by L M Adams
“No, Mistress,” comes the breathless and sweet as honey sound.
The sound of flesh pounding doesn’t even pause. That vamp is still caught up in the throes of my succubus powers. He’ll be horny, hard, and fucking all night. Good move, Jae, classy.
“You want to be here, don’t you Christy?” The Madame’s voice is crisp. I know she is doing this to fuck with me. She knows my history. She knows I’d been like Christy before. A play thing, even worse, a play thing that loved to please her Mistress, and any she placed in front of me, just like Christy.
“Yes, Mistress,” Christy’s soft reply comes.
“You have a lot of work tonight, a lot of people to satisfy.”
“Yes, Mistress.” And the sucking sound returns.
“She’s quite delightful, she sucks cock with a certain joy in her heart only a whore knows. I’m going to turn her, perhaps. Keep her chained, kneeling. Her mouth will be used for pennies on the dollar like a gum ball machine,” Madame says, looking back to me laughing, trying to drag a real reaction from me.
She should have tried this with Johnson. He actually gives a shit about the girl being a whore. I’m just wondering if she eats pussy with the same level of joyful abandon.
“That is your business.” What’s the point of me arguing it? Christy wants to be one of the ‘beautiful people.’ I’m not going to stand in the way of her dreams, no matter how asinine. I barely keep from rolling my eyes.
“Jack however…” I start.
“Is yours.” She cuts me off quickly. “If I find out you aren’t taking your responsibilities seriously… well, you don’t want to disappoint me. I ruin lives for an evening’s entertainment. And your friend Peter Robinson has spent some time with us here. I know what he likes and what he doesn’t like.” Her grin is challenging.
She just ruined Johnson’s life for the hell of it. She hadn’t needed to let him see that. But she enjoyed watching his pain. Vampires, somewhere in the decades upon decades, lose their empathy. They stop understanding human emotions and like a kid with a bug they find endless fascination with pulling those emotions apart to see what will happen.
It’s not against Kindred laws to take humans. You can’t tell a fish not to swim, or rather a shark not to hunt. But you can’t take anyone against their will. Although, it isn’t hard to convince humans to come to the dark side. I blame it on the school system, and Madame is persuasive to say the least.
I can protect Peter. But she could hurt a lot of innocent people while staying within the laws of the Kindred. I can’t really report her either way. My happy little life would be considerably less happy and we both know it. At the end of the day, I sigh. I want him, at least once.
“Very well, how long is he to be mine?” I ask, seeing no point in delaying the inevitable. There’s not much else I can do. She’s forced my hand, maybe I’m giving in a little too easy. I’m not willing to think about why right now.
She laughs. “That’s for you to decide, but think long and hard about it.”
She closes her eyes as she finds her peak. The vampire with his face buried between her thighs must be good, she strokes his hair with one hand, much like someone would pet a dog for fetching their slipper. I make a move to get up.
“Sit! We’re not done yet.” I flounce back into the chair. She claps her hands and the room clears in seconds. Even the ménage à trois disengages, just long enough for them to find another room, or a dark corner, probably.
I hold my head with my cut arm, now bandaged with a cloth a vampire handed to me some time ago. Another smart decision, leak lust and cut your arm open in a clutch full of vamps. I’m so smart sometimes.
I sigh, just tired and ready to go home, “What else do you want to discuss?”
“I’m sure you realize I set up this night just for you,” she begins.
“No shit Sherlock,” I respond flippantly.
She pauses for a second gathering her thoughts again. Guess she isn’t used to people talking to her like I do.
“If you really found objection, you would’ve done something other than flooding me with your succubus powers. Like turn around and leave.” She says with an all-knowing smile.
The shit is, she is right. I’d enjoyed the show. Fucking sue me, I’m a succubus.
“You’ve shown favoritism to Michael, the werewolf.” She even says his name with a French inflection. Big Mike would be interested to know the little vamp bitch is jealous we were close.
