Sundown International: Unholy Trinity

by Cat Marsters

“Something important. I need to tell you something.”

  “What, that you’re a vampire? I don’t believe you.”

  “Paige, I’m serious.”

  “So am I. Look, I have the scars to prove it.”

  Rafa closed his eyes momentarily, then he took her wrist and tugged her into the bathroom, closing the door behind them and turning on the light.

  Paige stared like Pretty Woman in the hotel lobby. “Wow.”

  The floors were Italian marble, and one whole wall was covered with distressed mirrors, reflecting the soft pools of golden light from the recessed spot lamps.

  “Yes,” Rafa said impatiently, “but listen --”

  “This place is huge! I could live in here!”

  “You can if you like. Paige --”

  “And look at that shower! Oh my God, you could fit ten people in there!”

  “It’s uncomfortable with more than six,” Rafa said vaguely.

  “Wow. Do all these buttons actually -- whoa!” A jet of water shot out at chest height, saturating Paige, who leapt back. “Christ, that’s cold!”

  Rafa turned a dial and the water heated up. “Better?”

  “Mmm, yes.” She tested it, then turned round in a slow circle, dipping her head to wet her hair as the water spat madly at her. “What do the others do?”

  “Other things. Paige, will you listen to me? Please?”

  It was the ‘please’ that did it. Paige stopped fooling around with the water and turned to him. “You sound serious.”

  “I am fucking serious.”

  She stared at him, drenched, as the water continued to deluge her. Irritated, Rafa reached out and turned it off.

  A few drips splattered by her feet. She gave Rafa a ‘what now?’ look.

  He fidgeted.

  Paige was starting to get worried. Rafa really wasn’t the sort to fidget. Cold and wet, she shivered, and he reached into a cupboard to hand her a fluffy white robe.

  “Sit,” he said, pressing her down on the edge of the bathtub. It was big enough to swim in.

  “You’re scaring me,” she said. “Is something wrong? Are you okay? Is Jamie okay?” Cold fear gripped her. “Is there something wrong with him? Is that why you’re being so nice? Is he dying?”

  Tears burned her eyes, and she didn’t see Rafa pulling on his own robe and kneeling in front of her, until he took her hands.

  “I’m fine. Jamie’s fine. I’m being nice to him because I like him. If he was dying, would he be able to spend all night fucking you and me so thoroughly?”

  Paige sniffed. He had a point. “Then what is it? You look so serious!”

  Rafa sighed, and sat down on the floor next to her, his back against the marble-edged tub. He looked so despondent Paige slid down next to him and laid her head on his shoulder.

  “It’s…” he began. “Okay. Masika talked to you about vampires earlier today, right? Did she tell you about vampire hierarchies?”

  “There are vampire hierarchies?” Paige said, and he groaned. “I mean, she told me she was a Master vampire, and you are too, but I’m not… uh, completely sure what that means. That you’re older, or stronger, or have a lot of vamps under your control?”

  “Well, usually,” Rafa said. “Most Masters are a few hundred years old. And yes, we’re much stronger than your average vamp -- that’s why we’re older. We can tolerate sunlight, for instance, in small amounts, and go days without feeding.”

  He gave her a look, as if this was significant. Paige gave him an encouraging smile.

  “And yes, usually a Master has a lot of underlings. You see… any vampire can create another, and there’s no tie between them. But a Master has complete control over every vampire he creates. If he gives a direct command, his underlings have to follow it. They’re more or less physically unable to disobey.”

  Paige shivered. That sounded more like the horror movie vamps she was familiar with. It didn’t sound like Rafa.

  Wait, though.

  “But, you’re a Master,” she said. “And you created me. So why… I mean, I don’t remember… although you probably haven’t given me any direct commands…” she trailed off.

  “I wouldn’t imagine you’d follow them if I did,” Rafa said, squeezing her shoulders.

  “But wouldn’t I have to?”

  “Paige, take your robe off,” Rafa said, and she blinked at him. “Take your robe off and suck my cock.”

