Blood at Dawn, page 1
Blood at Dawn
Dark Ink Tattoo
Book Five
Cassie Alexander
Copyright © 2022 by Cassie Alexander
All rights reserved.
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No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
www.cassiealexander.com
Cover by the Bookbrander.
Interior art by IV Benjamin.
Used with permission.
Contents
Introduction & Character Art
Chapter One
Jack
Chapter Two
Jack
Chapter Three
Luna
Chapter Four
Jack
Chapter Five
Luna
Chapter Six
Jack
Chapter Seven
Jack
Chapter Eight
Luna
Chapter Nine
Jack
Chapter Ten
Luna
Chapter Eleven
Jack
Chapter Twelve
Luna
Chapter Thirteen
Jack
Chapter Fourteen
Luna
Chapter Fifteen
Jack
Chapter Sixteen
Jack
Chapter Seventeen
Jack
Chapter Eighteen
Luna
Chapter Nineteen
Jack
Chapter Twenty
Luna
Chapter Twenty-one
Jack
Chapter Twenty-two
Luna
Chapter Twenty-three
Jack
Chapter Twenty-four
An Excerpt from Blood of the Dead
Luna
Dark Ink Tattoo Series
About the Author
Also by Cassie Alexander
Introduction & Character Art
Jack: You would think that rescuing my boss and helping deliver her happily-ever-after would earn me a few points with Karma, or at least a couple nights off, but luck has never been on my side. I’ve got to make my own way in this new reality: my Mistress is dead, but Maya needs help fighting off other vampire gangs, a sacred warrior is after me for my part in their partner’s death, I’ve got a bloodslave following me like a pup, Francesca is breathing down my neck, the Dark Ink staff are in revolt, and the perpetual temptation of Zach is right next door. Oh, and Paco’s going to become a vampire in three nights.
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I guess no good deed goes unpunished. Especially when you’re already dead.
Welcome to Dark Ink Tattoo, where needles aren't the only things that bite…
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Dark Ink Tattoo is a scorching paranormal in the vein of Sons of Anarchy, with strong sexual situations and bisexual MCs.
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Content warnings can be found on cassiealexander.com.
Chapter One
Jack
I woke up in my coffin with Paco’s hair tickling my cheek.
Waking up in the same coffin as my currently dead best friend and lover was awkward—and it would only get worse when in three days he woke up too. I hadn’t gotten a chance to ask his permission before turning him into a vampire. It’d been that or watch him die, and I’d acted without thinking. I knew he’d wake up hungry—I could only hope he wouldn’t wake up mad.
I kissed the back of his neck and rose up to Sugar’s meowing. “I know, I know, I hear you.” I swung one leg over the partition that kept the sleeping dead like me safe from tiny carnivores like her. She wound through my legs on my way to the kitchen. “I know,” I repeated, pouring out a bowl of food. “It must be scary when I die every morning, huh? You must wish you had opposable thumbs.” She purred while she ate, a sound that was charming even if it wasn’t melodious. I was leaning down to scratch her behind her ears when the doorbell rang.
I tensed. Who was left in town that knew where I lived? I’d already made plans via text with the Dark Ink Tattoo crew to meet tonight. Angela and Mark were gone by now, Paco was in my bedroom already, and Zach and Nikki I’d both slept with last night. Nikki had left a bra behind as an excuse to come back, but I was sure she had pride, she would bide her time before calling for it. Zach, however, lived in my apartment complex—and had gotten used to getting lucky. He was also the only one of my recent lovers who didn’t know I was a vampire—needed to cut him loose for his own safety. The doorbell rang again, followed by an impatient knock.
“Look,” I said, swinging the door open, ready to say something drastic. But it wasn’t Zach, it was a woman, the same one who’d brought me the news of Paco’s torture last night. “You,” I said, letting my voice fall.
“Me,” she said, giving me a nervous smile. “I’m Luna. And you’re—”
“Angry,” I cut her off.
She fidgeted, clearly nervous. “May I come in?”
“No.” I stepped back into my apartment and closed the door.
I showered and pulled on the most business appropriate clothing I had; a white t-shirt, a blue button-down with a crisp collar, jeans that were a solid deep blue, and black cowboy boots. Paco would’ve been proud of me if he were currently alive, he was by far the more dapper of the two of us. I slicked my hair back and tried my best to give the bathroom mirror a business face. It was hard. I was used to doing whatever the hell I wanted to, which included not taking work very seriously.
