The Lines of Marsden 1
Rules are Meant to be Broken
2014
Blurb:
The Lines of Marsden
were born into existence for a reason: to right the wrongs that had once taken
place. Destiny fated that they must destroy the Eldren before evil wins.
Michael Marsden wants
to die – for real this time. He wasn’t meant to lead the half-life that he
does. He chooses to let it go and let death take what it had already claimed.
But Christian Risely isn’t
about to let that happen. He is drawn to Michael and is willing to do
anything to ensure that he lives, even if that means keeping him alive against
his will.
Excerpt:
Chapter
One
So much to live for.
Michael's gaze slowly drifted around the crowded and smoky nightclub,
watching the unsuspecting people go about their lives, not knowing things like
him existed, walked among them. Here these people were, laughing and enjoying
the lives they all took for granted.
Anger—or something very much like it—settled low in his stomach. He was
pissed off; these people all had something that he had lost forever. Feelings
like these scared him, knowing he was no longer one of them. Thanks to some
fucked up twist of fate, he couldn't go back to the life he had always known.
Everything was so confusing—he didn't even know if he was even fully human
anymore. What had he done in his life that was so wrong he ended up with this
destiny? He was a pacifist for crying out loud. Running away and letting Gypsy
deal with the hard stuff had always been his way of coping.
A cigarette dangled loosely from his pale fingertips as the music
pounded through his body in place of the heartbeat he no longer felt. This
alone made him angrier still, because it showed just how fucked up his life had
become. Why the hell had this happened to him? Especially when he had so much
to live for. He had Gypsy! And he missed her so much. The thought made him
smile sadly—he bet not many brothers would say such nice things about their sisters.
But Gypsy was special—she was his twin. Gypsy knew him better then he knew
himself. Their grandad had told him often enough, "Michael never walk away
from your sister. No matter what happens to you both in life, remember she is
your strength. Her job is to protect you in what is to come." It was
bullshit memories such as this which made everything so damn hard. Why had his
grandad told him lies? It only made him hurt a hundred times more.
Michael swiped at his angry tears and pushed away from the table. Not
wanting to be around these people any longer, knowing they took for granted
everything he wanted back, Michael walked outside and headed down the darkened
street. He was finding it harder and harder not to give into his cravings. Even
now it gnawed at his insides, demanding he take notice. He needed to work out
if he was going to give into what his body wanted, or fight it, and more than
likely die.
Blocking out the one voice behind him, her voice—Why did Gypsy haunt him
so? Why couldn't she leave him alone?—Michael headed into the park, taking the
least used paths so he wouldn't run into anyone. At the sound of murmuring
voices he stopped, listened. Michael was glad neither were the same voice from
earlier, yet they were ones he had heard before. Undoubtedly he was being
followed again. Tonight he just wished they would just go away and leave him in
peace. Didn't they know he found their constant surveillance annoying? He was
twenty-two years old for crying out loud. Seriously he didn't need this shit.
Not tonight. Trying to ignore them, he continued on his way, wondering what
made him so fascinating to them.
As he tried to ignore their presence, he turned his thoughts inwards to
his anger, all the things which pissed him off. At the top of the list was
hearing Gypsy's voice calling out to him wherever he went. He missed his sister
so much. There was no running from the memories of what they once shared. Her
voice was slowly sending him insane. This was why Michael hadn't turned when he
heard her. It wasn't real. She wasn't actually there, and turning to find it
was all in his imagination would make him want to go and find her. Find her, to
seek out what they had once shared. If his sister was here then he wouldn't be
so lonely. This was the reason why he pressed his hands over his ears to block
her out as he walked away. She had once promised him they would be together
forever. What a crock of shit it had all turned out to be. Why had two people
he cared about lied to him? First Grandad and now Gypsy?
Groaning, he pressed a hand to his throat. He hated knowing as his
hunger grew his obsession with Gypsy escalated. How could he want to be with
her when he was this way? Deep down he knew he wanted to make her the same, to
be able to keep her with him for always like she had promised. If she were with
him then he wouldn't have to spend the rest of his existence on his own. With
Gypsy here he would be strong enough to survive and not be as scared as he
felt. He knew his emotions jumping from pissed off to scared all the time
wasn't good for him. But there was nothing he could do about. Or rather,
nothing he was willing to do about it.
In reality it terrified him because he could imagine feeding from her,
the taste of her blood filling his mouth, and it disgusted him because he knew
if he truly wanted to do it she would let him.
How sick was that?
