by L M Adams
I’ll wash the sheets in the morning. Or maybe I’ll just burn them in the yard. I cover my face with a pillow and let the racking sobs take me. I never cry and hate myself for doing it especially since I don’t know why.
I don’t know how long I lay there wallowing in self-pity, or how long someone has been knocking at my door. I finally rouse enough energy.
“What?” I yell. I don’t want to be bothered can I get one goddamn night? I’m dangerous right now; can’t they see I need to not be around him now?
“Jae, please can I come in?” But it’s Jack, not Peter at the door and my heart bottoms out.
More tears fall as I realize how badly I was hoping it would be Peter’s voice telling me we were ok. That he doesn’t blame me, he’s forgiven me. Instead it’s the vampire slave I don’t want, wanted, don’t want, wanted.
“The linen closet is in the bathroom across the hall. Sheets are in there.” I say to the door and pull the covers back over my head.
The door opens slowly, and I snap, jumping out of the bed.
“Get out!” I shriek.
I know I look like a wild woman standing here yelling. I don’t care. If I have something to be angry about, I don’t need to be sad. If I hurt someone, then I don’t feel hurt. It’s just the way I am.
The insane vampire doesn’t budge. He doesn’t leave, he refuses to leave!
“No one gave you permission to come in.” I stomp forward and smack Jack across the face so hard his head whips to the side.
He falls to his knees, not trying to defend himself one bit. He looks up to me with acceptance. I smack him again, and once more. My hand is throbbing; blood is trickling from the corner of his mouth. I can feel my own heartbeat drum in my ears.
“Get out!” I shout again. He doesn’t move.
I stand there, breathing heavily, shaking with anger and pent up frustration. Wanted. I take my belt off, yanking it through the loops.
“Take off your shirt,” I say in a quiet voice. He does it without a second thought.
“Hands and knees, don’t move,” my voice is deep sultry, angry, hurt. I’m a ball of confused emotion.
I walk behind him and before I think about what I’m doing. I swing the belt again and again hitting his back. I hear him moaning. I don’t let up. He’s not begging me to stop. Why isn’t he begging?
“Why are you here?!” I scream at him.
“I am yours, Mistress,” he says, voice heavy with pain and lust.
“No, why are you in my room?! Why are you here?!” I shout my senseless question again.
I hit him three more times and walk around to the front of him. I reach down digging my fingers into his chin and jaw, forcing him back to sit on his legs staring into his eyes.
His features are fuzzy from the tears gathering in my eyes. He would have been safe, if he’d only stayed away, if he’d only left. I’m too hungry, I’m too tired and I’m too weak to turn him away now. Why doesn’t he understand this?
“Why?” I ask, heart breaking.
“Because you need me to be, Jaevia. You need someone to take care of you.” His words feel like a punch to the gut.
My anger washes out of me like a river. I drop the belt horrified at what I’ve done. I’ve let her take control, my inner demon, my succubus, the devil within. I let her have control because me, Jaevia, is too weak to deal anymore.
I’ve always loved kinky fun, but I haven’t indulged in years, not since she had me. I always follow the rules, I am always careful. I’ve never beaten anyone out of anger. Not once. But that’s exactly what I’ve done to Jack, for daring to come into my room?
I crumble to my own knees, staring at Jack, beautiful Jack. He’s been everything I needed him to be tonight; even a whipping post. I feel such a deep shame for what I’ve done.
I have to pay for this, it’s only what’s right. I take off my shirt and turn to lean against the bed, bracing myself.
“Please,” I beg him and close my eyes waiting for his vengeance. I deserve this and so much more, I’m so fucked up inside.
But instead of feeling the lash of the belt, I feel his arms wrap around me pulling me back into his chest and lifting me in one fluid movement.
I turn into his chest, hiding my face.
“I have you now Jaevia. I’ve got you.” His voice so very gentle.
He carries me out of my bedroom and across the hall to the bathroom. The big tub is already filled with water and bubbles, steam rising gently. The white small tiles and white marble tub with gold inlay are gorgeous. I’ve always loved this bathroom. The tub sits under a window with heavy mahogany drapes.
