“I thought you said it’ll be a human-centric resort?”
“It will, but I would be remiss not to include a section dedicated to catering to a specialty clientele. North-facing rooms with completely sealable shutters, and extra security features for the rooms. Specially trained staff, some of whom will be happy to consensually…satiate guests’ hungers, if desired.” I’ve already perfected the formula at my current hotel.
“I have heard favorable reports about your operations in Atlantic City.” Well, of course people have reported back to him. I would have been shocked if he hadn’t sent spies, vampire or human.
“There’s a reason I’m as old as I am without a nest of my own,” I remind him. “I do not piss people off, and I can back up my words with actions.”
“And shifters? Will you be talking with them as well?”
“I feel I must. I know they run a fight club in town. I’m sure they would love access to whales willing to get the full experience of betting on live fights. I can buy a lot of law enforcement and local officials with the kind of money I’ll be bringing with me. Convince them to look the other way. I’m certain I can talk the shifters into agreeing to a mutually beneficial deal. Another reason I wanted to talk with you first, since you and the Alpha are on reasonable terms with each other and have a stable treaty in place. I am showing you respect by coming to you first for your permission and blessing.”
I see him struggling to not openly preen. Yes, I know how to appeal to him. “Does this mean you will come to my club tomorrow and postpone your ridiculous idea about meeting the sun?”
Tipping my glass so I can drain the last of the liquor, I nod. “I suppose I should hang around a little longer. See if my mood permanently changes.”
He looks to Selene. “Please bring us a decanter of the special vintage, my dear. Undiluted. Three glasses.”
She arches an eyebrow at him but rises and leaves the room.
“Special vintage?” I ask as I lean forward and set my glass on the coaster on the coffee table separating us.
“I do not wish to say anything else until you taste it. But it is…exquisite.” His eyes actually light up.
“Why, Lucius. Should Selene be jealous?”
He grins, showing full fang, very amused. “Not in the slightest. First, you taste. Then we will discuss. I actually think you might be the answer for each other’s mutual…situations.”
The old bastard has my interest, and he knows it. Selene glides back into the room and carries a tray holding three crystal wine glasses and a matching crystal decanter, the latter of which is filled with a dark red liquid I know isn’t wine. She pours three generous servings, not spilling a drop, and serves Lucius, then me, and takes the final glass for herself before settling on the sofa at his side once more.
Being a polite guest, I wait to waft it under my nose until she’s settled, but when I do…
Holy fates!
My eyes fall closed. A buzz fills my head, and my mouth waters.
Lucius laughs. “Ahh, I knew you’d like it.”
I haven’t even tasted it yet, and I already want to meet and mate the creature, regardless of gender, whose veins could produce such a heady bouquet. “Shifter?” I manage, forcing my eyes open.
He’s still smiling and sipping. “To be honest? I don’t know what they are. Which is exactly why they are currently under my protection. Taste it, Dexter.”
I do. Brilliant colors of flavor explode in my mouth like ripe berries and sweet honey.
My god!
It’s enough to make me want to believe in happy endings of the non-pornographic kind.
I must be wearing a “look” because Lucius smirks. “Once again, I’ll ask if I can persuade you to postpone your silly notion of greeting the sunrise.”
If my heart still beat, it’d be racing in my chest. Even my cock stirs, eager to learn more. “Only if you promise to introduce me to them.” I know he’s being cagey for a reason. He’s trying to hook me and reel me in. “How much money will this cost me?”
He exchanges a glance with Selene. “I wish I could quote you a price, but I cannot. They are their own person, and it is a…unique situation. They’ve been with me since I opened the club. I also wish I could say they are an experienced sweetblood, but they are not.”
“They’re not? This isn’t sweetblood?”
“They have never been blooded, only…donations. In addition to working for me, I ‘ethically source’ their blood from them for more than fair compensation. Usually, I dilute it by mixing it with other batches. I can charge more for it that way and make it last far longer.”
“And they’re not a shifter?”
He shrugs. “Come out tomorrow, meet them, and tell me what you think.”
I swirl the glass under my nose again, deeply inhaling. I feel like I’ve never seen colors before this moment, never had the ability to smell anything, until now.
For the first time in too long, I eagerly want to see another day.
So to speak.
I’m torn between wanting to guzzle the remainder of the contents in two or three swallows, and slowly sipping it for hours. When I finish, Selene automatically moves to refill my glass, pouring me what’s left in the decanter. I know she didn’t spike it with something because she poured all three servings from the same decanter.
“What did I do to earn such good graces from you, Lucius?”
Honestly? I’m starting to feel a little drunk. Or, maybe that’s his goal.
He shrugs. “You are family, in a manner of speaking.” His smile fades. “I have lost too many. And, as you said, you have no desire to overthrow me. You have no nest of your own.”
“And?”
He smirks. “And my sweet pet is very territorial. Were I not already madly in love with Selene, yes, I would be tempted to explore something more permanent with…them.” He tips his head, indicating my glass. “Trust me, I felt the same way you did when I first sampled this. There are extenuating circumstances as to why I never claimed them, but I cannot and will not explain in more detail until after you meet them in person.” The love in his eyes as he looks at Selene nearly breaks my heart. “We were not meant to share a third for anything than the occasional sip, and this person deserves someone to love and protect them.”
