by Alex Owens
I turned my back to Clive, kicked my slippers off and dropped my sweatpants to the ground. I stepped out of them while ripping my t-shirt right down the middle and letting it fall off me like the feelings I should have never tried to catch.
I’d never liked the shirt anyway. Pete had given it to me after he’d disappeared in the middle of the concert—no doubt to make up for whatever he’d been doing during the missing hours. But fuck him. And fuck feelings and fuck jealousy and vapid vamp sluts. I was in the mood to punch something.
I turned to face Clive in my hot pink sports bra and black boy-cut underwear. I was fairly sure I looked downright fierce standing there, glaring at him while I pulled my hair into a messy bun. Judging by the size of his pupils and the fact that he licked his lips repeatedly, I was right.
“Let’s do this.” I paced toward Clive as he backed out into the middle of the room, sizing me up.
“Okay, slow and easy in the beginning until we see how much you can take.” Clive brought his fists up, assuming a fighting stance. I mirrored his posture and circled to the left, careful to keep my steps light and nimble. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, but I didn’t want him to know that.
“Don’t worry about me,” I said through gritted teeth. “I can take a pounding.”
Clive chuckled. The fucker actually chuckled.
“Of that, I have no doubt.” Clive arched an eyebrow at me.
I stopped mid-step. Did he just imply I was easy, or had a beat up Vag or something? His response set me on edge either way and I’d had enough. It was time to make that abundantly clear.
Clive lunged toward me, jabbing at my right flank. His fist made contact with my side, though I barely registered the feel of his knuckles pressing into my flesh. Instead, I took advantage of the fact that his left hand was down and punched Clive in his jaw with a right hook. While it didn’t ring his bell, he received my message just the same.
He swung, I ducked. I swung, he stepped out of the way with uncanny accuracy. We danced around the floor pushing each other back and forth around the room. It wasn’t so much a fight as a perfectly choreographed dance. For the next several minutes, neither of us could land a hit on the other one. It was getting super-frustrating.
Then, it hit me.
I was dividing my efforts. Spending half of my time on the defensive moves, left my offense only half as effective. I had a choice to make, keep doing more of the same or make Clive suffer just a little. I could drop my defenses just a bit in order to land more blows. I’d get hit in the process, and it would hurt, but I would heal.
I saw his next attack coming and slowed my reaction time, twisted my body away so that the blow glanced over the side of my face, just below my cheekbone. I barely registered the popping sound in my own jaw as I threw my whole body weight into a jab. I punched Clive in the gut and quickly followed it with an uppercut the second he tipped forward.
He took a step back, shook his head and smiled, “It’s going to be like that, huh?”
“Uhn, har.” That didn’t come out right. My mouth didn’t seem to be working properly...broken jaw? Focus on the fight, I thought.
Clive came after me with a renewed purpose. His punches landed more often, and harder. It should have worried me, but instead I felt a new resolve bubble up through me. He might out punch me, but I would not be the one to tap out first.
I lunged, grabbing him by his biceps and pushing him across the room with inhuman speed. Without warning, he planted his feet, swept me to the side and we both rolled in a blur of asses and elbows. We broke apart, leapt up and circled each other, two monsters about to leap. I saw his muscles flex almost imperceptibly, and that was enough to make me move forward at the exact moment he did.
We collided mid-air and I briefly thought about which one of my magical gifts I could use to gain an advantage. I decided against using any of them—this was supposed to be a physical test, not a magical one. I was a lot of things these days, but a cheater wasn’t one of them.
Clive took advantage of my distraction and pulled me into a headlock, intent on taking me down to the floor. My messy bun was falling out, catching in his vise-like grip. If I really focused, I could feel each and every follicle being torn from its root.
Oh, it was soooo on.
I stomped on his instep and felt bones crunching under my foot. He barely acknowledged the injury and returned the favor by cracking my collar bone with his anvil hand in a brutal karate-chop.
That one hurt like hell, but it had already begun to heal by the time I grabbed his left hand, ducked around him and pulled his arm up swiftly behind his back. I didn’t let up until his left arm snapped and the bone broke through the skin. It was only as the blood began to trickle from the open wound that I thought to myself, why do you always have to take things one step too far?
I was rewarded for my lapse in attention with simultaneous punch to the face and rib-cracking sidearm. Blood poured from my broken nose and with each move my ribs popped like bubble wrap. I didn’t feel most of it. The pain fed me and I ate it up willingly, letting it top off my psychic reserves. I’d need the energy later for the massive amount of healing in my future.
So much blood, even my own, took the last bit of propriety out of the fight. It wasn’t even personal at that point, it was primal. I bared my fangs and hissed. He flashed his in return and waited to see what I’d do. He didn’t have to wait long.
