Blood Song: Prelude (Blood Song Series Book 1)

by Charli B. Rose

  I ran my fingers through the silky strands of my hair. It had never felt this soft before. I brushed my fingers across the tops of my breasts, admiring how my nail polish looked against the soft globes of flesh. I brushed over their peaks and thrilled at their immediate reaction. My skin flushed with heat. Steam was building in the small room and within me. I trailed one hand lower and reveled at the soft smoothness of my mound. Without the hair in the way, my center felt much more sensitive. My breathing became labored as I explored the new sensations in my body.

  Satisfied with how everything looked, I stepped under the hot spray careful not to wreck my hair. I lathered up with the special soap Sandra had included in my bag—it felt like satin—and I washed every inch of skin. Then I closed my eyes and pictured the breathtaking man I ran into outside B.I.T.-10. I imagined him in the shower trailing his long fingers over my slippery, heated skin. The scruff of his thin beard brushing my neck as he kissed me there. As I caressed myself into a frenzy, it was his touch that finally sent me spiraling into an abyss of pleasure.

  3

  Toven

  ♪ Escape by Muse

  Upon arriving back at my house, I shut myself up in my music room. I needed the escape only song could provide. I was frustrated and ravenous and needy. I still couldn't believe I’d so impulsively decided to join B.I.T.-10's list of clients. I’d resisted the invitations for years, and today I allowed my insecurities about my talent dictate my actions.

  For well over one hundred years, I’d been a man of action. I planned, plotted and contemplated before making any move. I was methodical in every aspect of my life—save for writing music. There I was spontaneous. But today, I became reactionary. I let my concern over not selling my music make me question my worth as an artist. I let Lydia grate my nerves with her advice and ideas about how to fix me. That heaped up to make me react. And now, I’d already signed on the dotted line and paid the piper.

  Circe would make me dance and squirm if I withdrew from her client list. And I wanted as little future interaction with the likes of her as possible. She hadn't been around nearly as long as me, but she was a wily sort who I wanted to steer clear of. Her sights had been on me since she was turned years ago. She thought she was my perfect counterpart—and the fault didn't initially lie with her in that regard. She was made to think she was created solely for me. Too bad her creator didn't consult me before making Circe into something she was never meant to be, something none of us were ever meant to be.

  I started pounding out a song on the piano in the center of the room. I had no lyrics yet, but the notes screamed of need, hunger and desperation. I continued to let my fingers express what no other part of my body could be unleashed to say, hoping I could play it out of my system. My carefully bound control was so close to snapping free. I’d never been so close to losing it in all my life. That was why I came straight home, rather than return to the office to attend to several matters which needed my attention. It wouldn't have been safe to allow myself to be around anyone else.

  My frustrations coupled with the desire the emerald-eyed beauty had awakened made me potentially dangerous to be around. The demon inside demanded I take my frustrations out on someone—make someone pay for the doubts and worries coursing through my mind. Make someone feel small and unworthy so I’d feel better. The beast was also aching with need—the need to plunder and devour, to feed and satisfy, to drink and claim.

  I couldn't remember a time when a woman had unleashed such a torrent of sheer hunger in me with so little effort. The pretty girl wasn't flirting; she wasn't trying. We barely touched. But her face was etched behind my eyelids. Her smell was burned into my nose. The feel of her skin beneath mine was scratched into my cells. Her voice was carved in my ears. It seemed this wisp of a girl was engraved in my cold, dead heart for some inexplicable reason. I needed to pound out her essence from all my senses through this violent song before I succumbed to the urge to pound myself into her—mark her in all the ways her presence was marking me.

  I continued to play. I didn’t know how long I sat at the piano playing, but my fingers ached when I finally stopped. My limbs were slightly stiff from staying in the same position. Twilight had fallen outside. I walked over to the built-in shelves and pressed stop on the recorder. I always videotaped and recorded my composing sessions, so I wouldn't have to stop the flow of music pouring out of me to jot down notes or lyrics. I’d watch the video later. Now, my body demanded sustenance. I was weak with hunger and need. Having not eaten all day, I was approaching a dangerous level where the animal overruled the human.

  Walking to the kitchen, I pulled a bottle of blood from the temperature-controlled incubator under the counter. It would take the edge off before I called one of my meal options. The B-negative blood was smooth going down, and I drained the bottle in seconds. I instantly felt the surge of warmth and power return to every cell in my body. Then I whipped my phone from my pocket and dialed. It had been a long time since I’d dialed the number for a delivery to my home.

  "Hello, Mr. Adams. How may I serve you today?" a friendly voice greeted me.

  "Send someone to my house, not the apartment, and put it on my tab."

  The sound of tapping filled my ear momentarily. "She’ll be there within the hour."

  "Make it within thirty minutes, and I’ll pay extra for the rush."

  "Very well."

  I hung up without any further exchange. The service I used occasionally was very discreet. They made note of what I liked. They knew the look I found most irresistible. I wasn't largely particular on hair or eye color, but I did have a body type I preferred. They knew my favorite flavors. They understood that they were never to send the same girl twice. And they knew what the girl would need to be willing to do. The girls in the service were moved around, so they weren't from the area, and I wouldn't likely ever run into one again. I paid my bill every month, and it eliminated the need for me to seek my own meals.

  It was like hiring a catering service. Actually, a party planner would be a better description because they supplied the meal and entertainment.

  I locked up the music room and sat in my darkened living room while I waited. Eighteen minutes after my call, my doorbell rang. They gave a whole new meaning to fast food. Though my hunger was still barely contained, I forced myself to calmly walk to the door.

  I opened the door to a tall, curvy woman with dark brown hair. Her eyes were a dull brown with no sparkle. She wore very little makeup—I’d made my dislike of overly made up women known early on. She wore a short, tight skirt and a low-cut top. The scrap of blindfold dangled from her fingers. When girls were driven here, they were blindfolded so they couldn’t find their way back here.

  "Hi, Mr. Adams," she greeted me.

  "What's your name?" I asked gruffly.

  "I'm Laura, and I’m here to serve your needs tonight."

  "Come. Would you care for some wine?" I didn't want any girl to ever leave and say I was rude or less than a gentleman. Though, tonight I was feeling very ungentlemanly.

  "No, thank you. I find that wine dulls my pleasure a bit."

  She stood in front of me with her eyes cast down. I knew she’d been instructed not to approach me or act aggressively. The agency knew I didn't care for aggressive women, and they wanted to keep me happy, so I’d keep paying. They couldn't afford to lose any more high-dollar clients, especially since B.I.T.-10 had steadily been chipping away at their business for the past year. It seemed a shift was being made away from fast food and quickies to fine dining and experiences. Personally, I didn't see the allure of dragging things out. I’d done the savoring route years ago. Now, I only took part because of necessity, not pleasure—I didn’t deserve pleasure.

  I approached her slowly, restraining the animal inside who was dying of thirst. She looked up at me when I was a foot away. I watched her for a moment. My eyes took note of the scarred puncture wounds on her neck left by some careless vampire who hadn’t bothered with any after
care once he had his fill. Heat stole up her neck under the weight of my stare, making it look more enticing. I zeroed in on the throbbing vein in her neck as she arched it in offering.

  The pulsing blood under the surface called to me like a siren. I couldn’t wait any longer. I ran my fingers up her torso, watching as her nipples reacted to my touch. Clutching her upper arms harshly, I leaned in to inhale her scent. She held her breath in anticipation. I ran my tongue up her pulse point and felt it thunder beneath my mouth.

  In an instant, I bared my fangs and began to drink deeply. She moaned, clasping me as euphoria began to seep in and overtake her limbs, a blissful side effect of vampire saliva. Her breathing hitched, and her heart rate rose, sending her blood pouring into my waiting mouth. Her arousal filled my nostrils. My body was beginning to respond to her. An ache began to build in my torso and spread. My hands moved down to grasp the hem of her short skirt.

