by Ash, Lauren
Nia watched the porcelain faces, hundreds of pairs of ivory fangs ready to feed. She’d seen this before, she’d participated herself in such horror fairs. The blood of a Queen would be better than anything any of them had ever tasted—blood like nectar. The sheer power of it would seer through their veins, as if they were alive again. She could smell their angst, their wants, and their starvation for something, anything to give them all a glimpse of what they once had so long ago.
Being alive again had been simple but glorious now that Nia knew exactly what it was she had witnessed. She thought of her little job at the coffee shop, frothing hearts in lattes, scrounging for tips so she could buy that one pair of shoes, smiling at her regulars whom she had come to memorize . . . every order and the exact time they would frequent the place, which glittered with yellow lights and fake violet posies.
University had delivered more ups than downs. She was failing her statistics class, but excelled in all else—math just wasn’t her thing. She wanted romance, and there was romance in history, foreign language, and astronomy. She understood now exactly why she hadn’t fallen hard for anyone in particular; there was only Johnny, trapped there in the recesses of her human mind. He was the dark figure that had frequented her dreams of desire, the headless man, the man that gave her everything she wanted in sleep. The dreams were so real. They were real.
Ignoring the group that was about to pounce, she eyed Johnny, who now kneeled before the gothic altar and the cloaked figure. They were speaking in the primordial tongue forged from their vampiric demigods eternities ago. Unable to discern what they were saying, she saw her husband shake his head in a defiant manner then stand angrily—fists in a bunch.
What is it about Johnny that gets me so? She thought hard, knew the memory was there, deep inside. Come on, come on. You know you can remember . . . you know that you can. How did you meet your Johnny; why is he “the one”? Think . . .
The answer flashed in her mind just before her the first set of fangs sunk into her flesh—awful, purple eyes smiling while sucking her life away. The hungry hoard pinned her to the ground. Oh, they took their time and they shared. It was agonizing. She knew she deserved it for all the heinous things she had done in her past. It was time to repent. The old memory came forth as the pain deepened simply because she had been turned originally under a sense of agonizing pain and torture, during a time of black death—the bubonic plague.
She glanced down in memory at her gangrenous fingers, at the ripe old age of twenty, married to a fat, sweaty tavern owner named Sal. She had wished she was dead—the horrible things he made her do at night, traded by her own mother for a little coin. The Great Plague was last of the black death and had washed London down just like the rest of Europe, and Nia had done all she could to catch the bloody horror. She got her wish, and Sal had given her the boot—freedom at a cost.
Nearing the end of it all, she found herself milling about the fire-ridden city. Frankincense filling the air, she wafted alone with the smoke, till she met him on her last hours. He went by John then. He was just a simple John, and the two of them had leaned up against one another, trapped down the end of a dank alley—total strangers surrounded by squeals of rats and blackened bubo’ed bodies. They had not uttered a single word between the two them, just kept each other warm as the Grim Reaper paid them a visit.
But it wasn’t that Grim Reaper; it was another creature entirely. Death did open its door, and out stepped Johnny and Nia, born to the pits of hell where blood spews from the fountain of life. He was her beginning and she was his; they fell in love, eye to eye, hand in hand, souls spent from their bodies entwining as one, locked away in His place, unable to fight as the creature fed upon their bodies and returned a single drop of his own blood to each of them. That same creature, their creator, stood before Johnny at the altar: Daddy Dearest.
Feeling that first ounce of something, feeling her origins, she opened her mouth and cried out, “Johnny!” She flicked her bright blues back and forth at the frenzied crowd that now sucked away her dark life force—it was all a mistake. “Johnny!” She couldn’t see him. She called out to him with her thoughts, I don’t want to die, Johnny. I love you. Help me please.
It’s too late, he answered in thought. You stated your will. Oh, Nia, I don’t want you to go.
Then don’t let me go . . . save me, Johnny. Her mind cried.
There will be war if we break the law of Last Bitten.
I don’t care . . . since when have ever done what we were supposed to? Johnny . . .
She heard a laugh ring out around the room—it was Johnny. She felt it all slipping away, her essence slipping away.
***
“Wake up, my love, wake up. I give you life. I give you mine. Open your lips, my Nia. Drink of me now.”
The blood was hot, like a warm, buttery steak on cold night after a long day’s run in the snow. Nia drank and drank, feeling her senses come back. She opened an eye, her head upon some perfect, white pillow. She looked up to see what she knew to be her favorite painting hanging above her—a single black-and-white calla lily spiraling perfect like the cosmos. It represented her and all that she was and wanted to be.
“To new beginnings,” said Johnny, slipping on top of her fully nude and ready.
“Oh, Johnny, what did you do?”
