Page 1 of Blood Match

Prologue

Darick

The beat of the music pounds in a way that feels like it’s humming through me, the steady bass thumping with a rhythm that might match my heartbeat – if I had one.

“You know that won’t quench your thirst.” Marcus flicks an amused look at me before turning dark eyes back to the dancefloor, scanning the writhing mass of bodies there.

I trace my finger around the rim of the glass, savoring the coolness against my skin. “It’s not about thirst, Marcus. It’s about the memories.”

“Memories.” Marcus gives a snort. “Since when did you get sentimental?”

I swirl the crimson liquid in my glass, its rich bouquet wafting up and bringing with it a flood of memories. The Château Lafite Rothschild 1869 – a vintage that takes me back to simpler days when the thrill of the hunt still quickened my pulse.

“You don’t have to be sentimental to appreciate old times.” I dip my head and inhale deeply. Berries, cedar, and a hint of worn leather…a rush of images plays through my mind.

“Cut the crap, Darick. You’re getting soft in your old age.” Marcus grins at me. I reward him with a level stare. “At least pretend to drink it, or you’ll scare the humans.”

“It’s their job to be afraid.” I run a look around the cavernous room beyond the curtained entrance of our VIP alcove. The club buzzes with life, a throb that would once have set my killer instincts aflame. Now, it’s just background noise to the tedium of eternity.

“Speaking of thirst,” Marcus redirects the topic, nodding toward a group of women eyeing us eagerly. “Plenty of willing donors tonight.”

“There always are.” I follow his gaze, noting the familiar blend of desire and fear in their eyes. “Help yourself,” I say, my tone bored. “I’ve had my fill of such fleeting pleasures.”

“Such fleeting pleasures?” Marcus chuckles. “You sound like a dusty old bastard, Darick. Where’s that Viking spirit?”

“Buried beneath centuries of repetition,” I reply, setting down the untouched wine. “Don’t you ever tire of it all?”

Before he can answer, a statuesque blonde saunters over, her clinging black dress leaving little to the imagination. “I’m Candy,” she purrs, tilting her head to expose her neck. “Care for a taste?”

I regard her with cool detachment while Marcus grins appreciatively. “Perhaps later, pretty,” he tells her. My friend here needs some immoral support.” He turns to me. “Unless you’d like something else in that glass? Perhaps a drop of…” he leans toward the woman and breathes in deeply, “A-positive?”

I scowl and give the girl a dismissive wave of my hand. Candy slinks away, disappointment evident in her posture; I can’t help but sigh. “Remember when the chase meant something, Marcus? When we were gods among men, not celebrity attractions in a neon-lit zoo?”

“What’s wrong with being an attraction?” My friend and advisor rests back against the soft leather of the booth seat, extending heavily muscled arms along the backrest on either side of him.

I glare at Marcus, my irritation rising. “What’s the point of all this? We’re relics in a world that’s moved on.”

Marcus shrugs, utterly unfazed by my mood. “You’re just hangry, old friend.”

“I’m what?” I snap, baffled by the term.

“Hangry. Hungry and angry. It’s a human thing.” He smirks. “When did you last feed?” He’s scrutinizing me.

“That’s irrelevant,” I dismiss with a wave of my hand. “I’ve had little appetite lately, but it’s not important. Vampires my age can go months without feeding.”

“I think it’s been too long,” Marcus presses.

Before I can respond, yet another woman approaches our alcove. She’s stunning – alabaster skin, raven hair cascading down her back, blue eyes that shine with fear and excitement. There was a time when she might have caught my interest. Now, she’s just another face in the crowd.

“Hey…” Her voice is husky as she homes in on me. She licks full lips that match the crimson of her dress. “I’ve been…um…watching you all night.”

Keeping my eyes on her, I reach for my glass and lift it to my lips, taking in a breath and letting the blend of aromas filter into my mouth. If I focus very carefully, I can just about taste it.

When I don’t reply, she licks her lips again and pushes out her chest. I suspect she’s unaccustomed to not getting attention. I suspect she doesn’t like it.

“So, I was wondering if…maybe you’re thirsty?” She looks at my glass and then into my eyes.

“I’m fine.”

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