Ways and Means

by Kate Cotoner

  Ways and Means

  Kate Cotoner

  Out hunting for a lover, and blood, in the poorest part of Rome, Alypia comes to the rescue of Lucilla, a noblewoman seeking an escape from her arranged marriage. Lucilla longs for a woman’s touch, yet society dictates she must wed the man of her father’s choosing. Her bridegroom Fronto is not only corrupt, he’s suspected of murdering his four previous wives for their wealth. When she realises her new lover is a strix—a vampire—Lucilla begs Alypia for help. Brought together by desire, tied by bonds deeper than passion, the two women must find a way to win Lucilla’s freedom.

  Ways and Means

  Copyright 2017 Kate Cotoner

  Previously published 2009

  All rights reserved. No part of this work may be sold, manipulated, or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews, without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Late summer, and the heat drove the citizens of the Subura to madness. Elsewhere in Rome, balanced on the seven hills, those of senatorial class who hadn’t escaped the fetid air of the capital remained in the shade of their villas, drowsing in safety behind high walls and closed doors. In the Subura, the poorest district, the streets stank of ordure and refuse, and half-wild dogs chewed on the flesh of dead babies tossed into rubbish-pits.

  Cool and composed, Alypia Sallustia strolled through the shimmering heat of evening. The temperatures and pollution of the Subura didn’t bother her. The stink of the tanneries and the roar of flames in a nearby ironmonger’s forge held her attention for a brief moment, as did the sight of the night watchman propped in a doorway, deep in discussion with a whore. Alypia moved on, her senses open for the one who’d sweat with her in bed tonight, the one who’d give their blood willingly.

  Passers-by nodded in greeting and stepped out of her path. Most of the Suburans recognised what she was: a hunter, a demon. Like everyone else in this squalid, over-populated part of Rome, she did whatever was necessary to survive. Over the years, she’d gained a reputation amongst the lowest classes and the outcasts. They knew she was wealthy; they knew she needed blood. They also knew she wouldn’t kill them. The Suburan whores and actors often made private arrangements—their blood in return for generous payment.

  But tonight she wanted the chance to hunt.

  Alypia flipped the trailing ends of her mantle over her arms as she paused to examine a selection of love philtres and curse tablets displayed under the striped awning of a stall. She liked to pass pleasantries with the wise-women who created and breathed power into the spells binding such objects. One never knew when one of the quacks might reveal herself to be a fellow immortal. Alypia lived in hope. In almost half a millennium she’d met only a handful of others of her kind, and sometimes this life got lonely.

  She was fingering the stopper on a blue and white striped Egyptian bottle when she heard a woman scream. The cry was distant, perhaps five blocks over, caught between the towering insulae. Without concern, Alypia replaced the bottle and looked around. No one else had heard the scream, and even if they had, she doubted they’d want to involve themselves in yet another robbery or murder.

  The prospect of violence suited her mood, lifting her from the ennui of the evening. Alypia gathered her skirts at the hem and made her way, swift and silent, through the crowded streets until she plunged into the black heart of the Subura. The paved roads gave way to rutted tracks of baked earth, and the light faded as the tenement blocks grew higher and more tumbledown, the air thick and oppressive in the rancid heat.

  Alypia tracked the sound of the screams until she caught the scent of fear and fresh sweat mixed with the fragrance of distilled wildflower essence. She felt the thrum of blood in the panicked rhythm of fight or flight. Following it, she slid around the corner and merged with the shadows, taking in the scene before her at a glance.

  A litter sat in the middle of the road, its bearers vanished to leave its occupants to the mercies of one of the Subura gangs. Two young women stood surrounded by half a dozen guffawing men. By the drab colours of her clothing, the taller girl was a maidservant. She shrank back against the litter, apparently struck dumb with terror, and fell into a swoon. The other girl, slender and golden-haired, brandished a small cudgel in defiance.

  Patrician, without a doubt. Only a patrician would be foolish enough to venture into this part of the Subura with so little protection. Alypia had half a mind to leave the girl to her fate, except she knew precisely what fate awaited her. Suburan men lacked delicacy in everything, including sex. The patrician girl probably wouldn’t survive the night.

