The Baritone’s Rival (The Vampire Impresario #2)

2. Oscar

Chapter 2

Oscar

T he deep bass of the music vibrated Oscar’s insides. His soul wanted him out on the dance floor. The club was filled with beautiful men of all shapes and sizes: tiny pocket gays, muscular twunks, handsome daddies, boys next door, thin or built or curvy. The lasers and party lights reflected off the sheen of their bare skin, turning the place into a rainbow of hot guys. The collective musk pouring off their sweaty bodies simply enhanced the eroticism. It was a male smorgasbord.

Don’t get distracted, Oscar.

Oscar glanced around to see where his coven master was hiding. Hearing Freddie’s gruff British accent in his mind was always unsettling. He couldn’t help but picture Freddie’s square jaw and imposing, muscular figure. He was an intimidating man.

Freddie had only been his master for a year and Oscar was still adapting to the change. Despite his rough exterior, Freddie Grosvenor had shown him more kindness than the old coven master had ever bothered with. Charles Azarian had been an absolute dick, and that was putting it mildly. Oscar was glad he was dead.

I’m paying attention, Oscar responded in his mind.

Paying attention to the men, you mean?

Oscar’s cheeks warmed as he blushed. Hopefully Freddie and the other vamps couldn’t see it through the dark lighting. He had always considered his shamelessness one of his best qualities, but he was still finding his footing in the new coven. Some of the other vampires saw him as irresponsible, as some hedonistic club kid, but it wasn’t true. He was appreciative of everything Freddie and Anthony had done. He just got bored.

They’re on the move.

Oscar tore his eyes away from the feast of guys on display before him and scanned the perimeter. There. Two figures dashing through the door to the emergency stairwell, one of them carrying an unconscious, shirtless man in their arms. They moved faster than any human could perceive.

Oscar wasn’t any human. He wasn’t human at all.

He threaded his way through the crowd, the smells of sweat and sex filling his senses. He arrived at the same time as Freddie and Lillian, Freddie’s First. Lillian always managed to look glamorous somehow, a touch of shimmery highlighter kissing her brown skin. Her long, layered hair and flawless makeup masked a killer instinct.

“Let’s go,” Lillian barked and burst through the door. Oscar followed, with Freddie bringing up the rear. They raced down the uneven concrete stairs. The building was old and the stairwell was in rough shape, crumbling in places, with graffiti-covered walls that flew by as they descended.

They burst out onto an empty side street in the industrial district, where they were greeted by their quarry. Two vampires stood across from them. One was distressingly muscular and had a classic crew cut, as if he’d spent time in the military. The other was tiny, blonde, and lithe. The muscular vamp leaned against a large eighteen-wheeler that was parked by a nearby warehouse, the unconscious human nonchalantly slung over his shoulder. In contrast, the twink stood frozen with his eyes wide and a nervous look on his face.

Oscar knew him. The vamp’s clothes were ragged, and he was gaunt and weak-looking, as if he hadn’t been feeding regularly, but it was definitely him. Justin. He’d clearly been through the mill.

They’d been friends back in the old days of the Azarian Coven. Justin had been turned maybe five years before the two of them met. He was so innocent at the time, but their coven had quickly beaten that out of him. He’d disappeared right before it got really bad. Oscar had been worried about him, but then Charles Azarian was killed. After that, Oscar had focused on staying alive as the coven disintegrated.

Lillian stepped forward, and Freddie fell in behind her. Oscar didn’t move, still lost in his memories.

Oscar. Freddie’s voice sounded inside his mind, dripping with annoyance.

Damn. He rushed to catch up as the Coven Master and his First confronted the two vampires.

“There’s no hunting in New York City,” Lillian said, her fangs peeking out of her mouth as she spoke. “If you need blood, you come to us.”

The small blonde trembled as he spoke. “We didn’t mean?—”

“Shut up, Justin,” the big one growled. His eyes flashed as he spit out his answer to Lillian’s accusation. “Who are you? Does this coven even have a name? Or are you just squatting on Azarian property?”

“We are Coven Grosvenor.” Lillian’s voice was flat and cold. “We are the only coven of New York City.”

“Grosvenor, huh?” The muscular vampire sprayed saliva as he spoke. “Figures a couple of Brits would kill off Charles and try to take over a red-blooded American coven. Listen up. I had an arrangement with the Azarians. I get to hunt the city in exchange for providing extra security.”

“We don’t need extra security.” This time it was Freddie who spoke, his voice low and commanding. “And no one hunts in New York. We have bagged blood enough for any who need it.”

“What kind of sissy wants blood from a bag?”

“If you feed in New York, you feed from a bag.” Freddie’s tone grew deadly. “Otherwise you can leave. Now release the human.”

“Please, Rick?—”

With a growl, the big one picked up Justin by the neck and threw him against a nearby car, smashing the passenger side window. Oscar winced at the sight of Justin’s head, now hanging at an unnatural angle. Rick, if that was his name, had done real damage.

“Justin!” Oscar ran over to the slight man crumpled by the car. The muscular vampire took off, still holding on to his shirtless human, and Lillian pursued him. Freddie turned to Oscar.

“Take him to the covenhouse if you think he can be trusted. I’m going to back up Lillian.”

Oscar nodded, turning to Justin, who was drifting in and out of consciousness.

“Oscar! You’re…you’re alive. I’m so glad!” The small blonde vampire blinked quickly, trying to get his eyes to focus. “Where’s Rick?”

“If you’re talking about the brute, he ran. The coven master went after him.”

“Maybe I’ll be...lucky. Maybe he’ll kill him.”

Oscar reached down, feeling for where Justin’s neck had bent so grotesquely. “I’d say the chances are quite good. Freddie doesn’t cotton to anyone hunting humans in his adopted city.”

“Freddie? You call your coven master Freddie?”

“Well, Coven Master Grosvenor is a mouthful. He prefers Freddie.” Oscar bent down, making hard eye contact with Justin. “I’ll need to straighten the vertebrae in your neck so that your vampire healing can kick in. I’m afraid it’s going to be painful.”

Justin let out a shaky breath, then nodded. “Do it quick.”

Oscar grasped Justin’s head between his hands. This would be awful. It’s not that Oscar was squeamish, but he’d seen enough bloodshed and violence in his last coven to tide him over for the next hundred years.

Setting himself, Oscar breathed in and pulled . There was a loud crack, and Justin let out a strangled scream. Oscar’s stomach clenched at the sound. He grabbed Justin’s hand.

“Come on, deep breaths.”

Justin looked up at him, tears in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, and promptly passed out, slumping forward against Oscar’s chest.

Oscar sighed and lifted Justin into his arms. He’d always been a sweet kid. It hurt Oscar’s heart to see him like this. He would feel better with some rest and a couple of bags of blood.

When Freddie and Lillian returned, Oscar was spread out on a chaise lounge in the large shared space that took up the entire second floor of the covenhouse. Freddie had knocked down the walls that separated the apartments on that level, forming an enormous, long hall. Coven members would meet up there, relaxing together, playing games or watching bad television.

Style-wise, the place was a mass of contradictions. Freddie’s taste in home decor ran to the Victorian, which clashed with the modern architecture of the Upper West Side apartment complex. The lush fabrics and wooden furniture were a strange contrast with the steel and concrete, and Oscar wasn’t certain it worked. That being said, the velvet chaise was incredibly comfortable and almost long enough to contain Oscar’s full height.

If he’d been stretched out, his toes would have dangled off the end, but they were folded up under him as he sipped from a large goblet of dark red wine. He flipped through a men’s fashion magazine.

“You can’t get drunk.” Freddie’s gruff voice held a hint of a tease. “I don’t know why you insist on such an expensive vintage.”

Oscar turned to see Freddie unbuttoning his shirt. It was covered in blood.

“I take it you dealt with Rick?” Oscar sipped his drink.

“He threw the human at us and managed to escape. Lillian took the poor fellow to the ER.”

“Mmm.” Oscar glanced back down at his magazine. The male model was wearing a black tulle top that hung perfectly off his toned frame. Oscar added it to his mental shopping list.

“Nice work tonight.” Freddie pulled on a white tank and sat down next to Oscar. “Your help is appreciated.”

“My pleasure.”

Oscar continued to read, but it was awkward with the coven master sitting there silently next to him. He supposed he should engage. Oscar didn’t care much for hierarchy, and didn’t really think being coven master was all that special, but Freddie had been good enough to allow him to stay in the wake of his old master’s death.

Not only that, but the redheaded Brit was intimidating. Oscar looked up from the magazine.

Freddie smirked. “Fair warning. Anthony is planning to grill you about your love life.”

Oscar scowled. “Tell your mate I’m fine. More than fine. I date hundreds of men a year.”

Freddie shrugged. “Ever since we got married, he’s had his heart set on getting everyone in the coven to settle down.”

Oscar sighed and put down his wine, standing up. “If that’s the case, I’m going back to that club. The guys were hot, and if I leave now, I’ll miss Anthony coming home. It’s bad enough that he’s the coven master’s mate and my voice teacher. I don’t need him playing matchmaker.”