I dropped down to my hands and one knee, swept Clive’s feet out from under him with my other leg, and straddled him in one fluid motion. My blood dripped in his face as he tried to block me, but I landed hit after hit all over his chest and face. At one point I couldn’t tell my hands from the skin of his face—it all looked like ground hamburger.
In the background I heard voices, but I didn’t care. Let them watch.
“I smelled blood... whoa, that’s a lot of blood!”
“Who’s that with Clive?”
“No idea, but she’s a hellcat.”
“I’d do her.”
“Damn, look at her go...”
“Should we stop it?”
“Do you value your life?”
“Enough!” That one was Clive, I knew.
He grabbed my wrists, pushed up with his hips and rolled, pinning my arms to the mat above my head. He was a bloody mess, but his chiseled face was already beginning to resemble the handsome bastard I’d come to love-slash-hate. Giving as good as I was getting, I bet my face looked a sight too.
My skull buzzed like an angry bee hive, but I started to come back to myself as the seconds ticked by.
“Now, Claire.” Clive smiled strangely, his lower lip still dangling a bit where I’d torn it during the worst of the fight. “How would you like this to end?”
I had no idea what sort of response he was looking for. An apology? If so, he wasn’t getting it. Did he want me to beg for mercy... fat chance of that happening. Admit defeat? Uh, that was a big old nope.
I let my head flop to the side and looked at the crowd we’d amassed during the battle. At least thirty amused faces looked back at me, some obviously salivating over all of the blood, others excited by the level of violence. Several of the female vamps only had eyes for shirtless Clive. One of the males held such a weird mix of emotions on his face that I shuddered, repulsed. Creepy little bastard.
Clive pressed himself between my legs and cleared his throat. “You’re call, Claire.”
A smart woman knows how to throw a battle so that she can win the war.
I never claimed to be smart. But, I can be a crafty bitch when it suits me. I wanted to win the battle and the war. If I managed to mark my territory in the process, then all the better.
I lifted my hips, just enough to feel Clive’s bulge react, but not enough that our audience would notice.
“I’d like it to end with a bang, please.” I flashed a seductive smile at him. Well, I hope I did. Who the hell knew what my face looked like really? I must have been easy enou
gh on the eyes; I felt Clive harden between my legs.
“Here?” he tossed a quick glance at our onlookers. “Now?”
I bit my own lip and felt the prick of fresh blood swell to the surface. I leaned up and kissed him hard on the mouth, which was no easy feat as my arms were still pinned behind my head. He eagerly suckled at my lip.
He pulled back enough to give one more glance at the crowd. I expected him to tell them all to scatter, but he didn’t. Instead, he did something that both appalled me and thrilled me at the same time.
“As you wish,” he said, repositioning both of my captive hands into the grip of one of his hands. Our eyes locked and time seemed to slow down to the space between two heartbeats. With his free hand and without breaking eye contact, Clive ripped my boy shorts off like they were made of paper, pulled out his swollen cock and thrust into me so hard that my teeth clacked from the force of it.
It was the singular most erotic thing I’d ever seen or felt, or had done to me. The fact that others were watching only made everything that much more electric, though I’m sure the adrenaline high wasn’t helping matters.
Two strokes and I was gone, shattered into a million liquid pieces.
My back arched, my toes flexed and I cried out as the spasms overtook me. My orgasm seemed to crash and retreat, only to come back again and again. It pulsed like a live thing. My inner vision went dark, lit up by purple sparks. Clive stiffened and came inside of me so forcefully that I could feel each pulse of his seed, warm and wonderful.
He collapsed on top of me with a sigh. “God, we need to figure out how to bottle that. We’d make a fortune.”
I giggled. “Bottle what, my magical snatch?”
He pushed up onto his forearms and kissed me quickly before withdrawing himself and tucking his cock back in his jockeys. How I hated to see it go.
“Well, that too. But I was talking about that jou-jou you shared with everybody.”
“Come again?” I sat up quickly, realizing that from my rib cage down, I was naked as could be, and without a towel or stitch of clothing in sight.
Clive nodded to where the voyeur vamps had been watching the show.
I didn’t want to look, not at all. The last thing that I wanted was to lose the upper hand by doing a twisted version of the vampire walk of shame. But a strange sound made me look despite my better judgement.
I gasped.
Every single vamp was laying on the ground, moaning and writhing. The men has obvious wet spots spreading over their groins. The females shivered and whimpered. All of them were panting like dogs.
“What the hell?” As I stood, a slight breeze hit my exposed bits and caused goosebumps to raise over my battered flesh.
Clive took pity on me and jogged to get my sweatpants and what was left of my t-shirt.
