by S. C. Lewis
“I’m sorry I was quick to accuse you of anything less…”
Seth walked around the table where Sophia sat, stood behind her chair, and put his hands on her shoulders. Sophia trembled as she felt his hands, and then his breath against her cheek when he kissed her.
“It’s alright, you’ve gone through quite an ordeal…if anyone should apologize it should be me for not keeping you safe,” Seth softly whispered.
“That is one of my duties…as head of this business.” He looked around the table meeting our stares, no challengers gazed at his eyes. He turned his attention to the seat beside Sophia. Damien was settled in, and she looked startled when his eyes regarded her intimidatingly.
A furrow of his eyes, discouraged her hopes and even far more when he signaled her to move aside with a shooing gesture.
I thought she would refuse, but instead she cowered and slipped away to the next vacant seat beside her.
It was well known Damien was the boss of us all, a rowdy and voicing person. It was as well-known as her desires and crush on Seth. Sometimes, she hated him, but at other times, she couldn’t say a bad thing about him. When he was near, she seemed to be unable to control her affections for him and she became timid and easily manipulated, like she was in some kind of trance.
“Well, shall we begin?” Seth asked, from his seat beside Sophia. He leaned back and put his arm around Sophia’s chair now settling into his position with more ease.
Sophia looked uncomfortable, unable to sit back. I worried…
11
The Acceptance
Seth
The dreams of her had left me intoxicated and far more aware of who I was and who she was to me. It was no longer this reality. This was a fantasy and our reality was beyond. But how could I make her see such? Ramiel talked about being patient that the dream would reveal more. With time, Sophia would come to see the connection between us, but I no longer wanted to wait. I couldn’t be forced to live this lie. She had to know this was not who she really was. She must know. Had all her distance looks, been just that? Mere looks? I didn’t want to believe it. She knew, but she didn’t want to accept it, because the illusion hadn’t allowed her to see beyond. It was up to me to make her see the truth, no matter what Ramiel said.
I leaned on Sophia. Her body trembled as my lips inched against her ear.
“Did you dream about me last night?” I asked. I hoped that the dream had awakened something within her. “I…dreamt of you,” I whispered.
Sophia glanced up, perplexed, wrinkling her pretty nose quizzically at me. Her eyes were slightly shocked. Her mouth dropped slightly into a gap, but no words would leave her lips.
She, instead, turned away, trying to keep her attention to the table, where the others were vigorously discussing Cathedral events. However, I whispered again. I was intoxicated, having to recall our moments, my desires growing between us. I wanted it to be, I wanted her more than ever. “I dreamt we fucked,” I whispered gently into her ears. “We made love in a rose garden…do you recall?”
She looked confused, but far more disgusted and shocked by what I had revealed, unable to speak suddenly. There was fear in her eyes and far more confusion.
There was doubt on her face. Her heart was beating wildly. Images of the dream resurfaced in my mind, unable to resist doing so. I was aroused. I wanted her to feel what I felt. I felt her, recalling as I pressed against her. My pecker pushed hard and dry inside her and my lips on her neck breathing hard at every thrust. I couldn’t stop; I wanted her.
I reached out, dropped my hand, placed it on her thigh and quickly pushed her dress up, then between her legs. She flinched grabbing at my hand when she realized what I was doing. She darted her eyes around while widening them. Did she want it? Was she enjoying it? Would she welcome my touch, my fingers if I moved them up her thigh, caressed and rubbed her sex? Would she resist? Would she breathe heavily and hard at my thrusts with every forceful stroke of my hands? I could make her whimper.
“Stop!” her lips hissed, biting hard at her mouth. She pushed at my hand until I had no choice but to retract from her crotch.
Why was she resisting when in our dream we had been more then touching? Something had a hold of her, something evil would not let her see!
She looked uneasy, pulling down at her dress to cover herself. The shame resurfaced upon her face as I had seen in the dream. She blushed, quivering almost in tears. I didn’t know what to say, or what to do. I didn’t want to hurt her, but she needed to know the truth of us. I wanted to smell her, to taste her as I had before. I felt the nectar of her pussy glazing and slippery upon my fingers.