  Alypia despised men who used violence against women. With a sigh, she stepped forward. “Boys, boys. What do you have here?”

  The men started, half of them whirling to face her. Their leader, an unsavoury fellow who’d crossed her path before, gave an unconvincing chuckle. “It’s nothing for you to worry about, Lady Alypia. This girl and her maid lost their way. We were just helping them with directions.”

  “I see.” Alypia sauntered closer to address the blonde. “Is that so?”

  “These ruffians waylaid my litter and chased off my bearers!” The quiver in the young woman’s voice betrayed her fear, though she was trying hard not to show it. “They wanted to rob me, and they made disgusting remarks...”

  Alypia smiled. “Would you like me to kill them?”

  The girl gasped, her eyes widening. Behind them, the men muttered in dismay. Alypia kept the good-natured smile on her face until the girl murmured, “Killing them seems rather extreme.”

  “Very well. They’ll live.” Alypia swung round to face the gang, looking at each man in turn. She let her smile warm, her lips stretching to show her fangs. “Thank the lady for your lives, boys. You may not be so fortunate next time.”

  The gang leader glared at her, his lips working on a curse. He had better sense than to challenge her, and so contented himself with insults to show his bravery. “That bitch is too skinny for me, but I hear you’re less picky with your bedfellows. As long as it has a pussy, you’ll go for it. Until next time, Lady Alypia!”

  He gave a signal and the men stumbled backward, shoving at each other as they hurried away into the night.

  Alypia felt the click as her fangs sheathed. She turned to the young woman and raised an eyebrow. “Jupiter’s arse, girl, are you insane? The likes of you should never come into the Subura.”

  The girl paid her no heed, staring into the darkness at the fading glow of the men’s pitch torches. “They just walked away.” She looked at Alypia, astonishment on her narrow, cat-like face. “How did you do that?”

  “I know how to deal with the men around here.”

  “Yet you are surely as patrician as I!” The girl gestured at Alypia’s outfit.

  Alypia gave a soft laugh. She knew she looked good in a gown of amethyst purple Coan silk with a filmy rose-pink mantle over her hair. Though the dreary sumptuary laws of the Lex Oppia had been repealed a century ago, it was still considered immodest for a respectable woman to wear purple. Alypia didn’t care about respectability. Purple suited her honey-toned skin, gleaming black hair and dark eyes, just as the plain, sea-green gown of the young woman suited her fair, blonde colouring.

  “My late husband was extremely rich.” Alypia gave the girl a long look. “I am considered extremely eccentric. You would do well not to emulate me, and instead go back to your father’s house. Or is it a husband you’re trying to avoid?”

  “A husband-to-be, actually.”
The girl hesitated, then a shy smile brightened her features. “I came here looking for someone.”

  Alypia narrowed her eyes. “A lover?”

  A blush stained the girl’s pale cheeks. “Yes. I mean, no. I don’t have a lover yet. I wanted to find one here tonight. I’ve heard my father’s clients talking, and the male slaves... They all say the place to find a lover is in the Subura.”

  Despite herself, Alypia was amused. “They were talking about whores.”

  “I have money!” The girl dropped the cudgel and dipped into the folds of her gown, drawing out a kidskin purse. She untied the ribbons at the top and held it out in offering. “I don’t know how much a whore costs, but I hope this would be enough.”

  Alypia pushed aside the purse after a glance at its contents. “That’s good enough for a week of sex. Come with me, I’ll show you the best house for boys. Most of them only serve men, but there’s a couple who’re sweet on women. They’re handsome and clean, and talented with their tongues.”

  The girl fiddled with the purse, a small frown of distress between her perfectly arched eyebrows. “I’m sorry. I didn’t make myself clear.” She met Alypia’s gaze. “I want a woman.”

  Intrigued, Alypia set her hands on her hips. “Do you, indeed? And what kind of woman are you looking for?”

  A bold glance. “Someone like you, Lady Alypia.”

  Alypia laughed. “Girl, you don’t know what you’re asking.”

  “My name is Lucilla Quintilia.” The girl wore an expression of fierce determination. “My great-grandfather was a Censor and my father was a supporter of Marcus Livius Drusus and his reforms. I know what I want, and I want you.”