Tears fall down my cheeks. I thought I had none left to cry, guess I thought wrong. Here I am, angry and hurting him because he’d drawn a bath for me and wanted to come get me? Reason three million and two of why Jae is a shit.
He sits me on the chair we keep in the bathroom beside the sink. He kneels in front of me and takes my feet in his lap, unbuckling my boots and slipping them off. I make no move to stop him. He unbuckles my thigh sheath next and sits it on the sink.
“Stand up please,” he says.
I do as I’m told still not saying a word. Not really know what to say.
His hands pause at the top of my jeans. He looks up at me for permission. I don’t move, I just look back at him. He unbuttons them and begins peeling them down my legs, and then my panties, bra, and socks follow.
He pauses at my ankle bracelet but I shift my foot away and he leaves it alone. I never take it off.
He picks me up and gently sets me in the water. I watch as he grabs a body sponge and squirts body soap on it, working up a good lather. The water feels good. His hands and fingers are magic as they begin washing me. I lean back in the tub looking across to the glazed glass panel of the separate shower.
I try to think of what to say, how to apologize. Is an apology enough after what I’d done? I’ve never beaten a slave out of anger. Kinky bedroom games, sure, but never because I was angry. Not of my own free will anyway.
Jack takes each leg washing me softly from my toes to my thighs; his movements are so soft and gentle. He pauses again when he reaches between my thighs. I shift and part my legs to let him do what he will. He makes no movement to arouse me, only clean me. I feel a pang of disappointment but say nothing.
He tells me to lean back and close my eyes. I release the glamour that hides my twisted horns. They are sharp and pointy at the top. I’ve had my own share of mistakes. If he’s going to wash my hair, he needs to be careful. The glamour to hide them is so embedded in my psyche, I have to concentrate to turn it off now.
“You have horns?” He asks shocked, seeing them appear.
“Yes, like my mother; she’s a cambion.”
“Cambion?”
“It’s a medieval term, but yes, half incubus, half human woman.” Both of my grandparents from my mother’s side died long ago; no one knows much about them, not even my mother.
“But not a succubus?”
“She has the powers I have for the most part; my own are stronger because my father has succubus in him somewhere, a generation or two old, and for whatever reason, the bits of DNA bonded to become a dominant gene in me. So no, neither of us is a full blood succubus.”
I lick my lips. “Us… the Kindred daemons are just different breeds of mutt so convoluted and muddied we use Seers to pair us off to produce our offspring, so no one comes out with a twisted beastie or some such.” I try to make light of the entire situation.
I leave out the part that my succubus now has a little voice in my head and that my powers are so strong because I was abused and trained by a full blood child of Lilith, a true succubus. That part is no one’s business.
He hums like he’s thinking a little, but makes no further comment. I do as I’m told and lean my head back. I feel water pour over my hair. His fingers work the suds into my follicles. It feels so good. I let myself relax under his masterful fingers.
�
��Thank you, Jack,” I whisper quietly. He pauses and then turns on the water, filling a cup I know he got from the kitchen and rinses my hair.
“I’m going to go change the sheets. I’ll be right back. Just relax,” Jack says standing up and drying his hands on a nearby towel.
I watch him, mutely, as he rummages around the closet taking two sets of bedding and goes out the door, closing it quietly behind him. I see his back before he goes. I want to drown myself seeing the welts and bruises peppered on his skin.
That’s what I am, pain and hurt and destruction to everyone and everything around me. I don’t deserve friends. Peter is right to want to stay away from me. I’ll talk with Big Mike in the morning, there has to be a way he can take Peter into his pack. Then I’ll leave. Jack is a big boy; he can take care of himself.
With a plan I feel better. It has way too many holes in it, but I can’t think of what to do other than leave. I’ve always known the day would come when Baltimore would no longer be safe for me, or those around me. I’ve been here far too long, taking comfort in the friends and life I’ve made for myself.
