Song

Chapter One.

His fingers flitted across the neck of the guitar as he, Dirk Angeleus, sung “Maybe” by Sick Puppies. Black hair hung in his amaranth eyes, and his lips moved in a sensual way. His left ear was pierced with a black diamond dagger, and his lip held a purple crystal-like stud. Dirk stretched his black tipped fingers, before rapidly switching to “You're Going Down”.

His height was exaggerated by his combat boots, and his black V-neck tee-shirt glimmered in the strobe lights. Holy, white jeans clad his long, muscular legs. Utterly gorgeous, Dirk had a face – and body – to be reckoned with. At first glance, he was perfect, but this rocker Adonis, was anything but.

Striking the final chord on the song, he looked up. The dim-lighting of the little rocker coffee shop was hell on his straining eyes. Honestly, he hated the strobe lights; they wrecked havoc on his vision. It was part of the reason he never looked up while he was playing. He moved off the stage, dodging all the girls who thought he was so amazing.

“Sorry ladies, not tonight,” he said, not bothering to look at their faces, for fear that his strenuous hold on control might snap.

The pain had already set in along his jaw, and knives of agony imbedded themselves behind his eyes. Rushing through the doors, into the alley, he slid down to the ground. Back against the wall. “Oh thank God,” he murmured, scrubbing at his eyes.

“Dear, tragic brother,” an all to familiar voice said. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

Glaring, Dirk shoved himself up to his feet. He couldn't speak, all he could do was stare angrily at his POS brother, Iean. He shouldn't even be considered that. It was far too nice. Iean was nothing but evil incarnate. Well, Dirk wasn't all that splendorous himself, but at least he didn't do some of the wretched things Iean did. Dirk had done some pretty gruesome things, but that was beside the point.

Finally, after a stare down that seemed to last a lifetime – and they both knew how long that could last – Dirk regained his tongue. “What are you doing here, Iean?” he snarled, needle-like canines flashing.

Iean held a hand to where his heart was supposed to be, feigning a wounded expression. “Now, brother, is that anyway to treat the person who taught you how to survive?” His tone was cold, calculated. And mocking. Mocking, all the same.

Sneering, Dirk growled. Iean was unfazed. Damn. Intimidating the brute was not going to work, or that was how it seemed. Iean was trained enough – no – tried enough not to let his emotions cross his face. In the world they lived in, the simplest act of vulnerability could – would – get you killed. Dirk's chest reverberated with a growl that he fought to contain. While Iean was older, more experienced, Dirk was young, and still learning control.

“You did me no favors, you mongrel,” Dirk said, clearing his face.

Surprising Dirk, fury fleeted across the animals face. But just as soon as it appeared, it was gone. Like a gold-digger after you're broke. At 6'7, Iean was only an inch taller than Dirk, but drawing up to his full height (plus the three inch heels of his biker boots) it made Dirk feel inept. “You ungrateful little prick,” Iean whispered, taking the step that put him directly in Dirk's face.

“Yes, Iean. I am an ungrateful prick.” Dirk grabbed the front of Iean's expensive silk shirt, and spinning, pinned him against the brick wall. Not an easy task. “Because you are inconsiderate. You should have let me die.”

Easily, as if without thought, Iean shrugged out from under Dirk's clenched fists, and knocked him back. “But, tell me – I truly am curious. Where is the fun in that?”

“You sick masochistic bast-”

“Ah ah ah, little brother. Language. You must be foul mouthed.” Iean grinned at that. As if he thought it was funny. He wasn't the type to laugh at things that were actually humorous, only things that were sick and twisted.

“Why. Are. You. Here?” Dirk pronounced each word carefully, trying to get the message to his screwed up brother that he was unwanted and unwelcome anywhere that Dirk was. For years, Iean had been showing up unexpectedly, making his life hell, and then disappearing.

“The same as usual,” Iean said, grinning wickedly. “To check up on you.”

“To make my life hell,” Dirk reiterated. “That's all you have ever done, Iean!” Losing his already waning control, Dirk put his weight into the fist that landed hard against Iean's lip.

His head snapped to the side under the blow, and blood flowed from his lip. Dirk felt considerably better. And who said violence solved nothing? Dirk swung again, but this time the punch was blocked. Dirk's head cracked against the opposite side of the alley. Crumpling to the ground, he realized idly that Iean had, too lost his temper. The long-legged thick brute hovered over Dirk, seething. His amethyst eyes emanated his hatred. It was brutal, and it ignited the fire smoldering deep inside of Dirk.

Dirk flew to his feet, catching Iean around the waist with an angry cry. But, even Dirk knew you didn't mess with Iean unless you wanted a serious ass-kicking. Tonight, however, Dirk didn't give a fuck. All he wanted was to release a centuries worth of pent up anger, hurt, and self-consciousness. Tonight, all he cared for was vengeance.

Together, they slammed into the wall, hard enough to crack it ten feet up. Iean landed with his face against the wall and thus leaving his neck bared. Starving, and no longer under control, Dirk sank his fangs into Iean's neck. Growling, Dirk drank greedily, not caring that he was putting Iean in agonizing pain. He simply didn't care. His thirst quenched to a bearable level, Dirk pulled away.

Licking his lips, he shoved against Iean's quivering back, moving away from him. “Now, you know how it feels to be used.”

Dirk left Iean standing there, breathing hard, braced against the wall. Hopefully feeling like some used and unwanted whipping boy. Hell, if he could dish it out, he should be able to deal. But somewhere in the back of Dirk's head, he knew that Iean wouldn't. He would just get more pissed and make Dirk's life even more of a living hell.