Chapter 3: Alastair （Axl）

Chapter

Three

ALASTAIR (AXL)

H aving dressed in my own clothes, which have been cleaned and still remain warm from the fire, I watch Alexandros fasten his cufflinks. The three women we spent the past night and day with do not seem to bear any ill will toward either of us for any of the depraved things we did, and they were legion. Nor do they bear any physical signs of having been bitten repeatedly. In fact, they look upon us both, but especially him, with nothing but unbridled adoration.

“When will you be back, my lord?” Kira asks, her dark eyelashes fluttering against her rosy cheeks. The brunette he seems to favor most kneels on the bed, naked and seemingly unbothered about her undressed state in front of me and the other two women. She flashes a coy smile at me before redirecting her attention to him.

He grabs her chin in his hand. “At first light, perhaps. Young Alastair and I have a few things to take care of before we leave for America.”

I tilt my head, sure I misheard. “America?” I don’t know much of the world outside England, but I do know that America is on the other side of it and that it takes six weeks by ship to reach.

He arches an eyebrow at me. “We have much to discuss. Come.” He grabs his coat and heads for the door, leaving the women sighing over his departure and me hurrying to catch up with him. However, it does not escape my attention that I move much more swiftly than I did… I have no idea how many days have passed since I first met this stranger, for I am sure I was unconscious for much more than a single rising of the sun.

He opens the door of the guest house, and cold night air immediately whips at my face, but I don’t feel the bitter chill as harshly as usual. And I don’t feel any stiffness in my muscles from having spent the last eight hours fucking. I roll my neck until it cracks, so much unease creeping into my bones that a shudder runs down my spine.

I know this man saved my life. What was it he offered me? Death or salvation? And obviously I chose the latter, but that doesn’t mean I’m beholden to him in any way. Except, deep down, I know that’s exactly what it means.

He steps out into the busy street, and I follow. “America?” I ask once more.

Without glancing at me, he nods. “We have passage on a ship in two days.”

“But…” So many questions tumble over themselves in my head, begging to be asked, but I have no idea which is the most pertinent.

“I am aware that you have many questions, Alastair. So ask them,” he says, his tone as brusque as his manner.

“What if I don’t want to go to America?”

“What is left for you here?”

I purse my lips. He has a point. My parents hate me as much as I hate them. I have few friends, at least none that can be counted upon. And I prefer it like that. I keep my acquaintances casual for a reason. Everything is much easier that way. If nobody gets close, then nobody can hurt you.

“Where are you from?”

He glances sideways at me, but his face is unreadable, and I’m unable to tell if he’s annoyed by my question. “America.”

“I mean originally. Your accent is…”

“Greek.” He snaps his reply.

I suck on my top teeth and continue following him through the dark streets, unaware of what his intentions are for this night. “Where are we going?”

He gives me his full attention now. “I thought perhaps you would want to see young Lynette before we left.” His lips curve ever so slightly.

My cock stiffens at the memory of Lynette’s supple body and the feral whimpers I tore from her, but that’s as far as my affection for her goes. “Not particularly.”

He laughs, but there’s no amusement in it. Instead, it’s a dark and dangerous sound that makes me shiver. “An acquaintance of mine informed me that one of the duke’s men escaped. He has been talking to the duke of a man with the strength of ten, teeth like razors, and claws like knives.” He inspects his fingers, and I do the same. His neatly trimmed fingernails contradict the last of those claims, but I can attest to him possessing both of the former.

“So we are …?”

“We are going to put an end to the spreading of such notions, Alastair.” He gives me his full attention. “And then I shall answer all of your remaining questions.”

I swallow the trepidation that forces its way up my gullet, and with no other choice, I continue with him on his quest to find the duke and his loose-tongued foot soldier.

We arrive at the duke’s house much quicker than I anticipated. Alexandros walks at the same pace most men run at full speed, and tonight I kept up with him with minimal effort. He guides me around to the servant’s entrance, and we manage to slip inside unnoticed.

My ears prick up at the unmistakable sound of Lynette’s whimpers, but these are not the ones familiar to my ears. They aren’t filled with pleasure. No, these are something else entirely.

