Black Market Blood Page 4

  “Morning, Artie,” Chaz said in greeting.

  “Morning.” She glanced up from her computer and then down the hall. She raised her hands with a forlorn sigh. “Chip. You’re getting my floor all wet. We just cleaned.”

  Right. The lake. Chaz mumbled his apologies as he removed his shoes and socks. Rebecca said she’d take them to the laundry facility.

  “There. Much better,” Artie said. “We can add the cleaning service to your tab. Maybe we can even launder your pants while you’re here. Shouldn’t walk around like that.”

  “I won’t get sick….” Chaz was about to argue further, then realized Artie was telling him not for his health but for decorum. It was rude to be in wet pants and track water through the foyer. He mumbled another apology.

  “It’s all right. We understand you’re busy and this is where you come to unwind. So who—or what—can I do for you today?”

  Chaz peeked around the counter at the fridge of blood and felt his hunger shoot through him. “I’d like a bag and… is Trinity working?”

  “He is. But as Tom today and I think he’s busy.” Artie tapped something into her computer before she nodded. “Yes, busy.”

  “When will he be done?” Chaz asked.

  After tracking down Fatima in Artie’s house, Chaz had realized she was a vampire and therefore unable to give him blood; vamp to vamp transfers didn’t quench the hunger and often tasted foul. Fatima had introduced him to the blood-bank fridge, filled to the brim with many different creatures’ blood that would satisfy. The black-market blood Artie dealt was always taken from the staff, so the types often switched or rotated. You could elect to have the blood donor with you for the drinking or opt to have it alone. Some clients preferred to be alone because some creatures’ blood—like from elementals—could get humans high. Chaz always liked company and the sex that often followed feeding, and after a couple rotations, soon found that Trinity, a gender-fluid witch, was his favorite worker. They were known as Trinity in their neutral form, Trina in feminine, and Tom in masculine. When she was Trina, she had blonde hair, pink lips, and a deep throaty laugh that came out often, making her the perfect wife Chaz would never have. As Tom, he was rougher around the edges, with dark hair, a smoker’s cough, and tattoos up and down his arms. Tom was still a good lay—Chaz had had Trinity in all their forms—but he preferred Trina, through and through.

  “Maybe in an hour or two?” Artie said. “But I think he wants to stay as Tom for the night. I can give you his blood, though, and you can meet with one of our available workers, if you’d like?”

  “Oh, okay. That sounds fine.” When Chaz remembered the stark gray eyes of the man from the party, he wondered if he was lucky enough to find him again. “Do you have someone here named Michael?”

  “Several. Who were you looking for? The fairy, the werewolf, or the human?”

  “Human, I guess.” Chaz was so used to the treasure trove of creatures at the house that the thought of the man being a human never crossed his mind. “Does he go by Sully? If he does, then it’s definitely him.”

  “That he does. Have you had him before?”

  “No, but I met him at a party.”

  “Right. We had a couple women and men out at the conference. It was at the cop bar on Langston, so I should have figured you’d run into each other.” Artie glanced down at her computer screen and typed in a couple more commands.

  When Artie pursed her lips, Chaz’s heart sank. Was Sully busy? He’d probably worked all night, so Chaz could understand.

  “Sorry, sweetheart. I think he’s—”

  “It’s okay.” Chaz slid Artie his credit card and badge. “I’ll just drink this in one of the empty rooms.”

  “You sure?”

  “Not a big deal.” Chaz turned around, about to head toward the red stairs that led up into the rooming area, when he saw the familiar flash of gray eyes.

  “Oh. You.” Sully’s shock remained on his face for only two seconds. He folded his arms across his chest and smiled. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

  “I’m… usually with Trinity.”

  “Oh, Tom’s busy.”

  “I know. Artie told me.”

  Sully nodded and considered Chaz for quite some time. Sully no longer wore the suit jacket but still had on the same band T-shirt. His hair was messy, as if he’d spent the night on his back. Which was probably true. Chaz didn’t like that even thinking about Sully with other people got him hard. Is it because he looks like Nat? And you know what Nat looks like when he comes? The image of Nat’s mouth twisted in bliss, while enough to bring Chaz off with only three strokes, also tinged him with sadness.