  Paige stayed where she was. “You could ask more nicel -- oh,” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  “That was a command.”

  “Pretty much. Sing, Paige.”

  “I will not.”

  “There you go.”

  There was silence a while, then Paige said, “So… I’m confused. I thought… you did bite me, right? And you… you made me a vampire.”

  “Yes.” He sighed again. “Did Masika mention Childer to you?”

  Thoroughly confused now, Paige said, “She said they were like the children of Master vampires. That they had a close bond, and were much stronger than regular vamps. That’s how she survived the holy water attack, and you…”

  “How I survived at all, yes,” Rafa said. “Paige, I’ve never created a Childe before. I don’t know what it’s supposed to be like. But you… I can feel you.” He took her hand and placed it over his chest. “In here. You… oh hell, I’m going to get all mushy. I hate mushiness.”

  She was silent for a long moment, trying to digest what he was saying. Her ears had heard the words, delivered them to her brain in the right order -- and now she was examining them from all angles to see if they really meant what she suspected they did.

  “Are you telling me I’m your Childe?”

  Rafa’s dark eyes looked at her, fathomless. “Yes. Don’t ask me if I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

  “Then…” her mind rebelled, “ew, okay, haven’t we just been incredibly incestuous?”

  She must have looked more disgusted than she realized, because Rafa laughed and hugged her. “No. I’m not your father, Paige. I’m your…”

  “Master?” she said, which was hardly better. She didn’t want a Master.

  “Protector,” he said. “Mentor.” He stroked her hair. “Friend. Lover. Student.”

  “Student?”

  “Yes. I -- I’m aware I have… problems with… impulse control.”

  Paige snorted.

  “I need to learn to control myself. It’s something you have to learn too -- but of course, you have the advantage of not having had fifteen-hundred years to develop bad habits. I… we… ought to learn together.”

  “Not to bite people during sex?”

  “Yeah. To separate lust, and hunger, and violence. Biting doesn’t mean killing, and sex doesn’t mean biting.”

  She thought about this. “So what you’re saying is that basically, we need to have a lot more sex?”

  “Well, it does seem the only sensible way,” he said, straight-faced.

  Paige thought about Jamie, about the brand-new relationship they were creating for themselves. “What about Jamie?”

  “He didn’t seem to object earlier.”

  “Jamie wouldn’t object to me nuking Europe if he thought it’d make me happy,” she said. “He loves me, Rafa. He really does. He’d do anything for me.”

  “I know.”

  “And I -- I love him, too.”

  “I know.”

  “Don’t you think we should have some… privacy?”

  Rafa sighed. “Yes. But tell me honestly if you trust yourself to have sex with him without biting him.”

  Paige was about to say yes, but she knew it was something of a lie. “I’ve managed so far,” she said.

  “Right. Okay, and I’m proud of you,” he said. “But what happens when you catch him training with Sofie and the others and he’s all sweaty and disheveled, and you can’t resist just a kiss or two, and one thing leads to another and you’re tearing his clothes off right there
in the gym, and he puts his face between your legs and licks you until you can’t see straight, and then you’re riding him and coming hard, and the hunger swells up inside you and you haven’t eaten in a little while and you figure, just a little bite probably won’t hurt, right?”

  His voice was low, thrumming through her, and she’d have been turned on if she wasn’t so chilled by what she knew was coming next.

  “And then you realize you’ve ripped his throat out, and he’s bleeding to death, and then what do you do? You could make him a vampire, but he’d probably hate that. I think he’d rather be consulted first. He wouldn’t be very happy with you if you just turned him like that.”

  “Like you did to me?” she said in a quiet voice.

  “Yes, like I did to you. Because I lost control. Because I never fucking had any in the first place. And I’m not going to let that happen with you. I don’t want to see Jamie killed any more than you do. If and when one of us bites him, it’ll be because he wants to become a vampire, because he wants to spend the rest of eternity tied to you or me. Well, probably to you.”

