Long Black Cadillac Page 18

  “A whole minute, huh?” The wheels were churning in Vance’s head; he could see them—something about sneaking down there and playing soldier, getting close. Right, like Vance had even healed from the fucking gunshot wound, much less learned to control his eyes or his fangs in a dangerous situation.

  “They’ll be ready for us no matter what. Man, I wish we had the Caddy.” That sumbitch was like a tank.

  Vance’s eyes lit up, shining at him from across the darkness. “Yeah, well, we went through Fort Jackson about an hour before we landed here, man. Did I ever tell you that I worked vice?”

  “No….” Oh Lord. Good Lord and butter. But it might just work. It might just. “Okay, baby. I’m with you all the way.”

  Vance leaned forward, kissed him hard enough that his lip split. “Cool. Let’s go play.”

  “You got it, honey. Let’s do it.” It was crazy. Insane. And he couldn’t wait for Remy to see them coming.

  The crazy little Cajun would love it.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  GRYPHON MIGHT have gone completely mad if it were not for Remy. The sun beat at the roof of the warehouse building they hid in, and all day long they heard men shouting, working, building up stacks of scrap for nighttime fires.

  Remy slept off and on, waking every so often to mumble about being thirsty or hungry. Gryphon would give him small sips of blood in his sleep, and soon enough Remy had stopped complaining and started vibrating with energy.

  It was rather cute.

  “You’re going to bounce us off our perch, sweet.”

  “You the one that be feeding me the good stuff.” The more hyped-up his sweet became, the heavier that accent sounded.

  “Well, I cannot go draw you a nice cold cup of water, can I?” He grinned against Remy’s throat, tongue just coming out to taste.

  “Nah, and I ain’t seein’ a bit of corn liquor for us, wicked Douce. Not that I need me none. No, sir.” Remy’s chin lifted, throat working.

  “Yes, well eventually you will need real food and water.” Moaning a bit, Gryph licked at the salt of Remy’s sweat, luxuriating in the scent of him.

  “You. I ain’t never knowed nothing like you, Douce.”

  “Not even your Clay?” That warmed him deep down, made him happy. Somehow this strange little man had worked close to him, inside him.

  “Not even the boss. He’s family. This… this ain’t family.”

  “No. No, this is something else entirely, sweet. Not at all familial.” He had to take a kiss. Just one. Remy’s fingers tangled in his hair, the one kiss turning into two, three. Four. Remy stole his breath, had him gasping. So sweet. So incredibly giving. What a love. Gryphon wanted more and more, wanted to take Remy away and just fuck and suck until they were both exhausted.

  Remy groaned, nodded, eyes wide. “Please.”

  Had Remy heard him?

  Impossible. But perhaps. Yes, love. Yes.

  Remy’s eyes widened, stared at him. “Lord, Lord. Tell me again.”

  “Tell you what, sweet? How I adore you? How I want to take you with me?” He did. Too badly.

  “Yeah. Yeah, shit, if we’re gonna die here, it’s good to know you feel for me, Douce.”

  “We will not die here.” No. They would get out somehow. Gryphon admitted he had been lazy of late, but he was a vampire. Surely he could take a few humans.

  “No? Well, that’s good. I ain’t fond of here. And you and me, we ain’t never danced or nothing.”

  “We need to have dinner out, hmm? Perhaps take a walk late at night in the bayou.” There were a thousand things he could do with Remy. Once the sun set.

  Remy beamed at him. “Yeah. Yeah, I could do that.”

  The rush of sheer joy made Gryph moan.

  “Good. Good.” His prick rose under the power of Remy’s thoughts, despite the heat and the sounds of activity outside. Remy reached down, fingers wrapped around his prick, sliding nice and easy. Oh. God, yes. His spine threatened to snap, he arched so hard. “Remy. More, sweet. More. I need….”

  “Uh-huh.” Remy slid down, baring his cock, lips open and close.

  Gryph took the moment to be selfish, pushing up to that hot little mouth, begging with his body. He wanted. Now. Remy gave, lips wrapping around his prick, the heat sinking down, spreading right over him.

