by Tiana Laveen
“I am sworn to not tell! You told me to come over here so I could be trained. I did as you asked! You let me feed from you. I saw what you are through that… I felt it!”
“Yes, and that’s how I saw what you did to the Miller Plantation. The fire danced in your eyes, your heart and your mind. It’s an eternal flame.”
“We both know that happened for many reasons… and so, to a small extent, I started to trust you but I see now I can’t do that. It’s ridiculous. You are a ruthless, selfish demon!”
He chuckled then wrapped his hand around her throat, then lifted her off the ground.
“I’m not squeezing hard, and you’re fighting… feel that, Venus? THAT’S POWER! What a beautiful find you are.”
He placed her back on her feet. Her throat burned. She shuddered when he leaned over and gently kissed her shoulder, then her neck. The pain instantly vanished.
“Now, where were we? Yes… Who is your mistress?”
“Stop asking me who the hell sired me because you know I will never tell you! It would put her in danger, and I will never betray her in that manner. You know the rules!”
He balled his fists at his side and his fangs extended. The monster’s eyes turned lighter making it look like he had no eyeballs at all… white on white. After a few seconds, his fangs retracted, his hands relaxed, and his eyes returned to their natural light blue color. She hissed when he pressed her back against a wall, her face dangerously close to the sword jammed in it. She looked at it from the corner of her eye then turned back in his direction. Heat rushed through her when he pressed his lips to hers… the iron-rich taste of royal blood, a sweetness out of this world, filling her. Her eyes rolled when he wrapped his strong arms around her waist and slid his tongue in her mouth.
Their bodies grinded against one another in a passionate embrace like she’d never known. But, too soon, he pulled away from her, tied his robe, and left her to make his way to the doors.
“Where are you going?”
He didn’t look back as he opened them.
“You’ve passed your first test. Loyalty. I’ve tested you four times and you’ve not waivered. You’re a good sire. Faithfulness, devotion and piety is very important to me, especially in my mate. Tonight, through tomorrow afternoon, you sleep in the guest quarters. Tomorrow night, we have business to tend to. I am sending Whiskey and a couple others over to your apartment. They will pack and move your things here. This is where you live now. Welcome home.”
CHAPTER SIX
A Crash Course in Survival 101 and Fuckology
Alexandre Marseille typically slept no more than four hours a day. Rest, for him, was a necessary inconvenience. He stood at Venus’ door in the guest quarters, watching her sleep for the past forty-five minutes. He appreciated that she needed her rest, especially since they had such a big day ahead. After all, she didn’t have the same level of endurance he possessed, but he hoped she’d improve with his help. He’d cancelled his meetings and focused completely on her. There was nothing more serious or important going on than the woman lying in that bed before him…
His future Reine Du Sang.
She sat up high, on three thick mattresses elevated with a canopy of sturdy steel chains. Lit white candles lined the top of the headboard perched behind it, all of them dancing with a hyper orange glow, aiding in the warmth of the room.
A part of her frailty… she gets cold easier than most.
He’d made attempts to make her first night’s stay as comfortable as possible. A glass pitcher of freshly drawn donor blood was set on her nightstand, along with a matching goblet for her to drink from. There were art books for her to peruse, too.
He’d dug a little more into her success as an Art History professor at one of the local universities and found her repute rather impressive. He’d initially figured it was just a way to blend in with society; her weakness undoubtedly was the desire to still belong in a world she was no longer a member of, and if they were to ever believe in the existence of vampires, she’d surely be exiled. Hell, they didn’t even accept their own kind should that person’s skin be a different hue, have a different belief system or be attracted to a person of the same sex. Why would anyone want to be human? Their very existence was hypocritical, nauseating, and weak.
He found her wish to be human rather repulsive, but he would address it later. As he dug deeper into her life however, he realized that her choice in career may not have been a path chosen just for acceptance’s sake. She’d travelled and taught all over the world—considered a genius in her field. Alexandre wasn’t much of an art critic, unless it came to women…
Women are the true art of the planet…as well as heaven and the underworld alike.
He was attracted to art purely for aesthetics, not for the meaning behind it. If something appealed to him, he purchased it. Simple as that. He couldn’t care less about the man or monster behind the slung paint or marble sculpture; only necessary details of life concerned him. Venus, on the other hand, was rather particular about infinitesimal details, it seemed. He noticed it in the trappings of her apartment…
There was no way he was going to allow Whiskey and his crew to ransack the place without him close by. He was certain there would be secrets to uncover in that hole in the wall she felt so attached to. As soon as Venus was squared away and sound asleep at 5:17 A.M., he accompanied them to her apartment, the men dressed in white movers’ jumpsuits and equipped with large cardboard boxes and heavy-duty tape. They pulled up in a truck, looking the part. He was heartbroken yet simultaneously impressed to discover soon thereafter that the lady was two steps ahead…
Most of her personal possessions were gone.
“She’s not as stupid as I’d hoped she’d be.” He chuckled as he glided towards her, wishing to get a closer look at his bewitching prize. His dick swelled and strained against his pants as he caressed the side of her face with a feather touch. His heart raced; there was nothing he wished for more than to take her right then, to hear her screams of pleasure and pain. Now that would be sweet music to his ears.
