Blood Dragons (Rebel Vampires Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

that sexy little thing as I call it - up and down. It was as if the sensory touch of it could snap you back to me and wake you up to yourself. I’d sprayed it with Chanel No. 5 and now your scent clouded the air at each caress.
    I breathed in deeply - breathed you in - bloody well wanted to devour you.
    My Kathy.
    But you weren’t here this morning.
    Where’d you gone gadding about to again? A point back in your timeline, with me? Or when you were some tyke and I was..?
    All right, the same as I am now, of course. Different coat though.
    You’d have bleeding loved my coat .
    You were so still this morning, corpse-like (and I should know). Your peepers were wide open but there was no response in them. Not a glimmer.
    If you were really dead - not Blood Life and not this living death - but six feet under, worm-food dead, I’d understand, grieve and move into the blackness, which I can see even now on the horizon. But this twilight? One foot in both camps? The body lives on but the mind..?
    It’s like you’re being sucked into an oblivion, which is obliterating everything you are. I’m not going to sodding well let that happen. Not to you. So I remind you, in the only way left to me, when I’m now a stranger in your eyes.
    ‘How about some music, luv?’
    I slipped off the bed, dragging my vinyl collection out from underneath it. I flicked through the jackets: Johnny Kidd and the Pirates, Marty Wilde, Eddie Cochrane, Chuck Berry, The Animals, Them and Billy Fury and THE FOUR JAYS – now that’s my man.
    I bowed “The Sound of Fury” open, holding it against my chest and letting the LP slip first out of its inner sleeve and then slide between my fingers. You never truly appreciated the first wave of rock ‘n’ roll pioneers. Instead, you developed a taste for the wild electric magic of Hendrix and the later anarchy of The Sex Pistols. But this song? It brings back memories of 1968.
    The year we met and the first time we danced.
    The Dansette record player was out of shape but the old girl’s done us good service. I placed the needle down midway: it still played.
    “Since You’ve Been Gone” crackled to life. As soon as the first bluesy piano chords riffed, shivers trembled through me - the same as always.
    When that raw voice started up, with its ravenous caged passion and the hunger under the surface - the one we’d listened to at night under the covers and swayed to in this house, when you’d been young but not innocent - I was suddenly back there… I never wanted to surface: my arms tight around you, your fingers curling in mine… Then the fast, slapped bass kicked in, igniting the song bam .
    I strutted towards you, grasping your hand and swinging it in time to the rhythm.
    Still not a flicker. But maybe deep under the layers, beneath the crust and the magma in that red hot core, you knew.
    Something stirred and all of a sudden, you did .
    Your fingers twitched and then clutched mine. Bloody hell, I could’ve burst and never stopped dancing.
    I laughed. ‘Now you’re getting it.’ A spark in your peepers. Your brow furrowed. Then your back jerked. ‘All right, darlin’; don’t get too excited.’ But now you entire body was thrashing in a paroxysm. I couldn’t tear my hand away without hurting you. Your nails were digging in; blood was dripping onto the white covers, staining them in fat blossoming drops. The core was now awakened, exploding in fiery volcano. ‘It’s me…it’s only… I’m not gonna…’
    Then you screamed - a high-pitched terror - your peepers were wide with it, as you let go of me to claw at them, like you wanted to put them out.
    I trapped your bird-like body under me.
    Christ , what were the carers going to write in their bloody paperwork, when they saw the bruises ?
    ‘You’re all right. You’re safe.’
    But you weren’t seeing me. When did you now?
    You were hallucinating some past horror and thanks to sodding me, you had more real horrors in that beautiful mind