by Tiana Laveen
He slammed the phone down. His incisors emerged from his gumline, and anguish flooded his heaving chest with its searing heat. Fisting the covers, he hissed and snarled, arching his back as his anger reached an all-time high…
…Minutes later
She could hear two heartbeats… Only one was hers…
Venus crushed the water bottle in her hand and tossed it in the kitchen trashcan before the lights went black in her apartment.
“You’ve struggled from the cradle to the grave. I don’t do struggle love. I’m so tired of this…” The deep voice boomed through every wall of her place. She felt as if she were spinning, the words echoing around her in stereo. The squeal of tires, the roar of a motorcycle engine made her jump. She looked toward the windows, the front door, then back at a closed closet. Clutching her robe to her body, she turned in all directions, confused, hurting, petrified, pissed.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT?!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.
His strong, musky scent filled the air like a thick fog. It was intoxicating, overpowering, passionate and vile.
“You.”
The lights turned back on, flickered, then settled. There he stood, in the middle of the room. Cool air brushed against her skin; the bastard must have jimmied a window to get inside. He cocked his head to the side, his pinky fingernail extended; a flame danced upon it as he lit a cigarette he’d slid like some long, white snake out of his black leather jacket. A thin chain hung around his neck, nestled on his exposed chest with an eight pack in plain view. He made his way to her radio and turned it on.
‘House of the Rising Sun’ by the Animals began to play through the speakers.
“Amazin’ song, isn’t it, baby?” He paced back and forth with heavy, laced-up black boots. “It’s a classic.” Blowing thick rings of dense smoke in the air, he moved about as if he were a trapped tiger—muscles tight, restless. “Where were you in 1964?”
“Minding my own damn business.”
He chuckled at that.
“I asked for a reason. You’re hard to piece together. Background checks are either full of fabricated information or misinformation about you. Funny thing though, big pieces of your fuckin’ life have just… vanished! Like you’d never been born.” His eyes grew large in faux surprise. He chuckled and threw up his hands. “Well, we know that’s not true… here you are. I want to know what the fuck you’ve been doing… how you hide so well… who the fuck you really are!” He tossed the cigarette in the air, caught it between his teeth, and swallowed it whole.
“Get tha fuck outta my house.” She fisted her hands.
He inched towards her, and she took several steps back.
“You stink of fear,” he sneered. “Talking big, saying nothing. Tell me your secrets… or I’ll take them from you. The choice is yours.”
Before she could blink, he was upon her, his arm around her waist and his hand cradling the back of her head. He yanked on her thick, curly black hair as she squirmed and hissed. She refused to let him see the pain in her eyes. He caressed the side of her neck with his fingertips, horrid lust swimming in his pupils as she bared her teeth. Her fangs extended when he brought her closer, flush against him, and made them rise together several feet off the ground. He was so tall, his head nearly touched the ceiling.
“I’m not afraid of you!”
“Fake news!” He cackled. “Awww, I wanted to make ya wet, baby, not piss your pants.” She refused to look him in the eye… that was where trouble lived. He leaned in impossibly closer and sniffed her neck, and then again. His eyes rolled back like balls spinning on a pool table. “Fuck! You smell so damn good. What blood type are you? O? B! You’re B, aren’t ya?” He sniffed again. “Yeah… definitely B. Mmmm… vintage year, too.”
She kept her head down.
“Look at me, you turned bitch!”
She screamed when he wrapped his hand around her neck and pressed his forehead against hers. They glared at one another and she felt sick inside. His eyes danced from blue to black, making her dizzy. His jaw tightened as he tried to invade her thoughts, to enter her private sanctuary.
“Let me see your fucking desires and fears… Let me see them, NOW!”