  “Remy!” He tried not to shout, not to give away their position, but it became difficult indeed. Glancing down, watching Remy take him in…. It was more erotic than anything he’d ever seen. Those dark eyes stared at him, Remy wanting him, hungry for him. Admiring him. He stroked that bushy hair, thumb sliding down Remy’s cheek. The pads of his fingers landed next to Remy’s mouth, along with his prick. Remy’s hunger flared, his fingers licked and sucked, the pretty mouth working him.

  “More, sweet. Please.” He had become one giant ball of need. His whole body ached with it, the danger inherent in the situation making it all the more urgent.

  “Mm-hmm.” Remy sucked harder, eyes rolling with it, throat working around the tip of his prick.

  Grunting, Gryph let his hips roll, let his prick slide in and out between those amazing lips. God in heaven.

  Fingers wrapped around his balls, tugging and pulling, rolling them gently. His brain tried to leave his body, his balls drawing up tight, his belly like a board. One more thrust, one more tight seal of Remy’s lips and he was shooting, seed pouring from him.

  His Remy drank him down, pulling out one aftershock after another.

  Petting Remy’s hair, Gryph sank back, shaking a bit. How he’d needed that. “Remy? What do you need, sweet?”

  “You.” The tip of his prick was given a soft, gentle kiss, then a heated little lick.

  “Mmmm.” Stretching under the sweet attention, Gryph smiled down. “How do you want me?”

  “However I can get you is a wrong answer, Douce?”

  “There is no wrong answer,” he replied. “I just want to make you feel good.”

  “Then come on and do it, Douce. I want bad.”

  “Oh God, yes.” He could give Remy some preparation, couldn’t he? He pressed two fingers to Remy’s mouth again. “Get me wet.”

  Remy grinned around his fingers, nipping the tips and making him groan.

  “Teasing boy. I shall make you feel so good. Love….” His hips were rolling again, his prick hard as diamonds. Ah, the recovery time of a teenager. One of the advantages to eternal boredom.

  Of course, Remy seemed the very cure to his boredom, with the sweet dark eyes and rumpled curls and thirst for life. Thirst. Oh God, he would have to watch that. He let Remy suck his fingers only a short while longer, unable to wait. Then he pulled them free and yanked Remy up, pressing against that hot crease, right down to the tiny hole.

  “Mmm. That’s it, Douce. Fill me up, now.” Remy’s lips were hot as flames on his throat.

  “I will. So deep.” There. Hot. Sweet. He gave Remy all the time and patience he could. It was not much.

  Fortunately his sweet Cajun needed him more than preparation, the tiny hole stretching for him. Gryph settled himself between Remy’s thighs, moaning happily at the heat. His cock pushed where his fingers had just been, rubbing hard.

  “You look like the kitty that licked the cream, Douce, you sure do.”

  “No, I just have my sweet Remy.” His eyes tried to fall closed, his head bobbing, his lips finding Remy’s for a deep kiss.

  Remy’s ass squeezed him tight, that tongue sliding against his, caressing him. Grunting, Gryph began to move, sliding in until he could not tell where he ended and Remy began. Good. Hot. Perfect.

  Fingers traced his face, his eyes, the corner of his mouth. Drowning. This was like drowning. They rocked, both of them grunting and panting, his hands finding a bruising grip on Remy’s hips. More. Harder. Deeper. Remy bit his bottom lip hard enough to sting, making him jerk and bear down, slamming into that tight hole.

  His fangs descended, the sharp tips poking at Remy’s lip, tearing his own, mingling their b
lood. Remy’s eyes went wide, the muscles surrounding his cock squeezing tight. Gryph bit down a little harder, really letting Remy taste him, taste them. He needed everything. Couldn’t take much more. It made his head spin.

  The cry rang out in his lips, in that kiss, and heat spread over his belly. Gryphon shot so hard he saw stars, so deep that he could feel Remy’s heartbeat. God in heaven, he’d needed that.

  Remy’s laughter tickled his lips, body jerking around his cock.

  He pinched. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “Yep. Laughing at us, Douce. We’s funny men, us two.”

  “We are, hmm? I’ll just call it happy.” Stuck in some odd building on a compound where the owner wanted people like him dead, but happy nonetheless.

  “Yeah. Now we just need happy and not dead, huh?”

