The Nightlife: Paris (The Nightlife Series)

The

NIGHTLIFE: 
PARIS

 

By
Travis Luedke

 

 

 

The
Nightlife:  Paris

 

Published by Travis
Luedke

 

Copyright 2013 by
Travis Luedke

 

Book Cover Art by Ida
Jansson, Amygdaladesign.net

http://www.amygdaladesign.net/

 

FIRST EDITION

 

All rights reserved.  No part of this
publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system,
or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of
both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

 

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters,
places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of author's
imagination or are used fictitiously.  The author acknowledges the trademarked
status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of
fiction, which have been used without permission.  The publication/use of these
trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark
owners.

 

Adult
Reading Material (17+)

Contains
scenes of graphic sex and violence

unsuitable
for underage readers

 

 

Publications
by Travis Luedke

 

 

The Nightlife Series:

 

I    The Nightlife:  New York

II   The Nightlife:  Las Vegas

III  The Nightlife:  Paris

BLOOD SLAVE

 

IV  The Nightlife:  London  December 2013

 

V  The Nightlife:  Moscow  2014

 

 

Young
Adult novels by TW Luedke (Travis Luedke)

 

 

the shepherd

 

 

 

Chapter 1

 

“Do you have any flights leaving New York after sunset that
arrive in Paris before sunrise?”  Aaron Pilan stared unblinking at the travel
agent, assaulting her with the full bore of his gaze.

“No sir, not commercial flights.  I’m not sure about the
charter flights.”

Aaron glanced at the nameplate on her desk and tried a more
personal approach.  “Penelope, I need your help.”  He drilled into her mind
with his telepathic probe, digging through her thoughts and emotions.  “How
long is a flight to Paris?”

“Well … it’s a seven hour flight at minimum, but the time
zones …”  He read Penelope’s every thought with ease.  His eyes seemed to
swallow her very soul with the wondrous intensity of his gaze.  She fell under
his spell in a matter of seconds.  “Um … Paris is six hours ahead of New York,
so it’s really thirteen hours …”

“Help me, Penelope.  Help me find a flight that leaves by
7:30 p.m. and arrives by 7:00 a.m. in Paris.”

His eyes owned her as he read her mind.  She couldn’t
imagine disagreeing with him.  She would give him anything – her heart, her
body, her soul – just to know the truth behind his eyes.  He read her infatuation
as she moistened between the legs, staring at him like a love-struck teenager.

“Um … one of the Gulfstream charters might be able to do
that.”  She thought hard, considering one company in particular that would fly
anyone anywhere, under any circumstances, for the right price.

“I knew you could help me.”

He took her hand and she wet her underwear in anticipation. 
A blush of rosy heat crept up her face and her little pink tongue darted out to
swipe her dry lips.  Her desire to be kissed flooded her mind, washing over him
as he sifted through her thoughts.  She focused on the gleaming white teeth of
his smile, and he knew she wished he’d drag her into the alcove and have her up
against the wall. 
Too easy
.  He could bend her over the kiosk right
there.

He read all her fantasies, a series of delightfully wicked
things she hoped for.  Uncomfortably hot and bothered by his brief touch,
Penelope’s fingers moved unsteadily over the keyboard.  She tried not to look
at him, but she couldn’t help herself.

She cleared her throat. “Executive Pathways can expedite a
transcontinental flight tomorrow night for $16,000.  Oh wow, that’s really
expensive, but they’ll leave whenever you like.  Are you sure we can’t make one
of these commercial flights work?  I can get you first class at a discount …”

“No thanks.  I’ll take the charter.”  His exacting flight
schedule could not be compromised.

She continued trying to dissuade him.  “It’s only a couple
hours difference ...” 

Two hours made all the difference.  Vampires don’t do
daylight.  “I need two tickets.”

“Two?  But there’s no discount for the second ticket …”

He followed her mind as she imagined accompanying him
overseas.  A foreign rendezvous, endless hours of sex in a French hotel suite. 
She’d let him do anything he wanted, repeatedly.

Michelle arrived, slipping her arm around him intimately. 
Gorgeous, blonde, glamorous, she could’ve been a model fresh off the runway. 
Penelope’s fantasy crashed and burned, the screams of dying dreams echoing in
her ears.

He smiled at her again, and winked.  “We’ll take two
tickets.”

Penelope swallowed her demolished pride.  He felt a twinge
of sympathy as Penelope realized she could never compete with a woman like
Michelle.  His master was so beautiful it hurt to look at her.

“That’s $34,945.00 with taxes and fees.  How will you be
paying for that?”  Penelope’s eyes kept drifting to the fabulous blonde draped
around him.

He handed over his gold card, the plastic so new and shiny
it still smelled of Las Vegas.  Well over six figures backed that account from
his nights as a high roller in Vegas.

She swiped his card and managed to smile without faltering. 
It touched him that Penelope wondered why she couldn’t have a man like him in
her life.  And then she glanced at Michelle under his arm, and she knew those
women always stole all the Aarons for themselves.  Penelope would have to make
do scrounging for leftovers.

He leaned towards her, stealing her breath with his
proximity.  “Penelope, why don’t you join us for a drink when you’re off work?”

He followed her thoughts as she asked the question,
is he
worth sharing?

“I promise you won’t regret it.”  He smiled again.

She bit her lower lip in anticipation. 
Yes, he was worth
sharing, and the blonde might be fun too …

 

* * * *

 

Michael Jamison considered himself lucky to catch a glimpse
of the vampires as they left in a taxi with the woman from the travel agency. 
Probably headed back to their hotel.  He had followed their flight from Vegas
to New York, arriving scant minutes after them.

“That poor woman doesn’t have a clue what they’re going to
do to her,” he murmured to himself from the backseat of the taxi following
theirs. 
I wonder if they’re going to kill her
.  He shook his head.

Once more he considered calling the police.  But that would
get messy.  He wanted to continue following them to learn more.  Police would
be the end of it.

In the course of investigating this unique pair of creatures,
Mike had been privy to video footage that proved beyond a doubt Aaron and
Michelle were, in fact, vampires, with astonishing physical capabilities.  He
had security camera recordings that captured the two of them moving at blinding
speed, performing inhuman feats of acrobatics, and the coup-de-grace – tore the
beating heart from a man’s chest, bare-handed.  Vicious and merciless when provoked,
he still found them awe-inspiringly graceful.  He imagined the limitless
possibilities available to those with such obvious superiority over mankind.

He stalked them from a distance as they herded the woman into
the hotel lounge, a lamb to the slaughter.  They sat in a dark corner booth. 
He stole glances at them as they leaned in, so casual, a little nip in the
woman’s neck.  They could have been kissing, playing around.  They seemed to be
her best friends, her lovers, her confidants.

He looked around at the other people in the lounge to see if
they noticed.  Nothing.  These two creatures sat there feeding off this woman
who obviously loved every second of their attentions, and not one person in the
room noticed.  Mike could barely tell what they were doing, and only because he
watched them so carefully.  He watched for those little pointy fangs, and the
flick of the tongue cleaning off the last bit of blood from her neck as they
withdrew.

After four years in the Marine Corps, a tour in Iraq, and
another ten years chasing deadbeats around Las Vegas, Mike knew how to keep a
sharp eye on a situation.  He made his money watching things no one else
noticed.  But this time no one paid him to watch.  He did it for his own
intents.  His last paying client had died three nights ago in the desert just
north of Vegas.  The vampires had torn off the man’s genitals and left him
there.  Not a nice way to die.

Of all the bizarre and disturbing things he’d seen, Mike
found this the most fascinating investigation of his life.  He’d abandoned everything
else in pursuit of these wickedly magnificent creatures.  He was unshakably
devoted to learning how to become a vampire.

 

* * * *

 

Aaron trailed his fingers over Penelope’s neckline and
collarbone, watching her melt into his touch.  “You like that, don’t you.”  He
pulled her hair aside from her neck and struck without warning, dipping razor
sharp fangs into her neck.  Michelle followed suit from the other side, biting
down with a light loving nip.

“Ouch ... that … oh my God, that’s wonderful!”  Penelope
writhed in their embrace, her hips squirmed.  The overpowering effect of their
double bite sang through her body, bringing her to a violent and immediate,
gushing orgasm.

“Oh God … oh yes!”  She whimpered, barely able to breathe or
speak.

It only lasted a few seconds, but Aaron knew they’d gifted
her with a multiple.  She continued to twitch with it for another couple
minutes after they released their bites, synchronized perfectly with one
another.  He and Michelle had their timing down to an art form,
not too
long, not too much
.