Slowing his pace, Michael concentrated. Someone was still watching him—actually
there were two of them. They smelt the same yet completely different, and
strangely the scent of each of them called to him. This wasn't the first time
he had sensed them following him, but tonight it felt different. Usually they
kept their distance. Tonight Michael could feel
his watchers' curiosity, and it overrode his hunger. He didn't know how he was
able to do this; it seemed to be something new which had come to him with his
change of circumstances. The thought alone made him almost burst out laughing.
Change of circumstances. What a
crock.
Inhaling, he found the watchers' scents were strange, intoxicating—sweet
with just a little touch of spice. It made his mouth water. Both called to him,
pulling at him as much as his thoughts of Gypsy did. He shook his head as if to
clear it. He really didn't need this crap. Michael pulled out a cigarette and
placed it between his trembling lips. His hands shook so much as he struck the
first match it went out before he could get it anywhere near the tip of his
smoke. With a sigh, he tried again and grimaced sadly when he succeeded. In
that brief instant when the flame flickered in front of his face he heard the
watchers' breaths catch and wondered why. What did the watchers see? What was
making them react the way they were? It seemed strange all the crap filtering
through his head nowadays, making him think and wonder "why" all the
time. Michael's lips twitched as he once again he heard a sigh, or sighs. There
were two of them.
With a wince, he inhaled on his cigarette. It was funny how quickly a
habit could form. He had only taken up smoking so he wouldn't give in to the
hunger his body craved so badly. Yet the hunger was an itch deep down inside,
one he couldn't relieve no matter how much he scratched. He was growing weaker;
he could feel it with every passing day. Even now it hurt just to smoke. It was
almost too hard to raise his hand to his face. Breathing, which had once come
so easily to him, felt as though he had swallowed hot coals. It burned badly
and he needed it to stop.
Pain shot through his head. He stumbled, falling to the ground. Michael
watched the glowing tip of his cigarette—it had fallen mere inches from his
face. Tonight he would have to give in or die, he knew it. A slow maniacal
laughter echoed into the surrounding darkness, cut short by the effort it took
as he rolled onto his back. Staring at the dark sky above him he realised his
choice was made. His eyes fluttered before closing.
If he died then all of this could end. No more fear. No more anger. No
more pain. Just peace.
"Please God! Please don't let me wake up again. Please?"
*
Christian stood with Doyle in the shadows and watched as Michael seemed
to struggle with himself. Michael was the newest member of their family,
whether he wanted to be or not.
Pain had such a tantalising way about it, Christian thought as he closed
his eyes. Breathing deeply, he savoured the experience of it. It reminded him
of something, but he couldn't quite remember what, and he knew it would drive
him crazy until he worked it all out. He wanted so much to bite and taste
Michael just a little bit, but it wasn't allowed. His instructions were to
watch.
Pulling out his phone, he tossed it to Doyle and listened as he dialled,
his gaze never leaving Michael. Christian studied Michael as he lay on the
ground laughing as he stared up into the darkness. What so funny? Something
about Michael pulled Christian to him, and he didn't know what it was, or why
the urge to be near Michael was so strong. He loved the fact he was the one who
was going to help Michael survive. Okay, so he wasn't alone, but Doyle didn't
seem as fascinated as he did. Doyle seemed almost angry, and tense.
Christian realised he could do whatever he wanted to Michael and no one
would be any wiser. Well, except for Doyle. The thought of Doyle watching made
him chuckle. What would Doyle think if I
started making out with Michael?
"Charm, he's down." Doyle told her where they were before he
put the phone away and then walked toward the unconscious form lying on the
ground. It would take about forty-five minutes for the others to get here.
Forty-five minutes where he and Christian would be alone with Michael.
Picking up Michael's cigarette, Doyle took a drag before flicking it
away into the darkness. It tasted of peppermint and roses. Doyle had the urge
to find out what Michael's mouth would taste like. The craving shocked and
mildly repulsed him - he had never had this kind of reaction before to anyone,
much less a guy. As he sat on the grass beside Michael, his fingertips itched
to reach out and stroke the stranger's face. Michael's face. Charm had told
them earlier when she had found out his name, and it was such a beautiful name.
His fingertips tingled at the touch as he gave in to his desire. He couldn't
help but notice Christian was just as equally, if not more fascinated by him.
As he studied Michael lying there, Christian wanted desperately to be
able to hear his thoughts. He wanted to know everything in Michael's mind.
Maybe then he could work out why he was pulled toward Michael as he was.
Glancing over at Doyle, Christian frowned, feeling jealous because Doyle had
been the first to touch Michael.
They both knew Michael was dying; he needed to feed. Christian wanted to
ease his pain. Rather, he needed to ease his pain. Somewhere deep
inside him something was telling him Michael belonged to him and was his to
protect.