Freddie chuckled. “I don’t think he’ll be that easy to avoid, but go ahead. Have fun. Don’t annoy Lillian when you get back later tonight.”

Yes. Lillian. Oscar may have stumbled in a time or two, smelling like sex and high off the endorphins, and it was always Lillian catching his walk of shame. She sat watch every evening. There were no other vampires to spare for the job. The Grosvenor coven wasn’t even a year old, and Oscar was the only one left from the days when Charles Azarian ran it. They were still building up their security force.

Lillian was meticulous and strict. She didn’t like him. Possibly because of his late night indiscretions. Or more probably because of his tendency to run his mouth.

“I’ll do my best.” Oscar walked to the front door, reaching for the handle when the door opened.

It was Anthony. Oscar held his face still, masking his annoyance. Anthony was a good person and a good teacher, but he always had his fingers in everything. Oscar preferred superficial, less messy personal relationships. Trusting people had not gone well for him in the past.

“Oscar! I was hoping you’d be home.” Anthony smiled widely.

“I was just heading?—”

“Come, sit down with me.” Anthony grabbed Oscar by the arm, pulling him to the small dining room table.

“Anthony, I?—”

“Sit, sit.” Anthony sat as well, studying him with the intensity of a scientific researcher. “Do you want anything to drink? Coffee, tea, blood?”

“I just finished up some wine.”

“Good, good.” Anthony clutched both of his hands. “Now listen, I’ve known you for a year now. You are smart and talented, and obviously very charming, considering the number of guys you hook up with, but you need something in your life to ground you.”

“I’m grounded.” Oscar’s frustration bubbled up inside. He hated being told about himself, as if anyone else would know. None of them had been there when it had gotten bad, none of them had seen. Besides, once people thought they knew you, they started to make assumptions. And demands. “Everyone says so. That I’m grounded. People love to be around me.”

“Oh, no doubt. But you’re as flighty as a horny virgin in a sex dungeon, flitting from harness to cross to spanking bench, unable to decide what he’s going to try first.”

“Really?” Anthony had a tendency to be blunt, but this was ridiculous.

Anthony gestured at the house around them. “We’re building a home. We’d love for you to stay here for the next hundred years. Meanwhile, you should be finding your mate and committing yourself to your singing career.”

“I don’t want a mate.” Oscar frowned. “And I am committed. Just because I don’t spend every second self-flagellating in the practice rooms like Trent Erickson doesn’t mean that I’m not ambitious and determined.”

“The auditions for the Manhattan Lyric Young Artist Program are in a month, and?—”

“I know that. I’ll be prepared. And I’ll get it.” Oscar crossed his arms, stifling the instinct to stomp his foot. “You might not have noticed, but I’m very, very good.”

Anthony sighed. “You need to put down roots. Have an actual relationship, not just one night stands.”

“That is not my way.” Oscar pressed his lips together. Anthony meant well, but Oscar knew his own mind. “Relationships don’t interest me.”

“What does interest you, Oscar?”

Oscar smirked. “Sex and being an opera star. Now if you’ll excuse me, a dance floor full of sweaty daddies awaits me.”

As Oscar stood, the door to the elevator rang. Everyone turned their heads in the direction of the sound. The doors opened to reveal Justin, dazed but looking a bit more like the plucky vamp Oscar remembered.

“Umm, hi.” He gave a little wave.

Freddie, who’d been watching the conversation from the armchair with an amused look, stood. “Justin, how are you feeling?”

“I’m pretty good. The blood bags helped.” An uncertain smile appeared on his face. “I knew Rick was an asshole, but I didn’t expect him to break my neck. Thank goodness I’m a vampire. I’m fine now.”

“Glad to hear it.” Freddie gestured to Anthony. “This is my mate, Anthony. And you know Oscar.”

“Someone broke your neck?!” Anthony sprang up and hurried to Justin’s side. “We need to make sure you’re okay. Come, sit down.”

Oscar watched as Anthony did what he did best: making people feel welcome and cared for. Justin had a natural optimism that would benefit the coven, and Anthony was the perfect person to draw that out.

Oscar knew he should be grateful for Anthony’s caretaking impulse, but he chafed under it when it was directed at him. He valued his privacy, and if he was being honest, his ability to pack up and run at the drop of a hat. He’d learned his lesson. Strong personal ties just exposed him to more manipulation and betrayal.

Justin glowed at Anthony’s attention, and Oscar slipped out the door before anyone could notice. Anthony might want to find Oscar a long-term boyfriend, but he had other plans, which hopefully included several short-term arrangements that very evening.