He petted Penelope’s hair possessively as she snuggled into
his embrace, trying to mold herself to his body.  Her hands flowed over him,
finding his arousal.  “I don’t how you did that, but I’m so ready right now. 
You don’t even know.”  But he did know.  He read her intense desire to go down
on him right there in the booth.

 He projected
silently to Michelle via their psychic bond.

Anastasia?>  Her glare sliced him with disapproval.  Master Michelle, ever
the voice of caution.

 
He tried to suppress the pain of Anastasia’s loss as it twisted in his stomach.

in our lives.  We bring them only death.
 
C’est impossible
.
>  Michelle reverted to French
when her emotions flared.

wants it badly.  Just this once?>

dangerous.>


He extracted his arm from his warm embrace of Penelope’s shoulders
and peeled her hands off his crotch.  “As much as I wish we could, we can’t.  We
must go now.  I’ll call you a taxi.”  He drove home the point with his eyes,
convincing her by force of will.

Her disappointment and heartbreak washed over him.  She
wanted his cock
sooo
badly.  And he wanted to give it to her till she
couldn’t walk.  But Michelle was right.  She was always right.  And his
beautiful Anastasia had died.  Putting Penelope at risk would not bring
Anastasia back.  He’d seen far too much death.

“Really?  I thought …”  Penelope looked ready to cry.

“I know.  But it wasn’t meant to be.  We had our moment.” 
He brushed his fingers over her cheeks.

He dashed all her hopes and desires with a platonic peck on
her lips and then led her out to the street to send her on her way.  There
would be no sharing of Aaron Pilan on this night.

 

* * * *

 

Moments after sunset, Michelle and Aaron were out the door
and headed to the elevator, luggage already packed and waiting in a taxi on the
street.  The first challenge to overcome before flying across the ocean was the
ever-present blood thirst.  Like a cowboy lost in the desert in a 70’s western
movie, Aaron’s thirst nagged perpetually at the edge of his awareness.  Not too
many chances to feed on a private charter jet.

As he and Michelle entered the elevator, he took full
advantage of the opportunity presented by a cute little Mexican maid dragging
in her cleaning cart to hitch a ride down.  He wasted not a second catching her
attention.  Trapped, unable to look away, he held her in place with his gaze,
mesmerized.

“Come here.”

She stepped into striking distance.  The cattle always
behaved like this.  They found the allure of his direct eye contact near irresistible.

Aaron enfolded the maid in his embrace and bit her gently as
the elevator descended.  She tensed up in his grip, not understanding.  “No Senor!”

The euphoria of his venom penetrated her confusion in seconds. 
She hugged him sweetly.  “Aye, que rico!”

By the time he finished, she panted her spearmint bubble gum
breath against his cheek, leaning into him for support.  Her dark brown eyes
looked up, dilated with the pleasure of her release.  He took what he needed in
full, her orgasm his gift in return.  She had no complaints.

She clung to him murmuring in Spanish.  The cattle would
follow him anywhere, seduced effortlessly.  They were inexplicably drawn to
both vampires, moths to their dual flames.

Michelle had delivered her only explanation of their strange
attraction after she saved his life two months ago, “This is the
Magnétisme Animal
of the
vampires.”  Her usual vague French-English mish-mash.  He guessed she probably
didn’t understand it either.

He caught a blast of Michelle’s envy as she watched him with
the maid.  Her emotions and thoughts flowed across their intimate psychic
bond.  Watching him feed made her thirsty.  She licked her lips, wanting to
take a bite out of the girl, but held off.  He had fed enough from the maid. 
Michelle lived by strict rules of moderation with the food.

She found her dinner minutes later in the gift shop on their
way out of the hotel.  The shop attendant, a young male college student,
scrambled to help Michelle find a good book.  She moved in on him, close and
intimate as he tried to describe the plot of the novel.  In seconds he opened
the collar of his shirt at her suggestion, entranced.  She fed for almost two
minutes straight, taking a healthy share. This feeding might have to hold her
for the entire night.

She left him dazed, swaying, a wet stain spreading across
his pants.  He looked after Michelle as she walked away licking her lips
clean.  They never want to let go.  But she respected human life, and for that
reason she refused to adopt ‘pets’.

As they boarded their private jet on schedule, precisely
fifty minutes after sunset, the second opportunity to feed presented itself. 
Aaron ascribed to a simple wisdom – when opportunity knocks, you should invite
it to dinner.

Moments after takeoff their stewardess Nancy, a forty-something
single mother greeted them with refreshments.  “You can take off your seatbelts
now.”

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