  “That’s it, sweet. We need to figure out how to do just that.” Surely they could. They were resourceful types. They just had to wait for dark. And make a plan.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “HOLD ON, man.” Vance cocked the hammer on the shotgun and set it on the dashboard. Man, they didn’t make vehicles like these old military-issue Hummers anymore. He hadn’t hotwired a car in altogether too long. Fuck, he was having fun. It was going to be worth dying to fuck this carefully organized crapshoot up.

  “Holding, honey. For dear life. You’re insane, you know that, right?” Clay sounded fucking jazzed, though. So there.

  “Would you believe you’re not the first man to tell me that?” He stood on the gas pedal and killed the lights, the two of them crashing through the underbrush like a couple of fools from that Deliverance movie.

  “I would. Believe me, honey. I would.” Clay laughed when they went airborne for a moment, whomping back down to the ground.

  “Remember what I told you, now. We’re going to cause as much trouble as we can, then we’re going to find Remy and finish the job, huh?” It was either going to work spectacularly or they were all gonna die. Either way worked.

  “I remember, boss.” Lord, Clay could do a fine impression of Remy. He really could.

  “Don’t make me pull this car over and spank your ass, now.” He chuckled, ducked a low-hanging branch.

  “Oh, baby boy. Promise.” The damned fool man was just laughing like a loon. Vance couldn’t blame him. This was a hell of a rush.

  They hit the top of the hill, and he reached out, squeezed Clay’s knee. “It was worth it, man. No matter what.”

  “Every fucking minute, honey. You know it.” Clay leaned forward, watching, anticipation in every line of his body.

  “Yeah. Let’s go rescue the Cajun.” They hit the little chicken-wire fence going about eighty, wire and hay and men just going flying as they barreled into the center of the camp.

  They bounced, rocked, and the look on the one guy’s face as the front bumper took him out gave Vance a savage sort of satisfaction. Clay let out a whoop and opened fire, taking out more guards.

  They didn’t have long, not fucking long at all, because the fuckers were swarming like ants, the bullets beginning to whiz by. “Okay, lover. That’s your cue. You find them. I’ll park this bitch and be on your heels.”

  “You don’t get yourself done in, you got it?” Clay took off like a shot, an unholy Rebel yell coming out of his mouth. That boy could move.

  Vance steered right for the second biggest tent, knowing that the biggest was a fake, that the Colonel was there, waiting for him to fuck up. He crashed through, standing on the brake as a shitload of itchy damned canvas came down on his ass. Hello, boys.

  The scene degenerated into mass chaos. Men were shouting, running everywhere. Bullets rained toward him, but as he moved into the mess that was left of the tent, they tapered off. No one wanted to hit the Colonel. Him, on the other hand, he wanted it, bad. He waded through hell, tearing and growling, the scent of fury and fear sudden and strong, almost delicious.

  “Goddamn it, are you all worthless? Get him!” The good Colonel was scrambling back, face bloodied, the scent of copper coming off him just maddening.

  “You wanted me something awful before, boss? Why not now?” A bullet hit him in the chest, the fire and tear fucking familiar now, making him stumble a bit. “Have to…. Have to try harder, man.”

  Fuck, he hoped Clay had Remy.

  Another bullet hit him, making him grunt, making him remember what Clay had said. “When in doubt, baby, grab someone and feed like a motherfucker.”

  Yeah. Yeah, Clay. He lurched forward, teeth bared, intending to rip that motherfucker’s throat out. He barely saw the flash of metal, but he felt the gush of liquid heat on his stomach. The Colonel grinned at him. “I might not be able to kill you, monster, but I can leave you to the sun.”

  “Shit, man. Whatever you did to me, whatever you filled me with. I ain’t… I ain’t the fucking monster.”

  “No, son. You’re exactly what you’ve always been.” The rheumy eyes stared out at him, cold and all lizard-brain. “Bait.”

  Vance went down to his knees. “Yeah. Yeah. You didn’t think… didn’t think I’d bring the monster home, though….”

  He found a tent pole, fingers gripping it hard. Just a little bit closer.

  “There are always mistakes in the beginning of a war, son.”

  “Yeah.” Fuck, shit was getting gray around the edges, his jeans soaked through. They were running out of fucking time here. Get to the hearse, Clay. Y’all get there. I’ll follow.