Leaning over him, Christian spoke softly in Michael's ear. "I will
help you. I will make it so you can live. I will make it so you can stay with
me, with us for all eternity." Christian wanted to devour Michael's mouth
in a deep and lingering kiss. He wanted so much just to push his tongue into
Michael's mouth so he could taste him more thoroughly. In his mind his lips
began kissing Michael's face over and over as they lay there tasting every inch
of skin. It was a pity Michael wasn't aware of what he was thinking. If he
were, would Michael enjoy those thoughts? He wondered about Doyle. What would
he think if he knew Christian had a crush on the new guy? At least in his own
mind he could do what he wanted.
Oh well, as long as one of us is having fun.
And boy would I have had fun.
While he waited for what he needed to come along, he told Doyle all
about what he planned to do. "It's simple, I just kill some poor
unsuspecting person who happens past our way and then I will drink all their
nice delicious blood and spit it into his mouth so he can get better."
Doyle rolled his eyes. "Chris, there are easier ways to do
it."
"Yes, but will it be as fun as my way? Well, fun for me."
Though really, he should get Michael's permission before doing the deed.
Turning his attention back to Michael, Christian asked, "So do you
want me to save you?" Michael stared at him with glazed over eyes, as if
he was only half aware of what was going on. When he didn't answer, Christian
made Michael's head nod, and kissed him on the forehead. "Good boy, love.
I thought you would see it my way."
*
Doyle saw Michael try to shake his head in the negative. "Chris, he
doesn't want this. You can't change him against his wishes." It killed a
little part of Doyle to say it.
"He's already changed. I am just giving him a little boost,"
Christian said. He jumped to his feet as they heard someone approaching.
Christian's whole demeanour seemed to alter and Doyle knew the hunt was on.
Doyle watched as Christian took off through the park before turning his
attention back to Michael, who still lay on the ground. His gaze locked onto
Doyle's as if pleading.
"What do you want me to do, Michael?" Doyle had to lean down
close to listen for the other man's answer.
Michael rasped softly, "Please."
Doyle didn't hesitate as he bit his own wrist and placed it over
Michael's mouth. As he felt the pull of Michael's feeding, he hoped he wasn't
making the biggest mistake of his life. Something about Michael drew him, yet
he wasn't comfortable acknowledging how it made him feel. He wasn't gay and he
didn't ever want to be gay. He must only be feeling this way because Michael
was helpless. Who wouldn't feel sorry for someone desperately needing help?
Michael whimpered as Doyle removed his arm.
"Shh, Chris is bringing you more. I promise."
*
* *
Christian stalked his prey through the park for perhaps five minutes,
just waiting for his moment. It amazed him how stupid people really were. Why
would they walk all by themselves though a darkened park at this time of night?
Not even caring there were dangerous things out there in the night, not all of
which were animals? He gave a low growl and let the demon within run free.
The woman never had a chance. She didn't even realise she was about to
die until she turned and saw him there, and she was dead before she had time to
scream. The hardest part was carrying her back to Michael when he was tempted
to drain her himself.
"Still here? Excellent! For a moment I thought you may
have gotten bored and wandered off with Doyle," Christian said to
Michael's inert form, and then winked in Doyle's direction. He laid the girl on
the ground beside Michael. Christian drank deeply and her salty warmth flowed
readily into his mouth. Moving toward Michael, Christian gently lowered his
lips until they pressed against Michael's. He used his tongue to once again
part Michael's lips, but this time it was just enough to let the warmth he held
trickle into the other's mouth. His fingertips gently held the side of
Michael's face to keep it steady. It felt strange but nice as Michael's tongue
flicked into his mouth seeking what he had to offer. He heard Doyle growl
behind him.
Christian's eyes snapped to Doyle in confusion. "Why does he taste
like you?"
When Doyle shrugged, Christian turned back to feeding Michael. He
repeated the action of feeding Michael many times until he thought Michael
would survive the journey home. The last time, it felt more as if Michael was
responding to one of his kisses and it made him groan. He wanted so much to
explore the sensation, but instead he jerked back when he heard Kerr and Charm
approaching. What would they say if they found him on the ground kissing
Michael beside a dead body? It was bad enough Doyle had witnessed it all.
Now it was time to take Michael home so he could join his family.
"See love," Christian spoke casually to Michael's inert form,
"now that you have fed, we are going home." Christian moved to the
side as he watched Kerr pick Michael up and start to carry him toward Ambrose
Street. Charm and Doyle stayed behind to dispose of the young woman's remains
while Christian followed Kerr. He wasn't going to let Michael get too far out
of his sight. Not now. Not ever.
ABOUT JACKIE:
