Balance Point Read online

  The Complex

  Balance Point

  By

  Katherine Rhodes

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Balance Point: The Complex

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright 2016 © Katherine Rhodes

  Cover by ShoutLine Designs

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

  A Lone Planet. One Complex.

  Unlimited Chaos.

  http://www.thecomplex.info

  The Complex. A massive building for a massive experiment.

  And a great place to hide in plain, untouchable sight.

  John Smith--- lucky him, his real name and what a great name for a vampire--joined the experiment when his luck ran out. The donor he had been seeing was more than willing, but less than legal, and her father the Senator wanted him staked. He takes the alternative: a ticket to experiment on Lorn.

  But the experiment was a microcosm of the worlds of Seldova and once again, he finds himself at the end of stake wielded by an angry mate. This time, though, it's not his life being threatened. The sweet, down-on-her-luck succubus Auralym has made the bad choice this time.

  And the choice was worse than he and Climantra security volunteer Marin thought. Short on time, they must find Auralym if they hope to find their balance point…

  **Content Warning: this book includes adult language and sexual situations, including m/m and m/m/f and is intended for readers 18+ ONLY***

  Contents

  Chapter One

  John

  Auralym

  Marindor

  Chapter Two

  John

  Marindor

  Chapter Three

  Auralym

  John

  Chapter Four

  Auralym

  John

  Chapter Five

  John

  Marindor

  Chapter Six

  Auralym

  Chapter Seven

  John

  Marindor

  Chapter Eight

  Auralym

  John

  Chapter Nine

  Auralym

  Epilogue

  John

  More about the Author

  Chapter One

  John

  I have lived a dozen lives among the people of this galaxy. I have been father, child, friend, enemy, hater, lover…

  And frankly, I got a little sick of all of it.

  There were too many races of beings in this galaxy for people to split on minutae.

  Humankind was stuck on them. I was over it.

  I had brokered a deal, one that was either brilliant or terrible—but was guaranteed to keep me away from the universe at large for two long years.

  It would, however, stuff me in with the Metas of the universe for those two years.

  I'd tried most of my very long life to be a good person. Vampire. I followed the rules, I didn’t feed indiscriminately, I chose my bedfellows with care—male, female, otherwise. I never took an unwilling donor.

  Despite all that, I got jacked, hard.

  So, maybe I pressed my luck a bit. I was playing around on a Human planet, trying to blend in. The war was still fresh in their minds, but I missed the taste of their thick, sweet blood.

  They didn't, however, miss me. More was the shame.

  I still wasn't breaking any law—not knowingly. I swore to De'lina when she chose the Sun, that I wouldn't turn rogue. And I didn’t.

  But we all know that Humans can't resist a little a lie here and there.

  Milduna was a practiced liar. She conned me into thinking she was twenty-three. And she was nothing of the sort. A little drink and sex were all I was looking for, and she was there.

  Thing was, her father caught me balls (and fangs) deep in his daughter. His more than willing, less than legal daughter.

  Probably somewhere around demanding my head, he realized his daughter was a liar and came back with the deal.

  My head, or the Complex.

  Wasn't really a choice, now was it?

  The charmer he had for a wife also wanted to put me on plasma restriction, but even the Mayor saw that was really more than was necessary. After all, this was his apology to me.

  Synthoplas was vile. Every vampire I knew had a stash of it, but we desperately avoided using the stuff. The best comparison I'd come up with was: imagine the most amazing dish of your favorite food, then being given rice cakes and told it was the same.

  Yeah. That bad.

  Still, it was a necessity. There were places in the galaxy that needed a longer-than-96-hour flight, and you couldn't walk up to another passenger—Meta or Human—and bust out with, “Excuse me, may I exsanguinate you?” Wasn't really a thing that was done. Synthoplas was perfect for that situation.

  I was on the next shuttle out to the jetter launch point with a single bag of my personal effects, half of it that disgusting Synthoplas because who knew how long before I could find a willing neck.

  Make no mistake: I was formerly a hetero male Meta with typical desires. De'lina and I were perfect together. She turned me, and we spent a marvelous two centuries together. And then, she grew bored of this life. She had five centuries before me. I wasn't ready to go. She made me promise I would be good and walked into the blinding furnace of the sun.

  Her death hurt me. I was lost for a while. Eventually, I found my way back. If all that sounds cold, it's because five hundred years have passed. It’s impossible to mourn that long without going insane. So I moved on.

  I discovered that my previously strictly hetero desires weren't there anymore. Men held pleasure. Other races were intriguing. The damn Cnidarians could do things to a being that made you come so hard your balls were drained for a week. And, damn, they tasted good, too.

  By the time I'd met the little temptress, I was solidly pansexual. Wherever, whoever, whatever-—as long as it was disease free living blood, could give me pleasure.

  And didn't taste like Synthoplas.

  The jetter security assholes were concerned with the amount of the nasty crap I had in my bag like I was smuggling for someone. I leaned down and explained: “If anything happens and we don't get there in ninety-six hours, you realize that I go into bloodlust and all you little Humans are my snack, right? Because if you dig getting bitten by an insane vampire, you just go ahead and take all that, and hop on board with me.”

  The jackasses exchanged looks and waved me through. Humanity may have evolved, but somehow the idiots still managed to land in positions that could piss off the whole galaxy with just two words.

  There was nothing luxurious about the jetter. In fact, I was sure it was the one held back to overcrowd and get unwanteds off the planet. The Complex was supposed to be a peaceful experiment, but I could already see that there were pirates, rogues, thieves and con-men on the thing. It was a fast way to burn the garbage.

  The Complex was supposed to shield us all by giving us food and shelter and 12 hour days.

  Which kind of fucked me up because of the sunlight thing. Vampires don't thrive in it.

  I missed the days of Vaimm, sometimes. And
staring at Lorn as it came into view, I really started to miss Vaimm.

  Vaimm had been beautiful. Massive, and beautiful. When the earthquakes started, everyone just thought it was a settling of the core-—after all, ours was one of the oldest planets. But they didn't let up. Then the volcanos started. And they didn't let up. And finally, the scientists got their answer.

  The planet was dying. We had to leave if the Metas expected to survive. We bundled into the ship and away we went.

  And away.

  And away. For 300 years. The pun is terrible, but by the time we found Seldova and the habitable planets we were at each other's throats. Generally, Metas don't play well together. That trip proved it.

  But we never forgot the beauty of Vaimm.

  Especially now, staring down at Lorn. With its lack of vegetation, lack of air, crap sunlight, and lakes of flowing gallium. Shit, I missed water already.

  The lines to get into the building were insane, only to be nearly dissected by the Climintra. And once again, the bastards wanted to know why I had so much Synthoplas. This time, I just dropped my fangs and hissed.

  They got the message.

  “Last table on the left. They give you your assignments.”

  “Too kind,” I mumbled. The line for entry was a pleasure compared to the hell that was the housing assignments. The place was going to be half empty, so people could kind of pick what they wanted with their money. I just wanted a dark room soon, or I was going to flip my shit.

  Probably time to choke down some 'plas, honestly.

  Finally, nearly four hours after getting on the line, I was at the table.

  “Name.” The cranky, grey haired bitch didn't make it a question.

  “John Smith.”

  Same reaction, every time. The slow turn or raise of the head, the blank stare, the vacuous, idiotic blink. “Are you kidding me?”

  “No. John Smith. It's the closest thing in com that you Humans can handle without spraining your tongue or your brain.”

  “It's attitudes like yours that caused the whole P-Extintion conflict.”

  “Look, lady. I'm not here to start another war. I just want my room assignment and a list of available jobs. You asked me my name, it's John Smith.”

  She looked back down. “Fine. John Smith. Vampire, by the amount of Synthoplas. So you need the sublevels, yes.”

  “Do the upper levels have UVBan on the windows?”

  “They can, for a price.”

  Ah, ha. It was one of these places. And reaching back in my memory of the infodoc we'd been handed, Lorn had twenty hours of daylight. “How much for an interior with the UVBan?” The question was just a matter of form; six hundred years of being paid and living in econbox hovels tended to shore up the bank account.

  “It's five thousand S-co, out of your allowance, plus the cost of the apartment rental.”

  Allowance? “What's that cost?”

  “It starts—” She peered up at me. “Didn't you read the information packet you were sent when signed up, Mister Smith?”

  “My packet said, 'the Complex or my head,' so it wasn't real in-depth.”

  Rolling her eyes, she began a sales pitch. “We have apartments that range from an efficiency to five bedrooms, all with individual hyengic units. Rooms can be moded for more out of pocket.”

  I held up my hand. “Three bedrooms.”

  She flipped through the screen in front of her. “Thirty-five thousand S-co for the two years, all out of your advance, plus the five thousand for the UVBan.”

  This place was jacking me. “That's fine.” I had no idea what my allowance even was.

  In a flurry of fingers, she set up all the information I needed to have to access the apartments.

  “Right hand, please.”

  I held it out, thinking she was going to do a palm scan, but the device slammed in to my hand and injected something into the muscle. “Ow, what the fuck?”

  “That is your data chip. It will open your door, and access your banking records. Should you wish to replenish your Uni chip, please visit the Uni Fianance branch in Main City. The only money accepted at the Complex is the Uni chip. No outside banks are allowed.”

  “So how long—”

  She ignored me and kept going with the spiel.

