“Come, they usually keep donors handy at this sort of shindig.”
He grabbed hold of my hand in a firm grip and pulled me alongside him. As we walked along the outskirts of the parade, I said, “I’ve been meaning to ask about just that—how do you all get donors down here? I mean, it isn’t as if this realm is crawling with humans. I never see them in our neck of the Realm.”
“Some are descendants of the ones who crossed over with their vampire companions during the original creation of Underlayes. Others, the newer additions, they’re brought over from the human realm. Some were runaways, others castoffs—we take those that society has forgotten about and give them a new home. They just need to pay for their room and board with some of their blood. None of them are abused, if that’s what’s twirling around in that gorgeous head of yours.
“There are those here that are used for playthings; the dregs of the human world. The serial killers, the rapists, the child molesters. They have unimaginable things done to them by those of us who need to lose control every now and then. They are harvested by someone—usually a pair—from the Royal Guard, waiting outside the courtroom of their trials. When the verdict comes across as not guilty and they know the human to be extremely guilty, they stalk them until the individual is all alone and they snatch them away from their world and bring them here. They’re locked away until they can serve their purpose—kept well-fed and groomed, of course. Wouldn’t do to let perfectly good blood go bad. When you really think about it, we’re doing a favor to the very ones who ran us away. Humans are so stupid they don’t even notice it. And if they did, instead of appreciating the service we inadvertently provide for them by taking such monsters off their hands, they would only want to hunt us all the more for it. Bloody imbeciles.”
And he pretty much had the right of it, on all counts.
“Look right over there. The ones on all fours on the bitch end of the collars? Those are some of the dregs that were pulled out to serve as donors for the evening.”
Only five in total, all of their collars attached to a leash being held by the burly vampire I had first seen at the carnival. He wore a pair of black dress slacks and nothing else other than the painted sugar skull on his face and skeleton drawn onto his upper torso. Each donor wore practically nothing; the females wore pasties over their nipples and black leather boy shorts, the males black leather briefs, and they each had a ball gag in their mouth. I assumed the lack of clothing was to assure they were easily accessible, the ball gags to contain their screams.
“The others would never be placed at risk by bringing them to an event such as this. If something were to happen to one of the dregs, frankly, my dear, no one would give a damn. The others are considered guests, some of them even companions, to be fed upon if and when they choose to be, and only if they give us their express permission. In turn, we have given them our word that we will keep them safe.”
“What if any of them decide they want to return to the human world—what then? Are they allowed to leave, or…” I asked, genuinely curious. Humans were infamous for how feeble they were.
“Hmmm…I believe the human expression I’m looking for is ‘tough shit’. That actually has happened once before. Let us just say, the example that was made at that unfortunate human’s expense was sufficient that it has never happened again. Allow one to return, who’s to say there wouldn’t be a lineup of more trying to do the same? Besides, while giving one’s word doesn’t hold much value on their end of the spectrum, we still hold true to it. We uphold our word, they should do the same.
“Now, my dear, pick one.”
My stomach immediately rumbled its assent, and he of course promptly laughed.
“Hungrier than I thought you were. Make sure you pick one with plenty of meat on their bones, which usually means they also have plenty of blood flowing within.”
Walking up to the donors, I decided it was best to let my nose do the choosing. As soon as I reached contestant number two, I had smelled the one I wanted most. She was indeed on the larger side, but that wasn’t what drew me to her; it was the sweet smell wafting off her, almost like a candy bar or a piece of chocolate cake. Her skin was the color of dark chocolate and she had a pretty, innocent-looking face, though her smile gave her away for anything but. She was extremely buxom, and while heavy, she did have a lovely shape. As tempted as I was to ask Chandler the crime she had committed to land her as one of the dregs, her smell, along with her strong beating pulse, made me realize just how hungry I was.
“Come,” I said to her with a strong command in my voice.
She got up and came towards me like a marionette on strings being pulled along, as far as the leash would allow her to go. And even though the collar and leash prevented any further movement, that didn’t seem to stop her from trying; the command was that strong. It made me think of what had happened with Crissy.
When I grew tired of watching her pretty much just choke herself, I closed the distance between us. I grabbed the back of her neck, and as soon as my fangs finished elongating, without any hesitation I bit into her neck, hard. I felt her jerk and attempt to shrink away from me, but I was having none of that; I gripped her to me so hard that I felt her collarbone break in my hand. Now ask me if I cared, and you will get a resounding “Hel no”. I fed. I pulled her blood hard and deep into my mouth, doing my best to spill not one drop. I felt her hot, life-giving nectar not only flowing down my throat but infusing my very organs and bones. And the taste? I can’t even begin to describe it beside it being the most exquisite delicacy I had ever tasted.
I continued until I was squeezing her like a juicebox, desperately trying to get one more drop out of her. When my brain finally caught on to the fact that there was nothing left, I dropped her to the ground like the hunk of meat that she was. There was nothing left of her. As guilt-ridden as I had been, still was, over Bran’s death, I couldn’t muster an ounce of guilt, regret or any other emotion for what I had just done to her. Well, other than wonder who would be left to clean up the mess. If it was me, I absently wondered if there was a trash can around for discarded human carcasses.
