Nick was having it rough. First there was the laced blood he’d had while in Florida, and the high that lasted practically the entire night. Next there were the hallucinations, yelling at him; tempting him. Dealing with Jasper and Skittles while high? Not easy. But Jasper had helped, and he needed to talk to Billy about eliminating those tickets soon. The hallucinatory temptations had been bad enough, but to wake up the next night to his friends arguing was simply awful. He didn’t want to be on the outs with them, and fortunately, at least he and Rick were good. He still needed to talk to Ned and Ashley, but Ned was working, and he wasn’t sure Ashley would talk to him without Ned, so he opted to wait.
Then of course, there was the matter with his new ghoul, whom he was going to need to touch base with here soon, and likely at the very least make Tony and David aware of him. He thought to install him, at least for now, at Ryan’s comic store so that he would earn a paycheck. The idea had occurred to him that, because of his background in construction, he could use him as part of the plan to build secret or panic rooms for Kindred — another way for his coterie to earn boons. It was something he would bring up to them.
Presently, Ryan and the girls were working, and he’d just finished talking with Rick earlier. Bigger things going on were being handled, and now he was just trying to decide on what to do. Closing his eyes as he sat in the cab of his truck, he leaned back and just let his mind wander for a bit. In the back of his mind, his Beast whispered: Hunt. Feed. Kill.
Nick probably let it whisper to him longer than he should have, before he shook himself free of the whispers, and started up the truck, pulling away from Rick’s place and directing himself to somewhere he could feed. He was hungry, and the idea of hunting sounded good. He drove toward a more run-down part of town and parked, climbing out of his truck and taking a walk. The Beast was riding him, a familiar feeling, rending him of his addiction days.
He continued to walk, turning up his senses to listen for prey. Eventually, he could hear some crying and pleading. He paused, getting a good read on which direction, and followed the noise, finding himself in front of a small, run down house. The once-white paint was now faded and peeling, the porch railing was broken, and the front steps were sagging. He looked around a moment before striding up the steps, the sounds form inside getting louder. Flesh-on-flesh noises were heard as he approached the door, and without really stopping, he opened the screen door, then opened the door to the house itself and walked in, maneuvering his way through until he found the kitchen.
The scene he found there was an unpleasant one. Lying on the floor, her face already bruised, was a woman, perhaps in her forties, scampering back up against the wall, apologizing repeatedly. Striding toward her, yelling obscenities as he took off his belt, was a man who appeared taller and heavier than her — neither had noticed him yet. The man raised his arm up, ready to start beating the woman with the belt, when Nick grabbed his arm to stop him. Nick made eye contact with the woman, who was terrified, yet pleading at him with her eyes.
“Sleep.” he commanded, and watched as she slumped over. The guy movie his head backward rapidly, hitting Nick in the face, catching his nose. Nick growled, and gripped him tighter. He quickly reasserted his grip on the man before baring fangs. He sunk his fangs into the man’s neck and began to drink deeply.
Yes…the Beast whispered to him. He deserves it… feed deep…kill your prey…
Nick continued to feed until the man was limp in his arms. He licked the wound he’d created closed, and laid him on the floor. He felt for a pulse, and found it weak; thready. The guy might survive…if he got help. Turning away, he checked on the woman to see if she was alright, frowning when he realized how battered and bruised she was. With a slight growl, he placed a finger and thumb on her forehead, using Dominate to make her forget he had ever been there. Furthermore, he gave her a story to fall back on for later, when emergency services would be called.
Carefully, he picked her up, and carried her to the garage, putting her in a spot convincing enough to say that she had been hiding from her abuser. Going back inside, he checked the man’s pulse again before heading out the back door, working his way back to his truck. When he got there, he was shaking a little. He had killed a man. Furthermore, he had enjoyed it. He listened for a moment, but his Beast was quiet now; sated.
Disturbed, he started up the truck, and headed back towards downtown, wanting to take his mind off what had just happened, as well as other recent events. Arcadia was not the place to be — not tonight, not for him. He didn’t feel like running into anyone he knew, and there was less likely a chance that would happen if he went elsewhere. That’s how he found himself turning toward the Melrose District, and to Charlie’s.
Charlie’s was lively, and most of whom he saw there were unfamiliar faces. Breathing a small sigh of relief, he headed inside, directly for the dance floor. Dancing helped. He may not be the best dance that ever lived, but he knew how, and wasn’t bad. The music helped him forget what he had done for now, and helped him enjoy himself more. Others danced with him, and one man in particular was with him through several dances, and struck up a mild conversation.
He was close to Nick’s height, maybe three inches shorter. He wore a pair of what had to be new jeans, a plain tee, and sneakers. His build was an athletic one, tattoos marked both arms, but his most appealing feature was his face. Brown eyes and a warm smile, framed by tousled blond hair. There was a certain amount of chemistry there between them, and perhaps some flirting, largely on the other man’s part. After a few dances, they took a break to sit at a booth, and order drinks.
“You’re a good dancer.” the other man began, sweating a little from the activity.
“You too.” Nick said with a smile. “By the way, I didn’t catch your name.”
“I didn’t give it.” the other man grinned. “But I’m Lucas — Lucas Blackwell.”
“Nick Jackson.” Nick offered.
Lucas, still grinning, struck up more conversation with Nick, who, for his part, was happy to make conversation with someone new, even if they were just mortal. They both had a few drinks — Nick discreetly disposing of his when Lucas wasn’t looking.
“Say…” Lucas began, putting a hand over Nick’s. “What if we had back to my place?”
Do it. You know you want to. You know they’ll forgive you. Again.
This time, Nick did his best to ignore the Beast. “I like you, Lucas, I do. But I can’t.” he said, gently removing Lucas’ hand from his own.
“Why not?” Lucas pouted. Gods, it was cute.
“I’m taken.” Nick responded.
“I don’t see a ring.” Lucas protested.
“Not married, not engaged — still taken.” Nick said.
“Damn.” Lucas sighed. “And here I thought I was having some luck.”
“Sorry.” Nick said, feeling a bit bad for the guy. He was vaguely reminded of Rick and his luck.
“Not your fault.” Lucas said. “Well, thanks for a good time anyway.” he said, smiling a little forlornly before disappearing into the crowd.
Nick sighed, getting up to pay the tab, and then leave. His good mood had been soured by the Beast’s whispers, and by having to let Lucas down.
At this point, all he wanted to do was lose himself in Ryan. Not even the girls — just Ryan. He wanted that familiarity and closeness; needed it, even. Pulling his keys out of his pocket as he weaved through the parking lot toward his truck, he climbed in, and headed for home, hoping Ryan would be there.