Ivan:A Vampire's Thirst(2)

By: Marissa Farrar


Ivan sighed and glanced around, uncertain of how to progress. He wasn’t sure what he thought he’d find here at the club—Michaela herself, perhaps, or even a forwarding address. All he knew was he didn’t have anything else to go on, and that realisation made him wonder exactly how much he’d known about the half-wolf. He’d thought he’d cared about her enough to push Nikolai into doing business with her father, but now he’d seen how Nikolai was with his Bloodmate, everything he’d shared with Michaela seemed so superficial. Maybe that was what he was doing here. Maybe he was hoping to share something deeper, or reach into the more intimate recesses of emotion than just sex and blood. Not that there was anything wrong with sex and blood, but now he found he yearned for something more.

He spotted the alleyway which led to the back entrance of the club. He doubted he’d find anything, but something drew him. Using his vampire’s hearing, he tuned in to the area. Yes, he heard movement. Footsteps from inside, and a muffled heartbeat. Not vampire, then? Wolf? He inhaled deeply. Unlike his progeny, Nikolai, he didn’t share the other vampire’s revulsion of the scent of a werewolf. They did have a distinctive scent, however.

Michela was only half wolf, and she’d only ever smelled mostly human to him. He’d fed from her a number of times, and her blood had tasted mostly human, too, but with a faint hint of something muskier, which he assumed was her wolf side. It was an acquired taste, he realised. Had she offered herself up to someone like Nikolai, he’d probably have turned green with disgust.

Returning his thoughts to the present, he took the number of steps needed to bring himself opposite the entrance of the alleyway, and then called upon his vampire’s speed to dart inside and stop beside the rear doors with his back pressed to the red brick wall of the building.

He listened again, hard, trying to place the person. They were headed this way, through the corridors which had once led to the club for exotic dancers, and the werewolf’s den for trafficking those with special blood to ancient vampires prepared to pay a lot of money to own it. The person was human. Who were they, and what were they doing here?

Ivan froze, his breath held as he waited, not wanting to alert the person to his presence. He sensed they were human, but that didn’t mean they were solely human. They might be a witch, with some kind of spell that would alert them to the intrusion, or another kind of supernatural he hadn’t considered. Either way, his senses had gone on high alert.

Footsteps grew closer, the thumping beat of the person’s heart increasing. It had been a while since Ivan had last fed, and at the thought of a pulse thudding beneath skin and fresh blood flooding down his throat, his fangs extended. Ivan frowned and forced them back again. That wasn’t like him. He was over three hundred years old, and he had good control of his bloodlust now. It hadn’t been so easy at first, and he’d often taken more lives than he’d needed, but now he didn’t need to kill. He’d feed from those who were willing, or from blood banks, not from random strangers he hadn’t even seen yet.

The door beside him cracked open, and Ivan lunged into movement. Catching the new arrival by the front of his t-shirt, he yanked him through the open doorway and out into the alley. Before the man had even had the chance to yell in surprise, Ivan had used his vampire’s strength to lift him and shove him up against the wall. He held him high, so the man’s feet didn’t even touch the ground. Not that it mattered if they did. This human was no match for his strength. He wouldn’t be going anywhere until Ivan got what he wanted.

He could compel this human to tell him what he needed to know if he wanted, but he didn’t think there would be any need. From the fear in the young man’s eyes, he’d spill everything quickly enough.

“I’m looking for the daughter of the werewolf who used to run this club. Where is she?”

His eyes were wide, showing the whites, the pupils flicking back and forth as though he was searching for an escape. “Daughter?”

“Yes. Michaela. You know her. Everyone who worked here knew her.”

He nodded frantically. “Yes, yes. Michaela. I know her.”