A Vampire for Christmas(72)

Something inside of him felt sick as he watched himself thrust into her and heard her anguished cry. Saw the tears slip down her face while he pumped his hips into her without a care to her pleasure or embarrassment. Rutting with her in the hallway, just feet from public view. Treating her like a common whore.

I didn’t know,” he offered in explanation, glancing up at the Angelina of the present as she materialized before his eyes and came to stand beside him.

You didn’t care,” she replied, sadness stealing the joy from her voice and dulling the life in her verdant gaze.

The scene continued while he sat there, the wooden boards frosty beneath him. The logs in the fireplace had burned to low embers, increasing the chill in the room. The storm raged outside while another tempest swirled within him as he observed the vision of their first Christmas Eve together.

A Christmas Eve Past he’d just as soon forget.

After the past-Damien had finished satisfying himself, he awkwardly stumbled from Angelina and returned to his crew.

Damien finally remembered that he had actually been quite drunk that night as he had been on so many others. Alcohol had helped dull the pain of his loneliness and the anger at his father’s disapproval and rejection.

He knew what would come next, and he didn’t want to watch as the door crashed open.

CHAPTER FOUR



CAPTAIN PEDRO RAMIREZ STRUTTED into the Cuban tavern like a bantam cock, all show and bluster. He was a short, stout fellow, but that didn’t diminish the sense of danger that surrounded him. A loose shirt that might have once been white, but had been yellowed by time, covered his hard, round belly. A thick leather belt surrounded his broad girth and held a long silver knife and a brace of pistols. Also dangling from his belt was a heavy cutlass that banged against his leg as his rolling gait carried him into the room.

Ramirez was followed by quite a few members of his crew. Only now, seeing them through the distance of time and the clarity of the vision, did Damien note the paleness of their skin and the slight demonic glow in their eyes.

The men in the bar gave Ramirez and his crew a wide berth, clearing out of their way with fearful glances.

Ramirez walked right toward the Damien of that Christmas Eve Past, blocking his path back to his table and crew. The captain looked up at Damien from his shorter height, disdain obvious in his gaze.

Move, boy,” he said, the words achingly familiar as was his demeaning look. They were the first words his father had said to him when a young Damien had stepped up to him, wanting to meet the man who had sired and then abandoned him.

Misplaced anger had risen up in Damien at Ramirez’s dismissal. So instead of giving way, Damien pushed right into him, knocking aside the smaller man.

The Damien watching the vision understood well. He’d wished he’d had the nerve to do the same to his dismal excuse for a father.

A hush descended over the room at Damien’s action, almost as if everyone in the place was holding their collective breath, knowing what would follow.

Ramirez turned and grabbed hold of Damien’s shoulder, growled his request. “Apologize, mi amigo.”

Damien moved the other captain’s hand off his shoulder like it was a piece of refuse. Leaning down until his nose was almost bumping the other man’s face he said, “I’m not your amigo.”

A rush of wings sounded in the bar and suddenly there was a body before him. Angelina. Her sharp cry of pain was quite clear now, to the Damien viewing the scene, but back then he hadn’t heard it. So full of himself and his own pain and ego, all he had seen was the challenge in Ramirez’s gaze as the other man thrust aside the bar-maid.

Damien hadn’t seen Angelina fall. Hadn’t noticed the blood soaking the front of her shirt where Ramirez had stabbed her through the heart with a thin silver blade.

A blade that had been meant for Damien.

But he saw it now and realized that Angelina had sacrificed herself to save his life. He reached out to the image of a dying Angelina, lying just inches before him, but his hand only swept through empty air.

He was so engrossed with the vision of her fighting for life, that for a moment he failed to see the rest of the scene playing out. But then his own pained shout filtered into his consciousness and drew his gaze back to the vision of him wrestling with Ramirez.

The vampire captain grabbed hold of Damien, twisting him until he sank his teeth deep into Damien’s neck and fed. Blood ran down the other captain’s face, dripped onto his yellowed shirt. Sick slurping sounds escaped him as Ramirez sucked the life from a drunken Damien.