She held steadfast, her resolve not slipping, but she could feel his power. It was overwhelming, like nothing she’d experienced before. She’d had her share of vampire suitors. Many had been just as egotistical as this one, but none of them had even come close to his physical strength, she could’ve gone toe to toe with them easily and she was certain he was still merely toying with her. There was no telling what he was capable of, but this was the type of vampire Geneviève had warned her about. He enjoyed killing, yes indeed, but his greatest joy stemmed from mentally breaking down his prey.
This time, it was her…
“I won’t let you in! I don’t want you!”
He let go and she fell hard. Flashes of the time spent in that dark hole in the floor flashed in her mind. The angry White folk and their dogs, the barking, the curses, the black feathered raven flying to and fro…
He floated back down from the ceiling.
“Venus, this has gone on long enough. I could break you in two with a mere thought.”
“Then do it.” She gritted her teeth and crawled away from him, stumbling as she got back on her feet. “That’s right, you won’t… because you want to fuck me.”
“I can fuck you regardless of whether you’re dead or alive. I’ve already had cold pussy. I prefer a hot snatch, but hey, I’m not totally against it if it’s a bit on the uptight and frigid side.” He shrugged. The truth of his words made her shudder. “Where were you born?” She inched further away from him and began to climb along the wall, in the direction of the front door.
“South Carolina.”
“Who are you parents?”
“What does it matter? They’re dead and I’m turned. They’ve nothing to do with this.” She shrieked when a blur of light flew past her and he was suddenly against her door, sliding up along it, upside down. His eyes glowed bright as he hung there like a fruit bat on a tree.
He was so fast… the kind of fast that made her head spin…
He spit out the cigarette he’d swallowed earlier onto the ground… it was relit and dry as a bone.
“I’m not fucking playing with you, bitch.”
“I never believed that you were.” He grabbed her wrists and snatched her from the wall, flung her to the floor, and mounted her. He was so heavy, she felt as though a high-rise had landed on her, or a mountain had tumbled and crumbled over her, leaving her with no chance of escape. Raising her arms above her head, he pinned her down. His hard body felt cool against her hot one. He grinded his massive hard-on against her pelvic bone, and her heartbeat quickened.
“I have been looking for you, for years. I have gone through drastic measures to find you. I’m sick and tired of your games. Either you’re extremely cunning, extremely intuitive, or extremely stupid. You’ve done everything in your power to make this difficult, as if you knew I was coming. Who’s been talking to you about me?”
“No one.”
He cocked his head slowly from side to side, as if sizing her up, trying to find a kernel of truth in her words. When he grabbed her chin, dull pain radiated throughout the bones of her skull as he looked deeply into her eyes. He snatched his hand abruptly away, forcing her head to swing far to the left, then moved away from her, allowing her to finally breathe again. She coughed a little as she sat up, but kept her eye on him.
“What year were you born?”
“…1813.” She got to her feet and dusted herself off.
Pulling a flask from his jacket, he tilted it to his lips and drank, then slipped it back in its place. She could smell that it was filled with blood.
“South Carolina… 1813… you’ve survived quite a while. I believe you’ve lived here in New York several times.” He plopped down on her couch, sighed, and looked at her from over his shoulder. “Am I right?”
“Yes…”
“Bring your fuckin’ ass over here.” He snapped his fingers, his brows bunched in annoyance.
She took a few steps, paused, then retreated. He shook his head, his face contorted in a grimace, then burst out laughing. Suddenly, the ceiling began to peel and splinter. Bits of white paint chips and debris rained down onto her head. The walls pulsed as if alive and the high-pitched noise of shrill, disembodied screams ensued…
“Stop it!” She covered her ears and rocked. The noises made her brain hurt, and her heart felt heavy.
“I don’t feel like fucking dragging your stubborn ass over here,” he stated carelessly, his tone not matching the words. “If you make me, I will make good on my threats tonight, Venus.” She made her way over and sat across from him on the loveseat. As soon as she was there, everything stopped abruptly, going back to normal. “Now, where were we?” He raked his long white fingers through his jet-black hair and leaned back, his alluring eyes hooded. “I asked you about New York… You return here again and again. Do you know why?”