“Looks to me like their all having the best orgasm of their un-dead lives, no sex required.” He said over his shoulder. He returned with my pants and I slipped them on quickly.
“But how?” I started. “I’m not even sure how that should be possible. I can push emotions to others: fear, love, anger... but an orgasm isn’t an emotion. It’s a verb.”
“A verb?” Clive walked with me over to where the mound of vamps were laying. The mass of bodies was quieting down, the moment passing.
“You know what I mean. It’s not something that I’m capable of.” I wasn’t even sure that I knew what I meant, or believed what I said, at that point.
“Well, obviously it happened. I felt a pulse of something pass through the air when you clamped down around me, so I’m willing to make that leap. You did this, somehow... but at least no one here will be complaining. You may get some groupies out of it though.” Clive smiled and pulled me into an embrace. He pressed his lips to my forehead and held them there for several seconds. I was too dumbfounded to freak out again though.
“You are a wealth of surprises, you know that?” He said, slapping me playfully on the ass. “Now come on, let’s get showered and cleaned up so that we can go over the plans for dinner tonight.”
Chapter Eight
We were getting ready for the Feast of Fealty, or something like that.
Seriously, I had no idea what they called it, but I had to give it a name in my head, and that sounded like something Clive would come up with to call an event where all the master vamps from around the country came together once a year to turn over their taxes, talk politics and nibble on some strange.
“You want me to wear this? For real?” I held up the hanger like it was radioactive.
“Yes, I do. Don’t you like it?” Clive asked while fastening a set of emerald-crusted cufflinks to his starched white shirt.
“It’s barely a dress. More like a scarf.” I fingered the fabric and tried to envision it on my body. The only picture that I could conjure was one where I stood ninety-nine-percent naked.
“First, you have to try it on before you’re allowed to hate it.” He held out his hand for the dress. I handed it over and he delicately removed it from the hanger.
“Second, you’ll find the couture much more daring in the social circles we keep. I would not be surprised if someone showed up wearing nothing but ornate jewelry tonight. And third, two dozen of my closest companions have seen you thoroughly fucked today, and in turn got mind-fucked by you. Modestly is clearly a non-issue at this juncture.”
I frowned, but Clive chose to ignore my petulance.
“Here, just try it on.” He held open the dress, low to the ground, for me to step into. Once I had, he shimmied it up over my hips, pulled two halves of the top over my bare breasts and knotted the two strips behind my neck. I felt the fabric ties glide down over my bare back.
I turned toward the ornate dressing mirror leaning in the corner of the closet—which was really a huge repurposed room that I could have fit most of my own house into— and opened my mouth, only to clamp it shut again.
To say I was shocked by my own appearance would have been putting it mildly.
There still wasn’t much in the way of coverage, but what little fabric that was there accented my figure perfectly. My breast were full and round and barely covered by the swath of airy fabric on each side. If I sneezed they’d escape and take someone’s eye out, most likely.
Between my breasts was nothing but skin, all the way down to my belly button. A few inches of fabric covered my crotch below that, then the fabric split in two and floated down over my legs like gossamer.
The back view was equally daring. Other than the long flowing strips of fabric below the knot at the base of my neck, the dress didn’t truly start covering anything, including my sides, until right at the crack of my ass. It was an arresting view, but one that would make me move very slowly all night. That was for sure.
“So no underwear, I’m assuming”
He shook his head, “You’d be able to see it.”
“Without it, I’m fairly sure everyone will be able to see this.” I lifted the front of my dress just enough to widen his eyes. “Or worse, this.”
I spun and bent over at the waist like I was reaching for something on the dressing table.
Clive was pressed up against me in an instant. He ran his big hands down the outside of my legs, up over my ass and back down the center, thumbing my little bud as he went by.
“Carefully now, or you might find yourself deflowered right here, right now.” He growled into my ear and nipped my lobe.
I clenched down low at the thought. Never had I ever considered letting anyone put anything in there, but just the idea of Clive take my butt-virginity had me all hot and bothered.
I took a deep breath and bumped him backwards with my ass. “We don’t have time for that right now... though I’m not sure they’ll ever be a time for that.”
I turned back to the dressing table and began putting on the bare basics of makeup. “Don’t we need to go over the plan for tonight?”
“Yes, we do.” Clive sat on an embellished foot stool and ga
ve me the cliff notes version of what was to be my vampire coming-out ball, a.k.a the annual banquet he hosted every year to mingle with the elite from around the country. It was also a time to air grievances against other vampires, discuss any problems or issues they were having and of course, forge alliances when needed.
If you asked me, it was all an excuse to make sure everyone paid their share of taxes on time, while looking Clive in the eye. