The Vampire´s Secret Baby Read online

  He felt his body getting hotter, the anger and rage of the beast welling within him, a slight growl escaped his lips bellowing up from his throat and chest. His body felt lighter than air suddenly, the strength of a God surging through him as his legs moved at the speed of an Olympic sprinter moving at top speed.

  He managed to cover the distance to the wall running as fast as he could. The ball was there, sailing over the top of the fence. Rob jumped as high as he could and stretched his long six foot three inch body out as far as it would stretch, his glove held out above him.

  It was going to be close…

  The ball landed in his glove about two feet above the top of the wall. It should have been a home run. The game should have been over. The Diamondbacks should have lost, but Rob had done it. He’d saved the score. But it wasn’t over yet.

  The runner had tagged at third base just in case, but he was going for it now running as hard as he could, sprinting toward home plate. It was four hundred feet from the wall where Rob was now landing hard on his feet, to home plate. There was no way that any normal man could make that throw in time, but Rob was not going to back down now; he had to go for it.

  Rob stepped, aimed, and threw as hard as he could, once again tapping into the essence of the wolf. A loud roar escaped his throat; no one could hear over the roar of the crowd though. The ball sailed through the air picking up speed traveling at well over a hundred miles per hour in a straight line flying over the heads of the cut off men who were waving their arms at him trying to assist in the Hail Mary futile long shot.

  The ball hit the catcher’s glove; he spun and swept the ground with it right in front of the runner’s legs, tagging him out before he touched the plate.

  “Out!” The umpire screamed. “That’s the ballgame!”

  He’d done it. He had just won the game for his team. Everything was moving in a daze as if everyone was in stop motion animation. His fellow players were all jumping on each other, hugging and slapping high fives. Fans were starting to rush the field as security did their best to hold them back.

  Rob was softly jogging back towards the infield. He did it mostly to avoid the rabid fans that were coming onto the field and to give himself a few seconds to get away from his fellow teammates who wanted to congratulate him. He wanted the praise; he lived for it sometimes, but he could feel the wolf roaring inside of him. It wanted to be let loose. For a few moments, he felt that he might have used too much power to now be able to shut it down and revert back to his normal self.

  If he started to change he would have to duck into the dugout and run into the locker room to hop in the cool shower. That always helped cool him down and get him under control. He just had to maintain though; he didn’t want to waste this opportunity. He had worked for this very thing his whole life. His team was now going to the playoffs. If they won, they would be headed to the World Series.

  “Man that was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!” Dan Richards, their center fielder said giving Rob a big slap on the back. “That arm of yours is a nuclear weapon! We did it baby!” He said jumping on to Rob’s shoulders for a short ride before hopping down and running toward the infield.

  Rob had to smile; Dan was a hilarious guy. He was one of the veterans on the field and everyone admired him; he was a great ball player and a nice guy. Rob was happy to call him a friend.

  The heat wave of excitement was beginning to simmer down inside of him as he joined his team on the infield and began to endure and give out high fives, hugs, stupid jokes, and sentiments. The beer was already flowing as the team began tossing back cans and pouring half of it on each other. It was as if winning a game suddenly turned them all into college frat guys at a toga party.

  Rob took a few deep breaths, feeling the cold sweat all over his body. He felt tired now, as he always did after using his wolf to gain an edge, or the certain times when he did lose control and fully wolfed out. There was something about it that left him tired and drained for several seconds.

  Someone handed him a beer and he quickly tossed it back, feeling the cold liquid slide down his throat. It was actually a great way to tame the beast and stuff it back into its cage; alcohol was a nice depressant that occasionally did wonders for him when he was out of control. And what he needed now was to relax.

  The next twenty minutes was almost a blur. Rob was suddenly surrounded by a slew of reporters who were trying to get the scoop and ask him the same question twenty times. He thought about answering and giving them what they wanted, but he figured that there would be plenty of time for that. Besides, he didn’t like to lay it all out on the table; it was better to remain a bit mysterious.

  Thus was the total conflict of the man. He loved the adulation, the glory, and the attention for his athletic prowess, even when he did get some extra help; but at the same time he did not like to expose himself to people. A lot of it had to do with being born a shifter; when you were born into that you had to be careful of everything that came out of your mouth, of what you presented to people. It was like being onstage all the time, even when you were in the background and no one was looking your way.

  The shower felt heavenly. He stood under the hot water, letting the steam wash over him, erasing the dirt and the sweat from his skin. Rob held his head under the water, staring downward as the water just rushed by his face, his eyes. He felt his whole body starting to calm down. He was exhausted and just wanted to go home and sleep; but he figured that the guys would expect him to go out partying with them afterwards. They had to celebrate after all.

  There would be booze, which was good. And there would be women, which was great. And just maybe he would find a few curvy, voluptuous women for that night.