I looked up to find Chandler and the other vampire standing there staring at me with their mouths wide open, looking at me like I had just grown a third head.
“What?”
Chandler finally recovered enough to say, “Oh, nothing. Why don’t we just go and get you cleaned up?”
16
Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid
We made our way back to the castle; no flashing or anything, just walked. Not much talking, either. Not that it was a long walk or anything, but it was one of those silences that was slightly awkward and made you wonder if you had done something wrong or if your breath smelled funny. But then again, it could have been the fact that I had dried blood on my face. Try as I might not to spill, I could feel that I had made a bit of a mess despite my best efforts. There was no mistaking that I had blood all over my chin; even without the luxury of a mirror, I could feel it drying and crusting up on my face, which was beginning to itch.
As we made our way up the pathway and entered through the castle gates, I had finally had enough and snapped as I stopped dead in my tracks.
“Okay, what’s with all the silence and the glances out of the corner of your eye all about? I know I wasn’t exactly elegant back there, but I was fucking hungry. And that was my first time ever feeding like that; I am kinda new at all this. Seriously, the way the two of you stared me down back there, you’d think you’d never seen a vampire feed before! And excuse the hell out me for not showing proper vampire feeding etiquette.”
His response didn’t come in the form of words. Not at first, anyway. Roughly, he grabbed the back of my head and crushed his lips to mine in a punishing, brutally erotic kiss. Chandler backed me up until my back slammed against the wall beside the gate, grabbing one leg and wrapping it around his waist so that I felt one part of his anatomy was very, very happy to see me.
&n
bsp; “We were staring out of sheer, unadulterated lust.” He began grinding against me even harder then, as if to emphasize his point. “The way you tore into that donor, grinding against her as you sucked her life away with that lovely mouth of yours, has my cock so hard right now I’m ready to throw courting you out the window and feed it to the wolves and fuck you so hard you’ll be thinking you’re a bloody virgin all over again.”
He ground his arousal against my center so hard it damn near felt like he was penetrating me, driving his point home in a very visceral way.
“So, my dear little witch, do not mistake my quietness for anything other than exactly what it is, and that is me trying to maintain some sort of composure when you have just ratcheted my sexual drive to brand new heights.”
He caressed the side of my face, letting his hand glide gently down until it was wrapped around my neck in a firm though non-choking grip.
“The first time I take you, I plan on it being long, slow, hard, and very, very deep, without any possibility of interruption. And while you and I may be fated to be together, in a way you do not understand just yet, I do not want that to be the only reason you allow me entrance. And as much as my cock is aching to be cushioned inside all of your moist, warm juices and gripped by your delicate lips as you scream out my name in erotic agony, I plan on introducing you to your newfound world first. Now, why don’t I just speed things along and flash us both up to the bathing chambers before I lose what tiny sliver of control I have left.”
With no further ado, he did just as he said and flashed us directly to the bathing chambers. What I didn’t realize until he explained as much was that they weren’t just any chambers, but my very own. Apparently I already had living quarters within the castles walls, and not just something that had been slapped together upon my arrival. My father had had them made for me at birth, alongside Anya’s, and whenever hers had been changed over the years to keep them appropriate to her age or whatever phase she might be going through, so had mine.
Chandler told me, “Your father has always loved you completely, deeply and unconditionally. And he wanted you to feel at home from the moment you entered these grounds, be it the time at which it is was told you would, or sooner. Everyone who has had the honor of being within his circle knows he always held out hope for the latter, making sure everything catered to your every possible whim within the walls of your chambers.”
Sitting back in the immaculate tub, which was large enough to fit at the very least six more beings within it, I didn’t doubt any of those words. My other “father” thought it a waste to have things such as this; nothing too over-the-top or unnecessary in our bedrooms or bathrooms. While they were a nice size, no way in the worlds could they ever be considered living quarters. He felt that if we had more than what we truly needed, it would make us into obnoxious spoiled brats who would care nothing for their people. From what I’d seen of Anya thus far, I was thinking he was way off point with that. Morals can be taught regardless of what one has and doesn’t have. And I mean, come on, what’s the point of being a princess when you can’t even live like one?
Water under the bridge now, I guessed, though a bridge I would still have to cross again. But, it was still amazing to me how two beings of damn near the same station in their species could be so very different, yet be in love with the same woman. Made me wonder that much more about Mom, too. Was she the same with the both of them? Or was she someone different depending on which of them she was with? I really needed to speak to her about a lot of things, and the longer I went without doing so just added more questions to the seemingly never-ending list that just kept growing in my head.
The main question I had, though, was how could she, as a mother, just let Anya go like that? How could she look at me all those years without going stark raving mad not knowing what her identical daughter was doing, or how she was doing? While what my father had done had indeed been conniving and manipulative, invading my dreams like that, it had been his way of still being with me even while he wasn’t allowed to be anywhere near me physically. Had my mother done the same with Anya, or something similar? There were just way too many questions and nowhere near enough answers. At this rate, my head would probably literally explode very soon.
Instead of worrying about every little thing like I usually do, I decided just to sink deeper into the tub I had been blessed with, then proceeded to lather my body and my hair with the wonderful-smelling washes that had been left for me. Which were mostly lavender. Guessed someone wanted to make sure I was in a nice calm mood for the conversation that was inevitably lurking ahead. Ah well, this bath felt and smelled too damn good to truly care about any of that right now. The best part? Someone—I was assuming Anya, since I hadn’t run into any other witches around here as yet—had bespelled the water so that it stayed at that perfect temperature. It didn’t get much better than that.
After finally deciding I was as clean and relaxed as I was going to get, and that I had pushed my luck enough having not been interrupted, I stepped out onto the cashmere bath rug and dried off on the largest, softest, fluffiest bath sheet I had ever had the pleasure of using.
When I spied the three-way full-length mirror off to the side, I walked over to it, thinking it high time I saw with my own eyes what physical changes had taken place on my body. I felt the changes, sure—stronger, faster, more confident, less worried about what others thought—but I still hadn’t seen them.
My eyes went wide at the sight before me. Not that they were extremely drastic changes or anything like that. But the subtleties made me truly feel like a brand new version of me; my breasts a tad perkier and a lot fuller, still some belly fat around my midsection, which I had come to accept as a part of me a long time ago, my muscles slightly larger and more defined. What was most noticeable was my teeth, obviously, and my eyes. They were much more crimson than brown now, with a flame that seemed to simmer in the back, continuously flickering in and out. I absently wondered if Anya’s were the same; I hadn’t exactly been gazing into her eyes that deeply. The eyes and fangs were something I definitely wouldn’t be able to hide from the man I’d thought was my father. Another thing to worry about when the time came, and not right now.
Right then I had other things to worry about, because when I opened the doors to my bedroom suite, Mom and Dad were standing in two separate corners of my bedroom, waiting for me. Guessed it was time we had that talk. Hey, at least there wasn’t any bloodshed. Yet.
17
Where’s The Love Now?
If looks could kill, I’d be terrified of getting caught in the crossfire. They were shooting daggers at each other. That was just the thing, right there, too. For there to be that much hatred, there also had to be love. No, I wasn’t getting all sentimental like some lovesick teen who wanted her parents to get back together or any nonsense such as that. Being in your thirties may be the equivalent of being twenty in human years for witches, but it really was nothing more than an observation. Because when you truly stop caring for someone, what’s usually left is apathy. This was pure, deep-seated hatred coming from both parties. So whatever love they’d shared must have been a strong one. Just not stronger than Mom’s ambition and need to please her mother, apparently.
“Well, don’t everyone speak at once.” I said, attempting and failing to break the ice. When they continued to just stare holes into each other’s heads, I continued, “Seriously, I hope you two don’t plan on just standing there; if so, I’d much rather just lie down if that’s okay with you.”
Then they both started at once, which was pretty much the worst with my hearing being keener now than it had been before. Talk about a splitting headache.
“Change of tactics. How about I start asking the questions first, and you guys give me some answers. I think I’ve earned at least that much. Anya has too, don’t you think?”
“Actually, Anya already knows everything, my dear one, and your mother over there gave her a more detailed side of her ver
sion.” That last was said on a hiss, and his left eye twitched visibly when he said, “While you were going under your True Turning.”
“Okay, whatever. I’m still trying to come to terms with all of this. At least I know for sure now that you really are my father, unless Mom was sleeping around with other random vampires.”
“Tialanna!” Mom scolded, genuinely outraged.
“Sorry. Okay, that may have been out of line, but give me some credit here. I not only just found out Dad isn’t really my dad, I have a twin sister I never even knew existed, I’m not just a witch but also a vampire, and the prophecy you had me trying to live up to for the entirety of my life until now was complete and utter bullshit. A prophecy, I might add, that led up to a whole string of events that now have me engaged to a bloody demon. Don’t even ask me to begin to explain that one right now. And all because you wanted to, what, save face?” I heard my voice rising with each word, and felt the reassuring heat of my flames just beneath my skin. “So forgive me if I speak out of turn, or say something you may not deem appropriate. But what the two of you did to us was straight up, utter, motherfucking bullshit. And neither of us deserved it.
“So, Mom, let’s start with you. How could you be comfortable in any way, shape or form with your baby girls being split up at birth like that? How could you be okay with her growing up without you, and without me? Did you even know we were connected, or was that not a factor to you?”
She gasped at the last question, and Dad let out a small curse.
I snickered. “She never told you, did she? Neither of you. Somehow I’m not even surprised about that. Please tell me you at least visited with her, saw her in some way as we were growing up, like Dad did with me.” The look on her face spoke volumes. “You bitch.”
Witch Wars: The Underlayes, Book One Page 10