  “You think he will?” Paige asked, because she honestly hadn’t considered this.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. You’ll have to talk to him about it.” He gave a brief smile. “Consider it like a proposal of marriage, only there’s absolutely no possibility of divorce.”

  Paige gave him a weak smile in return.

  “But listen. Human or vampire, you and Jamie can have many years of happy fucking ahead of you without the specter of the beast hanging over you. Do you know how many human lovers I’ve had in the last hundred years? Just you, Paige. Everyone else has been a vampire. I’ve been that scared of killing someone. And,” he gently stroked the scar on her neck, the one that would probably never heal, “it looks like I was right.”

  “So, what, you’re just going to have to chaperone us? Forever?”

  Rafa gave a devilish grin. “No, but I -- we -- are going to have to have a very large amount of sex, specifically designed to make you lose your mind -- while we make sure you don’t bite. Enough of that, and I think the control might be ingrained in you. Although we’ll have to keep on checking.”

  Paige, whose eyes had glazed over at the ‘extreme sex’ part, swallowed. Would Jamie agree to that? It was a pretty blatant excuse for regular threesomes. But then, he hadn’t exactly objected to last night’s activities.

  She shifted, aware that her pussy was getting wet at the thought. Her nipples brushed against the bathrobe, and she licked her lips.

  “Now,” said Rafa, who was watching her, “I think you wanted a shower?”

  She allowed him to pull her to her feet and push her robe to the floor, and then he stood looking at her for a long moment.

  “Have I told you,” he said, his eyes lingering on her breasts, her nipples which tightened under his gaze, “how incredibly beautiful you are?”

  “Probably,” Paige said, because sooner or later everyone did.

  “You glow,” he said, softly. “You have so much life and strength. You’re like the sun. No one has ever made me want to change, made me want to become better -- made me believe I can become better, until you.”

  Paige was suddenly wordless.

  “And I really want to fuck you,” Rafa said, and she laughed, spell broken.

  He turned on the shower, which sprayed water from so many directions she lost count, and tugged her in with him.

  “No biting,” she reminded him, breathless, as he ran his hands over her wet body.

  “Nope. No biting.” Rafa lathered his hands with soap that probably cost more than Paige’s average grocery bill, and delicately spread the lather over her breasts.

  “But the stroking, the stroking is good,” she said, arching into him.

  Rafa smiled, pulling her into his arms and kissing her soundly. Between them, his cock rose up thick and hard, and she squirmed against it, anticipating being filled by it.

  “You still haven’t been inside anyone yet,” she reminded him, slipping a hand down his soapy chest and fondling his cock, which grew in her hand. Her pussy throbbed. Suddenly, more than anything, she really wanted him inside her.

  “Like to amend that?” he growled, and she nodded.

  “No foreplay. I just want it hard and fast,” she said, and Rafa groaned. He kissed her once more, hard, just for a second or two, and then he turned her round, pressed her against the wet glass of the huge shower enclosure, and slid his cock between her legs.

  The thick length caressed her folds, and her legs trembled. “Now,” she said, her voice breathy and high. “Now, please, Rafa.”

  And Rafa obliged, parting her with his fingers and pushing all the way inside her, filling her so completely she saw stars.

  “You have a delicious pussy,” he murmured against the back of her neck, and she writhed as he withdrew, then thrust back in again, seemingly deeper than before. “Did I mention that? You taste exquisite. So hot and sweet, mmm, I could lick you all day.”

  “Be my guest,” she panted, as he ran one hand around her waist, over her stomach, her hip, and finally splayed it over her mound. But he didn’t stroke her, just held her there as he thrust into her. Her nipples rubbed against the cold, wet glass as she pushed her hips back, grinding her ass against Rafa’s groin.