I leaned over upon her hoping to ease her fears and confusions of me. I was hungry for more. My loins were growing and on fire. I was breathing heavily, like in the dream, and filled with desire and unstoppable hunger.
“I want you to… You need to know the truth…the truth about us. About the way I feel for you.”
“Your making no sense,” she growled keeping her voice down. “And this behavior…” she took a breath unable to speak further of the whatever confusion that suddenly had a hold of her.
“We need to talk,” I hissed biting at my lips.
“What’s wrong with you?” she angrily snapped in a whisper, trying to avoid catching anyone else’s attention.
She couldn’t believe what I was saying. I think it was what I had tried to do that she having a hard time accepting. She didn’t understand it. I put my hand on her thigh, she pried it away.
“Don’t touch me,” she sternly said. It hurt more hearing her saying those words, but seeing the features of her face was more painful.
I remembered the dream; she was standing on the side of my bed. When I awakened, I smiled up at her. She removed her gown and tossed it on the floor, standing naked and lovely. I immediately sat up, but she climbed on top of me pushing me down and pulling at my boxers as she straddled me. I didn’t resist. She pressed her mouth against mine as I pushed insider her, the heat and hardness of my dick pulsating in my every thrust. My body was on fire, and I was now wishing I could do that once more.
I moaned heavily, exhaled a breath and through rampage love thrusts, our movements increased between the two of us. The heat of her body baring over me, with every longing, with ever deep passionate kiss, I wanted more. I couldn’t satisfy the thirst. I moaned once more; she was a whore in bed. I squeezed her tighter to me aching and longing at the ravaging pounding of her body as it came hard on the top of my penis.
She knew the dream, the same one I had repeatedly.
And now she denied them to me, to herself. Why?
“How could you say that after?” I began to say.
“After nothing. Nothing happened,” she quickly said in a whisper, turning her eyes toward the table. Eric was still passing out his foolish paperwork.
“Are you sure? Even you have doubts,” I voiced, nearly raising my tone.
“There are no doubts.” She bit hard on her lips. Confusion fashioned the creases of her lovely brow. I pulled away and grabbed at my penis. As hard as it was, I knew not what to do with myself having envisioned the dream once more in my head.
Sophia looked anxious to leave, or escape was the better word. I couldn’t leave it like this. What would Ramiel say? He was already looking over at me curiously and concerned. He would lecture me, although this was all his fault.
I dropped back upon my chair exhausted and aching for her affections. I settled for resting my arm upon the top of her chair, adjusted on the seat, so that I was facing Sophia, with my back to Damien. A better view, a better way to hide what I wanted her to see, the hardness and the need to be inside her. I tried to look ahead, to distract myself from the aching of my groin as the meeting continued.
I caught her glancing over as I adjusted the massive boner beneath the navy slacks. Her head spun back, and she bit her lips stirring in her chair. With that glance, I knew she had dreamt of our encounter together, of our moments in
bed, of our heavy sexual adventure in the meadow of roses filled with deadly thorns ripping at her dress. I loved that dream; it was my favorite. Watching from a distance as she walked toward me, as the thorns ripped at her gown until finally, she came to stand before me, and the pieces left began to fall freely around her leaving her naked. I couldn’t help myself as she guided me to the ground, and I pushed my dick inside. Like the first taste of a dessert touching my palette.
If this continued, she could not imagine what she would have to do to end it all.
12
The wicked
Eric
I logged the time of the meeting, unable to keep my eyes away from Sophia and Seth at the other end of the table. Seth leaned over Sophia’s shoulder, whispering into her ear. I could only guess what he could be telling her. But the expression on her face troubled me, and I wanted to come in between whatever was being said. Among all the chaos, the others were taking their turns expressing their concerns to Ramiel, while the handsome white-haired owner addressed each of their problems with no interest. He looked rather bored, as always.
