Le Roi Du Sang

by Tiana Laveen

  “I adapt to the conditions around me, no matter what comes my way. That is what makes me a survivor. I see now that I was held up in prayer.” She caressed his face as he trembled from her touch. “And I’m not mad at my mother now that it’s all sunk in… now that you and Syà have explained it to me. My mother did it ’cause she loved me… but she was afraid for me, as many mothers were for their children during that time. Being afraid is being a slave to your own emotions… living in fear. Phobias make you a slave. Anxiety makes you a slave. Fear of giving and receiving love makes you a slave, too. It’s a terrible thing; it slows you down. My mother gave me a gift. She had no way of knowing that slavery would ever end. It lasted over four hundred years. She did it so I’d never be nobody’s victim ever again. I love you, Mama!”

  One clear tear escaped her left eye, and a blood red one from the right. Her humanity refused to die, and her vampirism refused to not fight until the bitter end…

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  All in the Name of Love

  When good Americans die,

  they go to Paris.

  – Oscar Wilde

  Alexandre tugged at the collar of his black trench coat and stared at Venus’ reflection in the full-length mirror. It had been a long trip, and he’d spent most of the flight planning out various scenarios in his head. His beloved was sleeping, her chest slowly rising up and down. She looked so peaceful…

  He hadn’t been in his Parisian home in such a long time, he’d almost forgotten how beautiful it was. The Renaissance style architecture definitely caught many people’s attention; his property had appeared in multiple interior decorating magazines and the like. Impeccable landscaping, lime and ivory statues created by some of the most noteworthy Parisian sculptors, as well as two double meandering blacktopped driveways that led to a garage housing a multitude of classic cars, all in impeccable condition. The property was always manned with armed security guards working round the clock daily.

  Inside the mansion were multiple winding staircases, many fashioned out of pure gold and granite, as well as numerous floors and wings that hosted a variety of needs, and of course, undeniable desires. One room was stocked with glass bottles of blood from preferred donors, a place where one could sit and feed, and listen to music surrounded by historic books and art in the privacy of a small gallery.

  Yes, I can keep some property in New York, run my law practice there but live back home. I think Venus will like it here… it’s beautiful. Fit for a queen.

  He took a deep breath and put on his cufflink. He smiled at the memory of the two members of his Coven who’d welcomed him home with open arms—his cousin, Theo, and his dear uncle, Henri. With such a small Coven left, Alexandre treasured the members of his family, of his sacred bloodline that still lived. It was time to continue building… to have offspring of his own.

  “You look incredible.” Her voice broke into his inner thoughts and he spun around in her direction.

  “Ahhh, I see the special sleeping pills I gave you have worn off. You’re awake.” He glanced down at his Rolex. “What was that? A forty-two-minute nap? You’re sleeping like me now, just a bit here and there.” He smirked.

  The woman yawned and stretched, her nude body displayed for his lustful pleasure. He stroked his erection over his pants as he took her in. She clutched the edge of the mattress, acting as if oblivious to his perverted thoughts, her thick mass of black tresses spread around her like a storm cloud. He made his way to her and pushed some of the soft bushy coils out of her face, then bent down and kissed her lips.

  “I don’t want you to go alone.” She ran her hand up and down her arm. He could feel her eyes following him as he returned to stand in front of the mirror.

  “It shouldn’t take terribly long.”

  “That’s not it… I don’t want you there with no support. It will feel like one against eighty.” She stood from the bed and walked to him. Reaching for his zipper, she tugged it down and ran her tongue against his scrotum.

  “Actually, they’re not against me, or for me. They are for our people.”

  “Allegedly. I don’t trust anyone anymore.”

  He said nothing in response, though he agreed with her.

  “Secondly, the Council is comprised of thirteen members… Ahhh…” He hissed when she enveloped his erect dick into her mouth, sucking slow and hard along the length.