  “The taste of you,” he went on, torturing her, “is even sweeter when Jamie’s inside you.” He thrust hard up into her. “When I’m licking your folds and I can taste him on them… when I lick his cock and it’s covered in your come. God, Paige, it tastes so good. I love the taste of Jamie’s cock, licking his balls, taking them in my mouth and sucking them…”

  Paige’s fingers scrabbled at the glass pane and she fought her orgasm. Her fangs were out, scraping against her lips.

  “But most of all I love the taste of his come…”

  Paige thrust her own wrist in front of her mouth for something to bite, but Rafa pulled it away and whispered in her ear, “…when I’m licking it out of you,” and she came, hard, crashing against the shower screen, screaming and shaking as Rafa continued to pound mercilessly into her.

  Through the fog of her orgasm and the steamed-up glass, she saw the bathroom door open. Jamie stood there, wonderfully naked, looking tousled and sleepy.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, as Rafa slipped one finger between Paige’s folds and stroking her clit. She whimpered helplessly.

  “Fucking your woman,” Rafa grunted, his balls slapping against her.

  “Okay,” Jamie said, scratching the back of his neck. “Either of you want breakfast?”

  Chapter Eleven

  There were knowing smiles all round when Jamie made it into the office several hours late, his hair still wet and his shirt only half-buttoned.

  “I didn’t hear the Duc,” Sofie commented, this time refraining from sniffing.

  “No,” Jamie said, and when something more seemed to be required, added, “it was raining.”

  “Taxi?” enquired Finn, brightly.

  “Rafa lent me a car.”

  “Which one?”

  “Brera.”

  Finn and Sofie exchanged a glance. Wordlessly, she handed him a twenty euro note.

  Jamie purposefully didn’t comment. Dropping into his chair, he switched his computer on. “Any messages?”

  “Yes.” Sofie picked up a sheaf of papers. “One from the London office… one from Padre Gabriel about the demonology… one from Paige, which I will not repeat in public --”

  Finn grinned and winked. Jamie fought the urge to do the same.

  “And one from Rafa, apologizing for your tardiness.”

  “That’s very… Rafa of him,” Jamie said, but didn’t explain any further.

  “You might be interested to know he left that message last night,” Finn added, which did get Jamie’s attention.

  “Last night?”

  “While he was here.”

  Son of a bitch! He knew… knew he’d keep Jamie up a
ll night. Before he even went home and found them in the hot tub.

  “We had a little bet on how he knew this in advance,” Sofie said.

  “And? How do you -- I mean, how do you know how he knew?”

  Sofie tapped her nose.

  “But I showered for about fifteen minutes this morning. Alone,” he added, and Sofie grinned as Finn gave her back the twenty. “What was that for?”

  “Finn bet Rafa would seduce you. I bet you’d admit it.”

  “But I didn’t admit it.”

  “Then why were you so keen to tell us you’d showered?”

  Jamie opened his mouth. He shut his mouth. He rolled his eyes.

  He’d have scowled, but after he’d made breakfast for Rafa and Paige, they’d pulled off his robe and sucked him until he came like a volcano. It was hard to be angry after an orgasm like that.

  “You’ve been had,” Finn said, grinning, and Jamie leaned back in his chair.

  “I certainly have,” he said, and couldn’t have been happier about it. “I certainly have.”

  Cat Marsters

  Cat lives in a village in south east England, which, while not quite a fairytale setting, is nonetheless very pretty and was mentioned in the Domesday Book of AD 1087. She shares a house with only slightly batty parents who hardly ever tell her to get a real job, and a musician brother who knows there’s no chance she’ll ever get one if he doesn’t. Life is kept from being boring by the often hilarious antics of three geriatric cats and a dog who thinks she’s Marilyn Monroe.

  Cat has been writing all her life, but in order to keep herself rich in shoes and chocolate, she’s also worked as an airline check-in agent, video rental clerk, stationery shop assistant, and laboratory technician. She’s aiming for a fairytale cottage, and asks all potential Prince Charmings to apply in writing with pictures of themselves and their Aston Martins.

  Visit’s Cat’s web site at http://www.catmarsters.com.