“They are all dead, save a few that escaped—Emelle, Daddy Dearest, a couple others. Bruce is holding the fort.”
“What’s going to happen now?”
Johnny gave her a small, warm-up kiss on the lips. “We don’t need to worry about those things just yet. The City is still ours for the time being. Seattle is our little emerald kitty. She purrs. Can you hear her? This is our wedding night, and I’ve been waiting for it for decades. Anyway, I’m sleeping with a criminal. You’re wanted for that stabbing.”
“Hana?” Nia ran her hands along Johnny’s amazing back.
“Yes, your old college roomie. Your picture has been spread all across the Internet and TV. It’s a setup. We have enemies within the ranks; I’ll figure it out soon enough. They’ve got your prints on that knife you stabbed me with. The same one was used on her.”
“Oh uh . . . sorry about that, you know. I didn’t—”
He kissed her again to shut her up. “I found it amusing.”
“You would, wouldn’t you?” She giggled.
He nodded. “I guess a wedding gift is in order before we get to you know.”
“For me?”
“Yes—you.”
“I want you to save Hana. I want you to bring her with us.”
“We can’t just choose any old human,” said Johnny.
“That is my wish. Okay?”
“Okay, enough chat for now. Later is later.” He spread Nia’s legs wide and entered her full force, like he was taking her for the first time. He couldn’t help it. He thrust slow and steady at first, then quicker and deeper, giving her everything he wanted to give.
“Not so fast, Johnny boy, easy,” Nia said, rolling them so that she was on top now and he below. Her long, black hair covered the things he wanted most. He ran his hands over her soft breasts and circled in with his fingers until he reached her hard nipples, then squeezed lightly. She rode him slow, which tortured him even more, as all he wanted her to do was just give in, give in to lust and love, passion and fire, ride him down till they both washed away in a river of tears and joy. She saw the want in his face and resisted a little more so she could play with her happy little knob and join in on the extravaganza.
The two writhed in hot bliss as she picked up the pace, and he buckled under her drive. They both let out a cry as the spasms flooded their bodies and sent them crashing down into one single pile.
“I love you,” she said. “I’m sorry for everything, for doubting what we have.”
“I love you too,” said Johnny, flipping her over so he could nibble at the back her silky neck and squeeze her hind. He bit in and yanked back on her hair enjoying the ta
ste of her blood. “I’ve missed this,” he said, savoring the drops, feeling himself perk up again for another round. This time he pressed her hard against the bed and pushed into her so he could pound her away.
Nia cried out at the intensity of it all as she hadn’t quite recovered from before. “You’re killing me,” she said as she let him do to her what he wanted, and he did.
Her husband held her hips in place so she couldn’t move and let himself go like the animal that he was. He shuddered at the blast, and this time he fell down beside her—both falling away into a cozy nap.
Dreamland came to the Queen. She was by the blue-watered fountain again, in a white dress, chasing Johnny in circles along with the fireflies through the humid, summer night. The water roared, blocking out all other sound, even their happy laughter. As she was just about to catch him, a pair of purple eyes flashed off in the distance, mimicking the look of the bugs that danced with them. Nia ignored the other color, but it drew nearer . . . I’m watching you.
Gasping awake, Nia floundered about the bed, confused by her space and time orientation.
“Emelle. It’s Emelle. She’s the one.”
Johnny yanked the white, silk blankets over them both and tucked Nia in close. “I know,” he said. “She’s been off the past few weeks before your awakening. Something happened while you were off with the humans.”
“What? What is it? Tell me?”
“Emelle. I mean, I know she’s in love with me. I can see it; I can feel it, though she has never spoken of it. She’s my third in command or was till tonight. I should have known that she would do this to you.”
“Do what exactly?” Nia sat bolt upright worried.
“You saw her just now?”
“Yes. In my dream. Haunting me.”
“She’s planted on you. You’re hers to command.”
“What? I thought that was impossible as I am Queen.”
“She had First Bite when you were in that awful circle. You were supposed to die—that was your request. But it didn’t happen. So now she has moved you in as her Last Bitten. There’s nothing she can do yet, but as the weeks pass, you will fall to her. I should have stopped them. I should have known you’d change your mind.”
“Then I will kill her,” said Nia.
“We both will,” said Johnny, “otherwise the Emerald Night becomes hers as she becomes Queen.” He took Nia’s hand in his and lifted her delicate hand, kissing her emerald heart.
Lauren Ash lives in Seattle spending her time enjoying the Emerald City. She enjoys writing dark poetry as well as novels. You will find her sitting by the fire, sipping on tea while brewing up a great tale. http://authorlaurenash.blogspot.com/ Visit Lauren’s blog for news on upcoming releases!
