Tristan would find so enticing, he’d be drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He’d be of good breeding, polished, and would absolutely share Tristan’s lust for everything life as a vampire had to offer.

Steadfast in Tristan’s life for several years, Caleb could never be set aside or interchanged for another. Instead, Tristan longed for someone who could give him the things his loyal progeny could not.

Selfish? Perhaps, but until that void could be filled, Tristan’s existence was just that—merely existing.

The cornucopia of young, supple flesh now writhing on the dance-floor held little promise, which weighed heavily on more than just Tristan’s mind, adding to the urgency for blood.

The night would fly by, and soon, dawn would bring hours of discomfort and the empty gnaw in his gut Tristan dreaded. Time between feedings varied depending on the quality of the meal. Athletes gave him a bit more energy and would buy him two or three days before the uneasiness set in.

There’d been a time when it took several drained bodies to sustain him for a single day, but now his hunger was easily controlled. With time, everything improved.

He’d managed as a new vampire, decades ago, simply because his creator had patience and experience. Her lessons were hard learned, but worth it in the end, and eventually, neither worried how he’d manage without her tutelage.

Kathryn Guthrie had saved more than a trapped human boy back then. She’d salvaged what little humanity remained intact after years of being held captive by a callous Nazi sympathizer during World War II. Not an easy task to take on, but one she’d handled with the grace and dignity Tristan had come to treasure in his maker.

She’d also taught him not to hide his desires, but rather embrace them, advice Tristan valued as much as he did the enchanting vampire herself. Those needs would have to be met tonight, or the consequences could prove devastating.

A knock at the door distracted him from the negative thoughts he usually did his best to avoid. Yes?

Caleb eased the door open. Sire. He cleared his throat. "A package has arrived for you."

A package? The teasing smile playing around Caleb’s mouth stoked Tristan’s curiosity. You know what will happen if you’re fucking with me, right? An idle threat, but one Caleb would certainly appreciate.

See for yourself. Caleb stepped aside and gestured toward the hallway.

Tristan held his breath as a shadowy figure darkened the door.

Mr. Deveraux? The man’s deep, sensual tone vibrated throughout the room, instantly hardening Tristan’s cock.

My, my. What do have we here? Tristan glared at Caleb, studying his progeny for a clue as to the nature of the unexpected, though quite intoxicating, intrusion.

Caleb shrugged, backed into the corridor and closed the door, leaving Tristan alone with his handsome caller.

He stood much taller than Tristan’s six foot stance, nicely built with short, dark hair. His bright-green eyes, similar to those of a bewitching feline in some supernatural horror movie, captivated Tristan with a simple glance, and his chiseled jaw only accentuated his striking good looks.

What can I do for you? Tristan reined in his desires, erring instead on the side of caution. It would be a cold day in hell before he’d fall all over himself for a sexy piece of meat.

"Actually, sir, Kathryn Guthrie thought I could be of service to you."

Kathryn? Now, that’s unexpected. Tristan tilted his head, curious as to what his maker intended by sending the unsuspecting man into the heart of Tristan’s lair. Service?

The man nodded. She said your new business venture lacked proper security. His gaze deepened, causing Tristan’s curiosity to grow. And that just so happens to be my specialty.

Tristan eased closer, taking interest in the man’s eyes, his pupils to be more precise. Had he been compelled, or was he there of his own volition? Just what sort of security did she suggest we needed?

May I speak freely, sir? The fascinating visitor perused the room.

Tristan set his empty glass down on the corner of his desk. We’re alone. Say what’s on your mind.

I requested the job, sir. He stood with his legs apart, hands placed behind him as though about to undergo a military inspection. Having worked for her the last several months, I’ve learned a great deal about the needs of your kind.

My kind? Tristan’s curiosity morphed into intrigue. Humph. Not so unsuspecting after all.

First and foremost, I guarantee discretion, as well as providing the necessary safeguards during daylight hours. His eyes held a scrutinizing gaze that seemed to beg for attention in return.

Tristan zeroed in on the pulsing thin blue line coursing along the handsome man’s neck. He licked his lips as the steady beat reverberated in his ears. You barely look old enough to buy beer. Why should I entrust my life and the life of my progeny to you?

Gauge’s lips curled into a rather arrogant smirk. Have you ever heard of a vampire by the name of Cyrus Khalid?

Tristan bristled at the mention of the man who’d murdered his entire human family a lifetime ago, back when the world was a very different place, before his own innocence had been defiled and beaten out of him. What about him?

I’m the man who took his fucking head.

Tristan stepped back, his mind reeling, excitement zinging across his nerve-endings. When? Why hadn’t he heard rumors indicating Cyrus had been killed?

Ten months ago in a village along the Euphrates River.

How?

To the rest of the world, we were on a peace keeping mission to areas in need of supplies, but we were really looking for a ragtag group of hired mercs suspected of arming insurgents hiding in the villages along the river.

The small details didn’t really matter, but Tristan wanted to hear them all the same. What did Khalid have to do with that?

When my SEAL team arrived in the village, we didn’t find insurgents or anyone else. Only bodies, including the women, children and even what little livestock they had. The man swallowed hard, his voice shaky and seeping with raw emotion. It wasn’t long before we figured out who was to blame. There were only a few of them, but they wiped half of us out the first night. Low on already worthless ammunition, we ransacked the houses looking for weapons capable of getting the job done and lucked out when we found an old crate with a couple of machetes inside. I’ll never know why the villagers needed machetes in the middle of a fucking desert, and I don’t really care. I’m just thankful we found them.

Tristan eyed him close. His story, although plausible, left too many questions unanswered. How did you know it was Khalid?

Although rather forthcoming, Tristan noted the man’s expressions varied throughout his description as though his mind had drifted back in time, allowing him to relive each detail, emotions and all, but the soldier still pressed on.

In all the confusion, the few remaining members of my team figured I’d been ripped to shreds like the locals. They had no idea they’d left me behind. I don’t know how I even got out, but by the time I regained consciousness I was back at the base. No one was talking, and they definitely hadn’t told the truth about what happened out there. Less than twenty-four hours later, I had orders to take two civilians to the village for what they referred to as an independent investigation. He placed his arms at his side and squared his shoulders. "I’d prepared for a court-martial, but one of the investigators was Kathryn Guthrie, and she already knew the truth. She positively identified Khalid’s body, or should I say, his head. They burned all the bodies, and the next thing I know, I’m honorably discharged and stateside, working for her."

Tristan allowed the news to sink in, nearly salivating at the notion of Cyrus Khalid’s severed head. God, he would have given anything to have seen that.

He tore his attention from the satisfying thoughts of revenge and ogled the sexy soldier before him. You were fortunate to have met Kathryn. So why not continue working for her?

She told me about your beef with Cyrus. I figured any man who hated the bastard as much as I did just might be the kind of man I could work for.

The reason felt right. Of course, Tristan could easily verify his story with Kathryn. If what the man said was true, Tristan owed him a debt of gratitude, but first, he had to make sure the ex-soldier was up to the challenge. How do you feel about our special dietary needs?

"The blood sucking took a while to get used to, but after procuring shit I can’t even pronounce, in a desert where bullets are more commonplace than eggs, rounding up a