I’m going to break you to remake you. I’m going to recreate you, so that no one takes you.
Her eyes fluttered but it took her a moment to rouse. He leaned closer, inhaling the air around her… so deliciously sweet. Each breath she exhaled was like a dark lullaby. Each inhale a bright sonnet without end.
Long, thick black hair lay sprawled all over the red silk pillow and across her shoulders and arms. Her copper colored satin gown hung dangerously close to exposing a set of full, supple breasts that he missed from the first time he’d seen them. Long legs were pressed together as she lay on her side, as if protecting her precious pussy even in her sleep. The pitcher of blood sat half consumed and it looked like she’d been flipping through one of the art books for it lay open. He looked closely at the book, curious as to what had drawn her eye.
Dante and Virgil (1859), painted by William Bouguereau. He pulled the book from the nightstand and looked at the image.
“It’s one of the earliest depictions of vampires being portrayed as humans, and not as some bumpy-skinned gnome or hideous creature skulking around in the middle of the night.” She stretched and yawned. “Very nicely done. Brutal, but nice all the same.” He looked at her for a spell then eyed the page again.
“You’re a real work of art yourself. Everything of potential interest to me you’ve moved to some secret fuckin’ hideout or tossed out in a dumpster, no doubt. How’d you know I’d go through your things in your apartment?” He flipped the page.
“Because that’s what I would’ve done in your position.”
He smirked at her response, then took her hand and helped her out of bed. Not that she needed it.
“Thank you for the feed last night.”
The color had returned to her cheeks; it had done her good.
“The blood came from one of my most popular donors. Did you enjoy it?” He pointed to the glass with only a drop or two left i
n the bottom.
“Yeah, it was nice. Very smooth.”
“The donor is a fruitarian, has been for over ten years. I prefer a bit of a less sweet taste, but it seems that many enjoy him. He’s great as a dessert I suppose if for nothing else.”
She nodded and smiled ever so slightly as they looked into each other’s eyes. He could hear her heartbeat increase, and sense the pulsing of her brain as she thought things through, worked them out in her mind.
I’ve got to get inside of her…
He pushed, she pushed back as he once again attempted to break through her cloaked thoughts to discover her fears and desires. She was still a bit groggy from her slumber. Perhaps her resistance was down. Her brows dipped and her lips gaped open. The woman hissed and extended her fangs, her eyes turning to slits.
“Get out of my head!” she roared. “I don’t like how it feels!”
He was wrong… she was always on guard.
“Let me get inside of something else then… How does your pussy feel?!”
She gasped when he shoved her up against the side of the bed and buried his head in the crevice of her neck. Working his hand up her thigh, he jerked the edge of her satin nightgown up around her waist as he sucked and scraped his fangs against her delicious flesh.
“Yes…” she hissed, grinding against him, rotating her hips back and forth, inviting him for a taste.
The woman swallowed hard and moaned as she clawed into his back, the sting of her nails as she tore away at his flesh like a wild animal feeling so damn good. Her plush, wet pussy lips flattened against his touch as he stroked her drenched zone. Slipping his finger deep within her heated, wet canal, she pressed into it, although she also hesitated in moments, offering some resistance. The pull of their black souls, of her pussy, of their minds and broken hearts was like a game of tug of war.
Yes, war… A wicked war waged between them, one so strong neither was certain how it began or how it would end. He finger-fucked her harder, at a ferocious speed, his digit driving in knuckle deep and sliding out of her, over and over.
Orgasmic tears streamed down her cheeks. She tossed her head back, fangs glistening in the light, and trembled against him, jerking and falling apart.
Pulling his hand out of her tight sheath, he sucked his index finger, his heart nearly stopping at the taste of her. A sticky, honeyed essence, a natural aphrodisiac that lay between her thighs. It was like nothing he’d ever known. He turned to walk away but she flew towards him as if she had wings and wrapped her hands around his neck, violently jerking him in her direction, forcing him to face her.
“Why are you leaving me like this?!” He crossed his arms and looked at her. “You chase me, I’m here, you tease me and you leave! This isn’t a part of training. I thought you wanted me?”
“But you don’t want me yet, Venus… not with all of your being, my Love. Just two nights ago you detested me.”
“But I—”
“Listen. It’s simple. Your body wants me now, I want your mind and heart to want me, too. You reject me based on fear. I want it all, your undying devotion, before I fuck you. I’m a proud narcissist, and you are a reluctant one. One day, we’ll meet in the middle. Until then, no fucking dick for you.” He smirked and caressed her cheek, and her eyes darkened. “Not only that, I have to prepare you before we go any further. I am not like any of your previous lovers.”
He ran his thumb lovingly against her chin. There was no possible way he could make her understand. All she wanted was to feel his power and taste his blood; it was evident she needed more time. He hoped it didn’t take much longer. His desire for her was off the charts.
“I know how to fuck.” Her fangs retracted. “I hate you, but I desire you… the least you could do is put me out of my misery.”
“I enjoy misery, remember? You said it yourself.” A chill ran through him and he welcomed it—anything to stop the woman from tempting him any further.
