Remembrance: written by Kora Knight & Raven Foxx
"Don't you fucking touch me."
The battle was a brutal one. Their adversaries, those nasty-ass goblins, had proven beyond ruggedized. Jazz and his siblings had fought their asses off, using everything they had in their angelic arsenal to take those depraved sons of bitches down.
And now, long hours later, Jazz is really starting to feel the after affects. His body aches bitterly. He worries that his withdraw symptoms are making it worse. After all, it’s been well over a week now since he's taken from Seth.
He tosses and turns in his bed. He feels sick, physically and emotionally. The time in captivity with that vampire underlord has really done a number on him. He groans and rolls onto his side, wrapping his arms around his twisting stomach, and buries his face in his pillow. He has to get that male out of his system, mind and body.
Forcing slow, deep breaths, he wills himself into a restless sleep, his last thoughts of consciousness on the blood he needs. The blood he craves. And the male whose veins it courses through.
Lying in his bed, his arms behind his head, Seth frowns, thinking about Jazz and how everything had ended. Sighing heavily, he allows his eyes to close. He’d sent Anton to keep an eye on the angel, especially after discovering where Jazz had fled to.
Soon sleep takes him. Seth finds himself standing in the middle of a bloodied battlefield surrounded by dead goblins and other creatures on the ground. In the distance, shadowy beings move in a sober dance, collecting the fallen like earthen wraiths.
Clothed in only form-fitting black pants, Seth looks around, confused. Until he sees him. There, walking among the bodies, clothed in white pants. His beautiful angel.
“Jazz...” he breathes, an ache in his voice.
Wandering in his figment of reality, Jazz whips his head around at the familiar male's voice on the wind. Or is it just his imagination? It reminds him of the way Seth used to murmur against his— He freezes in his tracks, eyes locking on the vampire some fifty yards away. His breathing stops, his heart skipping a beat. And then his eyes narrow. What the fuck is that vampire doing in his dream? Must Seth insist on continuing to torment him?
Jazz squares his shoulders and wills his dream-form to appear in front of Seth. Growling low, he glares at the male. “Why are you here? What do you want? Haven’t you fucked with me enough?”
Seth stiffens indignantly. “Not until I have you back,” he snarls. “How could you leave me?”
Jazz gapes at his words, as if so mad he can’t speak.
Seth moves closer, reaching for his cheek. But at the last second, he jerks his hand back as if stung. Narrowing his eyes, he scowls.
No, he will not be weak.
His insides pitch.
But he already is, isn’t he?
And all because of this male.
“You didn't give me a chance to explain,” he breathes. When Jazz just glares harder, Seth looks him over and sighs. “White suits you perfectly, my angel.”
Still still reeling over Seth’s questions, Jazz sneers, disregarding the underlord's compliment. “How could I leave you? I didn’t give you a chance to explain?” A chuckle of bitter disbelief escapes. “You mean after you had Zayta rip the flesh off my back or before you were planning to finish the job yourself?”
Seth opens his mouth, reaching again for him, but Jazz smacks his hand away. Pointing angrily at the vampire, he grits out, “Don’t you fucking touch me. You made me think I could trust you. You tricked me into thinking you gave a fuck about me.” He laughs out loud then, his tone completely void of humor. “Listen to me. I'm such a fucking idiot! How could I ever believe you were being honest? You’re a dark lord, for fuck’s sake! You don’t give a shit about me. You never did.” Bristling, he rakes a hand through his hair, betrayal skittering across his face. He turns back to Seth and glowers. “Get out of my head. Get out of my heart. And get out of my goddamn veins!”
Pivoting away, he crouches down beside a lifeless body and pretends to get busy.
At the end of his patience, Seth snags Jazz’s arm, jerks him back to his feet, then yanks him against his chest. “You will listen to me,” he snaps. “I had no choice in what happened with Zayta. She came to me wanting to prove herself to me! If I had denied her before my son…” He shakes his head. “I would have been prey,” he breathes. “I would have been seen as weak and been hunted.”
A deep growl resonates in his throat as he holds Jazz’s stare. “Besides, you know deep inside it turned you on. My blood in your veins would have made it so. If you had but waited, I was going to come to you. I was going to erase it all and show you what you mean to me.”
Jazz frowns and looks away.
A tortured moan escapes Seth’s lips. “Damn you, Jazz. I fed you my blood before you left to ease your suffering.” His demeanor abruptly stiffens. He snarls and shoves Jazz away. “So if anyone lied it, was you. Like everyone else, you lie. You pretend and then you walk away. You turned your back while burying your blade in my heart. You did just what you always wanted to do. You maimed me for life.”
Jazz gapes, opening his mouth to refute him, but Seth puts his hand up to stop him and starts to pace. “You want me out of your mind?” he chuckles sardonically. “This isn’t my dream. You brought me here so you could send me away.” His eyes narrow on Jazz. “Or finish what you began. If you don’t, surely my son or my people will in time. You're right. I am a dark lord—and I have shown weakness. Do you have any idea what that means? What that implies to them?”
Jazz grunts and crosses his arms.
Seth growls. “It tells them that I cannot keep my prisoners, my pets. That I let them get to me.” Laughing coldly, he pivots around. “They can now crucify me like your god. I wonder if He would be there to watch me burn when I at long last greet death.” A bitter smirk curves his lips as he looks up to the sky with outstretched arms. “Do you hear me, Heaven?” he bellows. “Will you come to witness my father rising from the pits to begin anew what he began at my birth?”
Jazz winces at the volume of Seth’s shouts, but no one seems to hear or even see him. He purses his lips and narrows his eyes. “You play the victim well, vampire. Were you acting when you laughed as Zayta flayed my ass?” He looks down with a deep frown. “That wrecked me, Seth. Zayta's beating wasn’t shit compared to the hurting you put on me.” Swallowing, he shakes his head. “I swore I was shredding from the inside out. And now all that’s left inside me is a whole lot of pissed off.” He wraps his arms around his middle. “And a shit load of these fucking withdraw pangs.”
Groaning, he stumbles as he tries to walk away. Seth grabs his arm to steady him. Jazz glares at him over his shoulder. “All I think about is sinking my teeth into you. I can’t concentrate. It could’ve gotten me killed out there!” He yanks his arm away then doubles over in pain. “Fuck!”
Seth jerks Jazz back against his chest. “We both suffer, angel, in this mess we’ve found ourselves in.” His rough voice dips to a whisper. “My son. I sent him here to watch over you for me. He can help you now.” His lips brush Jazz's ear. “Wake up and find him,” he murmurs. “He has a gift for you. It will warm you, bring you closer to me.” He tightens his hold on Jazz’s arms. “And you will feel in my blood how badly I need you.”
Longingly, he slides his hand over Jazz's chest, letting it rest over his heart. He presses his forehead to his angel’s. “Each time she struck you,” he whispers, “I wished it was me doing it. I was going to lick your wounds, Jazz. I was going to heal you, and then fuck you until you had no doubt that you are mine.”
Jazz tenses against him.
Seth sighs and closes his eyes. “You're mine, Jazz. I'm never going to let you go.” A groan slips free. “I'm going to find you, and if you won’t take me, then you'd better be ready to kill instead,” he whispers.
It’s all Jazz can do not to snap his arms around Seth's warm body. He wants to buy into the shit the vampire is feeding him, but he isn’t ready. And he sure as fuck isn’t a glutton for punishment. The things Seth is whispering in his ear should repulse him, but instead they send shivers of crazy fire racing up his spine.
Fucking hell, Jazz could punch him in the fucking face for that. But deep down he knows that Seth is proclaiming his devotion in the only way a dark lord can. The only way Seth knows how. And on some intrinsic level, Jazz gets it. He understands. Something deep within tells him that Seth is trying the best he can. But that same thing inside him also tells him that the vampire still can’t be trusted. Because the fact of the matter is, Seth doesn’t even trust himself with his emotions.
So how can Jazz?
He wants to roar in frustration.
Before he knows what he’s doing, Jazz shoves off Seth's chest, rears back, and punches him square in the jaw. The vampire stumbles back, tripping over a downed goblin’s ham hock of a leg. He lands hard on his ass. With an angry shout, Jazz dives at him, making the air burst from Seth's chest.
Stifling an anxious curse, Jazz grips Seth’s head with both hands and crushes his lips against the vampire’s mouth. “I didn’t want to leave,” he growls as he urgently kisses him. “Even after all that you've done to me, I didn’t want to go! Do you hear what I'm saying? Damn it, that’s what pisses me off the most!” He grinds his lips harder. Seth reciprocates with fiery need. “Despite my thrashed back and my broken fucking heart, you made me wreck my own damn soul when I left you. I fucking hate you!” A tormented moan rattles in his throat. “But, God help me, I fucking need you, too.”
Seth groans unabashedly, working Jazz’s mouth with wild abandonment. “Don't hate me,” he rasps. “Just don't hate me.” He thrusts his hands into Jazz's hair, crushing his mouth once more to his beautiful angel’s. “Ah hell, Jazz,” he whispers. “Damn you for leaving me. Why… Why couldn't you just trust me and know by now what you are to me?”