But that was changing tonight. Before Angela had left she’d given me Dark Ink Tattoo—Las Vegas’s only 24/7 tattoo parlor. It was the perfect cover for a vampire who could feed on sex or blood. I loved doing tattoos, I got to work nights, and the clientele was often interested in seeing the non-tattoo side of me after hours. Being the giving sort, I did my best to never leave anyone disappointed. But if I wanted to keep it going I needed to step up—which meant facing eight to twelve probably pissed-off tattoo artists shortly.
They’d been out of work ever since Angela had closed up shop a few days ago to deal with her werewolf problems. I’d helped her survive and we’d consummated years of mutual lust in one glorious night. But she was gone now, leaving me with an emptiness that was different from my normal hunger. I didn’t have many long-term people in my life—being a vampire was, in general, too dangerous. And while being with Angela had been magnificent—and I would never forget the taste of her blood—I knew I'd only just started missing her. She'd been a rare constant presence in my life, such as it was. Someone who trusted me, and whom I could trust. An actual friend.
I couldn’t begrudge her her new life though. She had a son—and a far more appropriate human boyfriend, Mark. They were probably halfway across the globe now, which was where they belonged, having a normal life.
I, on the other hand, was abnormal—and I’d made Paco match me.
I fought the urge to return to my bedroom and look at him again. I loved him too, in my own way—I always had, ever since our first desperate fuck, after he’d first come on to me in that crowded club. He’d been my first time with another man. And if he left me after this as Angela had—I couldn’t bear to think about it now, my eternity stretching on alone, with no one who truly knew me at my side. The thought of it was too frightening—but I needed to go back to Dark Ink now and try acting like a boss.
I grabbed my wallet and the keys to a truck loaned to me from the werewolf pack, made sure the lid was closed on the coffin for Paco’s safety, then emerged out my front door—to find that same girl still waiting.
“Hi!” she said, her face brightening. “I’m pledged to you. As a bloodslave.”
I looked around to make sure no one else in the complex could hear. “I don’t need you,” I harshly whispered. “And I don’t want you.”
Her face crumpled. She was very gothy, had long black hair with straight bangs and oval ice-blue eyes, like a cat’s. She’d been in some sort of dress last night, but today she was in black leggings, clunky boots, and a low-cut black t-shirt so tight I could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra. A small backpack was slung over her shoulders. “I only have a few hours left.”
I pulled my door shut behind me and locked it, ignoring her.
“I just need you to say yes,” she went on, following me out to my truck, making me regret the distance to it in the parking lot. “Please. I have to serve someone. I can’t be unowned.”
I unlocked the door to the truck and sat inside, closing it resolutely on her.
“What’re you going to do when he wakes up, huh?” she shouted at my window. How did she know about Paco? Had Maya told her?
She ran around to stand in front of the truck. “Don’t make me go back to Maya—please.”
“Get the hell out of the way,” I said, knowing that even with my windows up she could see my lips and read the look on my face.
“You’re going to have to drive over me
I wrung the steering wheel. At least it was dark out. An unknown to me neighbor walked by, neck craning back at our scene. I tried to keep a low profile on principle and hoped that anyone else seeing this would write it off as LARPing or kinky roleplay. And I hoped to hell Zach wasn’t looking out of his window, I didn’t need anything else to explain to him.
“Come on!” she shouted at full volume, lunging into the truck hard enough to make it shake. I leaned over and unlocked the passenger door.
“Get in.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said, settling herself beside me, swinging her backpack beneath the dashboard.
“Who’s to say I’m not taking you out to the desert to snack on?”
“Rosalie promised me you weren’t like that, last night.” When Rosalie had sent her over here to tell me Paco was in danger. Maya and I had murdered our Mistress, and now we were free.
“Yeah, well, Rosalie’s dead,” I said, gruffly. The girl looked down and put her hands between her knees. “Sorry?” I guessed. I wasn’t, really, but I didn’t know what else to say.
“I know why you had to do it. Not that that makes it okay.”
“She started things, if it makes you feel better,” I said. “Where should I take you?”
“What?” She sounded genuinely surprised.
“I’m not in the market for a bloodslave.”
“But—you should be. You need one. All vampires do.”
“I’ve been fine so far.” I shrugged a shoulder. I’d only found out about the existence of bloodslaves recently—when I’d run from Rosalie after my making, I’d had to find my own paths to blood and sex. Luckily, I lived in Las Vegas. If I played my cards right, I could practically get both delivered.
“But!” she sputtered.
“Yeah, so—here?” I ignored her. “Downtown?” I gestured at the strip malls we passed by.
She turned to face me fully, eyes expressive. “But if you don’t claim me, then Maya will.” Her eyeliner was perfect, winged out wide. “Would you want to serve Maya?”
