Page 33 of Taste of Blood

SITTING AROUND THE apartment isn’t going to work for me tonight. I can’t get what Cord did earlier out of my mind.

Why, if he was so adamant about staying away from me, did he take me like that? The strange part about it was, Cord rarely tops. You’d think, with him being the bigger and stronger of us, that wouldn’t be the case, but he’s nearly always deferred to me. Yes, he did take the initiative now and then, but that was maybe one time in ten and usually after I goaded him into it.

Not that I mind. I’m open to anything he wants to do. Is this a new side to him, or was it just something that happened in the heat of the moment?

The sex almost made me forget the reason we went there. Surprisingly, despite knowing what he does for a living, that was the first time I ever saw Cord kill a man. While a part of me was appalled at the violence of the act, I couldn’t deny I was aroused by the raw emotion I saw in him. It was exhilarating.

What does that say about me? I’ve never been one to seek out violence. I’ve had other Clansmen invite me to go with them to the underground fights, and I’ve always begged off, insisting that I’m not into that sort of entertainment.

But am I? Or was it just because it was Cord? I know he fights in the clubs. It used to be a bone of contention with us, though I have to say the sex was always great when he came home from there.

I know Cord has had a dark side, even as a kid, and he’s never been shy about expressing it. It used to get him into trouble all the time when we were young, and was the reason why we were both confined to the halfway house after we aged out of the group home. Him by his actions, and me by association with him.

Maybe it’s a side of him I need to embrace, especially if it results in more acts like the one he initiated earlier.

To that end, I scroll through my phone for the number I want. He answers on the second ring.

“Asher. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Miro Virtanen is an old friend from my early days of working for Carlyle. We still occasionally meet socially, though he tends to be a lot more outgoing than me, definitely exploiting his wealth in a fast and furious lifestyle.

“I’ve got a question for you.”

“I’m an open book,” he replies.

I know for a fact he isn’t lying. It’s a characteristic that has held him back from establishing a successful business of his own, though he’s moved up the ladder to be Carlyle’s number two. “Do you still go to the fights?”

“Of course. Nothing gets the blood going like a little unhinged violence. Why?”

“I was wondering if you were going tonight.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, but I could easily be persuaded.”

“Mind if I tag along?”

He chuckles. “I thought that wasn’t your cup of tea.”

“So did I, but something came up, and well, I might want to explore the option.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up at nine. You still live in the same place?”

“I do.”

“See you then. Oh, and bring some cash.”

“For what?”

“Betting, of course. You want the full experience, don’t you?”

I’m not a betting man, but I decide to defer to Miro since he’s the expert in these things.

♦ ♦ ♦

Miro rolls up outside my building at nine sharp in a black Ferrari. Never let it be said the man is subtle. He roars through the streets, darting in and out of traffic like he’s late for something until he brings us down to a windowless building in a darkened neighborhood near the docks.

The parking lot is jammed with every kind of vehicle imaginable, from rusted out beaters to high-end limousines. Miro finds a parking space on the outside edge of the lot, leaving plenty of room between his and the surrounding cars.

We make our way to the door and I can hear the roar of the crowd before we even get inside. It’s amazing the building doesn’t attract more attention, though I know admittance is confined to vampires only.