by D N Simmons
There was even a plaque on the wall outside of the popular dance club that stated the requirements for entry. The dress code alone was strict enough to scare off the groupies. All patrons who wanted to party the night away would have to be human and adhere to the dress code of “brightly colored clothes of considerable taste.” To wear all black was to be denied entry, the right was reserved. Natasha decided to go shopping for a brand new outfit for later that night. The outfit had to reflect her ecstatic mood. She was thinking along the lines of a white jean skirt and matching halter top. She hit Michigan Avenue to see what she could find. She walked up and down the crowded shopping district searching for her outfit. There were so many stores. Some of them carried high priced designer fashions while others were more reasonable and definitely affordable for Natasha. She entered those stores first.
She enjoyed shopping on Michigan Avenue, especially in the wintertime, like now. The streetlights were all decorated with yellow Christmas lights and green, red and silver tinsel. The department stores' windows all had festive displays or decorations, either displaying the nativity or Santa Claus out making his rounds. People were friendlier in the wintertime. She figured it was because December was the most giving holiday in the year. She passed a Salvation Army steward, dressed in an old and worn looking Santa suit, rattling his bell somewhat lazily. She assumed he had been out there for hours and was probably cold. She believed wholeheartedly that it was always better to give than to receive and now that she had a new job, it was time to spread the blessings. She walked over to the man, gave him a five dollar bill so he could get something to eat and put another five dollars in the little red metal pail as a donation.
She continued down the street until she saw what she wanted to wear in a store window. She knew it was cold outside, but that is why you have a down coat, she thought. Tonight she wanted to show off her new slimmer figure. She paid for her outfit, had something to eat and caught a movie. She looked at her watch, surprised at how fast time flew. The sun had already set; it was past five o'clock. The nights were coming faster and lasting longer now. She had to get back home and catch a “disco nap” before she got dressed to go out to celebrate her new job.
CHAPTER 3
Master, I've counted the bank from last night five times and I still come up with the same total. We're short from last night's profits one-thousand, five-hundred and sixty dollars. You want me to call Anthony and tell him to come in tonight so that you can speak with him?” asked the slender vampire as he knelt on one knee in the middle of his Master's office. His beautiful blue eyes were hidden behind the veil of his long blonde bangs. He was apprehensive about the outcome. He was hoping that he would not be blamed for this blunder; he was the night manager at Desires Unleashed, but he could not see all.
Darian lay stretched out on his back on the black suede sofa. His fingers lay interlocked on his chest. His legs crossed at the ankles allowing his feet to rest elevated on the armrest of the sofa. An expression of sheer amusement spread across his face as he gazed at the dimmed lights hanging from the ceiling. His second-in-command and lover, Xavier, sat on the armrest nearest his head. One leg crossed over the other and both hands resting in his lap. He shifted his position a bit to glance down at Darian and smiled. He knew what this powerful master vampire clad in a black silk shirt and pants was going to do to this individual, this fool who dared to steal from him. Xavier reflected on Anthony's predicament. Not only was Anthony a moron for trying to steal from his boss, but he was beyond the norm of idiocy for trying to steal a measly $1,560 from a master vampire. Especially one with Darian's reputation. What the hell was the sixty bucks for anyway?
Xavier reached over towards Darian's face, removing the wavy lock of jet-black hair blocking his view of those gorgeous forest green eyes, accented by thick, perfectly arched, black eyebrows. Darian's eyes held a depth that could be both dramatic and sensual. Xavier had never seen eyes that shade of green before. In the beginning, when Xavier had first become a vampire, it had unnerved him. As time moved on, he began to notice a lot of vampires' features were extraordinary compared to mortals. Some vampires, especially powerful ones, were well known for having rare and exotic eye color that captured those who dared look in them. Darian had told him the color of his eyes was natural, however the effect his eyes had on others was what made them exotic...supernatural. In addition to a set of knock-out eyes, powerful vampires had hair as soft as a newborn baby and skin just as smooth and silky. Xavier relished the feel of Darian's skin against his. The sensation of their fingers caressing each other's most sensitive zones, the very thought of it sent goose bumps to the surface of his skin.