  If he could.

  The Colonel threw his head back to holler for reinforcements, and Vance staggered to his feet, blinking over at the gray blob. “Time to finish this up, boss. Time to write my big check.”

  The tent pole slid, nice and easy, catching the Colonel in the shoulder and pinning his fat ass to the ground. Vance stood a second, staring down, swaying. “You were right, boss. I’m nothing but bait. Here, kitty, kitty.”

  He turned to run, meeting a line of wide-eyed jackasses in fatigues, rifles in hand. He grinned, hand sliding down into his wet jeans to where the detonator was.

  “I tell you, guys. Things are fixing to get incredibly fun.”

  He hit the button, hoping to hell he could run far enough that the explosion didn’t tear him in two.

  He wasn’t sure there was enough blood to fix that.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  CLAY RAN, getting his bearings, zigzagging to avoid getting shot. The damned bonfires made him feel like a sitting duck, made him feel like he had a giant finger sign pointing right at him.

  He listened for Remy, tried hard to get a bearing on his little Cajun, but the man just wasn’t there. Oh, he was alive, but there wasn’t a hint of a mental connection. Damn it. Switching tactics, he went on vamp instinct, trying to figure out where Gryphon might have holed up for a day or so.

  That gave him more love. Not only did he see a big warehouse-type building that hadn’t been torn to pieces like the others, but was more… slumped in. He caught a whisper of something. Someone. Another vampire. Like a Spidey sense or something.

  It wasn’t Vance. He couldn’t think about Vance. Not now.

  He moved in, legs churning, and as soon as he came through the big double door, it was like an eerie quiet descended. No one was shooting at him now.

  “Remy! Remy, goddamn it. Are you in here?”

  “Boss! Boss, you gotta get the door open! We’re stuck!”

  Oh fuck yes.

  He knew now, he could hear Remy’s heartbeat. Gryph must be keeping Remy strong if he couldn’t get the man out. After racing up to the loft, he started digging into the damned fallout, trying to get them out fast. They were working with him, scrabbling, tugging sounds coming through. Come on. Come on, boys.

  There. An opening. Hot damn. Clay dug at it, blood running off his fingers. They needed to go. Needed to. He could feel Vance screaming.

  Remy’s face appeared, looking buzzed as fuck. “Boss. Hey. You found me.”

  “Hey, babe.” Oh fuck, it was good
to see Remy. He yanked down the rest of the debris, pulling that rangy body into his arms.

  Remy hugged him tight, just vibrating, filled with energy. “Gotta get Douce, now. He’s been good to me.”

  “Don’t worry, babe. I won’t leave him behind.” He took a kiss, tasting Gryphon on Remy’s lips. Surprisingly, there was no rage. Just acceptance. “Let me get your man.”

  Gryphon reached for him just as a wave of worry hit him, the edges of regret making him panic. He could hear Vance. Get to the hearse. Run. Run. Run.

  “Shit. Time to go. Come on, man, come on. You can have a snack on the way out.”

  Gryph nodded and shot out of that damned hole, staggering like a drunk, but upright. The explosion knocked them all to their knees, the trees catching fire, the ground shaking with it.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Boss. What the fuck’d you do?”

  “Come on. We got to get to the car.” Jesus, that crazy fucking man. He was alive. Clay knew he was. Well. Vance was a vamp. But still.

  “Boo? Boo’s in there?” Remy just stared at him, swaying on hands and knees.

  “He’ll be with us when we go, Rem. Come on.” Gryph couldn’t lift Remy, so Clay did it, slinging that small form over his shoulders and clambering down.

  Gryphon took the lead, attacking a man and drinking him dry, moving stronger, heading for the hearse. That was it. That was what Vance needed to do. Feed, baby, he thought. Come back to me. Remy clung to him, and he knew he had to keep going out, not in. It was the hardest fucking thing he’d ever done.

  The flames licked at them as they ran, so fucking hot his skin felt like it was crackling. Bacon. He was gonna burn up like bacon. Then they shot out of the fire, the cool night air shocking, making him shiver. “Rem! You burnt?”

  Remy was silent, just still as shit on his shoulder.

  Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He stopped just short of the hearse, easing Remy to the ground, desperately checking for a pulse.