The Kindred will find out I’m here. They find their lost, they always do. Then they’ll send Reapers for me and everyone around me will die, supernatural and human alike. Reapers don’t take prisoners and we don’t like our dirty secrets to get out.
What to do about Valentine, what to do about Wolf Mother? Fuck ‘em both.
I let the water out of the tub and dry myself quickly. I wrap the towel around my naked body and dart across the hall to my bedroom.
It’s alight with candles everywhere. Jack is gathering the dirty sheets in his arms. I know my mouth hangs open a little.
I recover quickly. “Look, Jack, you don’t have to do this. I was wrong to have ever hurt you like that. I don’t understand why you are doing this. I don’t deserve it,” I say to him, angry at myself still. Angry that he’s not angry at me.
“I’ve had much worse, Jae. I’m a switch, I’m a masochist, I enjoy pain. You need to hurt someone, I need to be hurt by someone that gives a damn. Really, it is ok,” he says. He moves towards me slowly like I’m a skittish animal, ready to bolt any second, all of which is true.
“But I don’t give a damn,” I respond harshly. Can’t he see that?
“If you didn’t give a damn, you wouldn’t be standing there apologizing. Don’t turn me away Jaevia. That would be cruel. I want to be here. Let me do this. Please.” His metallic blue eyes are so clear, so true. He really wants this. Why would anyone want this?
“Ok,” I respond stunned and mostly confused.
“Where’s your hair dryer?”
“Under the bathroom sink. Thank you again… Jack,” I turn reaching out a hand to stop him. I pull him towards me and stand up on my tippy toes kissing him softly on his lips; blood is still in the corner of his mouth tasting of cinnamon and chocolate. As kisses go it fits, because this is what a relationship would be with me, pain and blood.
I pull back and see a stunned look on his face. “Get cleaned up, I’ll be here.”
“Yes Jaevia.” He’s out of the door before I can blink. I cross the room, locking it behind him quickly.
I rush over to my single closet and pry the floor boards at the bottom up. Underneath I keep a bag packed for emergencies, a go-bag. It has a hopper phone; they’re hard to trace, not like wrist tablets. I grab the 9 millimeter automatic pistol and check it. It’s been awhile since I’ve cleaned and oiled it but it should work just fine, for now at least.
I’m not great with guns, but I know how to use one. Two blades I had made special with heavy amounts of pure silver in them and three gems, the size of my fist. They were presents from my parents. I had six when I left home. One went to getting my VRB chip reprogrammed, one I sold for credits to put onto my chip, for far less than it was worth.
The third has a very expensive spell in it to hide my signature, keeping me hidden from the Kindred. It’s broken into pieces now. Apart it still works ok, together the spell works great. Two diamond studs at the top of both my ears. Small pieces of the gem adorn the ankle bracelet, I never take it off. But the largest part is in the pommel of my favorite knife. I feel safest with it close.
I grab a few pairs of underwear and a couple changes of clothes and throw them in the bag. Pushing my go-bag under the bed I turn looking around the room. There’s nothing here I’m afraid to leave behind. Nothing I can’t walk away from.
Feeling satisfied, I change into a cheap synthetic silk robe Minx had gotten for me this past Solstice. I love it, even despite the material. It’s a deep purple, almost black. With black lace trimming, I feel sexy with it on. I always do. It almost makes me feel like I’m home again, at the Kindred Palace and its wonder. My parents are a big to do back home. I’ve always had the best. Luckily, I adapted to being poor very well.
The old ache of missing my parents is always heavy in my heart; I haven’t seen them since I was twelve and left their home to begin my training. Kindred children leave their parents for their training to make sure their loyalties will belong to the Kindred as a whole, and not just their parents.
At the age of twenty-five when our training is done, there’s a huge party where we are reunited. I never made it. I was one day away, one day away from my twenty-fifth birthday, one day away from being able to choose my life and what it would be. PLGTS – pre life going to shit.
How could I return home after the shame I’d caused my parents? How could I show my face again after the world had known what she had done to me? My body shakes, remembering me at the end of her leash following behind her for all to see.