He broke his gaze from Darian's eyes. Though no spell was cast, just one look into those eyes, one glance at those full luscious lips and double dimpled smile sent a rush of desire through his body. It made his mouth water. Made the bloodlust rise to a boiling point. At this stage, he would want nothing more than to be thrown to the floor, his black leather jacket ripped from his back, followed by his gray ribbed sweater and boot cut blue jeans. His underwear would be last, his lover would take those off slowly to feed his lust, to add anticipation for the indescribable pleasure that would soon follow.
No, he had to get back on track. Back to the seriousness of the situation at hand. Sometimes he resented moments where just one look at Darian or just hearing Darian's voice could make him feel like a newly born fledgling, consumed with desire for his master's touch. Well, one thing was certain, he was no longer a new born fledgling. Darian smiled at Xavier as if he had just read his mind, which he could easily do.
There are two bonds vampires shared, a mental and blood bond. The mental bond between master and fledgling varied in a matter of stages. When a fledgling is first reborn, the master can mentally manipulate the fledgling to help train and guide them. Over time, the strength of that bond fades out completely as the master ceases to control the fledgling. However, the ability to read each others' thoughts is shared between all vampires, unless the more powerful vampire blocks the connection. The exception to this bond lies with the most powerful of vampires. These ancient vampires have the ability to control vampires weaker than themselves. They have mastered their telepathic power enough to bypass natural bonds. The blood bond, on the other hand, is forever. It is a bond that can be manipulated to increase a vampire's strength or to heal and nourish. Vampires of the same bloodline can share blood for the healing power and to increase strength. Any vampire can share blood for nourishment and pleasure. Pleasure could be shared by all bloodsuckers. The taking and giving of blood from one vampire to another was orgasmic. The stronger the vampire sharing the union, the more pleasurable the entire experience.
Only the blood of a direct line can work a certain magic. Darian was extremely particular when it came to sharing his blood. He would make certain that whomever he would share with would be his lover in both flesh and blood. He also demanded a certain allegiance for such an offer, which he did not make lightly.
He lay there on the expensive sofa, never moving from his comfortable position, and began to speak. “John, please do call in our little Anthony. Tell him Richard took the day off and he is needed to fill the time slot. Inform him he will be paid time-and-a-half for the double shift.” He turned his head slightly to set his gaze on the kneeling vampire. “When he arrives, bring him to me. Do not allow him to escape. Do I make myself clear?” His voice was low and masculine. One could hear the vibrations of each syllable, every word laced with a trace of his Greek accent.
“Yes Master, crystal.” John bowed slightly, rose and left the room. Xavier watched John Fallon leave and he rose from the armrest. He walked over to the three-hundred gallon fish tank filled with piranhas built into the wall behind a huge desk. He had admitted to Darian that he loved this office. The floors were black and red marble, with a thick black, gray and blood red art deco area rug covering the middle of the floor. The rug itself was a pleasure to walk on, with or without shoes.
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There was a three-sectioned black marble desk with carvings of ancient Greek mythological gods on each leg. It reminded Xavier of carved pillars. The black leather chair behind the desk reclined and was temperature controlled. One of the walls had a painted mural of an ancient city being burned to the ground of what he was told was the last hours of Troy. Another wall was made up of twenty-five fifteen inch television screens. Each screen could work individually as a security monitor or all screens could work collectively as a computer monitor or an extra large screen television.
Darian had spared no expense when it came to the state-of-the-art sound system. He had hired a contractor to rig up his office and install a 5.0 Digitex digital surround sound speaker system. The system was compatible with the television screens and computer as well as a stand alone audio system. Not only was his office a technological and artistic paradise, everything was voice controlled all the way down to the lighting system. There was also a remote control on standby, just in case fifty-five thousand dollars went wrong.
