West Bloomfield, Michigan
“I love your music,” spoke a sudden voice in slightly
accented yet otherwise flawless English.
Startled, Raiden almost dropped his cigarette, but his sharp reflexes kicked in before it could happen. He squinted up at the source of the voice and saw a tall man impeccably dressed in Chinese silk and leather. Aviator-style sunglasses obscured the upper part of his face. Alcoholic fumes fairly radiated from his flesh.
Raiden could not keep his nose from wrinkling just the slightest bit. Damn these vampiric senses.
The man put his hands on the table. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I recognize you. You’re Raiden-san, the lead singer of Scent.”
Raiden nodded, sipping his drink as he desperately wracked his brain for a way to end the dialogue before it went any further. All I wanted was some peace and quiet, and now I have to deal with this weirdo groupie.
“I’m Gabriel Colin, from Mesmerized,” the actor said in his deep voice. “I don’t expect you to know my work—”
“Of course, I know your work. It’s nice to meet you,” Raiden swiftly interjected. He extended his hand and forced a smile.
Oh, right. He’s that shitty French-Canadian actor who made it big on TV. God only knows why.
Once, Raiden had tried watching Mesmerized to see what all the hype was about. After five minutes of being subjected to extreme close-ups of Gabriel’s good-looking, though often tear-stained face, he aimed the remote at his flat-screen TV and fired, mourning the loss of the precious seconds he had wasted. Maudlin garbage.
He suppressed a chuckle. Gabriel goggled at him and returned his handshake with exaggerated force, slightly swaying on his feet. He’s three sheets to the wind. So much for composure.
Gabriel was still holding his hand. Swiftly, Raiden withdrew it and fired up another cigarette.
“Beautiful,” the actor murmured. He tilted his head to the side to study Raiden’s face. Though Raiden was used to this sort of blatant admiration, it was rather disconcerting for someone as famous as Gabriel Colin to administer it.
“Raiden-san, may I join you?” Gabriel took off his sunglasses in a practiced, polished manner. His emerald-colored, contact-coated eyes twinkled. He slicked back his chin-length auburn hair and flashed his trademark megawatt smile.
Raiden again fought the urge to burst out laughing. He hesitated before answering Gabriel’s question, voices warring within him.
Blow him off. Then he’ll see what a jerk you really are and leave you alone.
This party is more boring than a Catholic Mass. If you let him sit down, maybe no one else will bother you.
Raiden gestured to the chair across from him. “Be my guest.”
He pretended not to notice the actor’s obvious relief as he took a seat.
Gabriel leaned on his elbows. “Raiden-san, I’ve really been anticipating our inevitable introduction.” He set his Ray-Bans on the table with a calculated clink. Tossing his hair, he bit his suspiciously full bottom lip.
Raiden stilled the urge to roll his eyes. “Oh?”
“Technically, we’ve met before—I saw you backstage at the Morning Madness radio show the other week. You remember?”
“Not quite.”
“Anyway, I’ve really been looking forward to making your acquaintance without the barrier of distance. I’ve longed for the opportunity to sit down with you for a tête-à-tête.” Gabriel leaned forward and stared into Raiden’s eyes.
“Well, I’m really not all that interesting.” Raiden gave a dismissive wave. He decided that Gabriel must be genuinely tipsy in order to shower him with such unabashed attention. Maybe he’s just hard-up for me. That wouldn’t be surprising. He hid a wry smile behind a deep drag of his diminishing cigarette.
Undeterred, Gabriel pulled his chair closer. “Trust me, you’re interesting. I don’t waste my time with boring people.”
Surprised by the actor’s straightforward response, Raiden tittered. “Is that so?”
“Yes. I’ve admired you for quite some time, for both the quality of your artistry and your natural magnetism,” Gabriel gushed.
Raiden decided to put a swift, brutal end to this unwanted flattery. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
“Eh? I’m not quite sure I grasp your meaning, Raiden-san.”
“It must be disappointing for you to meet me in person, since the image to which you’ve grown accustomed is merely my stage persona.” Raiden stubbed out his cigarette with a curt twist of the wrist.
Gabriel widened his eyes to theatrical proportions. In that moment, he looked more like a cartoon frog than a highly prized TV sex symbol. He stared at Raiden, then threw back his head and burst into hearty cackles.
“Raiden-san, forgive me for saying so, but that is perfectly ridiculous! You’re even more captivating in person.” He pretended to wipe mirthful tears from the corners of his eyes.
Against his will, Raiden snorted. The bastard sure knows how to kiss ass.
Their eyes met. Gabriel caught his lower lip between his teeth and smiled hopefully. Alarmed, Raiden cursed himself for having made the mistake of allowing the actor to join him. It seemed the man’s proximity had somehow broken through the first barrier of his defenses. His alarm softened, however, when Gabriel launched headfirst into a conversation about music, seemingly unaware of the damage he had inflicted upon Raiden’s resistance to his presence.
As they talked, Raiden tried to ignore the fragrances that triggered his thirst. The combination of alcohol and ardent conversation coaxed Gabriel’s blood closer to the surface of his skin, warming it to a temperature that made Raiden’s mouth water. To top it off, the actor had applied a generous amount of potent cologne, its scent perfectly complimenting the delectable perfume of wine-laced blood emanating from his epidermis.
It was a heady combination. Raiden focused intently on the topic of their conversation, currently the downward spiraling of American pop culture, in an effort to ignore the bloodlust pulsing through every part of his body—one part in particular. He grimaced, and delicately shifted positions. Unfortunately, the aroma of blood never failed to arouse him.
Gabriel placed his hand on Raiden’s knee. “Raiden-san, please accompany me to dinner this week.”
Raiden could not properly process this request, as the hunger consuming him had already sent his sensory overload into maximum overdrive. He was prepared to answer the question of why he had a boner. He was prepared to be asked why he was hiding it. Hell, he was even prepared for the actor to proposition him. This seemingly innocent proposal, however, caught him totally off-guard.
“Raiden-san, is something the matter?”
“I’m afraid I can’t have dinner with you, Gabriel. Mr. Colin, I mean. Sorry. Yeah, I’m really busy all week, and all next week, too.”
Disconcertingly, Gabriel’s hand stayed on his knee. Raiden was tempted to move away but feared exposing his arousal. Clenching his toes in frustration, he remained rooted to the spot. A light sheen of sweat bathed his upper lip.
“No need to apologize, Raiden-san. I would actually prefer it if you simply called me Gabriel.” He squeezed Raiden’s knee. “And about dinner . . . I understand that you have a busy schedule—as do I—but I am willing to compromise my own hectic life in order to meet with you again.” Gabriel cast a furtive glance around the room before continuing. “You see, there is something of great importance I wish to discuss with you. A sort of project. I understand this may be a terrible inconvenience to you, given your impending tour, but I truly believe we would both benefit from a second meeting.”
Deciding he had experienced enough torture for one night, Raiden extricated himself from Gabriel’s grasp. He placed his jacket conveniently in front of the bulge in his pants and prepared to leave. Taro would probably give him hell for failing to wait for Baza’s eventual reappearance, but at present he could not care less. All he could think about was his next meal. Spending time with Gabriel had accelerated his desire to feed. If he failed to leave now, things might get ugly later.
Raiden forced a smile as Gabriel stared up at him with panicked eyes. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Colin—Gabriel. Although I’ve enjoyed talking with you, I’m completely exhausted. Jet-lag and all. It was great to meet you, though.”
Gabriel quickly rose from his seat. He towered over Raiden and attempted to block his path of flight. Raiden tried not to squirm as the actor’s arm brushed his neck.
“I understand you need your rest, Raiden-san. However, I feel it would be remiss not to exchange numbers. It seems fate has brought us together.”
Gabriel brandished his business card with a flourish. “I’ve written my personal cell number at the bottom. Please use it.”
To shut him up, Raiden grudgingly surrendered his own card and tucked the actor’s into his pocket.
“Have a good night, Gabriel.”
“You have a better one. I anticipate our next encounter.”
Raiden brushed past him, grinning in relief as he made his way to the door.
“Raiden-san? I have a request,” Gabriel’s voice called to him.
Shaking with aggravation, Raiden turned around.
“What is it?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“May I please just call you Raiden and drop the ‘-san’? Such familiarity between us would complete the first cycle of our bonding,” was the actor’s dreamy reply.
“Sure, Gabriel, whatever. Bye now.”
He whirled around and rushed toward the door, heedless of his hasty retreat. He had to create as much space as possible between himself and Gabriel Colin. Clearly, the guy was off his rocker. Raiden dissolved into silent guffaws. Pushing the door open, he inhaled the night breeze with an overwhelming sense of relief. All too soon, however, he remembered his hunger. Jacket slung over one shoulder, the vampire blended into the night, stalking the streets for his next victim.
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