  “Well,” Sully said, bringing Chaz back to the current moment. “If that’s the case, would you like to hang out with me?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Come on. You have blood, I see. And you’re a cop. So I’m really curious about what this arrangement is. If you want company tonight, you should let me take you to my room where you can tell me some stories.”

  “Really? You haven’t worked too hard?”

  “I always work hard,” Sully said, voice alluring. “But you seem like a nice guy. If you’re free, so am I.”

  Chaz considered this. It was always so, so much nicer to drink around someone. He glanced down into the foyer and noticed Artie typing in his credit card information. “Well, seems like it’s already decided.”

  Sully linked his arm with Chaz’s. “Good. Follow me, Chip, and I’ll show you whatever you want.”

  Sully’s room was on the fourth floor, practically the attic. He talked about the house’s history as they walked up the stairs, though it all went in one ear and out the other for Chaz, who had heard some of it before from Fatima. Sully waved at other workers Chaz didn’t recognize, and he felt foolish for still not knowing half of them in spite of coming here for years. He wondered how long Sully had been here, and how long he’d missed out on seeing him.

  When Sully opened the door to his room, his tenor changed to something more formal and less gregarious. “You can sit on the bed. I think you know the rules here?”

  Chaz nodded, but Sully still elaborated. “No breaking the skin, no bondage without a safeword, no exchange of fluids like blood that’s not sanctioned beforehand and cleanly removed. I’m happy to sit with you while you drink blood, but I won’t drink it or get high even if you do. We always use protection the first night, even if we can’t transmit diseases. Good?”

  “Good. But you forgot one.”

  “Oh?”

  “No cops, unless they hand over badge numbers.”

  “Right. Well. I don’t usually service cops.”

  The word “service” still made Chaz flinch at how clinical it was, and it sometimes made him defensive about his own practices. “Then what was with the party last night?”

  “I was with the conference people,” Sully explained as he shut the door. “I know the medical examiner, but I wasn’t servicing anyone on that side of the room. At least until now.”

  “Ah, I see.” Chaz eased into the bed, which was barely more than a futon propped up in the corner and with several books stacked around it. The mattress was soft and the sheets were clean, which was standard at Artie’s. Chaz had never been to a room this high in the house—Trinity was popular and usually worked on the second floor—so he took some time to assess the area. The floor was hardwood with several Turkish rugs near the bookshelves. And there were a lot of bookshelves. Trinity had wardrobe after wardrobe filled with clothing for all parts of their personality, but Sully had turned his space into a veritable Library of Alexandria. A small desk with papers stacked on top of it was to the right of the doorway, while his closet with big mirrored doors was tucked across from the futon.

  “Do you want me to put that in a glass for you?” Sully asked, motioning to the bag of blood.

  “Oh no, no thank you. Is it weird that I just kind of drink it as is, with the straw she gives out?”

 
“Like a Capri Sun bag? A little weird, yeah, but also kind of cute.”

  Chaz never thought of it that way before. He’d been so hungry when he first showed up here, he’d pretty much grabbed the blood from Artie and devoured it right there. She lectured him about decorum and told him to at least use the straw and get a room. So he had. And now, it seemed like too much of a bother to get a glass.

  Chaz turned the bag over in his hand. Trinity’s initials were signed off on the side. Artie always tried to give him his first choice, but for once, his excitement over Trinity was tempered.

  “Do you ever give?” Chaz asked as he unwrapped the straw.

  “Yeah, sometimes. I’m usually the person who draws it, though.”

  “Yeah? So you’re trained in first aid?”

  “Ages ago, but yes. Sure.” Sully watched carefully as Chaz sucked back some of the blood, his brows furrowed. Chaz sighed as the blood hit his tongue and then coursed through his system.

  “Good, huh?”

  “Yeah. Much needed after today.”