“I love it here… It was my first taste of true freedom.”
He nodded and crossed his arms.
“Who turned you?”
“I’ve been sworn to never tell her name.”
He exhaled loudly, but much to her surprise, didn’t push the issue.
“So… it was a woman. Was that your preference?”
“My preference?”
“Pussy-to-pussy power. Professional clit licker. Strap on queen. Carpet muncher. Dyke. Kitty puncher. Bean flicker.”
“No.” She hugged herself as the air grew cooler in the room. “I’m not gay… it wasn’t like that.”
“Hmmm, I see. Well, it’s not uncommon for a turned one to be told to never tell the name of the person who changed them…reveal their master, or in this case, mistress. As I’m sure you’re aware of, that is one of the few things I can’t make you do. You have to tell me willingly who sired you. I have my ways of finding out these things though, no worries. Something isn’t right with you… you rub me the wrong way.” His neck clicked and made odd twisting and snapping noises as he moved his head left and right.
“You wouldn’t be rubbed by me in any way, if you’d just do us both a favor and leave. Can’t you find someone else to bother? I don’t want you here, don’t you get it?! I don’t want to talk to you and I don’t want to look at you. GET OUT!”
“Who the hell do you think you’re speaking to?! I’m Count Alexandre Marseille. I’ve killed thousands of men, so what would make you believe I give one fuckin’ care about you or your silly, infantile feelings? Do you honestly expect me to keep showing you mercy?”
“Mercy? This isn’t mercy!”
“The only reason why your tongue hasn’t been ripped out your fucking mouth, you little smart lipped cunt, is because I would prefer to have a bride who can suck my blood and my dick! No tongue… no sucking. It’s just that simple. You’re my mate! I want you to understand the severity of this situation. I don’t think you—”
“I don’t give a shit what you want, Count Alexandre Marseille. The feeling is not mutual and whoever told you that we were destined was wrong. You are not my mate! I pick and choose who I date, screw, and eventually marry. You have no say over the matter!”
He smiled at her… the type of smile that made her blood move all the slower within her. A black smile, an empty smile, a death-will-become-you smile.
I’ve already started fighting back… no need to stop now. He’s gonna kill me either way…
“I find you entertaining, to say the least.” He paced back and forth, seemingly working various angles in his head. “I didn’t expect this.” He chuckled loudly… then abruptly stopped. He floated quickly over to her, and she screamed out, her heart beating so fast, it hurt. Picking her up by the neck, he lifted her high in the air, turning her roughly from side to side.
“You’re so beautiful, Venus… what a waste it would be to destroy you. Sure, there are others I could make my mate, but they’d always be second best and a gamble. I find you interesting though. Truly, I do. Like a brand-new toy that no one else has.”
He slammed her down onto the couch.
She rubbed her sore throat and coughed up blood, kicking her legs as she tried to gain oxygen in her lungs once again. This had to be it… her last breath would be taken before he’d turn her loose. A royal maniac with an axe to grind was going to put an end to her once and for all. He was feral and wild, yet refined… even his features demonstrated the duality of it. He’d never offered a genuine, warm smile, and yet, he was oddly beautiful—too beautiful to look at for too long…
“No one tells you no. I get it and I don’t care. Yes, I’m afraid of you! You like that, I know.”
“I do… but I suspect that you’re not just afraid of me, Venus. Your fear lies in the truth of my words. You’ve been playing make-believe for far too long. You’ve slipped away from reality, far from the truth about yourself. Venus is dead. You playing the kind, gentle human is getting old, by the way. Accept what the fuck you are. You’ve been this way for over 200 years!”
“I know what I am, Count… and that’s what hurts the most.”
He drew closer to her and she shivered.
“Do you want to live?”
“Yes, I want to live, but I’ve been through too much in both of these lifetimes to allow the likes of you to break me. And yes, I understand that this may mean my death. So be it.”