  Alypia considered the offer. Lucilla was slender and lovely. No doubt her blood would have the same delicacy as her face and figure. Alypia felt desire wake inside her, liquid warmth pooling between her thighs. Women tasted so much sweeter than men, and these days Alypia preferred the soft, wet heat of a woman in her bed.

  She glanced at the maidservant, who’d recovered from her faint and now stood quietly waiting for orders. “Your maid is strangely silent.”

  Lucilla’s lips twisted. “Tacita’s tongue was torn out when she was a child; she cannot speak. My mother gave her to me after...” She hesitated, her expression dulling, before she continued, “My mother doesn’t want me to make the same mistake twice, shall we say. Don’t worry; Tacita is very loyal as well as discreet.”

  She smiled, guileless and innocent, yet aware of her power. “Lady Alypia, you saved us from those thugs. You deserve a reward.”

  “Perhaps, but should I accept you as a prize?” Alypia mused.

  Lucilla took Alypia’s hand and placed it over her breast. Alypia felt the peak of the nipple through the thin wool. “I want to know what it’s like with another woman,” Lucilla said, her voice impassioned. “You rescued me. I can trust you.”

  Alypia splayed her fingers over Lucilla’s breast, squeezing the tender flesh, circling her palm over the sensitive nipple. “You can’t trust me,” she warned. “You don’t know me.”

  Faster than a striking snake, she seized Lucilla and pulled her into a rough, demanding kiss. She felt the curled tendrils of hair at Lucilla’s nape and the sheen of perspiration on her skin. Alypia took advantage of Lucilla’s gasp of surprise, angling her head to deepen the kiss. She flicked her tongue along the girl’s lips, taunting with the promise of more before thrusting her tongue-tip inside just enough to taste.

  Lucilla moaned and pressed against Alypia, bringing her breast more fully into Alypia’s palm. Alypia could smell her now, the slippery sweet scent of cunt rising as Lucilla squirmed to get closer.

  Alypia had meant to scare her with the kiss, but the demure maiden had turned into a wanton. Her fangs ached with the effort of holding back from the pulse beating in Lucilla’s neck. Her pussy flexed, hunger for blood and sex shaking her body.

  Breathing hard, she pulled away. Lucilla looked dazed, her lips plump and slick with saliva. Alypia glanced again at the maidservant, who watched with shining eyes, and made her decision.

  “Come with me.”

  * * *

  The half-ruined insula stood on the lower slope of the Quirinal Hill. An earthquake had tumbled open the top two floors, but structurally the building was still sound. Families lived in the cramped apartments around a central courtyard thick with refuse, but few people ventured above the sixth floor. Alypia reserved the topmost apartment for her exclusive use, and the Suburans knew better than to disturb her.

  The maidservant waited downstairs. Alypia led Lucilla up the crumbling staircase and across cracked stone, beneath soft-rotting timbers and lime-plastered walls, past half-open doors that leaked the stink of garlic and cheap wine along with snatches of conversation in a dozen languages.

  At the top, Alypia unlocked a door and drew Lucilla into the apartment. The furthest wall had collapsed, leaving the roof open to the night sky. A freshening breeze blew down from the hill and tugged at their gowns. Alypia pushed aside the leather curtain concealing her sleeping space and felt beneath the wide, wooden-framed bed for the jars of wine she kept there for moments like this.

  Lucilla stared about her, still recovering from the climb. She didn’t flinch from the meagre furnishings or the dust covering the floor. Instead, she stared at the bed, her breath hitching with more than exertion.

  Alypia poured the wine into two ceramic cups and set them on a small table. She replaced the jar and stood, surveying Lucilla for a moment before she sauntered towards her. “Drink later, I think. Theran wine needs space to breathe.”

  Lucilla dragged her gaze from the bed. She clasped her hands together, then pulled them apart; balled her fists then relaxed her fingers. “I’m a virgin.”

  “I know.”

  A fiery blush coloured Lucilla’s cheeks. “I—I mean, I’m getting married in four days’ time, so I need to stay a virgin.”

  Alypia laughed. “There are ways and means of enjoying pleasure without despoiling your maidenhead. Let me show you...”