  “Parties can be real bummers.” Sully inched closer to Chaz and then slid an arm around him. When Chaz grew rigid under his touch, Sully pulled away. “Should I wait until you’re done?”

  “Maybe. Probably a good idea. I tend to feel ravenous until it’s all over.”

  “Good to know your boundaries. Not many guys do in here, so I respect it.”

  As Chaz drank, Sully’s gaze cast over him. It was as if Sully were undoing Chaz’s clothing with his eyes alone. Chaz drained the bag in a matter of seconds, the warmth of his meal running through him.

  “All done?”

  “Yeah. Just give me two seconds.”

  Sully made a small noise of comprehension. He took the empty bag and tossed it into his trash bin, which had a lid on top. Three seconds passed—not even—before Sully stood and started to undress. Chaz swallowed and nearly choked.

  Sully grinned. He removed his shirt and tossed it into a hamper. His fingers toyed around his belt coyly as he took it off. When he stepped out of his pants, he cast them aside before running his hands along the outline of his cock in his black boxer briefs. Chaz could tell he was hard already, thick and long. About the same length as Chaz. The idea of rubbing their cocks together sent a jolt of electricity through him. Mixed with his sudden euphoria over the meal, Chaz was so horny he could burst.

  “Fuck,” he muttered.

  Sully bit his bottom lip and trailed his hands over the waistband of his underwear. “Would you like to finish undressing me?”

  “Yeah.”

  Yet Chaz didn’t move. He couldn’t take his eyes off Sully’s pale skin, which seemed almost translucent over his rib cage. He was thin, but not so much there wouldn’t be enough to grab on his thighs, hips, and ass. Sully waited in front of him, eyes wide and eager. Gray eyes like Nat. Beautiful.

  “Fuck.” Chaz rose to his feet, hands still inches away from Sully’s body, marveling at him as if he was a statue. “Are you sure you don’t have a brother or something? You look so similar to someone I used to know.”

  “Nope. No siblings.”

  “You sure? Not even half?”

  “Nope. Enough about me. I want to know how a cop like you becomes a vampire.”

  Chaz froze. There were a lot of reasons people drank blood and most people at Artie’s didn’t have to disclose why they did, as long as they abided by the rules around it. So how did Sully know just like that?

  “Calm down.” Sully linked hands with Chaz, pulling them both down onto the bed. “It’s pretty easy for me to tell who’s what because I’ve been doing this for a while. Someone who drinks to drink looks different than those who want to get high. You don’t want to be high. Plus you’re a cop, which means that something shitty happened to you to make you depend on us and effectively risk your career every time you come in. So that only leaves a few options, and vamp is the obvious one to me. But not to everyone. You don’t have a sign that declares it, if that’s what has you scared.”

  “I don’t?”

  “No. You seem to have your teeth and sun-sickness under control, and those are the most obvious giveaways. Your mouth isn’t even full of cuts.”

  Chaz touched his cheek. “It was. You know, at the beginning when I was teething.”

  “Always is. But it’s not now, and trust me, the first thing that happens to most people who walk through Artie’s door is that they’re given a quick scan to spot sores and supernatural signs. You have nothing that makes you seem even remotely out of the ordinary. So good job.”

  “I… don’t know if that’s an accomplishment.”

  “Haven’t you heard? Normal is the latest style, especially in The City of Monsters,” Sully said casually. After a moment of silent deliberation, he added, “So tell me. How does a cop like you become a vamp?”

  “It’s more like the other way around.”

  “Oh. So you’ve always been a vamp?”

  “Not always, no. But since I was fifteen.”

  “And you somehow managed to keep that secret and join the force? Or have they started letting supernaturals in?”

  “The City of Monsters will stay that way until we can remove all traces of monstrosity from our thoughts and actions,” Chaz repeated the line from Jack’s speech dully. “I’m normal. My files all say I’m normal.”