Alexandros walks down the hallway and motions with his head for me to follow before stopping outside a door that I assume leads to the parlor.

“What in God’s name—” The approaching guard’s voice is cut off by Alexandros’s hand squeezing his windpipe. He gives a quick flick of his wrist, and I hear a distinct snapping sound. A second later, the man drops to the floor. My canine teeth protract into fangs, the unfamiliar ache forcing me to cradle my jaw with my palm.

“You may sate your bloodlust in full anon,” Alexandros says, his voice calm and steady. “For now, remain alert.”

“I did n-not.” Lynette’s cries ring out from behind the closed door.

Alexandros barges into the room. The two men standing guard near the doorway approach us, and before I can even blink, he has ripped out one’s throat with his teeth while he hoists the other in the air by his shirt collar as though the man were as light as a feather.

Lynette screams, dragging all my attention to her and her torn skirts and mottled skin. My little peach, all bruised and battered. The duke towers over her, shaking with fury and indignation before his attention is directed to the commotion in the doorway. Alexandros has his teeth embedded in the second guard’s gullet now, and the beast caged within me growls and shakes to get out.

The scent of blood in the air has me licking my lips, desperate for a taste. When Alexandros tosses the man toward me, it takes me not a second to catch him in my grasp and sink my fangs into the tender flesh of his throat. Relief and bone-deep satisfaction flow through me as a crimson river of his blood rolls down my gullet. I suck hard and fast until his heart slows to an eventual stop.

It’s only another piercing scream that catches my attention, forcing me to tear my teeth from his skin. I look up at where Lynette is clutching her skirts and cowering beside the fireplace as Alexandros holds the duke up in the air by his neck.

“Where is your footman?” he asks, his voice so cool and entirely at odds with the way he shakes the duke like a ragdoll.

“Wh-what footman?” The duke splutters, his face turning a deeper shade of purple with each passing second.

“The one who told you of the man with the claws like knives.” He squeezes the duke’s throat tighter. “Do these feel like knives to you?” He lets out a dark laugh and repeats his question. “Where is he?”

The duke’s eyes travel to the body at my feet. “That was he.”

Alexandros hums softly, licking his lips like he’s contemplating what to do next. He releases his victim, and the duke curls into a ball and whimpers like a dying dog—no, he is more akin to a rat. “It seems we only have two witnesses left to tell of the awful deeds of this man with the strength of ten then, do we not?” he asks, his eyes raking over Lynette.

“I won’t say a word. I promise.” She shakes her head, and a fresh stream of blood trickles from her mouth. My muscles tense, my body ready to launch itself at her and feast, but Alexandros holds out a hand, and I immediately still. It’s as though I am wired to obey him.

He crouches down, coming face to face with her. Ignoring the sniveling duke, Alexandros curls a lock of her hair between his fingers. “And why would I believe you, little Lynette?” he asks, his voice deep and smooth now, like the richest dark treacle. So paradoxically soothing even as everything else about the man drips with dangerous intent.

She stares into his eyes. “You saved my life. He was going to…” She looks past him until her dark eyes lock on mine, pleading with me. “Alastair, tell him I can be trusted.”

Alexandros turns to me, a wicked smirk dancing on his lips. “You are counting on Alastair here to plead your case, child? He who had so little humanity in him even before I made him what he is now?” He flicks his tongue over his bottom lip and glares at me, awaiting my response.

But my head is spinning with so many questions. What does he mean? What has he made me? My curiosity is outweighed only by my hunger. That thirst for blood which grows stronger and more urgent with each passing second. Until it is the only thing I can think about and feel. All-consuming. Hot and fierce and demanding.

I grind the heels of my palms into my eyes and roar, “What have you done to me?!” Tears, unbidden, streak down my cheeks, and my chest heaves with every painful breath I take.

Within a split second, he is standing before me, his hot breath ruffling my hair. “I gave you salvation, Alastair. Power.” He dips his head close, and his breath, sweet with the scent of blood, dusts over my ear. “I gave you immortality.”