  She whispered, “Please.”

  The voice stilled me. It was all wrong. I withdrew my mouth from her neck and dropped my hands. She whimpered in protest and reached for me.

  I’d never stopped mid-feed, but the blood had turned sour in my mouth. It was all I could do to swallow the last gulp. I wiped my lips and stepped back; my half-hearted arousal deflated.

  I took another step back and turned to go.

  “Please, sir, did I do something wrong? I can fix it. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. You can do whatever you want to me,” she pleaded.

  A heavy sigh fell from my lips. “It isn’t something you did. I’m just not into it tonight.”

  “But, Mr. Adams, I’ve heard many great things about you.”

  I looked at her confused. “What things?”

  “The girls all talk. You know, warn each other what vampires to look out for, who the good ones are . . .” Her hands gripped the hem of her skirt nervously.

  I nodded in encouragement for her to continue.

  “All the girls you’ve been with say you’re the best they’ve ever had. That you make their pleasure last longer; that you make their pleasure more intense than anyone else has ever done. Each girl wants to stay with you, but you see them only once. And you haven’t ordered any girls in months. I thought tonight would be super intense for me since it’s been so long for you. I need release. I want to experience you. And I know tonight is my only chance because they won’t send me to you again. Please don’t turn me away.” Her weight shifted from foot to foot nervously.

  A part of me felt bad for her. But there was no way I was going to continue my evening with her. I knew I’d be unable to lose myself in her or find release. My thirst and hunger wouldn’t be quenched by her. Surprisingly, both had quietly disappeared. I looked at her sad, needy face and knew that I couldn’t be the jerk I normally was. I just didn’t have it in me to crush her feelings.

  “I’m sorry the night isn’t going as you expected. I’m kind of surprised by it myself. I don’t know what’s wrong, but my thirst and desire have been sated by the small taste of you.” A small lie wouldn’t hurt me or her.

  “Please, Mr. Adams, don’t send me away aching and yearning.” Tears filled her eyes at the thought of not getting her release.

  I couldn’t give her what she really wanted, but perhaps I could give her a little, so she left feeling fulfilled.

  “We aren’t going to have sex. But maybe I can relieve your ache.”

  “Yes, please,” she nearly begged.

  “Go over there by the chair,” I ordered.

  She hurried to do as I commanded. I walked slowly toward her, knowing the anticipation would arouse her more.

  “Take your skirt off.”

  She shimmied it down. Normally seeing a pretty girl standing in my living room wearing only a purple G-string would have the monster begging to come out and play, but tonight he was nowhere to be found. I’d definitely not be getting anything out of this encounter. But there was no reason we both had to walk away unfulfilled. I stood directly in front of her. I placed a hand on her abdomen and gently pushed her back into the chair.

  She sank down and looked up at me with lust-filled eyes. Her heart was racing. I bent down and grabbed each ankle. I draped her legs over the arms of the chair, spreading her open. Then I walked over to the sidebar and grabbed a glass of wine. Swallowing a sip, I went back to where she sat panting and waiting.

  “Touch yourself,” I instructed as I moved closer, glass in hand.

  I knelt between her spread legs and took another deep gulp of the rich wine. Her fingers moved under the thin thread of lace. Her skin flushed gorgeously as her pleasure rose. I’d give a little to heighten her pleasure beyond what she could normally give herself.

  “No matter what, don’t stop doing what you’re doing. Do you understand?” I growled.

  “Yes,” she said in a breathy whisper as she nodded her head.

  I drank one more gulp of wine to saturate my taste buds, then leaned down to the juncture between her mound and thigh. I licked the area, allowing my saliva to numb the skin a bit before biting down on the beating vein at the surface. The instant my saliva entered her bloodstream, her pulse increased, and her breath hitched.