By the time I finish the second glass, I truly feel very drunk. As the driver returns me to my hotel, I’m lost in thought.
Absolutely, I want to meet the human who made me feel this way.
What I’ll want to do with them after that… I guess I’ll have to hope for a miracle.
After returning to the hotel, I retreat to my room, where the head of my security has already ensured that the bedroom windows are more than adequately covered. I take a shower, still lost in thought about the exquisite taste rolling through my system.
While I’m in there, I take my cock in hand and slowly start stroking. Lucius knows about Robert, and that I’ve had lovers across the spectrum. I can’t help wondering why he’s withholding even that much info from me.
As I close in on my first truly joyful orgasm in too damn long, I also realize I neither care about the person’s gender, nor Lucius’ reasons for withholding that info. All I care about is how I feel…alive. Pre-cum leaks from me as my hand strokes my cock. I wish it was a willing mouth or pussy—or ass—I was stroking into, but I’ll settle for this because of how light my soul feels.
A sensation I’d been certain a mere twenty-four hours ago that I would never experience again.
I want to hold them, tease them, feel their willing flesh squirm against me as I do all sorts of delightfully evil things to them, all while giving them as many orgasms as I can wring from them.
If that blood wasn’t from a sweetblood…
Fates, what will they taste like once I’ve coaxed them into the depths of subspace? Spanking their ass with my hand until they’re red and squirming—
That’s the thought that sends me over the edge. The fir
st truly good orgasm I’ve had in a disturbingly long time makes me pump cum all over my hand and the shower wall and leaves me a little weak in the knees.
How much better will it feel when I spend inside them? Because make no mistake about it, I’m already determined to win them over.
I must.
Even an hour after dawn, I still lie wide awake in bed and stare at the ceiling. What is that feeling coursing through me?
Excitement. Anticipation.
Need.
I think the last one terrifies me, at least a little.
And it’s exactly why I will go to Club Toxic tomorrow night.
Because who doesn’t need a little terror in life to break up the monotony of a never-ending existence?
2
Eilidh
Hmm. Blue, today?
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. It’s a cobalt blue wig, sort of a jaw-length pageboy with blunt bangs that hang just over my eyebrows. I haven’t worn it in several weeks because I was kind of stuck in a mood. Before that, I wore it pretty much every other day for about a month, until I got tired of it. It’s one of my favorites, though.
I always wear a wig. Sometimes they look “normal.” More often, they’re a color. The ones I wear to work at Club Toxic are nearly always a loud color.
Pink, green, purple, rainbow, silver, gold.
Yes, I think the blue today.
After fluffing my wig in the mirror, I remove it and secure my hair. The wig has to stay firmly on my head all night long during my shift. I won’t have time to screw with it.
No one at work gets to see my real hair.
Ever.
In fact, few people ever see my real hair.
Mostly because it’s fickle and temperamental. Today, it’s a dark, golden blonde, honey with amber and russet tones. But I could wake up tomorrow, and it might be jet black with a stripe of solid white.
Or auburn brown. Or so deeply reddish orange that it looks like a wig.
There is no rhyme or reason to it. Sometimes, it’ll stay one color for weeks or even months at a time. Then… poof.
The only thing I can control about it is the styling and length, but I rarely get it cut at a salon. I keep it trimmed long enough I can pull it into a ponytail, not much longer than shoulder-length.
It’s done this all of my life. I think sometimes it has to do with my mood, but it only changes while I’m asleep.
Yes, I’ve tried filming it, and the camera or phone or whatever I use always fails. I finally gave up trying because it’s too frustrating when that happens.
My mom always nervously laughed it off as fickle genes, likely from my father’s side. He apparently gave me my violet eyes, too.
Except I can’t ask him about them because he’s dead. I have literally zero information about him or his family, other than his real first name and the last name of Smith. I was only eight when he died.
But that mystery will remain hidden in the past, the way the rest of my history is forever buried, since both of them are dead now. There’s no one I can talk to about them, no one who knew them except a close family friend of Dad’s, whose full name I don’t even know and who I haven’t seen since Dad died.
Once I have my wig firmly anchored in place and I brush it, I apply a light dusting of makeup and do a quick twirl in front of my bathroom mirror. I always wear bike shorts under the short black skirts I frequently wear to work a shift at Club Toxic, like I am tonight. I’ll wear jeans, too, but it’s May in Tucson right now and already hotter than balls out, even though the temps will drop after dark. The shorts help keep my full thighs from chafing and give me an extra layer of protection if any of the customers get a little too handsy when I have my hands full of drinks and can’t defend myself.
Not that they get handsy with me—or any of the other servers—more than once.
I pull on thick, wool socks, lace up my black Doc Martens, and give myself another look in the mirror. The comfortable sports bra I’m wearing helps push my girls up under the black Club Toxic T-shirt. The shirt’s neon pink logo lays right across the girls and will glow in the black lights. Lucius allows me latitude with my uniform that no other employee gets, and for good reason.