We usually started our meeting in this manner. At the other end of the table, Santiago seemed to be the only one completely bored with the whole display.
Damon, who was six-feet tall with long black hair, was next in line. The thirty-year-old vampire was in basic black, like the rest of us. He wore leather pants most of the time, and a leather vest sometimes. He painted his face white, his nails black, stained his lips slightly red, and like the rest of us, wore fangs. Silver rings as well as necklaces hung from around his neck, and a Satanic pentagram with his name carved on the metal cleverly stuck out from the rest. He had made it himself, and seven others just like it for the vamps, with their names on them, including Sophia’s and Nathan’s.
Damon, a kindly and calmer vampire, but religious at heart like his companion Damien, who was slightly older than him, was today wearing his black slacks instead of his usual vest and trousers. A long trench coat Sophia had given him for his birthday hung from his thin frame. He smiled, showing off his canines, pinning his tongue between his teeth, when the others gave him their undivided attention, and Ramiel glanced over at him.
“I think that sometimes…maybe there should be something else served on the dinner plate every Wednesday. Instead of the same chicken…I guess what I mean is the chef could get creative, I suppose.” Damon finished up by looking down at the table. He was always the shy type, and never was known to be so outspoken. Although a tall guy, he had a kind heart and sweet nature.
“Creative, Damon?” I repeated, trying not to be rude, hoping Seth would not bite his head off for making such a silly suggestion. However, it seemed Seth was too busy talking to Sophia. He hadn’t been listening to anyone, nor had he said anything since he had come into the meeting. Sophia had preoccupied him the whole entire time. That didn’t surprise me, though it worried me.
Damon unexpectedly spun around, his innocent eyes staring right at me like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I instructed him politely to finish, hoping not to get the attention of Seth, or to bore Ramiel with such a silly concern. But it seemed Ramiel was already bored; he tried to appear interested, though.
“Okay, I’m finished, sorry,” Damon softly mumbled, and dropped into his chair with his arms crossed.
“I’ll see what we can do, Damon,” I said.
Ramiel glared over, folding his lip back. “I see,” he said. “Is that it?” he asked, curving his lips in a gentle grin. The tone of his voice was stern and arrogant.
“Perhaps we can monitor the chef, or place requests ahead of time, and make choices about what is wanted instead of the having the same everyday thing,” I suggested to Ramiel, who turned slightly to me. His face read, seriously?
I caught him turning toward Seth. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to get his opinion or a suggestion, but when he realized he had to deal with this, he took a breath.
“Is this honestly a problem?”
Damon stirred in his seat. I didn’t know what to say to this. It was obvious he thought it was a stupid request. He was usually outspoken, but for whatever reason he held back. I wondered if it was because of Sophia. It seemed he was trying to observe what was happening with them from beside him.
“I can speak with the chef; that won’t be a problem, Ramiel?” I offered to ease the tension. He exhaled loudly, like he was bored with the whole display.
“Do as you will,” he said, shooing me with a movement of his hand.
“Sure, I’m on it, Ramiel,” I said, tucking back a lip, and biting it. The others shot me glances of concern and uneasiness.
Of course, all this would mean filling out forms to do so.
“Thanks!” Damon said from across the room as I wrote on my note pad.
I rose to begin distributing the stack of papers Sophia had given me when Seth tossed a folder over to me. It was a personal one he had brought along with him.
I froze, looking back at him with uneasiness and dread. Ramiel didn’t say a word; he was leaning back with the same display of boredom and taking another drink of his coffee mug.
Sophia’s had dropped her head down, unable to meet my eyes. She looked troubled, and so seriously lost in thought that not even she said anything about Seth tossing me the folder.
“Distribute that,” Seth said, with a smirk. “And get me a cup of coffee while you’re up. You know how I take it.” He grinned broadly again, this time at the empty air.
Yeah, I knew. I ground my teeth. “Asshole,” I whispered under my breath.