  “Because you have requested a modification to your apartment, you will have a temporary residence in the Dark levels until your permanent residence is ready in about a week. You will be charged one hundred S-co a day for this residence.” She held out a mini-tablet for me to grab. “You will find all the bylaws and governance for the Complex in there. Read through, and make sure you understand. If you have questions, there are Uni lawyers to help you with comprehension. You are expected to find or create legal means of income. There are taxes, they are in the governance. If you have any questions, please find a Climintra guide or speak to a Uni lawyer. Your temporary residence locale is detailed in the information I just handed you.” She hit three buttons, and yelled, “Next!”

  Without a chance to say a thing, I was shoved along bodily to the public transportation waiting. I watched the few others walking through and imitated them as they approached, waving my extremely sore hand over a gate post.

  The variety of beings represented was stunning. Metas of all kinds and Humans sandwiched in between. I took a deep breath and regretted it.

  I popped an instant feeding boner.

  The transport, a zipper—as in what was currently crushing my dick—was filled with Humans, and I was about 48 hours out from my last feeding. I was going to have to hit the 'plas, or I'd go feeding frenzy.

  I didn't dare pull it out in a car full of Humans, though. They'd freak. I just had to sit there with a hard on pressing against my fly.

  Which is exactly as comfortable as it sounds. That is to say, not even fucking remotely.

  * * *

  Auralym

  I could tell the tall, blond man who squeezed in across from me was a vampire. He exuded sex, and that didn't help my near desperate situation.

  I didn't want to be here, I certainly didn’t want to be this desperate for sex. The whole thing was unfair.

  I ignored the hot, sexy vamp as we rode the zipper through the Complex to the different stops. Most of the people on here were freshly arrived, the last of the residents. I had been here over a week, granted special permission to move in before the official date.

  As if it were some big honor.

  The whole reason I was there, sex starved and getting more desperate, was my paramour's father-in-law. Oh, Ofanté was an asshole too. He had been married and never bothered to tell me.

  It was bad enough being a succubus. The constant need for sex and climax got in the way of everything else. I'd barely made it through my higher eds because of it. There had been times when I'd barely made it back to the room for a session with BOB before I passed out.

  There was the humiliating time I had to get myself off in the bathroom. And none of this worked for more than a few hours. Nothing ever worked for more than a few hours, except an actual sexual encounter where I could pull the sexual energy off the partner.

  It was no wonder my sister had willingly become a sex slave. I was horrified when she sold herself off to a group of bonded fairy males. But when I visited her, she was glowing. She could do as she pleased, and they fucked her—and hell, each other—whenever they pleased. One of them had bent her over the table while we were chatting in the kitchen.

  I'm not ashamed to say, I let him fuck me right after that. I let them have their way with me the whole visit.

  But that was the difference. I could say no. I could pack up and leave. My sister couldn't; I made her swear she had the money to buy back her contract. She said she did, but they were good to her. She was sated and happy.

  And then I made the stupid agreement with Ofanté dayBrassile. He was just looking for casual sex, and that's all I needed. Just someone to pull the sexual energy from.

  The ass was married. Onc
e I found that out, I did some searching and found he was quite the player. He had been stepping out on his wife from almost the day they were married. When his father-in-law, the infamous Senator Vergaran, found out, he blamed me as much as he blamed Ofanté.

  He wanted me gone, and with the power he wielded he got me gone, off to the Complex almost before the security had moved in.

  I hadn't had sex since.

  Lyster Vargaran was a bigger asshole than Ofanté—he was an incubus and knew what not having a willing, and available partner would do to me.

  So now, I was riding the zipper, across from a giant sex pot of a vampire, desperate to stick my hand down my pants right there and get off. I didn't know who Mister Sex was or if he was clean because I would totally have brokered a deal. Instead, I was sticking to my original plan of trying to find the tunnels.

  Not even a full week and the underground was in full swing. The drug dealers, the bootleggers, the Shanghai'ers had all moved in within a few hours of the official opening. Disguised as the respectable, upright citizenry they weren't, they'd set up shop in the tunnels below the domes. Selling all manner of illegal and black market goods.

  It amazed me, and didn't, how quickly the underground could establish itself. That's also what happened when there wasn't a good screening process.

  The Climintra was so preoccupied with all moving in that it wasn't hard to wander down toward where the doors to the tunnels were hidden. Checking the knob, it was already broken, so I slipped inside.

  What was I looking for in the tunnels? Good, solid, anonymous sex. I didn't care if it was Meta or Human, either. I just needed to get laid. Or soon, I wouldn't have the option of anything that could make me come. Once I reached a month without an actual sexual encounter, I had to find a strong Meta, like Mister Sexy Vamp on the zipper. I'd kill anyone else as soon as they came.

  I hated that this was my life. That every waking second of my existence had been about sex since I was sixteen. I mean, at first, your mother and father telling you to make sure you had sex was pretty awesome. But being a slightly more academic person, who wanted to do more than just get laid all the time and didn’t really have a burning interest in sex, it sucked.