Demetri, the vampire I hate to love lounges across one end of the large sofa, his back propped up on a mound of pillows. There’s a slave girl on the floor beside him, down on her knees, long dark hair swept to the side, vein at the ready. She’s naked, at least from the waist up. I can’t see the bottom half of her. Heavy round breasts with peaked dark nipples, like small chocolate morsels ready to be bitten.
I lick my lips.
Dem shifts bringing my attention back to him. I have to admit he, by far, steals the show. Demetri lives to look like a vampire – painfully thin, always wearing his shirt undone to show off his rib cage pressed against almost translucent skin. Millions of bracelets, black painted nails. His hair is long and full of body, he must have a new shampoo, usually its stringy. Blonde highlights over black roots, the dye job is so bad I know he paid a lot of money for it.
He gets to his feet, clapping and rushes over to me. “My dark queen,” he gives me warm air kisses, not actually touching me.
Dem knows not to touch me or Jack without explicit permission or Lucien will tie him into a pretzel. He plays a dangerous game to be in my company – he must think the risk is worth the reward.
“I was told you might be by tonight, it has been too long since we caught up.” He smiles, fawning over me like a favorite girlfriend.
“You’re full of shit.”
He smiles, a hint of fang flashing. “I like being filled with a lot of things.”
“You’re ridiculous.” I roll my eyes and make my way over to the seating area. “Who told you to be at the stand-by?”
“Our dark king, he had a feeling you’d need a diversion this evening. I’ve brought some good stock, human and crow.”
“Jack actually called you?” I raise an eyebrow at that.
“Of course not, he’s still not speaking to me, Némion called me and gave me a message.” He pokes out his bottom lip like a petulant toddler – vampires really shouldn’t make that sort of face. “Really Jaevia, how long is he going to hold on to that little indiscretion?”
“You sucked his cock against his will… for hours.”
“Yes, but I wasn’t the only one, and Némion is the one that told me to do it. Yet he forgives her but not me?”
I sigh, “She is a crow that was working under orders, you enjoyed torturing him because of the novelty – he doesn’t like being reminded how the purebloods treated him.”
Dem, as gracious as ever, holds out a hand for me to take to help steady my descent onto the sofa. “May I?” He bows his head.
“You are a well-trained rat, aren’t you?”
“Only for you, my dark queen.”
I take the offered hand and settle on one side of the orgy-bed-sofa.
He’s quick to remove his hand, not touching me more than what he had express permission for – see, well trained rat.
“Jack will forgive you if he wants, when he wants. I’m not going to get in the middle of it.”
“Of course, tonight is about you any way.” He smiles slyly and settles beside me, stretching out his long leather clad legs. He’s wearing a puffy black shirt tucked into the skin-tight leather pants. The black leather ankle boots have a cute little kitten heel on them too. What takes the cake, however, is the jeweled codpiece, who the fuck wears codpieces anymore? His style of dress is 1600s English aristocrat gone drag show fabulous… as I said, the man is entertaining.
“Get us drinks, pet.” He murmurs to the slave kneeling on the other side of the sofa.
She stands, and I see that she is a he, at least the large cock is he. She’s been gilded in a pretty silver cock cage, hanging heavy between her thighs. The cock and sack are the only parts of her that is male. No Adam’s apple I can tell, her breasts full and round, small, dark, puckered nipples.
“I don’t remember her.” I whisper curiously as I watch her make her way over to the bar.
“Well I can’t let you see all of my goods all at once. I would lose my enchantment.”
I scoff smiling, “she’s human?”
He nods, “red meat only, it gives her a musky flavor. I like to pair her with a deeper bloodwine with male undertones, the waring touches of femininity in her makes the flavor interesting.”
Dem is somewhat of a connoisseur of bloodwine and human blood.
“Is the transition voluntary?”
“Yes, yes Jaevia, I know how you are – all prim and proper. I pay for her surgeries for ten years of service. The contract is above board. The tits alone cost me a fortune.”
I huff, “wanting my victims willing makes me prim and proper?”
“Caring does, I thought you were going to do less of... that.” He says sounding infinitely bothered.
“I am.” I settle back into the sofa as ‘pet’ returns from the side bar with two glasses of bloodwine.
Long ago I’d turn up my nose at it, but that was long ago.
The liquid is darker than actual blood, the edges are the only bit that’s actually red and shimmering with blood magic.
“Drink first, fun later?” I ask raising an eyebrow.
“Why choose just one?”