“He has cheap beer and great barbeque,” I respond. Which is true; he’s always made me feel welcome and at ease.
“Jack is a way to even the field. You’ll have one of us living with you, sleeping with you. I’ll have a claim on you as well and since you seem determined not to be sensible and just give in to me. Maybe you’ll feel less threatened by Jack.” More like to spy on me, I think towards her.
“I’ve told you I’m not on a hunt. I’ve been here almost eight months now, can’t you see that?!?” My voice is irritated and tight. I’m balling my hands into fists in my lap. Why does everyone feel the need to try and control me?
“Not now perhaps. But one day you may be and I want you to remember us, the good and the bad.” She smiles. “You working in a drug store? It is beneath you. Do you not see how much we could benefit from one another, your choice of clients? You do not need to sleep with anyone you don’t want. You know how much a drop of your essence is worth? We are not so very bad, Jaevia.”
I roll my tongue behind my teeth wanting to say, ‘Vampires have no good.’ But I live in a cheap ass glass house. I have no right to throw stones, especially since I’m always trying to prove how ‘good’ I am, when in my heart I feel everything but. At best, I walk a very thin line.
This is not about good and bad for her and we both know it. She wants me to remember tonight and that with a flip of the coin I could’ve been hers, lock stock and barrel. If she can’t have me as a lover, another vampire will do just as well. She can smell I haven’t been with anyone, she knew the day would come when I couldn’t resist her call.
Most supernaturals know I’ve been punished by the Kindred for a hunt gone wrong. That I’d been the slave of a full blood succubus for a year and a day.
We are allowed to choose what house we want to be trained under. But, everyone expects certain choices from certain breeds of daemons. I’d chosen wrong to them, and that was that.
I remember the words that sealed my fate like it was yesterday. “We all have a destiny and you are to be a member of the House of Peitho.” The house of persuasion and seduction. But first I had to ‘accept’ what I was, so I was given to the wicked succubus bitch for ‘retraining’ to be a courtesan and a spy for the Kindred.
Reapers are the children of Abbadon, the destroyer, angel of the abyss. I’ve always wanted to be one, I’ve always felt it was my destiny to walk at death’s side. When I was younger, I had trained to become one. Trained hard. I was good, not great, but good.
On the day of choosing I had proclaimed my choice with conviction in my voice, House of Cerberus. First, I trained to be a soldier and guard to the Kindred. Every child of the House of Cerberus isn’t a Reaper, a bringer of death.
To the surprise of my teachers, I’d done well and had been selected for specific Reaper training. It’s like being special ops in the human military. My choice, however, is frowned upon by most of the other Daemon Kindred. As a succubus-vampire mix, I have no place on the battlefield. I am a bringer of lust, not a bringer of death. My place, to them, is in a bedroom. Seducing the powerful and gaining intelligence, or swaying the decisions made by the powerful men and women of the worlds. I fought for the right to choose my own destiny, to decide what I’d become. I’d made it through Reaper training, I thought it was over. They would accept my choice now. It seemed it would work out, I really thought my life would be easier.
Until of course, my first time on an assignment went terribly wrong. I was ordered ‘to be re-trained’ which to me wa
s only ‘to be punished.’ This is why I know what it is to be on my knees, caught in a web of my own desires.
The Kindred Elders accused that I denied my true heritage, I didn’t develop my powers. I didn’t know how to follow orders. I remember the cold hardness beneath my knees as I knelt in the circle of judgment and their gavel banged after each proclamation. I remember my body shaking and being afraid, but not regretting my choice.
They said I was young, they didn’t blame me, and that I only needed to be guided to my true purpose. I remember them giving me to her, a full blood succubus, who hated me, or just is evil and vindictive. I’d like to say she didn’t break me. But that would be a lie, and I promised never to lie to myself again.
All of this I remember as I blink slowly looking at the gorgeous woman across from me. I get up and lean across the desk, venom dripping from my voice.
“I am not that woman any longer. You would do well to remember I’ve trained a lot longer on how to kill a person than I did on how to fuck them.” I don’t like people to play on my past. No one is my mistress, my master, or anything else, period. I turn and make my way to the exit.
“Miss Knightley.” I turn my head slightly at the sound of my name.
“You’re welcome here, anytime.” I turn without another word. God I hate vampires, half vampire or not.
Chapter Six
Fool in Love
It’s funny the series of decisions that can lead you to a certain place in your life. Not really knowing how exactly you got there. Like collecting a distraught human, getting another human from a bar, with a vampire slave waiting outside.
I find Johnson sitting on the bottom step as I come back down to the first floor. He has a vampire guarding him, but there’s no need, he’s huddled into himself. I think I see a glimmer of pity in the vampire’s eyes.
Someone told me once that even vampires have compassion. I’ll never believe it. Even if they do have compassion, doesn’t mean they gave a damn to do anything about the problem, especially when they are the fucking problem.
“Come on Johnson, Peter is waiting for us.” I grab him under his arm, yanking him to his feet.
“I can’t leave her, I just can’t. Please help me.” he starts in with the crying again. Pity will only drive him further into depression. I drop him, letting him fall to the floor.
“She’s not yours. Don’t you see that yet!?! She doesn’t want you; everyone in the building has had a go!” I yell down at him without pity.
His face is streaked with tears, looking up to me, pleading with me to help him. I shake my head no and look away. She’s not worth it, that’s the simple truth of it.
“You may not understand it now, but you deserve better than her. She’s not good enough for your love. Now let’s go.” I say in a softer voice.
I watch him try to collect himself getting up. Stumbling a little but at least he’s moving on his own, and away from Christy.
No faster than we step through the door at the end of the hallway, Peter is there. I shake my head, telling him not to ask as he sees his friend crying in public.
Johnson is young; it’s the only excuse I can give for him showing his emotion in such a shameful manner. I try not to judge him for it.
“Let’s go. I’ll make good on the tab. You get him to the car. I have a friend. We are going to need a ride back to my place.”
“No problem.” Peter shifts his gaze to Johnson.
“Come on buddy; let’s get you out of here.” Peter says with a soft voice. He knows a broken man when he sees it.
I won’t tell Peter what happened; the story is Johnson’s to tell if he chooses.
I make my way to the bar watching them make it to the door. I hold out my wrist so my VRB chip can be scanned, and the balance taken from my bank account. I don’t even care how much it is. I just want to get out of here.
“It’s free of charge.” The new bartender yells towards me. Yeah like that will make up for the night of horrors, excitement, horrors, excitement, horrors I’ve had here. I beat a quick path to the door.
Jack is standing at the curb with two large duffle bags beside him. I expected a box or two at least, or a lot less. This is only for a little while, right?
“Is this all?” I ask him coming down the stairs.
“It is all I need, Mistress,” he says quietly. Not depressed though.
When I’d been made into a slave, I’d done it with a lot more fanfare than this.
“Don’t call me Mistress.” I’m tired, at my end. I can’t have him calling me Mistress in the car, it would raise too many questions.
“Yes Jaevia.”
I guess getting him to call me Jae would be too much for tonight. I hope Peter doesn’t notice, the man notices everything.
Peter pulls up and stops a little down the street. I start moving towards the car. I think Johnson is getting out of the front seat to let Jack and me get in the back. Until I notice the gun in his hand. Where’d the gun come from? My eyes follow his movements. But I’m glued in my spot, why does he need a gun? That’s not going to do him any good, not here, not against vampires, I seriously doubt there’s a clip of silver tipped bullets in that gun.
I turn as Peter gets out of the car, running around it. He doesn’t have a hard time making it to Johnson. The boy is standing there pointing the gun at one of the vampire goons standing at the bottom of the steps. I stand, dumbstruck, as I hear the gun discharge. The goon on the left jerks, but it is Peter’s body that hits the ground, taking the bullet.
“What the fuck!” I yell into the air. The goons move forward. “This isn’t your business.” I rush past them saying, moving towards Johnson.
“He has attacked one of mine.” Goon number one turns to me saying, eyes vamped out, fangs descended. I know I’m speaking with Madame.
I see his hand come up to trying to punch or grab me I not sure which. I hit the ground rolling into a crouch and drawing my blade. My already existing bruise twangs at me but pain is a familiar companion in my life.
I move quickly coming up and right into a block. I barely keep goon number two from reaching Johnson who’s standing there in shock. I guess he now realizes he’s shot, and probably killed, the only friend he has.
I slice quickly across goon number two’s chest and turn bending at the knee to stab him in his thigh.
There’s a bellow of outrage, but I don’t stop.
Goon number one turns to me and with a voice like ice: “I claim first blood.”
First blood. I scan my brain trying to remember our law. Yes, she is in her rights. No one had attacked us, we had attacked them. She could report this to the Kindred. It is her right to be heard, to be compensated.
Daemon Kindred hold court to settle disputes in the supernatural world. I didn’t shoot at the goon, no. But I’m also a rogue, and I’d stabbed one of them. There’s no way I won’t be blamed for this. They’ll find me and give me back to her again.
I feel like I’m standing in a bloody pool of quicksand. The more I struggle the faster I’ll sink.
I see Peter’s chest rise and fall, out of the corner of my eye; I don’t have time for this shit.
“I’ll pay the price!” I drop my blade putting my hands in the air.
Behind goon number one, Jack lowers the gun he was pointing at one of the vampires.
Well that’s interesting; he would have shot one of his own?
“How do you wish to pay?” I can almost hear Madame’s voice overlapping the goon’s voice, fucking weird.
“You say I spend too much time at Big Mike’s; I’ll serve you, one night a month for a year, Sunset to Sunup, but only you, only sex and physical service, no power, no blood.” What the fuck am I doing? I’ve spent so long keeping myself out of her clutches. I’ve worked so hard at it.
I glance at Peter, laying on the ground. He’s my friend, he’s my friend.
“I’ll serve you.” I say again softly, sweetly.
I need to get to Peter
and I am something she wants. Nothing less will do to make this go away.
The Goon smiles, fangs flashing in the moonlight. “Once a week, and you can be shared with whoever I choose.” Not that, never that. I wet my lips calculating.
“One person of your choosing and you, twice a month, or I leave the human here to die and come back in to kill you or die trying. Final fucking offer.”
I’m tired of being pushed; I’m tired of everyone manipulating me and my life for their own agenda. Now my friend lays here dying. For what?
“Be here in two nights, bring Jack with you. We are in agreement.” I guess the bitch knows when she is getting as good as it got.
With that, goon number one collects goon number two. He still hasn’t healed from my magic silver blade. Most supernaturals can only truly be hurt by silver, something about the chemical composition of the metal.
Both goon number one and two look at me with anger in their eyes. Oh well, fuck ‘em.
You didn’t think it was a kitchen knife did you? My succubus hisses at them.
“Get in the fucking car, Johnson. Don’t say a goddamn word. Just get in the car, back seat. Behind the driver’s seat.” I think to add. God save me from fools in love with women that don’t want them.
“Jack, get over here.” I pause looking at the blood. “You’ve fed right?” I ask in a whisper.
“Yes Mistress, I have control.” I let the Mistress shit slide and take off my jacket.
“Good.” I take off my T-shirt; ruined now, covered in blood. My friend’s blood. I rip it down the middle.
“Hold him up; I’ll tie this around him. Johnson hit him a little below his heart. I know his lung is punctured.”
Little bloody air bubbles are at the corner of Peter’s mouth. He’s going to drown in his own blood, goddess help me.
“Don’t take me to a hospital Jae; don’t want the boy to get in trouble,” Peter begs in a ragged whisper. It sounds wet and as a cough rips through him I close my eyes seeing the pain written across his face.