  “Unlucky thirteen… fabulous.” She chuckled dismally before popping him back into her mouth, the tips of her fangs scraping across his flesh. He ran his fingers through her hair and pumped his hips in a hard, jerky motion, chasing his climax. Closing his eyes, he fucked her mouth until he exploded… Relief felt like a cool, refreshing breeze, his entire body now relaxed, almost sedated. Slipping his cock out of her mouth, he tucked it back into his pants and pulled up the zipper.

  “Venus, I need you to do something for me.”

  “Yes?” She swallowed, then slicked her tongue across her lips, collecting the last bit of his cum.

  “While I’m meeting with everyone, I want for you to go with Syà into town and do some shopping. Take your mind off things.”

  “How can I shop for purses, lingerie, lipstick and curling irons while you are being investigated, unfairly I might add, Alexandre? How damn shallow do you think I am?” She twisted her lips and put her hand on her hip, attitude officially launched.

  “That’s not it. I don’t think you’re shallow in the least. You’re still on your humanitarian kick, and that’s just who you are. In fact, I wish you were more shallow, since you see self-preservation at times like some curse.”

  “Self-preservation always comes first, but you can care about others at the same time. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing.”

  “Let’s make something clear: this isn’t an attack on your character.” He leaned her down onto the bed, lay beside her, and slid two fingers within her pussy. She sighed and grinded against his digits as he finger-fucked her slow, then hard, then slow again. “I told you that I accept you and love you as you are. Just as you accept me, too.” He leaned closer and ran his tongue along her neck, kissing and sucking, nipping at her delicious flesh. “I am who I am, you are who you are, and that’s just how it is.”

  She smiled at his words then shook against his touch, cumming undone.

  “The bottom line is, Venus, that I would feel much more at ease if I knew you were having a good time.” Her eyes rolled as another orgasm hit her… He wanted to be inside her in the worst way. “Now, can my fiancée please go the markets and shop? Buy whatever you wish, and bring me back a gift, too.”

  He got off the bed, slid on his suit jacket, and checked himself out in the mirror once again.

  “Alexandre, come here.”

  He went to lift her from the bed and hug her close. Soon she was wrapped around him, her warmth a salve to his troubled soul. Running his hands up and down her body, he wished they had more minutes to spare, just enough time to fuck her back to sleep, but he had to be on his way. With reluctance, he stepped back from her, still holding her hands for a little longer, then slowly released.

  “I will see you later today.” He blew her a kiss, then exited out the bedroom door…

  This wasn’t what Venus had expected…

  Venus thought she was being hauled off to Carrousel du Louvre mall, or perhaps the bustling and beautiful Beaugrenelle. Instead, she was deep below the ground surrounded by strung flashing lights, red lanterns, and the scent of fresh kills filling the air. Her eyes grew large with excitement as she moved about among other Vamps with their glossy shopping bags and expensive attire. Some of the men were dressed like Dapper Dan, a few smiling in her direction, or exposing themselves, offering their cocks for a quick romp. Some yelled lewd things in French as they rubbed on their dicks.

  It’s New York all over again…

  She smirked and shook her head, feeling a bit more at home. Fucking bastards. Moonchild sung, ‘Cure’ through speakers she couldn’t see. She
followed close behind Syà who appeared quite familiar with the area—an intricate vampire network underground teeming with artists, singers, magicians, trinket sellers, and the like.

  Fragrant perfumes, hand dipped candles and incense lined several tables that caught her eye, as well as seamstresses peddling their wares for the most elaborate and elegant gowns. As she and Syà moved side by side, shoulder to shoulder, the woman pointed out a stall with shelving showcasing various glass bottles of blood, letting her know what vendors to trust and who to steer clear from. A few Bottom Feeders had tents and tables set up, chock full of stolen jewels and other odds and ends.

  Venus paused and pointed to her right, spotting a performance taking place on a golden stage. She tugged on Syà’s arm, urging her to get closer. Three nude dancers, all of them with bright red straight hair, moved like the air and the sea itself, twisting and turning to some of the most haunting music she’d ever heard.

  “Look at that… They’re great.”

  “The Duranceau Sisters,” Syà explained with a smile. “Well known, very talented.” Venus nodded in understanding as they walked on. “These are beautiful.” The woman took a silk scarf into her hands, running her fingers over the deep dark wine material. “Combien ça coûte?” she asked the vendor, a rather short Vamp with long, spindly fingers, her eyes a strange dark orange color.

  “Je les fais moi-même. 342.00 Euros.”

  “It’s nice that you make them yourself. However, I think 300.00 Euros is a fairer price.”

  “330.”

  “325.” They shook on it and the vendor placed the silk scarf in a soft, pink bag and handed it to her. “Merci!”

  “Merci!”

  Along their way, Venus spotted a deep burgundy silk tie and gold cufflinks shaped like daggers that she simply had to get for Alexandre. They continued on until Venus nearly lost her breath. A young man in a gray smock sat at an easel painting a beautiful portrait of a young African woman. Syà stood next to her as she eyed the piece.

  “Looks just like my mama… just like her.” Venus trembled with emotion, her heart pounding with elation and a rush of memories.

  The artist regarded her. He was a young Turned Vampire, his youth evident, his eyes still warm. He pointed to the painting and told her in a thick accent, “Almost finished. You like?”

  She nodded.

  “How much?” Syà questioned, her tone serious. The young artist looked at Syà, then at Venus, then back at Syà. He didn’t speak for several seconds, cocked his head to the side and stared into her eyes.

  “Gratis.”

  “Free? I can’t take this for free. Here, you have to take something for it.” Venus dug into her wrap-around satchel and pulled out some money. “Damn it. I forgot the money Alexandre left for me on the vanity. I have mine, though. Um, sorry, all I have are US dollars, is that okay?”

  He nodded and graciously took the cash. “Come back, five minutes?” He held up five fingers. “All done.”

  “Of course, yes. I’ll be back.”

  “Looks just like your mother, huh?” Syà asked as she looped her arm around hers, just as a best friend would.

  “Yes. It is a remarkable likeness.” Venus felt a sisterhood with Syà, just as the latter had promised when they first met. The Vamp was a Chinese Pure Blood from a highly respected family, she was physically strong and assertive, but she didn’t act superior or put on airs. In fact, she’d been so gracious and kind to her, showing her the ropes, it touched Venus in ways she couldn’t describe. Sure, Syà said things at times she probably shouldn’t, but that just made her all the more authentic. Minutes later, Syà was introducing her to a host of Parisian Vamps, all of them reminding Venus of 1950’s Hollywood movie stars, clad in dramatic, expensive attire, all with exquisite taste. Their attitudes were practically tangible.

  “And this is Constance, that’s Emilia, Angèle, Hélène, Véronique and Madeleine.” Syà went down the line of women, all of them seemingly in the throes of a shopping spree.

  “Nice to meet you all.” Venus extended her hand but the women instead nodded, looked her up and down, and smirked amongst themselves.

  “Bonjour, Venus.” One of them, Hélène, finally extended her hand, wrapped in a black satin glove. The woman’s hair fell in soft platinum blond waves to her shoulders. Her skin was ghostly white, her eyes an incredible rich violet and her lips, a deep purple tone. She wore a black blazer jacket with a sea shell and pearl pendant, matching pencil pants, and black pointy stiletto pumps. “Excuse some of my friends.” The Vamp shot the other ladies a side glance. “It’s wonderful that Syà brought you. I look forward to getting to know you better. Maybe we all can visit one of the blood bars later for drinks and vaping.” The woman’s English was flawless.

  “Thank you, Hélène. I’d like that.” Venus felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to find the young vampire painter. He handed her the work of art.

  “Je vous ai trouvé.”

  “Thank you so much for tracking me down, I lost track of time. Beautiful! Magnifique!” She held up the painting, still a bit wet in a couple of spots.

  “De rien!” The guy nodded and headed off.