She felt like she was on some witness stand, giving testimony to the man. He kept digging and trying to drill into her mind, to pick apart her fears and aspirations, her deepest desires.
“You’re different. Turned Vampires aren’t as defiant as you. And yet, I can sense that you’re turned, not Pure Blood. You’re resistant to me, very tenacious, something almost unheard of. Your kind is usually thrilled to be in the presence of a Pure Blood.” He sat back down on the couch and studied her.
“Thrilled, huh?” She narrowed her eyes on him and tucked her body, resting her chin on her knees. “I’ll try to remember that next time you choke me out.”
“I don’t fucking trust you, Venus. Something is so off with this shit. I’m going to get to the bottom of it.” He sneered. He got to his feet and put his hands on his hips. “Take your clothes off.”
Her eyes widened, and she quickly weighed her options. He sucked his teeth and his fangs extended ever so slightly… though he said nothing further. Did he have to?
She slowly got to her feet and removed her robe, then her nightgown, until all she wore was a pair of panties. He looked her up and down, then started to walk around her, in a circle. She closed her eyes, feeling like prey, while he was a ravenous wolf, snarling, growling, nipping. She shivered when he ran his finger down her spine, but he kept moving, round and round.
“You’re fucking remarkable…” he whispered… “What an amazing body. You’ve never had children, it’s true… Amazing. How could any of my brethren resist not marrying you then impregnating you at the first chance they got? Sooo delicious.” He ran his tongue along the side of her face. She winced in disgust. “How have you kept your numbers so low? You’re a seductress after all. Your feminine energy is off the charts. Certainly you must use it to your advantage.”
“My numbers? Are you talking about the men I’ve slept with?”
“Mostly the vampires… You’ve not fucked many men since you were turned. I can pick up on the difference.”
She sighed. “I move around a lot, try to keep a low profile. Sex isn’t the first thing on my mind. Surviving is.”
“But sex is survival, baby. It’s all interlocked. Now, by surviving I am assuming you are referring to your feeding, first and foremost. How have you been handling that?”
“Here in New York, I go out and pretend to prostitute, mainly. Sometimes I let them fuck before I eat, it depends on my mood and how I feel about them… one last dying wish. Before that, I was ripping off blood ba
nk supplies but that became too risky with the new security camera systems.”
He nodded. “Your Sire, the woman who changed you didn’t give you any other alternatives besides theft and prostitution? Wow… what a bad governess. Your mistress left you ill equipped.”
“You leave her out of this… and I suppose cold blooded murder is better?”
He smirked.
“Look here, Ms. Harriet Tubman with your righteous indignation, pretending to sell your pussy for a pint of blood, risking your life with men who would slit their own throats to pretend to be something they’re not is not only risky, it’s stupid. If you get arrested, you may not be able to feed for days, weeks, months! You’d die. You are unable to shapeshift, so you’d be stuck in that fucking cage indefinitely! Secondly, stealing the blood from a blood bank, though original, I’ll give you that, is also a bonehead move and I’m glad you realized that sooner rather than later. I will teach you how to hunt and feed in a more discreet, safer way. I enjoy a good hunt; you obviously do not. There are provisions that can be made if you do what you’re supposed to.”
“What provisions?”
“There are hosts… hundreds of them in any location at any given time. Us Pure Bloods have them at our fingertips. We hunt because we want to, not because we must.”
“Who are these hosts?”
“Humans and fellow vampires alike. Just think, baby… No more crawling the streets looking for johns to kill, no more gambling with possibly getting blood sick from essence that isn’t up to par, and no more not feeding in timely intervals… it would all be over. Everything would be taken care of for you.”
“…And all I have to do is be your mate… be by the side of a menacing, evil maniac.” She fought back tears as her stomach growled. She was two days overdue for a feed. She hated it so. It had become complicated, dangerous, and her conscience, which she could never shake, caused her pain that no one would ever understand.