by May Sage
“It’s not considered a vampire crime, and he’s got more influence in the other circles than any of us. He’s working with Huntsmen. Now, I need you to look into another matter. Our European allies have a murder on their hands, and their primary suspect has apparently flown to JFK yesterday. I was going to send Henrick, but you may as well take it over, now you’re done with your hissy fit.”
Oh dear. He wasn’t going to hear the end of that one for the next century or so – and he apparently owed Adrian.
Perfect.
Needing a little bit of positive in his life, he sent a text.
So, that tattoo… where will it be?
“I normally have to give you a few days to make sure you want it…”
“But you said you had a cancellation.”
Fay could feel her mouth pouting; the eyes of the big, bald guy with tattoos on his skull budged and the next instant, he was scratching his head.
“Well, if you’re really sure,” he muttered, before walking away, towards the station he was setting up.
Fay grinned, turning to Sola, who seemed rather amused.
“What?”
“Come on, that was hardly fair. You shouldn’t abuse your superpower like that. The puppy dog eye thing turned him to putty in your hands in three seconds flat.”
It had, hadn’t it?
“You’re sure you don’t mind if I take that slot? We were here for you, after all.”
“Don’t worry, I can’t decide what design I want yet. And I’d definitely like to see him do someone else first.”
Fay shrugged, all too pleased about being the test subject. She wanted that tat and she wanted it now. It was perfect and Ward had sworn he wouldn’t draw it on anyone else. It would be hers.
“Now, it’s going to take at least eight hours, girl. You’re up for that? It’s pretty late.”
She nodded: it was Friday, which meant she didn’t have school – she could sleep all night if she wanted to.
“I’ll give you a fifty percent discount as you’re taking up a cancellation, so that’s six hundred.”
She didn’t blink; she hadn’t even spent ten dollars of her allowance per week.
Fay planned to give the content of the account right back to Charlotte as soon as she could, so that meant spending a few days tiding up the archives to make that six hundred back, but she wasn’t even second guessing herself.
“Ok, then. Let’s get to it.”
It stung, but she didn’t make a noise, didn’t even wince, so the eight hours turned into ten – the artist had felt comfortable finishing it up properly in one go, adding the fire to her phoenix and the water around the dragon embracing it.
The tattoo started on her right hip, curved around the side of her back and ended on her shoulder, girly thanks to the softer colors and the fine lines, but strong, too.
“I’m so freaking jealous,” Jessica grumbled, staring at her back.
“Sorry lady. Can’t do your kind without a witch spelling the ink.”
And from what Fay had learnt about the relationship between the two species, if a witch spelled some ink, any vampire touching it might be killed on spot.
Ward gave her aftercare instructions that went in one ear, out of the other as she carried on glimpsing at her ink and smirking.
Finally, he sighed and turned to Jessica.
“Did you get that?”
“Yeah, she’ll be looked after, don’t worry,” she said, a certain amusement in her tone. “Ok little lady, let’s get you home.”
Home. That’s exactly what Drake Tower was – a warm, comfortable home full with people who made her feel very comfortable...
Until today.
When she entered the penthouse, it was dark – the heavy white curtains no one ever touched had been pulled over the floor to ceiling windows. She tiptoed in, considering calling Jessica to check if everything was safe.
Then, she caught a silhouette spread out on the large corner sofa populating the majority of the lounge.
“Charlotte?” she hazarded, although the frame was too large to belong to a woman.
“Hardly,” a familiar voice chuckled, freezing her into place. “Lovely to see you’re well, little Fay.”
Oh god.
You will not shiver. You will not bow. You will not break.
“Adrian.”
Eight
“I smell your blood,” the vampire’s suave voice said. “Are you wounded, little Fay?”
Dwelling on her blood didn’t seem like the safest option, so she ignored the question, responding with one of her own.
“What are you doing here?”
He took her in, his eyes glowing in the dark.
“You’ve grown a backbone. Good.”
She was considering her options – leaving, or locking herself in her room and praying – when suddenly, her entire body relaxed, unexpectedly.
William.
He came from behind her, too silently for her to hear a step and without saying a word. She just knew he was there well before he announced his presence by wrapping one arm around her shoulder and dropping his cold lips on her forehead.
Fay forgot everything, for one infinite instant, as her entire body responded to his simple touch.
He reminded her pretty soon, by saying: “Adrian.”
His voice sounded quite exasperated, but there was no hostility, to her confusion.
“Will.”
Will. She’d never heard anyone calling him with that familiarity, not even his sister.
Then the two men broke into a grin, and Adrian closed the distance to give him a brief manly hug.
What. The. Fuck.
Her fight or flee instincts were all screwed up, because instead of running the hell out of there, she just stared at William, open mouthed – visibly expecting an explanation.
“No need to look at him like that, honey. I’m not the antichrist. As he’s just figured out,” Adrian added with a smirk.
Fay had a few memories that proved otherwise.