Dropping my hands from my face, I stare at him, and the fiery dark coals of his eyes draw me in until I’m falling into their abyss. The raging beast inside me is soothed for a moment, and I take the opportunity to suck in a breath.

“You must feed, Alastair.” He glances behind him at Lynette and the duke. Two hearts beating fast, tempting me with the delicious ambrosia pumping through their veins. “But choose wisely, for your beast must be fully sated this night.”

I glance at Lynette, her pretty face a mass of swirling purple and violet now, the dark bruise slithering down to her neck where it splinters like fingers. Blood continues to leak from her mouth, dripping down to her collarbone. Sweet, sweet Lynette. My eyes drift lower. Her heaving bosom peeks out from her torn corset. Her skirts, shredded enough to reveal more violent purple marks marring the pale flesh of her thighs. She would surely be sweeter than the duke.

The duke. Still cowering on the floor like the fat, bloated weasel that he is. I sniff the air. His blood smells appealing enough, although I am sure any would right now. And he is twice her size, his veins and arteries longer and thicker than hers. He lifts his head from his curled position and blinks at me. “I will give you money. A title. Whatever you desire. Alastair?” He says my name on a plea.

How long have I coveted such things. The true wealth of a gentleman. Along with chasing women, that has been my life’s single ambition. To one day return to my father’s home with all the trappings of a wealthy London gentleman and prove to him and my rotten excuse for a mother that I am worthy. That I am someone.

Duke Welsby reaches out his hand. Pleading. There’s a second when he seems sure that he has broken through to me. Sure that I would give anything for what he offers. But I cannot see past the disdain on his face on all the occasions I met him previously. When he looked down upon me as though I were nothing.

With a strength I did not know I possessed, I brush Alexandros aside and lunge for the duke, lifting him into the air by the back of his shirt.

“Alastair, unhand me. Ple—” His protests are cut off by a hoarse gurgling sound when I snap my teeth into his gullet and rip out a chunk of his flesh. Rich, coppery, intoxicating blood gushes from the open wound, and I drink it up like a starving animal, letting not a single drop go to waste. Instinctively, he struggles for a moment; however, his strength is no match for my newfound might. It takes but maybe a minute for his corpulent body to go lax.

I drop to the floor with him, falling to my knees and cradling him in my arms while I feast. Even after his heart stops beating, I continue to feed. Blood no longer pumps through his body, and I am forced to bite deeper and harder, drawing all of his sweet nectar to my mouth.

Once again, Lynette’s scream pulls me from my trance. I look up to see her in the arms of Alexandros and let out a feral growl as I lick the residual blood from my lips. He holds her close to him, her back to his chest as she trembles.

My beast has taken all he can from Edmund, but he is still not entirely sated. “I can make her forget, Alastair,” Alexandros says, dusting his teeth over her neck. “One bite and she will recall nothing of this night.”

My eye twitches. She will still have the bruises and the marks. She will wake here in the duke’s house with him and his dead footmen.

“We can return her to her bed.”

Tears roll down her pretty cheeks, and I step closer. Her blue eyes plead with me for mercy. Am I capable of such an act? Is he right? Do I have any humanity left within me? Did I ever have any? Not for a very long time. Not since the only soul on this earth whom I ever loved took it with him when he was slain at the hands of our cruel father. I close my eyes and see Frederik’s straw-blond hair and bright blue eyes. If I concentrate, I can sometimes recall the sound of his laughter. How it would fill my ears, brightening my world on the darkest of days.

“Alastair,” she pleads once more.

Before I can think, I find my hand wrapped around her slender neck and my fangs in the tender flesh there. Sweet, sweet Lynette. She tastes as good as I remember.

I sit on Lynette’s bed, fascinated as I watch her sleep. “How does she have no marks? No bites or bruises?”

Alexandros draws in a breath through his nose. “You recall when I told you to cut your tongue with your fangs when you were feeding on her?”