“I think I will feed the fish now,” Xavier said. He knew Darian wouldn't care, both men delighted in watching the piranhas tear chunks of flesh to bits and pieces then devour them. Xavier walked through the doorway leading to the feeding compartment of the tank. He located the cooler and pulled out a ten pound chunk of meat, still dripping with blood. Climbing the ladder, he opened the top of the tank, dangled the meat over the water letting the drops of blood tempt the fish. He dodged the lunging predators as they gathered for the prize. After a while, he dropped the meat into the tank, watching with perverse fascination. He enjoyed the feeding frenzy. There was a certain respect he had for anything that enjoyed the taste of fresh blood.
Nature didn't have to worry about the laws of man. Darian had been most sour when the bills were passed concerning vampires. He felt that vampires were the superior beings to both mankind and shape-shifters. He was resentful of the supernatural council for siding with the U.S. government and creating laws that only supernaturals had to abide by. He, along with other vampires, didn't like being monitored. He did not appreciate that vampires were being forced to abide by laws that protected others who chose to discriminate. Xavier remembered hearing Darian complaining about how foolish mankind was, how utterly naive to believe that they really had the supernatural race under control. He would play along with their delusions as long as they didn't interfere with him. Xavier came back into the room, looking at Darian, who was still in the same position as before. His eyes were closed. He looked content.
“Are you going to lie there all night? No pun intended, but you look like a corpse.” He watched Darian's shoulders shake slightly from laughter. Xavier walked over to his lover and pounced on his lap. He received the reaction he wanted when Darian's lips parted in a beautiful dimpled smile. Xavier was always fascinated that Darian could look utterly harmless and dangerous at the same time. His dimples always made him look like a mischievous boy. He placed his hands on the sides of his lover and master's head, peering into his green eyes. A dangerous thing to do unless your goal was to get sweaty fast.
Darian rested his hands on Xavier's thighs. “You are quite beautiful, my little inamorato, (male lover),” he said, running his fingers through Xavier's long, dark brown locks, gazing into his gray eyes. “You have not fed. I think you will have a treat tonight. That is, if our little rat doesn't scamper away. Then your treat will have to be postponed until tomorrow night.” Darian found the whole situation comical. Every once in a while, he would run into a mortal that would surprise him with their bravado or stupidity. Either way, he found it entertaining.
“Aren't you worried about the law prohibiting vampires from killing innocent mortals?” Xavier asked jokingly. He knew full well that Darian would work inside the law when, and only when, he chose to do so. He knew that Darian preferred to handle his personal affairs...well...personally.
“A thief is not innocent. The word innocent is always taken out of context where mortals are concerned. Everything for them is taken to the extreme. Good fortune used to be an act of a God, some divine intervention; now it's just a lucky shot. Hero meant someone who sacrificed their own life for the lives of others. Now it means someone who just happened to survive, no matter the manner of that survival.”
Xavier seemed to ponder this. Sometimes Darian could be so cynical in his reasoning, that often he wrote off his rants as just those of a man who had seen too many years. Then there were times like these, when he actually made sense. Xavier supposed Darian made sense most of the time, if not all of the time in his ranting; he just never paid enough attention to notice. The room was silent. Now it was Darian's turn to wonder what was on the mind of his lover.
“What are you thinking about?” Darian cocked his head to the side slightly as he gazed at him. His fingers tightened on Xavier's thighs.
“I'm thinking I should get off of you right now,” he said with a chuckle. He playfully tugged at Darian's grip and rose off of his lap. It was evident that Xavier had been enjoying where he had been sitting. He marveled at how Darian could control himself so well; he simply wrote it off to Darian being an older vampire, thus having more self-control overall.
Darian sat up, rose from the sofa in one fluid movement, walking gracefully across the room to his desk to finger through his employee files. He was going to have to call the next in line of mortal employees to maintain the club during the day. He found the name of Annette Balfour. Quickly, he scanned his mind to see if she was a person he would recognize. He did, smiling. Annette was indeed a beautiful, sexy woman. He wondered why he had not yet seduced her; he would have to correct that. He thought it would be interesting to have a female as a day time assistant manager. It would definitely be a change from the mortal men who always thought they could pull one over the resting eyes of the boss and “hightail” it out of town before nightfall. He leaned over his desk and buzzed his secretary.