The room turned incredibly silent as I moved to the back. I heard Ramiel, Seth, and even Sophia talking momentarily as I walked over to Seth’s desk, where the coffeepot was set up. I took a large black mug from the table, one with the words “The Sarvakkian Prince” in red imprinted on it and poured hot coffee into it. Then, I turned and glanced back.
At the other end of the room, Angelo rose; it was his turn to address the table and Ramiel with his concerns. I heard his voice and turned my head slightly back to see. Seth’s and Ramiel’s eyes were both on the white ghost Angelo, and although anyone would have been terrified, he seemed undisturbed.
Ramiel put his cup down and listened with the same uninterested look as before. Seth was impatiently tapping his fingers on the table, while examining the vamps with a crude smile on his face.
The others were avoiding his eyes, either by looking down or at each other. The room was so quiet when Angelo took the floor, you could cut the tension with a knife.
Seth sternly looked over at me, just as I put the spoon down and picked up the cup.
“I’m waiting,” he impatiently hissed; then, he slightly leaned against Sophia.
No one came to my aid. Not Ramiel, nor Sophia, who was still looking away from Seth’s view. At the other end of the table, Angelo began to speak, carefully choosing his words. The others were softly talking to each other and holding private conversations with one another as I walked around the table, with the cup of coffee held firmly in my hand.
“My idea is that perhaps we should get more local bands to play here on weeknights, to hype the place a little bit. That sort of thing goes well with the youth. Something they like, something gothic, most definitely. We can even have celebrity bands! You meet people all the time, boss. How about it?” I heard Angelo say his rather inept speech as I stopped behind Seth’s chair.
Seth hadn’t even noticed me. I was about to hand him the cup, and then froze as I saw him slip his hand into Sophia’s lap. She shoved it away, as she snapped angrily at him. He shot back with his own words, but they were pleas. He wanted to talk to her. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, the rest were whispers.
Sophia gasped, as her eyes then found me standing watch behind them. She didn’t seem to realize what was happening. Was she under some kind of spell?
Seth suddenly turned and caught sight of me. He didn’t seem concerned with being caught. Instead, he frown
ed at me, far more bothered by seeing me with a curve of his lip he extended his hand to take the cup.
I placed the cup in his hand, and he placed it on the table. I hurried to leave, but he grabbed my arm suddenly. I panicked and tried to pull away first, but he jerked me back harshly. Everyone, except Ramiel, froze in rank and utmost terror.
I tried to remain calm, not to look frightened, but it was hard as he pulled and twisted the skin of my forearm. I held the pain back, biting my tongue as a burning sensation coursed through my forearm.
Seth pulled me close. The same ghastly smile flashed on his face, and his eyes widened wickedly over at me. Ramiel ignored the display. He seemed almost to laugh in a light chuckle.
“Eavesdropping, are we?”
“No, sir,” I ground through my teeth. “Just bringing you your coffee.”
He glanced at his cup on the table. “Well, you didn’t give me the chance to say thank you.”
It was what he didn’t say that scared me. The anger deep in his eyes, the rage, and the spite.
I shuddered and moved away as he released me. I walked back around the table and picked up the folder, opening it without argument. I tried not to think of what had just happened. The others were quiet; no one challenged him, including Sophia, who seemed to be in her own troubles. I couldn’t make sense of any of it. I feared for Sophia.
I glanced over the documents in Seth’s folder. Inside, a pile of expenses greeted me from the first page, along with cutbacks and other things that I knew would be focused upon by us. I looked up. Seth was still staring at me, except there wasn’t a smile on his face now, just a cruel dry stare.
I began to distribute the stack of papers among those at the table. Slight mumbles and small remarks escaped the lips of the vamps as they got a hold of the papers and noticed what I had feared. The first paper listed the expenses, as well as overall earnings the club had made. The second paper outlined replacements, and any needed repairs. The third recited every cutback of which you could think. Personal requests were on the top of the list. Many of the vamps had figured their requests would be met since Ramiel was here, but now it seemed impossible, and it all seemed to be a waste of time.