  Rob had always had a thing for bigger women. He loved the softness, the curves, the big hips, thighs, ass, and the large, round breasts. He’d always been overtly attracted to that specific type of woman. His friends had occasionally ragged on it, especially when he would turn down a thin supermodel type at a party and go flirt with her chubbier friend. It was always hilarious to see the shock and disappointment on the thin girl’s face. But he liked what he liked and he had never apologized for it.

  A lot of men were just not as enlightened as he was.

  “So, you are going out with us tonight, I take it?” Dan asked as Rob was getting dressed after his shower.

  “Ha! You know it,” Rob said. “Where is the party happening tonight?”

  “McGee’s. They have everything all ready for us; the owner said he has hand selected a lot of the prettiest ladies who frequent that place on a regular basis for us.”

  Rob smiled. The idea sounded interesting, but he hated that some low life bar owner had rounded up a group of women who would mostly be drunk by the time they got there for some easy bedroom action. Rob loved women and loved casual sex, but he loved the thrill of the chase and he was actually pretty picky about who he ended up in bed with. It was not satisfying to him to sleep with a woman who was only physically attractive and had nothing else to offer. No, Rob had to like the woman; he had to have a connection with her. She had to be bright, funny, interesting—someone he could just hang with without being physically intimate. He’d often thought that this was confusing to women and that is why they began to get the wrong idea about him and what he was really after. It was not his intention to mislead them though; he just had high standards and enjoyed being friends with the women he shared his bed with. But he did not want to be tied down, and with the secret he carried with him— it was safer for everybody if he never allowed a woman to know him to that extent.

  “Rob.”

  He didn’t even have to turn around to recognize the voice that belonged to manager Skip Peters. He sounded jovial, but Rob heard concern in his voice.

  “Hey, Skip. What can I do for you?” Rob asked with a big smile.

  “I’d like to see you in my office before you leave.”

  “Sure thing,” Rob said.

  Skip slumped away towar
ds his office looking as happy as he was really able to look.

  “Wow, I wonder what he wants?” Dan asked.

  “I don’t know; maybe he wants to give me more money?” Rob asked playfully.

  “You are already making more than most people in the league; don’t push your luck.”

  Rob laughed, but secretly he was worried what Skip wanted to see him about. He instinctively knew to what it was probably pertaining; the fact that he had made the most amazing play in recent baseball history would put the spotlight on him and, in hindsight, it was probably a stupid thing to do. But when he was in the zone like that with the possibility of winning the game under his thumb, he had to pull the trigger and just do it. And he knew that if he was in that situation again, it would happen again, just like that.

  But there was a price to pay for the wrong kind of attention, and he had been flirting with it for far too long. He just hoped that he was able to slip out of it and play it off to a lucky throw and the heavy doses of adrenaline that were coursing through his body. It was not total falsehood; of course he would not mention the wolf spirit inside of him that guided his hand and gave him the extra strength he needed.

  “I’m going to make this short and sweet for you,” Skip said as Rob sat down across from him in the cramped office very much unbecoming a major league baseball manager.

  “Ok,” Rob said. He braced himself for what was coming next.

  “Son, are you on the juice?” Skip asked.

  “No, sir. I am not on steroids,” Rob said. He figured that would be the likely culprit when it came to explaining some of the superhuman things he’d done on the field recently. He silently scolded himself for using too much wolf, too often. He had dedicated his whole life to keeping a low profile, in a job that did force him to be under a microscope. He often felt that there was some higher being who had decided to play a game with him and make sure his life had just as many contradictions running through it as was possible. It was all fun and games for someone.

  “That’s good to know, but of course I can’t take your word for it,” Skip said.

  Rob smiled. “Then why bother to ask?”

  “I like to make you feel as if you have a choice,” Skip replied.

  “Ok, well I assure you I’m not on anything. I don’t know how I make some of the plays I do; I just have it when it’s needed. I can’t explain it any better than that,” Rob said.

  Skip smiled. “Son, I’ve been in this game for almost twenty-five years. I’ve seen talent and non-talent; I’ve seen talent and super talent. But I’ve never seen anyone who can do what you can. Now it is possible that I’m looking at the greatest baseball player of our time, a modern day Babe Ruth, Hank Aaron, and Mickey Mantle all rolled into one; but that sort of thing is about as likely as finding Bigfoot in your bathroom when you wake up in the middle of the night with a full bladder.”

  Rob laughed. The coach was a funny guy. Funny…

  “Well, I don’t know what to tell you coach.”

  “You don’t have to tell me anything; here in the big leagues we don’t leave things up to chance and we don’t take people’s word for it. For what it’s worth I believe you when you tell me you are clean, but my word doesn’t mean squat either. So, tomorrow morning I want you here in my office for an administered urine test.”

  “Tomorrow? Sir, the guys and I are going out celebrating; I can’t promise I’ll be in any condition to be here tomorrow.”

  “That’s not my problem,” Skip said. “Have a good night. I’ll see you here at ten a.m. Now get out of here; I’ve got some celebrating of my own to do with the Mrs. You young guys can spend the entire night trying to get some; I’ve got a great woman at home ready and waiting. I’ll be asleep in an hour,” Skip said.