“Yes, Master?” asked a soft feminine voice.
“Annabelle, I want you to contact a Miss Annette Balfour. I want to meet with her tomorrow night.”
“Miss Balfour was scheduled to work tomorrow night Master, bin that has been switched to tonight. She should be in by seven. Shall I send her to your office when she arrives?” asked Annabelle, a member of Darian's coven. He considered whether he would still be occupied with eliminating the soon-to-be ex-assistant manager when she arrived, deciding the dirty work might be done by that time, he responded.
“Yes.”
“As you wish, Master.” Both ended the connection. He looked at Xavier and smiled.
“So, is that your choice? What if she doesn't have accounting skills?” Xavier asked playfully.
Darian made an offhand gesture. “Doesn't matter. If she can count, it won't be a problem.” His gaze traveled over Xavier from head to toe, taking him in, savoring the vision of him like a groom on his wedding night looking at his bride in her lacy underwear. “We have matters to attend to before the opening of the club. I want you to arrange for the truck to deliver the Synblood,” Darian said. Xavier nodded and left the room to head to his office to make arrangements for the synthetic blood delivery.
According to most vampires, synthetic blood was the humans way of saying “look what we've done for you, now you can stop eating us!” What they failed to understand is the differences between synthetic blood and human blood is in the taste as well as the pleasure, not to mention the strength and nourishment one gains through feeding. Only another vampire can understand the pure joy of feeding. One who can feel the pleasure of the blood flowing through their veins while feeding from a mortal whose heart pumps the blood to their hunger, their need. Many vampires refused to drink the synthetic blood and opted to feed on willing humans.
These humans are known as vampire groupies; they hang out at vampire owned establishments, waiting to be “chosen”. They give the vampires an endless supply of blood. Other vampires, like those who resented being turned, rejoiced in the d
rinking of synthetic blood, even if it meant enduring the loss of pleasure, strength and proper nourishment gained in the traditional manner of feeding.
Darian felt that these were the kind of vampires that should never have been chosen for such a gift. They were weak, still clinging to their lost mortal existence. For them, the synthetic blood was the last string tying them to humanity. Some vampires, like Darian and Xavier, chose the more traditional way of feeding. They hunted still, but their hunting nights were few and far between. Their main food source came from the vampire groupies. One good thing came from the Exposure and that was the predictability of mankind. Thousands of humans lined up to feel the vampire's kiss. But even more of a treat than a willing human, was a willing shape-shifter. It appeared that the bite from a vampire was pure ecstasy to both humans and shape-shifters. Shape-shifters were considered the true delicacy. They were stronger, more resilient and, needless to say, they tasted better.
CHAPTER 4
Elise lay sprawled on her bed, the head of one of her Pride mates resting in her lap. They were laying naked together as most shape-shifters do. To lay in that fashion proved that one was comfortable and trusting. It strengthened their bonds. She ran her fingers through his hair, twirling her fingers around the dark silky curls. He looked up at her with his gray eyes and smiled.
“What are you thinking about?” Sergio asked. “I see that far off gaze in your eyes and I know you're not even here.” His Italian accent threaded through each word, making him sound both sexy and commanding. He raised his hand to cup her chin in his palm.
“Nothing, just random thoughts.” She sighed. “I want to go down to the club tonight,” Elise said almost dreamily. Sergio frowned and sat up straight on the bed. He was annoyed that a perfect moment was ruined by her lust for Darian. He knew that was the only reason she wanted to go to the club. His feelings toward Darian were as cold as the arctic winds. He felt that Darian used her to feed his own lust and hungers. He believed vampires were the type you didn't get attached to, especially not that one. Elise noted Sergio's frown at the mention of the word “club”, correctly assuming that he suspected it was Desires Unleashed and that his emotions were based on jealousy. She did not want to hear his ranting. She controlled the Pride and she didn't have to answer to anyone.