I make him a fuckton of money, with relatively little outlay on his part. It’s a win-win situation for both of us.
Plus, I’m close friends with his mate, Selene.
My shift doesn’t start until six thirty, and the club doesn’t open until seven, but I have keys and an alarm code. I make sure I’m at the club by five thirty this time of year.
Well before twilight sets in.
Ironic, I know. I’m afraid of the dark, and yet I work in a club full of vampires.
I mean, it’s not the vampires I’m afraid of, obvs. Or of the other races who live in and around Tucson. It’s not even the dark I’m afraid of, per se.
It’s what’s sometimes in the dark that I don’t want to face. Because if I’m not careful, I’m afraid that, one day, those things will find me again.
And that the next time they do, I might not be able to escape.
* * *
Technically, I’m the assistant manager at the club, even though I told Lucius and Selene I didn’t want a title. The less attention focused on me, the better. I don’t need a title to do my job and earn money.
So far, Tucson has been safer longer than anywhere else. I don’t yet know if it’s because of the high concentration of vampires, shifters, and other miscellaneous supernatural oddballs who make the region their home, or some inherent power in the land itself, or my own extreme, rigorous caution this time in my personal habits, or what.
Don’t know, and have stopped caring.
All I care about is that I’m safe.
I live downtown in an apartment building owned by Garrett Green. He’s the Alpha of the Tucson werewolf pack, and a pretty nice dude, even if he looks scary as fuck. I do errands for them and for the vamps, and everyone gives me protection and leaves me alone. They pay me in cash, too, meaning I’m totally off-the-grid.
Well, I mean, off-the-grid with all the amenities I could ask for while living in a nice efficiency apartment in a high-rise in the middle of Tucson.
I also earn extra cash selling my blood to Lucius every few weeks. That part of our deal is secret. I don’t want anyone knowing I am the source of the highly popular special vintage he sells as top-shelf, and the reason he makes a fuckton of money on that part of his operation.
What he’s really doing is blending some of my blood with other blood to make it more desirable. I’ve never let a vamp feed directly from me. Lucius has honored our agreement and never told anyone who I am, other than Selene. Since she’s the closest thing I have to a bestie, I’m fine with that.
I think it’s also because Lucius doesn’t know what I am any more than I know what I am, and that fascinates him. Besides, I don’t challenge anyone for power or land or control, so no one sees me as a threat. Hell, I won’t challenge anyone for a goddamned parking space. That kind of bullshit will draw attention to me.
That’s the last thing I need.
Not drawing attention of any kind is one of the reasons the various players in the area leave me alone and use my errand and courier services when needed. I’m neutral.
I mean, completely neutral. Including my scent, apparently. Lucius and Selene admit they can smell me, but sort of like you can smell rain, or a hot burner on an electric stove. It’s there…but not there. Garrett Green said the same thing when I asked him.
During my period every month, which oddly lasts only three days and hits just like clockwork every four weeks, I take those days off from the club with Lucius’ blessing. Last thing I need to be is advertising that in a fricking vampire club, right? More attention I do not want or need. I usually hit the grocery store the day before and don’t set foot outside my apartment for those days.
The only time I step into a conflict and risk drawing attention to myself is when someone tries to fu
ck with me or one of my servers at Club Toxic. Apparently, I’m scary, according to the household humans who also work there. Especially if any of the vampire customers get a little too pushy with the humans upstairs at the club and try to coerce them downstairs to the dungeon against their will, or by using vamp powers on them instead of legitimately gaining their consent.
Although I’ve been in Tucson longer than anywhere else in my adult life and have put down what passes as roots for me, I suppose, I live light, a result of my nomadic existence for most of my life.
As I drive toward the club, my hand drifts to the front of my T-shirt, touching my father’s ring, where it lays hidden underneath. I wear it on the same silver chain my mother used to wear it on.
It’s literally all I have of his.
Mazbushka. That’s what he and his friend Zuzu used to call me. They said it meant “sweet little angel,” but I’ve yet to discover in what language.
Or maybe they made it up. Who knows?
The ring is my talisman now, I suppose. My good-luck charm. I touch it like this all the time without thinking about it. The only time I take it off is when I take a shower. It’s a labradorite stone, dark grey with flashes of blue, green, yellow, and orange, depending on the kind of light it’s in and how you tip it. The ring itself is gold, with symbols embossed on both sides and around the stone.
I haven’t been able to decipher what they mean, even after years of research.
When I reach work, I park in my reserved spot and head inside, letting myself in the back entrance with my key.
I don’t even need to look at the alarm panel to immediately know I’m the first and only one here. Being able to sense people around me—mortal or otherwise—is one of those weird little things I can do, and something I’m careful not to let others know I can.
Only two other human employees have keys and alarm codes, even though there are close to a dozen household humans who work here at the club full-time and even dozens more who are part-timers. None of the vampire employees will be in until after dark, obvs.
Her Vampire Obsession Page 2