  Sully squinted as he assessed this new bit of information. In spite of Chaz’s rapid heartbeat and the flush under his skin, he knew he was safe here. Fatima had promised it years ago, and he still felt it now. You can’t do this alone. Before he found out about Artie’s house, Chaz had been wandering around and stealing from blood banks when he could. Too many bad deals had made him sick and too vulnerable. It had only been after he found Artie that he’d been able to make detective. His life could be divided in two that way: half was a cop obsessed with preservation and order, who did his job extremely well, and the other half was a hungry fiend who needed to drink in order to survive and to stave off loneliness with someone like Trinity, who could give him the touch of both a man and a woman.

  Except this wasn’t Trinity with him right now. It was Sully, and he was still trying to fill in all the blanks—most likely to cover his own ass if something were to go down.

  “I’m not going to bite you or turn you,” Chaz said. “I’d never do that to someone.”

  Sully seemed to want to add because someone did that to you, but he didn’t say a thing. Instead, he grabbed the elastic of his boxers and shimmied them down lower on his hips. He ran his thumbs over his jutting hipbones in invitation. Dark pubic hair was visible above the elastic band, so different from the light-colored hair on his head. Dark hair also gathered under his arms and between his nipples to form a trail to his navel. How did Chaz not notice this before? The disparities between Nat’s and Sully’s bodies became readily apparent, and those differences only made Chaz want Sully more. His hunger changed from bloodlust to desire. He grew thick in his pants and longed for everything. He wanted to swallow Sully whole, if only to better taste him and understand his life history—as if a kiss could transmit something so potent.

  “I’m sure you have so many stories about the police force,” Sully said. “Maybe you’ll tell me one time.”

  “Maybe. Sure.”

  “But for now, you never finished undressing me. Is it better if I do it for you? I’m almost there….”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Chaz murmured. “Everything.”

  “Everything?” Sully asked, mirth in his voice. “I don’t think we have time for that. But I’ll take care of you.”

  Sully removed his hands from his precarious hold over his boxer briefs and looped them around Chaz’s neck. Their lips met in a strong kiss, Sully’s tongue parting Chaz’s lips instantly. Sully tasted sweet—better and richer than the cake the previous evening. He was honeysuckle and spring rain, but as he shifted and sat in Chaz’s lap, he was also the smell of autumn leaves.

  And Chaz believed every word he�
��d said.

  Sully ground their hips together with urgency, nipping and sucking on Chaz’s lips, then neck. He trailed his hand down Chaz’s back and over the front of his collared shirt, undoing each button with the skill of someone who did this for a living.

  It’s his job, his job, Chaz told himself again and again. He knows how to do this because he practices. Not because he knows you.

  When Sully reached Chaz’s pants and sank between his legs, all rational thoughts left Chaz. Sully cupped his crotch and coaxed his already hard cock into a wet mess of precome. Chaz leaked through his boxers before he could undo and strip away his belt and pants. Once they were removed, Sully made small moans of approval as he admired Chaz’s cock and got protection from a drawer by his bed. He ran his thumb along the shaft, crown, and took the drop of precome onto his thumb. He wet his thumb and brought it back down gently over Chaz’s slit.

  “Fuck,” Chaz said. His shirt was undone but still hanging on his shoulders. He braced his hands behind his back. He blinked as Sully’s thumb dragged more precome from his cock and wet the area again. His dick throbbed under so much attention. Chaz thought he’d come before Sully even put his mouth on him. With quick precision, Sully unwrapped the condom and slid it down Chaz, squeezing him tightly as he did. The condoms were house standard and thinner than anything Chaz had come across before; the sensation was still like skin-to-skin—or skin-to-mouth—contact. Sully discarded his black boxer briefs and he crouched back in between Chaz’s legs, now completely naked. Chaz wanted to tell Sully to get up and spin around so Chaz could see all of him.

  Then he noticed the mirror. The closet door was closed, and offered a perfect reflection of Sully’s naked form. The notches of his spine were visible and so was his round, white, and perfect ass. Chaz wanted to reach out and touch it, but he couldn’t. Chaz’s reflection was there too, a sheen of sweat around his forehead making him glow. The mirror was a movie screen playing back every last detail as it happened, so Chaz could live it twice.