  Her fingers next to my face stroked faster and harder. Her impending release flavored her blood. Any other day, I would’ve relished it, devoured it. But now, my actions were all obligatory. I sucked hard on her pulsing vein, flooding her blood with the enzymes in my mouth. Her muscles tensed as she moaned and fell over the edge of the cliff. I withdrew my teeth and smoothed a lick over the puncture wounds, so they’d heal quickly. I stepped away and got another glass of wine.

  I drank the glass quickly to erase her taste from my mouth. It felt wrong, like it didn’t belong there.

  I couldn’t explain what was happening or why. I just knew that something had shifted inside me, and I wasn’t sure this scenario would ever work for me again. The beast inside snarled at the thought, but even he seemed resigned to it.

  I looked over at the girl enraptured in my chair. Her body was still in the position I left it, her fingers frozen under the scrap of fabric, her eyes blissed out. I sat on the couch quietly waiting for her to drift back to Earth.

  I lost track of time. Finally, she began to stir. She looked over at me and smiled. She slipped her hands out from her panties and stood. She leaned over and pulled on her skirt. Once she was fully clothed, she looked at me shyly.

  “Thank you. That was . . . more than I imagined. I see what the other girls spoke of now.”

  “You’re welcome,” I replied gruffly. I didn’t need her thanks for trying to be decent and be better than the monster nature dictated I should be.

  “If you ever want to taste the same meal again, I’d be happy to oblige you anytime, anywhere and in any way you want,” she offered shyly.

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Shall I ring for your ride?”

  “Please.”

  I grabbed my phone and texted the number to send the request for a pickup. In moments, the car rumbled up outside. She turned her face to mine and inched closer. Her lips quickly approached mine, but I placed a finger on her lips and gave a single shake of my head. I was sure the other girls had talked of how I never kissed them, so she shouldn’t be surprised. I ushered her to the door and bade her goodbye.

  I was thankful to be alone with the chaos running rampant inside. With purposeful strides, I went back to the only place in the world where I could bring order to the pandemonium—my music room. I loaded the video, so I could watch my composition session from earlier.

  Mesmerized, I watched as I forced out the angry, ravenous tune. Lyrics began whirling around my mind. I knew within a day or two this raging tune would have appropriately desperate words to go along with the notes. I sat up suddenly as my body on the screen shifted, and the music changed. I didn’t remember changing up the song when I was playing earlier. The song switched from wrathful to wistful, from fury to fanciful.

  I didn’t do wistful or fanciful. The song p
rovoked such emotion in me that tears welled up in eyes that hadn’t cried since the day I realized I’d never be able to see my mother again. Words began to drift around in my mind for this unusual composition. I swatted my hand in front of my eyes in an effort to scatter the words away. The words coming to me were foreign—words I’d never sung about, words I didn’t want to acknowledge.

  After I turned off the video, I left the room. Unsettled, I went to the kitchen to pour myself a large helping of whiskey, hoping it would dull my thoughts enough so I could sleep. I’d need my wits tomorrow.

  4

  Celesta

  I slept the sleep of the dead, not moving all night once I crashed on the lumpy motel bed, underneath the thin, scratchy blanket. But it all was an improvement over the backseat of my SUV. After my shower the night before, a deep feeling of satisfaction seeped into my bones, making my limbs heavy. I’d dried off and collapsed into bed without even bothering to hunt for pajamas. There was something to be said about falling asleep after blissfully dropping over the edge. It was the best night of sleep I’d had in a long while. I didn’t even stay awake long enough to worry about what today would bring.

  I woke late morning, feeling refreshed. With a big stretch, I sat up. When I padded to the bathroom, I noticed I looked well-rested as I caught my reflection in the mirror. Hopefully, if all went well tonight, I’d have the money to stop living in my vehicle. Sleeping cramped up was awful, and I was ready to be done with it.

  I washed my face and brushed my teeth before dressing in the clothes Jacque had given me. I’d never cared about clothes before, but it must have been because I didn’t have clothes that made me feel different. These clothes made me feel beautiful and special, and they were just jeans and a shirt. I couldn’t imagine how I’d feel in a dress Jacque picked out for me.