At first I’d refused to follow behind her. All it took was six hours for her to make me rejoice at the chance to wear her leash. The haze of lust she made me drink with no release and the things she made me do. Each one more degrading than the last, I did them all, rushing to please her. I did it all for the false promise of peace. Even now with hatred of those things coating my tongue in acid, my body grows wet and ready for her pleasure. She’s trained me so well that my body is still not my own.
It only had taken me two hours to crack. The other four hours were ‘to make sure I never forgot.’ I never have. Now, there is no way I could return home. I’ll always be a slave there. Leaving had been my only chance at freedom.
I hear a tap at the door, glad because it shakes me from my thoughts. I glance around making sure my hurried packing doesn’t show. It’s best if no one knows until it’s too late. I take a deep breath and open the door.
Jack is standing there, wrapped in a towel, skin still damp. My shoes, knife, still in its sheath, hair dryer, a comb and a bottle of leave-in conditioner are all piled in his hands. I open the door wide for him.
I move to sit on the corner of the bed. I don’t say anything, enjoying watching his movements. He finishes drying off and goes to his bags, grabbing a clean pair of black boxer briefs.
He looks good. Pale skin, hairless, muscles defined everywhere, but not real bulk. He has a swimmer’s body, lean and graceful.
I watch wide eyed as he plugs in the dryer using an extension cord I have lying beside the bed. I only have two receptacles in the whole bloody room; I won’t miss that.
He rubs the leave-in conditioner in my hair with a little hum to himself.
“How did you know I use this?” I ask him wanting to fill the silence. I feel like a nervous virgin.
“It smells like your hair,” he answers.
“You know what my hair smells like?” I ask, smiling.
“Yes,” he laughs lightly, “it smells like strawberries with a hint of citrus.”
I clear my throat, “Yes the leave-in smells like strawberries. But the citrus smell is because I’m part succubus.”
“I don’t smell much vampire essence on you, yet I know you have vampire blood in you.”
“Partly because the vampire parts of me are more dormant. My father is vampire and a mix of elf, the high Fae. Which I never understo
od how that worked, one drinks blood the other doesn’t eat meat.” Jack chuckles with me.
The combinations the Seers can sometimes come up with shocks everyone. I know my granddad on my father’s side is still living, he’d chosen to live with the elves, the high Fae, after my Grandmother passed. I’ve never met the man, I hear he’s ancient.
“My dad, he was a Reaper, like I wanted to be.”
I smile at how my Da helped me so much after I told him that my heart really wanted this. I had unwavering support from him, against astronomical odds.
I became the first ever female Reaper that hadn’t had their Kindred child.
Kindred woman can only have one child. To get hurt or killed before we’ve born it squalling into the world is a risk the Elders won’t take. They’d relented on letting women join the House of Cerberus, the Kindred Guards and army. But no more.
Reapers serve under the same House. The Elders believe the palace is safe enough for women to guard, what they hadn’t realized, it’s only another step to become a Reaper if you’re good enough.
I fought long and hard to be good enough. I practiced until I hurt and then would practice until I couldn’t feel the hurt anymore, just the bloodlust. My father had helped me as much as he could, calling in favor after favor just to give me a chance to prove myself. What had I done? Failed miserably.
He’d retired after almost two-hundred years of service which is impressive. Most Reapers are killed in battle long before that mark. Now he whittles away his years in Kindred politics. He’d put off becoming a Reaper Trainer or taking a Grigori post because it would have been another deterrent for my battle to become a Reaper. People would’ve argued he’d shown favoritism and used his connections to get me in. Those people know nothing of my father. He has a strict code of honor, it will never bend, not even for his only daughter.
There now is an actual law to keep female Kindred, who haven’t had their child, from trying to become Reapers. The unspoken rule they had before wasn’t good enough to keep me away from my goal. But the Kindred Elders, armed with a gavel, had taken my dream and ripped it into shreds with rancid glee in their eyes anyway.