Seth can hear his own voice cracking. He blinks slowly, then freezes, watching Jazz draw back and begin to fade.
“Jazz…” he croaks, reaching for him. His hand just passes through Jazz’s form. “Don't… Don't go,” he snarls, baring his fangs. “Don't fucking leave me. No!” he roars, his voice catching with the raw pain. “Not again!”
But then his angel is gone.
“Jazz…” he whispers.
Jerking awake, he hisses fiercely, slamming his fist into the bed. “Damn you, angel,” he snarls. "This isn't over.”
Jazz lurches up into a sitting position, one hand holding his aching gut, the other on his mouth. Cursing, he scrubs his face. “Fuck, Seth. What is my deal with you?”
He swallows hard and winces in pain. His throat feels like two sheets of sandpaper doing the tango. He gets to his feet. The rest of his body screams anew, agony exploding through his torso for having gone too long without a Seth cocktail, while aches from battle stubbornly linger on.
“Damn,” he groans, flopping back down on his bed.
He needs to find Anton.
* * *
Waking up in the bed he'd found to crash in, Anton flashes himself to the edge of a stone wall on the outskirts of the old Scottish town. With a sigh, he leans against the stone hedge and rubs his chin, glancing over at the modest little inn some twenty yards away. Inside, Jazz slept in his temporary lodging, along with his triplet siblings.
Anton scowls. The last thing he wants to be doing right now is babysitting that angel’s ass this early in the morning. Crossing his arms, he stares at the quaint establishment he’d seen Jazz retire to the night before.
At least he can tell dear old dad that his pet’s still alive after the battle.
Jazz jerks awake, his body in a cold sweat. His heart’s racing, his throat’s on fire, and his stomach’s revolting hard. His wide eyes skitter around as he sucks in a breath, struggling to sit upright in his bed. Around him, silence prevails. Janel and Jared must still be sleeping. He groans and drags a shaky hand down his face, then rubs his sleepy eyes with its heel.
Abruptly, he freezes.
He can feel someone watching him. He recognizes their energy.
A dark growl rumbles in Jazz’s chest. The dude’s close proximity irritates him, but also ignites a morbid excitement. Jazz’s body screams for a fix. In his dream, Seth had told him to seek out his son, and low and behold, here the guy is.
Jazz narrows his eyes, slowly rising to his feet. Chest rising and falling, he cautiously makes his way outside. And there he sees him. Anton, leaning against a nearby wall, looking casually on with an ambiguous expression.
Jazz stalks over and stops in front of him. “Anton,” he mutters. “Just who I need to see.”
Anton smirks. “I see you survived the battle. Congrats.”
Jazz shrugs stiffly.
Anton takes him in, noticing immediately that his hands are shaking.
Jazz shoves them into his pockets. He looks like he’s chomping at the bit.
Anton rolled his eyes, then glares. “Bite me like a food source again and I'll lay your ass out faster than you can blink.” Nevertheless, he tenses, expecting Jazz to attack him regardless. “Too bad your ass didn't get leveled by a goblin.”
Jazz ignores him, not looking in the mood to be pussy-footing around. “Where is it?” he snarls impatiently. “What your old man gave you—for me. I want it, and I want it fucking now.”
Anton grunts and pulls a vial out of his pocket. Seeing how addict boy wants it so badly, he has every intention of making the present situation worth his while.
Causing it disappear before Jazz can grab it, Anton grins. “I’m curious. What would you do for this vial of Pop's blood?”
Anton laughs and strokes his goatee. “Did you really expect me to make this easy on you?” He snorts incredulously. “Please.”
Jazz narrows his eyes. His jaw begins to tick.
So this is how Anton is going to be? What a bastard.
“Of course, you want to play games,” he grits out. “’Cause you’re a raging dick like that. Whatever.” He struggles to shrug casually despite how his entire frame is vibrating. “Just tell me what you want so we can get this shit over with. I really don’t have time for your BS.”
Anton tisks. “Now where’s the fun in that, me making this easy on you?” The vial appears back in his hand. Twirling it between his fingers, he pretends to drop it. Jazz gasps and dives for it. Anton chuckles makes it disappear again. “What do you think I would want from you?” He narrows his eyes. “And just for the record, I'm not into angels like dear old dad.”
Jazz curses, his anger and wicked withdraw pangs snapping his sanity.
Shoving Anton into the wall, he bares his teeth. “Don’t fuck with me, vampire,” he snarls, the sound raw and guttural. “I'm so not in the mood. Tell me what you want, give me my shit, then be a good little son and hurry the fuck along.”