Taking in her animosity, William shot her a reassuring smile and asked, “Would you like to sleep upstairs, little pixie? It’s a mess, but no one will disturb you. Adrian and I might make some noise down here.”
She’d enquired about upstairs once, and Zeva had been pretty adamant: it was William’s place, and no one could go up.
Too tired to look into it, she nodded and raced up the awkward steps, pushed past the fabric left lying on the floor, and collapsed on the gigantic California king bed that smelt of a distinct musk she couldn’t get enough off.
Within two minutes tops, she was out of it.
“She won’t ever like me,” Adrian sighed, “but I approve, old friend. Even at that little weasel’s place, she was a queen amongst the plebe. You could tell – everything she did said you won’t break me.”
William considered it, and saw exactly what Adrian meant. The silent treatment, the absence of expression – she’d kept her mind safe by removing herself from her situation. Clever girl.
“She might like you. You weren’t my favorite person yesterday.”
Adrian sighed.
“Not likely. She’s seen the façade I use when I deal with low lives. I’ve bitten her, too.”
William had to still himself until he’d calmed down. It wouldn’t do to behead his old friend now he’d worked out he wasn’t a murdering fiend.
“Oh, my. You’re really serious about her.”
He didn’t deny or acquiesce, shrugging Adrian off, until he said something that definitely got his attention.
“Is her cousin staying here, too?”
Ten minutes after making it back to his home, he had to be on the road to take care of that mess, muttering all the way.
He called Jessica, gave her a briefing, and instructed her to get some sort of explanation from Fay as soon as she woke up.
“Why the fuck are we hearing about this now?” he yelled on the receiver as soon as she returned the call
.
“Don’t ask me. And don’t ask Fay either, she hasn’t stopped crying since I told her she should have said something.”
Good. Then maybe she’d open her fucking mouth next time they were missing crucial information.
“Is it too late?”
William sighed. The raid planned at Riverville was of particular interest to him, so he’d asked to be updated: it was happening in four days.
“No, but only just. Don’t tell her. Let her sweat it out. Make her actually understand that not telling us might have caused her cousin’s death.”
Cruel, but obviously she’d learn the lesson that way.
“No.”
The response was simple and unadorned.
“No?” he asked, quite startled. He didn’t hear that very often, particularly from an underling.
“I’m not toying with her nerves – or mine. Remember, I’m the one who’s spending everyday with her. So, no. I’ve explained the what ifs, and she’s already freaking out. I refuse to submit her to anymore abuse. The kid’s already been dealt a shitty hand.”
William silently reflected on that.
“I’m proud to call you mine, Jess.”
He often conveniently forgot that she was his blood – his child, for all intents and purposes. He might not have biologically fathered her, but it was his blood that had brought her into her new life.
William didn’t misuse the blood link, but he knew just how difficult it must be for a vampire he’d created to go against his wishes.
“Don’t make that creepy. Who’s taking Vincent out of commission, Frederickson?”
Midwest was his usual territory.
“No, Knox. At least, it was supposed to be Knox.”
Jess didn’t ask about the change of plan; she knew him well enough to realize that he was already on his way to Riverville.
He was halfway there when his phone bipped, displaying a text.
He finally relaxed. He should still be mad as hell, but hearing from her had a way of soothing his nerves.
I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bother you. I didn’t think you could do anything.
Over a dozen words, Ms. Turner? He replied. That’s more than I’ve ever heard from you.
The response was almost immediate.
You’re not exactly what one might call approachable Mr. Drake.
He might very well have mistaken the whole thing but she sounded almost… no, she was flirting. Oh, hell.
I’ll attempt to remedy that on our next meeting.
When might that be? She shot back.
Soon. I’m to bring your cousin back to you, if you recall.
It took longer, this time.
I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you for everything you’ve done.
He was about to remind her that this word was forbidden, but then, he thought he might as well cash in on a favor.
If you insist, there is something you can do for me.
It was underhanded and pretty stupid, too, but now the idea had entered his mind, he just couldn’t dismiss it.
?
There’s an event I need to attend in two weeks. Accompany me.
It was nothing short of a statement and a completely inappropriate one, at that. It wasn’t a little birthday party or even a charity gala; it was politics. Deep, messy, important politics.
The representatives of the European, Asian and Southern Covens were going to be present to celebrate the pact they’d signed a decade ago. It would be a formal affair, where only the most influential vampires would gather.
There would be humans there, of course – but each and every one of them would be a potential consort.
Sure.
William knew he was throwing her to the wolves, but he needed to see her reaction. If she couldn’t take the event, he had to stop daydreaming about her.
If she could…
What kind of an event is it?
He could have said many things, from a ball to an orgy, and all of them would have been accurate.