  She caught at the wide ribbon at the waist of Lucilla’s gown and drew her close. For a moment, Alypia thought she’d pull away, but then Lucilla was in her arms, her head tilted for a kiss. Alypia pressed butterfly kisses to her skin, feeling Lucilla begin to move her head, her mouth, until the kiss became more than tentative. Lucilla’s breathing fractured, and she pushed against Alypia, their breasts brushing together.

  “You’ve done this before?” Lucilla whispered.

  “Many times.” Alypia nuzzled at Lucilla’s neck, her fangs aching to spring free as she traced over her pulse. “Women make the best lovers. They’re soft and tender, plump and juicy...”

  Lucilla gave a breathless laugh. “I’m not plump. I’m too thin.”

  Alypia slid her hand over Lucilla’s flat belly and cupped her mound through the thin woollen gown. “You’re plump here.” She burrowed her fingers deeper, feeling the folds of Lucilla’s pussy beneath the layers of clothing. “Juicy, too. I can smell you.”

  Lucilla whimpered. Alypia kissed her again, darting her tongue over Lucilla’s lips, tracing the soft contours. Lucilla responded, meeting Alypia’s tongue with her own then drawing back, stroking and teasing. Alypia took her hand and led her over to the bed. They sank down into the scented depths of the silken coverlet and woollen blankets, realigning themselves so Alypia rested over Lucilla.

  Alypia cupped Lucilla’s breast, her fingers teasing the nipple through the sea-green wool. Lucilla moaned, her hips rising and her thighs parting, her movements slow. Alypia unfastened the bronze fibulae pinning the gathered folds of Lucilla’s gown, uncovering her shoulders and throat. Lucilla’s pulse beat rapidly, her skin flushed with arousal.

  Pushing aside the fabric, Alypia bared Lucilla to the waist. Leaning close, she murmured her approval of her small breasts, the nipples the palest rose-pink. Alypia bent her head until her heavy mane of black hair fell across Lucilla’s throat. She trailed her mouth over Luci
lla’s fine, patrician skin, her tongue and fingers toying with peaked nipples.

  Lucilla gasped, her head going back and her hair spilling across the quilt. Her instinctive response was to push upwards, and Alypia moved so her leg pressed between Lucilla’s thighs. Lucilla pulled at the skirts of her gown, rucking up the fabric.

  Alypia slipped a hand beneath the gown and felt the creamy juices smearing the insides of Lucilla’s legs. She trailed her fingertips through the wetness then lifted her hand to her mouth, sucking her fingers clean. “You’re lovely,” she whispered. The taste of Lucilla’s cunt made her own pussy flood, and she rubbed her thighs together, shuddering. “So very lovely.”

  “Alypia, please...” Lucilla moaned, her voice taking on a desperate edge.

  Alypia kissed her again, letting her taste her own juices, then she slid down the bed, pulling free the rest of the sea-green gown to leave Lucilla almost naked. She licked the sheen of perspiration from between Lucilla’s breasts then kissed over her belly, tracing a delicate whorl around her navel before moving lower. Alypia tugged at the twisted length of fabric that served as an undergarment, pulling it down over Lucilla’s legs and dropping it to the floor.

  Alypia breathed in the scent of Lucilla’s arousal, nudging her thighs further apart to gaze at the damp blonde curls of pubic hair, the slick, swollen pink folds, and her glistening clitoris. Alypia smiled, licking her lips. She’d drink from Lucilla’s pussy, and then she’d feed on her blood.

  “Ecastor!” The polite profanity broke from Lucilla as Alypia lowered her head, still smiling, and put her mouth on her.

  She curled her tongue over Lucilla’s clit, flicking at it with gentle, deliberate caresses. Lucilla arched her back, gasping and moaning, her hips thrusting in a shameless rhythm. Shudders ran through her body, and she lifted herself higher, grinding her cunt against Alypia’s mouth.

  Alypia darted her tongue along Lucilla’s wet pussy and probed inside. While she used her mouth to pleasure Lucilla, she let her hands dance over the girl’s skin to seek her nipples. Her fingers closed on the sensitive peaks, teasing and tormenting as she lapped at the juices from Lucilla’s cunt.