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.