Anton growls and grapples Jazz into a head lock. With his arm wrapped around his neck, he lifts Jazz onto his toes. “I don't give a fuck what you’re in the mood for,” he rumbles as Jazz struggles to get free. “You want this blood. Your body craves it, doesn't it?” Lips pursed, he whispers in Jazz’s ear. “I bet Pops loved having you at his mercy.” He throws Jazz to the ground. “I just want to know one thing, boy toy,” he sneers.
Jazz glares up at him. “What. What the fuck do you want to know?” He can feel his voice cracking. “No more games.”
Anton crouches down in front of him, his gaze searing Jazz’s pale face, taking blatant note of the tremors racking his frame. “You’re a sad sight.” He sounds sickened. “Now tell me. Did Zayta let you go?”
Anton lifts a brow. “Don't paint it pretty. Just tell me the fucking truth.” He holds up the vial and wiggles it in front of Jazz’s face. “Or you can forget about getting this blood.”.
That mutherfuckin’ bitch-ass cock-suckin’ son of a bitch.
Jazz suddenly feels the urge to murder. With a roar, he leaps to his feet and punches his fist into the stone wall. Restlessly, he stares straight ahead, even as he feels Anton's eyes boring into him from behind.
“Zayta?” he finally mutters. “All you want is info on Zayta?” He peers over his shoulder and grins darkly at Anton. “You got it bad for her. And affection fucks with you just as bad as its fucks with your old man.”
Anton stiffens with glower.
Jazz snickers in blatant mockery. “Poor Anton is afraid of feelings.” His lip curls in disgust. “You two are the biggest pair of pussies I’ve ever met.” He pivots around and faces him. “Sorry, bro. I don’t have any ammo on your girl that’ll give you reason to kick her to the curb. Find your own damn reasons to dump her ass.” He crosses his arms and smirks. “If you can really do it. I got money that you’re too much of a nancy to do anything either way. Just like your cowardice fucking dad!”
Moving faster than the angel expects, Anton grabs him by the hair and yanks it back, bowing Jazz’s neck into a brutal angle. “You’re more pussy-whipped then I'll ever be,” he growls. “Now open your mouth.” He grips Jazz's hair harder, then gives it a wicked tug. “Do. It.”
Reluctantly, Jazz complies.
Anton grins, flipping the top off the vial and pouring a taste into the angel’s mouth. Just enough to tease him. Jazz squirms angrily in his hold.
Anton’s eyes flash fire. “Now tell me the truth. Did she help you? Yes or no. I don't need any more of your fucking commentary.”
Jazz swallows, his nostrils flaring.
Anton bares his fangs again, lifting the vial where Jazz can see it, then tilting it at an angle. “Tell me, or I swear I'll pour it out on the ground.”
“No!” Jazz shouts, frantically grabbing for Seth’s blood.
But with his hair still clutched in Anton's grip, his body just arches awkwardly. The vampire laughs in blatant amusement. Jazz growls, then begins to pant. His throat is searing, his skin like a million needles assaulting him.
“Fine,” he relents. “I'll tell you what I know. Zayta came to me one day. I tried talking her into helping me. I practically begged her.” Frowning, his body slumps. He closes his blood-shot eyes. “I thought my friend was still there, somewhere inside her.” He chuckles humorlessly, his tired shoulders shaking. “Let’s just say her response wasn’t what I’d hoped for. She practically spit in my face. Apparently my request struck a nerve and pissed her off completely.”
Everything he said is true, even though it dodged Anton’s fundamental question. Jazz locks gazes with the male, gripping Anton’s wrist where he clutched Jazz’s hair. “You happy now, asshole? You happy to hear of yet another epic fail for the angel?” When Anton merely eyes him, he snarls in aggravation. “It’s the fucking truth. I’m physically incapable of lying. Now give me his fucking blood!”
Anton grunts. “Open up then, bird boy.”
Smirking, he waits for the angel’s compliance. Jazz’s eyes never leave the vial as Anton tips it to his lips. Slowly, he pours its contents into the angel’s mouth, knowing as soon as the blood courses through him, Jazz will be back to full strength.
Letting the last drop of blood land on the male’s restless tongue, Anton tosses the vial into the mud and shoves Jazz away. “Don't say I never gave you anything, boy toy.”
Jazz’s tense frame visibly eases.
Anton sneers and flashes out, back to the only place he’s ever called home. He reappears in his bedroom, a place no one dares enter without his invitation. Walking over to the armchair in front of the fire place, he rubs his face, tired of the bullshit to appease his old man.
*Guest writer for Anton: Alicia Dawn
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