I can’t give her what she wants just yet. She’ll have more control then. She has to be kept in her place.
“You’re just playing with me, just like you told me beforehand.” She turned away and waved him off, disgust in her tone. “You’ve completely disrupted my life. I was just fine without you. I’m a toy to you, a plaything.” She began to pace back and forth.
“Playthings can be cared for, Venus. But if you must know, you’re more than that to me. Would I go through such measures for just a plaything?” She looked at him curiously. “I don’t want to be hated by you, and though I know you’re capable of love, I am not. Don’t ever forget that.”
“I didn’t ask to be loved. I asked to be fucked!” Her fangs slid out once again. Her anger had a heartbeat, one that he found disturbingly beautiful.
“Venus, if you prove yourself worthy, I will treat you better than you ever dreamed possible.” He groaned when she reached for his dick and yanked. Hard. Piercing pleasure and pain radiated through his cock as she squeezed it. Licking her lips, she winked at him, then released him.
“You’re a real piece of work, Count Alexandre Marseille.” She turned to the bed and climbed up it with great speed. “Let’s start training today, ASAP, so I can get out of here and find a real Count to fuck me,” she said with a smirk while reaching for the pitcher of blood. She poured more into her glass and took a sip. He smiled at her words, knowing the horny woman was talking shit, trying to get under his skin.
And she was successful in her efforts.
A wave of possessiveness bore down on him, buried itself deep within and promised to remain put. The thought of someone else pounding her pussy to pieces sent him into a jealous tailspin. Their strong connection was just that, resilient, and she knew it, too… It made him recall what his sorcier had told him long ago… that soulmates existed. Though the woman was a sensual being to her core, she had unbelievable self-control. Just as she’d stated before, to her, survival overruled sexual conquests. He, on the other hand, was unable to separate the two. And he meant that.
Perhaps this desired fuck was to her mere survival, a manipulative tool. After all, she’d sometimes used it to feed. She’d learned early on the power of her pussy…
That power made slave masters do unbelievable things…
It caused men all over the world to fight, steal, and kill…
She knew the power between her legs, and that very knowledge made her a walking piece of fucking art. She was her own art history, an unnatural relic. She was an art present to him, artistically futuristic with a painted, rich darkness all across the canvas of her soul, one so black he wished he could up and drown in it … then be framed and hung out to dry.
“I’m your last lover.” He pointed a finger in her direction. “Your days of fucking others are over.” He didn’t miss the sly grin that crept across her face as she wrapped her body in the sheets. “You belong to me now.”
“I belong to me, now…” She cocked her head to the side and winked. “I’ve held freedom in the palms of my hands, only a slave now to my own thirst. No one owns me, not even someone with a lofty status such as yourself… But I wouldn’t mind feeling you deep inside of me. That’s as close as you’ll ever get to possession.”
She had a knack for speaking out of turn, showing constant disrespect. She bucked authority on a continuous basis, becoming the true definition of a survivor.
“Right now, Venus, you wouldn’t be able to withstand a fucking from me. I’d break you in two.” His eyes narrowed on her as her smile faded away. “After your training, I will have you… again and again and again. I will possess you, Venus. You will be my pet, my lover, my bride. We will share this home. You will share my bed morning, noon and night. I will fuck you relentlessly for an immortal lifetime, so get your rest now. You’re going to need it…”
He hovered above her and struck again.
Sweat ran down her face, stinging her eyes as she tried to see where he’d gone. They’d entered the third hour of hell in the enclosure, boxed in by a
cobblestone and concrete wall. The space was cold and dank like a basement, only it had to be the size of a damn football field. It was hard to tell in the darkness.
BOOM!
Her nostrils flared as she stood defensively, waiting for the fucker’s next move. He was unbelievably fast; a mere blink and she’d miss him.
Loud banging and clanging noises made her sensitive ears ring. She’d been there for God knew how long. She’d lost track of time. The smell of dampness and earth all around her made her shudder with memories. She was disoriented, uncertain if she was even still in the Count’s home. She surmised she was beneath it, some hidden place he’d created for his relentless craving to torment, injure, and destroy. Blood trickled from her various wounds. The arrows he’d managed to sink into her flesh had made more than a dent. They hurt like hell, but now it felt more like a series of bruises as her body worked fast to heal.
“Where are you?!” she screamed as she searched all around her, trying to pick up his scent.
“If the darts are dipped in silver, imagine what that will feel like, Venus. This is nothing! Show me your survival skills. So far, I’m not impressed. You have to listen… hear the air around you. Your human instincts aren’t enough. Taste your surroundings, feel the stillness! Now pay the fuck attention!” the Count’s voice boomed.
She pulled the last arrow out of her arm and hobbled over to a corner to catch her breath. Just then, she heard the whizzing of another arrow. Unlike the swords which carried more weight, these were light and faster, messing with her reflexes.
“AHHHHH!” she screamed as she raced across the other side of the room, deflecting arrow after arrow.
Listen.
Taste.
Feel.
She stopped, flicked her tongue out to taste the air, then spun around and caught one destined for her back between her teeth.