The heady rush of drinking her blood a few hours ago comes flooding back to me, lighting up my veins with fire and ecstasy. Feeding on her was different from the duke and even the women from Alexandros’s bed. It was much less… frenzied. Driven by desire rather than hunger, and it was a high like I’ve never experienced before. I was too far gone to ask him why he gave me such a command and simply obeyed. “I remember.”

“Our saliva is enough to heal bite marks, but our blood…” He sucks on his top lip. “Our blood can heal all kinds of wounds. If we are going to make Lynette forget her ordeal, then it seemed pertinent to heal the wounds sustained from the duke and his men.”

Her pretty pink lips are open, and her soft, steady breaths fill the room. “So she won’t recall any of it?”

“Nothing from the last four days. I have given the same courtesy to her father. So nobody will recall you two being together on the night we met.”

I focus all of my attention on him. “How do you do that? Make them forget so much?”

He offers a casual shrug. “It is a gift.”

Everything that’s happened since I met this man has me more confused than a chicken in a pond. “It’s been four days since I met you?”

He nods.

Fuck! I knew some time had passed, but I had no idea I’d lost three full days of my life. I have no idea who or what I am now. For someone who only ever wanted to be somebody , it’s unnerving to be nobody.

Alexandros stands in front of me, his knees touching mine. “You can be whomever you want to be, Alastair Thorne.”

How did he…? It doesn’t matter. It’s simply another question with an answer I have no doubt I will learn in time. “I don’t want to be Alastair.” I’ve always hated that name.

He hums softly. “Then who do you want to be?”

Who I have always wanted to be. “Someone unique. Different. Someone whose name will never be forgotten.”

His eyes narrow on my face, and he stares at me intently for a moment. Assessing me. “Axl.”

Axl? I have never heard the word spoken as a name. But it fits me well, as though I’m trying on a custom-tailored coat. I nod. “I like it.”

“Then you shall henceforth be Axl Thorne.”

“And you? Surely you don’t actually expect me to call you master. Or sire. I mean, I don’t even call my father sir.”

He rocks his head from side to side. “That is because you do not respect your father, Axl.”

He has me there. “True, but still.”

He sucks on his lip the way I’ve already learned he does when he’s thinking. “You may call me Professor.”

Well, I didn’t expect that for a second, but it’s a better alternative than sire. “You’re a professor?”

“Yes. At a prestigious university in America.”

Ah, America. One of the other many elephants in the room. “And you expect me to come with you?”

He turns on his heel and walks out the door without answering me, and once again, I’m forced to follow after him.

“So? America?” I ask as soon as we’re outside the house. The rising sun is doing its best to break through the thick smog but isn’t doing a very good job, yet I have no trouble seeing in the failing light. I have come to recognize that all of my senses are heightened.

“Do you want me to leave you behind here, Axl?”

What the hell kind of question is that?

“A simple one,” he replies.

I grab hold of his arm, pulling him to a stop beside me, and the murderous look he gives me makes me wish that I hadn’t. Still, I swallow my nerves and ask. “Can you read my fucking mind?”

He shrugs his arm away. “If you ever touch me again without my permission, I will take your head. Do I make myself clear?”

I have every reason to believe he means that. “Yes.” I take another breath. “But can you?”

He resumes walking. “Yes.”

I roll my eyes and follow after him. “Another gift?” He doesn’t answer me this time. “Do I have any of these gifts ?”

“Perhaps. We shall see.”

God, he is infuriatingly uncommunicative, and I have three million more questions I need answers to.

“You still have not answered my question,” he says, his voice cutting through the cold air like a knife. “Do you want me to leave you behind?”

An unexpected and overwhelming feeling of dread balls in the very pit of my stomach. Sweat beads on my upper lip, and my knees tremble with every step I take. The thought of him leaving me here alone terrifies me. Yet it should not matter to me when I have spent most of my life alone. “No.” I croak out the word.

“Then yes, you shall come to America with me.”

My future is suddenly uncertain and uncharted, and that is both unnerving and exhilarating. Perhaps I will finally become the man I was always meant to be.

You are no longer a man, Axl Thorne . His voice is in my head now, and it doesn’t creep me out as much as it should. It feels like he is meant to be there.

So what am I ?

A vampire.