  Rob laughed. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  He left the clubhouse and walked towards his car, hoping to avoid the parade of reporters. No such luck as a huge barrage of them came at him at once, flashing cameras in his face and all of them asking the same questions twenty times. “What were you thinking in the final moments as you made that play?” “Have you ever made a throw like that before?” “How did you jump that high?” “Are you staying with the Diamondbacks next year?”

  Rob smiled and gave a few basic answers as he hopped in his car and drove away towards the bar. He felt invigorated and washed out all at the same time. He really wanted to stand there all night answering every single question, but for some reason he didn’t. He wanted to be alone as much as he wanted to be surrounded by obsessed fans; they were his bread and butter after all, but he still felt a bit drained from the wolf. He had come close to unleashing the beast past the point of no return; that thought was sobering above all else. He had to get a better grip on this thing. He had to remain in control.

  But it had always been a struggle, ever since he was a kid. His parents had first told him of the power before his twelfth birthday. That was the time when the dormant wolf curse that had plagued his family would first emerge. His family was descended from a wolf tribe, called the Ganno. His parents told him that several centuries ago a man named Lakin, had decided to cheat death and learn the ways of immortality. He had researched it and studied it for as long as he could, trying to find the answers, which eventually led him into the study of ancient magicks.

  One night out in the desert he began the ritual which would allow a demon to enter his body, sharing his soul with a supernatural being, thus living forever inside his mortal body. During the most important part of the ritual a wolf attacked him from the side, coming out of nowhere and leaping across the green flames that joined our world with the nether realm. The wolf became possessed as it attacked; Lakin swore its eyes glowed a fiery red.

  Before he could destroy the wolf, it bit him deeply in the arm. He knew that he was about to die and he grabbed the silver ceremonial dagger he was using to cut his hand during the ritual and stabbed through the wolf’s heart. He stabbed too hard and went too deeply; the blade entered his own flesh as well.

  He had effectively and haphazardly mingled his blood with that of a demon possessed wolf, thus transferring that essence into his own body. Shortly thereafter he saw the after effects of the ritual. Lakin was now a werewolf. During times of great stress he was able to tap into that power, but it often overtook him and he was all beast. The only thing human about him at that moment was the mind. He retained who he was. But the rage was unlike anything most would ever feel; it would often overtake someone who was not trained to use it properly.

  Rob always thought of it as a curse, but he could not deny that it was a great source of power, and he was often glad he had it. With it he was able to do things and accomplish more in his life than that of a mere mortal. Lakin too felt it was a great source of power, and he forced it upon the other members of the tribe. It was soon discovered that the curse was passed down from parent to child, or you could also be bitten and have the curse transferred to you that way.

  Rob still remembered the day his parents sat him down and told him all of this; he did not believe it. It wasn’t until he started to change that he finally knew they were telling him the truth. It was really jarring to know that he was different. At first he felt like some sort of a freak, but then when he saw the power he had and all of the things he could do he suddenly felt like a superhero. Everyone wanted to be like him; they all wanted the power he showed in sports, and they envied his charisma. The power gave him great confidence in himself. But as he grew older he became aware of the dire consequences of showing off his newfound abilities; he would be seen as a real freak by the world and if anyone ever discovered what he really was then he would be locked up as a lab rat, or just killed outright.

  By the time he got to the bar he was already wishing the night was over and he was sleeping in his bed, alone. He was no longer in the mood for company. He often felt like this when he tapped too strongly into his wolf; he was prone to dark introspection when this happened and it stirred up
things about himself he would rather forget. He kept thinking about that last play and how he would have fallen short without his powers; he knew that, absolutely knew that he would have failed. He could not fully enjoy the victory he knew he did not really earn; he might as well have been taking steroids. What he had was a lot more potent.

  He sat down at the huge table the team had reserved in the corner. The bar was full of crazy baseball fans, all of them wanting to party with them. It was a whirlwind, one like he’d never really experienced before. He was used to going out to the bars after a big victory, and even after a devastating defeat, but this was different. The entire atmosphere was electrically charged it seemed. Everyone was doing whatever they could to infiltrate the group.

  The music was loud, pitchers of beer were being served one right after the other at their table, and women were throwing themselves at him left and right. He was tempted of course, but most of them were a bit slimmer than he preferred and in an atmosphere like this he really did not have the opportunity to hunt the women who he wanted or even get to know them to see if there were any sparks. The other guys were always ragging on him and teasing him for turning down beautiful women who were definitely interested in him. The guys on the team were meatheads for the most part; they were only after conquests for the sake of racking up as many numbers as they could. It was pretty stupid as far as he was concerned. He preferred great experiences with wonderful women, especially if they were hard to get. If a woman threw herself at him he usually took two steps back. He could not stand neediness or insecurity, just as he couldn’t stand loose morals in a woman. Yet another reason why he was such a contradiction he supposed. But he had his reasons after all.