Truth was, vampires weren’t monogamous. Drinking blood was a sensual affair, and before the invention of synthetic blood, they’d had to switch partners on a regular basis. Their possessive nature had meant that traditionally, they’d always had strong relationships with one consort – their affection was solely focused on their spouses – but sharing a third party, fucking in group, was their normal. They were swingers. Only certain people could cope with that kind of relationships.
Can you, Fay? He reflected. Can you be mine?
He knew she’d been exposed to that kind of lifestyle at Vincent’s, but that didn’t tell him much about her take on it.
It was fundamental to known if she liked these games. He could drink from her exclusively now, but eventually, if she was to actually become his consort, he’d have to change her, and while drinking vampire blood was hot, it didn’t nourish him.
He’d seen couples determined to stay exclusive; they’d solely drank from animals and synthetic blood – needless to say, they’d soon turned against each other, fighting, and destroying their relationship because they refused to acknowledge their nature.
He knew better than to even try.
“Boss, we’re at the rendezvous point,” Mark said, killing the engines and effectively ending his reflecting.
It’s a formal party. I’ll speak to you later, little pixie.
Soon enough, William was in front of Vincent’s shitty estate, greeting the asshole with a humongous smile.
The asshole waited from him at the door, just as enthusiastically.
“I thought you might come back,” he confessed. “Considering everything dear Fay might have whispered in your ears.”
Unexpected.
William managed to maintain his pleasant demeanor and hide his surprise.
Dammit. He really hadn’t thought that the guy could be smart enough to have any kind of hidden agenda.
He sighed, ready to concede that he’d been pretty foolish so far this year.
“Shall we?” he added, gesturing to the inside of his home.
Things hadn’t changed at all in five weeks, unsurprisingly, but it felt worse. The naked slaves and the smell of blood had been accompanied by the sound of sex through the walls; now there was an eerie silence in the entire domain, which confused and alarmed him.
Silence meant death in places like these.
Calm down. Stay professional.
Vincent led William, Knox and Mark back to the drawing room where he’d met Fay.
There were four servants waiting on them, this time – his best “stock” after Fay, William supposed. They weren’t much to look at.
Almost immediately, he stared at the redhead standing right next to Vincent’s armchair.
She was so fair her skin appeared translucent – and marred by so many bites he felt like throwing up. There was a bar lodged in her right nipple while the other one was cut in two, as though someone had ripped the piercing out. She was tall, and her eyes were emerald; yet, despite every feature he’d just described, which were diametrically opposite to Fay’s, there was no doubt that she was it. Her cousin. They somehow looked alike; the same heart-shaped face, high cheekbones and little turned up nose.
“Ah, yes. Little Cece. She doesn’t taste like much, but my god, whatever you do to her cunt, it stays so tight. You should try it.”
“Careful, Vincent.”
There was no point in lingering on civilities now. The girl they needed was in front of them; they could grab her, get her out and call the soldiers stationed in Riverville to burn this place to the ground.
“I am careful – always. That would be why you’ll find a binding mark linking me to my favorite slut.”
To punctuate his meaning, he pushed the girl’s head back, baring her throat to them.
Shit. There was a mark alright; an intricate and ever moving serpent running along her skin.
“Drink?”
Knox and William exchange
d a glance, and both of them shrugged.
“Sounds like I’ll need one.”
Another girl walked forwards with cocktails. Even Mark knew better than to try to touch her, this time.
“Ok, so fast-forward to revealing your evil master plan, so we can work out how to counter it,” Knox suggested, casually sitting on the sofa, his boots on the table.
“I may indulge in pleasure,” Vincent admitted, “but I’m far from evil. I let you take Fay for that ridiculously low fee because I knew you’d take what she would tell you for what it is: truth. You would have doubted anything coming out of my mouth.”
Never had he misjudged someone quite as much; despite the fact that the guy was actually wearing a cape, there was some brainpower under his long bottle-black hair.
“I’m in business with Adrian Klein, and that is all. He secures what I want, I do the same. Whatever else I might know about him comes from the rumor mill, and you’ve probably heard it all.”
He thought William was still after Adrian. Good.
“And what business could Adrian Klein possibly want with someone like you?” William asked, although it had somehow become obvious now he looked around and saw the four girls adopting the same posture.
Vincent trained the girls – and some guys, he supposed – and sold them to the highest bidders when they were ripe for the picking.
He knew Adrian had been asked to mingle with that crowd, to get an idea of who was pulling the strings.
“Don’t look at me like that,” the vampire smirked. “It’s not nearly as bad as you think. I don’t sell sex slaves. I sell consorts.”
Now he’d said it, William could see it.
Fuck.
It was wrong on so many levels, yet he could think of hundreds of vampires who’d loved nothing more than to take an obedient, broken female to ensure their partner never learnt the independence that other vamps developed.
“Don’t tell me you don’t see the appeal. How do you enjoy my little Fay? She’s got a very talented mouth.”
Imagining his woman forced to suck him, he had to physically stop himself from jumping up and cutting his throat. For that alone, he would kill Vincent, some day.