Blood Pool

B. Ella Donna Blood Pool

Copyright © 2009 by B. Ella Donna

Dedication

To my husband, Michael. And my sons, Christopher, Matthew and Ryan.

You’re the lights of my life.

Acknowledgements

Thanks to my children for their support, ideas and laughs. Mom, thank you for everything. Jessica, you have my never-ending gratitude for all your assistance with this book. Amy, you always show support and I appreciate it. Sofia! Who at the mere thought of her always brings a smile to my soul. Serena, thank you for your precious friendship and for allowing me to bounce ideas around with you. You’ve got amazing insights. Maria, I know no matter what, you’re always there for me.

To all those at Absolute Write, without the support of everyone there I would never have achieved this much, thanks and bootay shakes. They continue to be my lifeline. To all the writers out there who inspire me to strive for the best I can do, and Linda, my editor, who pushes me to do better. Thanks.

My musical muses who inspired me with their wonderful lyrics and magickal melodies, Evanescence, John Mayer, Coldplay, Enigma, Peter Frampton, Loreena McKennitt, Blackmore’s Night and of course, my Gold Dust Woman, Stevie Nicks. I could go on and on.

Of course, my readers, to those of you who pick up my book and take the journey, thank you!

Last, but not least, my husband. For giving me the opportunity to write, and for believing in me when I did not believe in myself. I love you, infinity more. Beyond. Ditto.

Chapter One

Artificial light gave the three dancing figures on stage the macabre look of corpses-and Raven knew corpses. Monotonous shades of gray stretched across the dance floor, even darker in the corners where secrets hid. She should be used to it. The dreary color surrounded her daily. Still, Raven longed for the vibrant jewel tones of the autumn season. But ominous shadows were part of the ambiance of Blood Pool, a favorite local haunt.

However, these three dancing works of art were far from dead. They were very much alive, and Raven took note of that fact intensely. Smooth skin covered rippling muscles, and the silky, oiled physiques, clad in miniscule costumes, caught her attention. That was, if you could call them costumes. There wasn’t much fabric used on all of them combined.

No need for an imagination here.

The dancers tonight included a scantily-clad Amazon warrior, a biker in a tight, black leather thong, and, of course, the vampire with little more than the traditional Dracula cape draped over his chiseled, ivory physique.

Tonight was Ladies’ Night at Blood Pool, a treat for the eyes because that meant dancing gods: hot, sweaty, gorgeous men, full of life with healthy auras. Raven also knew the beaming glow of a vital aura. The reds and greens pulsed around them to the beat of the music. Her preternatural sight allowed her vision to go beyond 20/20. She delighted in the sights and sounds that surrounded her.

“Hey there, Raven. Can I buy you a drink?” Solaris, a petite, magickal powerhouse, asked as she wiped down the sleek bar top.

“Yes, thanks.” Raven looked over to where some friends from the hospital played pool. Beyond the pool tables in the back rooms were the video games “Kill the Hunter”, “Blade War”, “Hell Games” and War Mongers”, to name a few. Off to the other side of the game room was the sports bar. There she spotted Greg Davis, her young assistant.

“Hi, Doc,” he mouthed, waving.

“Hi there,” she answered, grabbing some nuts from a pumpkin-shaped bowl.

The lower level was for those who liked to gamble or play cards or roulette, and there was always a poker game going on.

Smoke from cigars and various pipes filled the room. The guests at this establishment had no worries of the dangers caused by cigarette smoke, or any other smoke.

The only possible exception was the warning smoke of a fire burning their flesh.

Raven winked at Solaris. Raven’s eyes were tired from lack of sleep, overwork and not enough blood. The blood bank needed replenishment. “Hey, can you make it a double? I’m not working tonight.”

Solaris obliged. “Enjoying the view?” she teased, her cognac-colored eyes sparkling in the dim lighting. “I’ve got some type O in the back fridge-you want?”

“No, thanks, I’m trying to cut down,” Raven replied, and smiled tightly.

“You’re looking extra sexy tonight. Gonna sample the help?” Solaris teased.

“Now, you know I don’t do that anymore,” Raven answered, pouting. Well, almost never. Occasionally, when the blood lust merged with sexual need, Raven indulged in a taste.

Solaris smiled and handed her friend a Grey Goose on ice. “I didn’t mean taste in that way.”

“You never know, I might,” Raven teased.

She checked her lipstick in the reflection of Solaris’s magick mirror hanging on the wall. Yes, Lamai had a reflection. Being non-reflective was one of the many stereotypes she found hilarious. That along with the tale of garlic being fatal to vamps. She loved garlic and cooked with it often. That’s right, they ate food, too.

She was hungry tonight, but not for blood, though it had been a while since she’d fed the Lamai hunger.

Raven eyed a tall, sandy-haired Adonis standing at the far end of the bar. His energy was especially masculine, raw yet vulnerable. Raven liked vulnerable. It complimented her need to be in control, and in her line of work as chief medical examiner, she had to be.

Outside, the autumn winds blew off the ocean, moaning as they hugged the rooftop and whipped around the back alley. Raven’s hearing allowed her to separate the sounds that originated inside the bar from those outside. A preternatural talent. It felt like a storm was brewing. It was hurricane season, and forecasters predicted the northeast was due for one.

“Go for it,” Solaris joked as she followed Raven’s line of sight to the Greek god-like creature. He caught her watching him, and she that found a bit unsettling. Raven was capable of many things, and one was observing without attracting attention.

She psychically probed the handsome stranger to try to get a better feel for him. He was not like her, of that she was sure. He was neither a Lamai nor a shifter. There weren’t too many hybrids in the northeast. There were fewer still on the island. Raven detested the term “hybrid”, which was what she was. It sounded to her like an automobile: safe for the environment with great gas mileage. Regardless of Raven’s objections, that’s what people called those who were half-human and half- vampire. On the other hand, most of the island inhabitants were full-blooded vampires. The island’s occupants ranged from Vampires of the Lamai clan to shape shifters, fae, sirens, witches and wizards, with a smattering of gnomes and leprechauns.

Even though this was a magickal community, there still existed some pockets of prejudice. Solaris experienced it as much as Raven, she being a full-blooded witch from Africa. However, the bias was slowly diminishing, which was why they called Mirabelle home.

Raven sipped her drink, savoring the way it warmed her insides, if only for a moment. She gazed at the handsome man through narrowed eyes as he made his way over to her. She drew him toward her, whether he realized it or not.

She was hungry.

“Okay, I know this sounds really dorky, but do you come here often?” he asked.

Raven looked up into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. When Adonis spoke, his voice echoed of loneliness.

“Matter of fact, I do. My friend Solaris owns this place,” she answered, directing her gaze at Sol.

He puffed out his chest a bit. “I knew that. I’m a little bit psychic.” He let out a nervous laugh. “Gods, I am so pathetic,” he muttered.

“What’s ‘a little’ psychic-how little?” Raven asked jokingly, noting the easy way he stood, relaxed and slightly self-assured, with just the right amount of awkwardness.

Handsome enough to be in a Ralph Lauren commercial, he had an upper-class air about him, of fresh sea air, tanned skin and sun-streaked hair. She could imagine him jogging in slow motion down the miles of white sandy beach, wearing the Amazon warrior’s swath of suede, his well-toned muscles flexing as he ran.

Nice body. Her gaze traveled to his hands. For as long as she could remember, Raven had had a hand fetish. After observing a man’s eyes, she checked out his hands, which in this case had not seen much physical labor. He was probably an artist, a bum, or in the healthcare field.

Or he was insanely wealthy.

He smiled and revealed the sexiest dimples and whitest teeth.