“Not particularly. But I also don’t want to own a slave. Apart from the ethical considerations, it seems like a lot of responsibility.”
She wriggled in her chair. Certain parts of me suddenly woke to watch her—just as other parts of me were annoyed at them for waking. I’d feasted last night on sex with Zach and Nikki both—why couldn’t my hunger just leave me be? “Maybe—you could just pretend you own me?” she asked.
I’d been driving to Dark Ink Tattoo out of habit. I couldn’t drive past it—I needed to get myself together, to pull my Jack Stone tattoo-artist-extraordinaire and vampire-businessman persona on. “I don’t owe you anything.”
“I know. But—you wouldn’t want to know what Maya would do to me—she hates me.”
“That’s not my problem,” I growled.
“Please,” she begged. She caught my hand as I put the truck in park. “I am willing to do anything.” Her voice was breathless, full of promises. Honestly, everything about her was my type—except for the coercion. It left a bitter taste in my mouth, far stronger than even her being the messenger of Paco’s demise. I’d been taken advantage of once and I’d be damned—even more damned—if I was ever going to ‘own’ anyone.
I pulled forty dollars out of my wallet. “Take this, and walk that direction for five miles.” I pointed past her shoulder.
“And?”
“Don’t come back.”
Her face crumpled and she started to cry. “Maya will kill me.” Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, taking her eyeliner with them.
“That’s not my problem,” I repeated.
Her lips pouted, no doubt holding back curses, as she snatched the twenties from my hand—then crumpled them up and threw them at my feet. “Screw you, Jack!” she said, storming from the truck. I swung out on my own side, watching her go, holding herself with her arms, head low with sorrow—with my vampiric senses, I could still hear her crying and taste the salt of her tears. She whirled around, hair whipping. “I’m going to die—because of your stupid pride!”
Her words hit my hardened heart like a rock. Would Maya really kill her? I wouldn’t put it past her. Maya was kind of a bitch, and being trapped under Rosalie’s thumb for a century or so hadn’t done her any favors. Now that she was free, her taking out her frustration on any other Rosalie-associated targets seemed likely.
The girl, what’d she say her name was—Luna?—was already a quarter of a block away. “Get back in the car,” I muttered under my breath, halfway hoping she wouldn’t hear. But she did, she stopped and looked back. “I haven’t changed my mind. Just—stay here.”
“For how long?”
“As long as it takes. Not sure.” I recognized Mattie’s truck in the parking lot—other artists would be arriving shortly, if they hadn’t given up on Dark Ink entirely. I didn’t want them to see her with me and make assumptions about how I’d been spending my time.
She swallowed and got back into the passenger seat with sullen silence—and I realized she hadn’t taken her backpack with her when she’d left. I’d been played. I ran my hands through my hair—I’d deal with that later. For now—Dark Ink called.
Chapter Two
Jack
Mattie saw me walking up to Dark Ink’s and got out of his ride. “Past my bedtime, Jack!” He was kind of a biker-trucker type, wearing a worn denim vest over a black t-shirt, with a six-inch long salt-and-pepper beard.
“Hey, Mattie. Glad you’re sticking around.” I opened up the front door for us both then paused, realizing I shouldn’t make assumptions. “You are sticking around, aren’t you?”
“Depends on how late you keep me up,” Mattie said, clapping my back with a grin. He was the only tattoo artist I knew that kept farmer’s hours, so we sometimes overlapped near dawn. I got the night shift workers on their off nights and he got the long-distance truckers that were trying to get some ink in when they were supposed to be sleeping. “Know if anyone else is coming?”
“Not too sure.” I purposefully hadn’t looked at the texts the crew had sent me, after I’d sent mine inviting them here tonight. If people were happy to return, they would, if they’d texted me ‘Fuck you!’ I wasn’t going to be able to change their minds—tattoo artists were too much like cats to be persuaded.
Charla was the next artist to arrive. She was a woman like a battleship, expansive in all directions, and the best damn portrait artist I’d ever seen. She was also pissed. “Three days, Jack—some of my clients flew in to see me and I had to work on them in my living room, illegally,” she complained the second she walked in.
“I know—I’m sorry,” I started apologizing—which set the tone for the evening as other artists joined us. Some of them just wanted to grab their flash and gear and hit the road—others wanted to start a revolt. Angela had texted everyone an apology and a good-bye, telling them that I was in charge until further notice, but she wasn’t here to defend me and a lot of the day shift artists had no real idea who I was.
After the carnage, I was left with Mattie, Jacob, Merril, Sasha, Z-Bob, Boy Jamez, and Fantasy. Charla was sticking around too, but her presence had a heavy tone of ‘for now.’