  “He tried to give that to her for free.” Syà shifted her weight and regarded the women with hooded eyes. They seemed to be having a silent conversation Venus wasn’t privy to, and even if she were, she probably wouldn’t understand. “It means he sees the stars in her eyes, too.”

  All of the Vamp women’s fangs extended at the same time as they leered closer, peering into her eyes. They oohed and ahhed, as if she were some freak on display. Suddenly, one of them tossed her fur over one shoulder and huffed.

  “You’re pretty, Venus. Too pretty for America. I see why Alexandre wants you. Stars in your eyes… How could he pass that up?” Jealousy dripped from her tone, and perhaps a bit of confusion, too.

  Syà’s cellphone rang. She dug into her designer purse and answered.

  “Nǐ hǎo,” Syà was speaking so fast in Chinese that Venus missed practically everything that was said after ‘Hello.’ “We have to go.” She jerked Venus’s arm, but tossed on a fake grin at the ladies before taking off. “Zàijiàn!”

  “What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Venus questioned as they both moved swiftly through the crowd.

  “My husband is spying in on Alexandre’s hearing. He feels as if things are not going well and suggests that they meet you before this goes any further. Thing is, we’re not supposed to be there—it’s a private hearing. We’ll need to improvise. Shit! This is all Victor’s fault… I wish I could eat him alive… son of a bitch! We need to do everything we can to stop this from going the wrong way. Victor being in power would be a disaster, Venus. It would destroy centuries of alliances. He’s just not diplomatic enough. He doesn’t know how to play the part.”

  Venus hissed as she kept up with the woman, and a surge of rage heated her core. The two pushed their way through the lines of merchants, street performers and patrons.

  She looked down at the painting in her arms and forced a smile.

  Mama, please promise me everything will be all right. I am taking this painting as a sign of faith, a sign of hope. An answered prayer…

  Victor gripped the podium with both hands as a cool breeze moved throughout the vast, vaulted room. Framed paintings of their forefathers and foremothers lined the walls in the domed basilica and in the center, his brother sat on a wide gold chair with intricately carved legs and arms, the bastard looking so debonair, as if he had not a care in the world. In times past, King Alexandre Marseille had been the one running the show, but now, the Council, all thirteen elders in their red and black robes sat behind a long white marble desk, prepared to issue judgment. Everyone in that room spoke in French, including himself, as was the custom.

  “So that is why I, reluctantly and humbly, have made a case against my very own last living brother, Alexandre Marseille.”

  “King Alexandre Marseille,” the fucker corrected
.

  They locked gazes, engaging in a battle of wills. Alexandre’s ice blue orbs blazed in the darkened room. The pale flesh of his face, neck, and hands practically glowed. Long limbs covered in an expensive black and gray pinstripe suit—typical of his sibling, as well as the black trench coat that fit as though tailored for him. He wore several rings, which gleamed when he moved his hands. Alexandre extended his pinky nail, making it grow long and curved. It was a clear warning…

  He’d been marked.

  The threat was real, and his dear brother, regardless of the outcome, had made a promise to get him. Victor wasn’t the least bit surprised; in fact, he rather looked forward to it.

  “King Alexandre.” One of the elders cleared his throat and leaned forward, only his lips visible from beneath the hood of his thick black and red cape. “Victor Marseille has presented sufficient evidence to bring this matter before us. Can you please explain, in your own words, your position on the circumstances that are in question?”

  Victor took a seat, but didn’t take his eyes off his brother.

  This motherfucker is going to try to be slick. But your tricks don’t work in here, Alexandre Marseille. None of us are susceptible to them!

  “Most definitely, Judge Autin.” His brother clasped his hands together and acknowledged everyone in the room with a nod. “I left for America, New York City to be specific, in order to find my mate. This is true. I was upfront about that, especially after dragging my feet for so long due to public outcry, the needs of the people, and pressure from my Coven, most notably my brother Victor, to marry someone who also was Pure Blood.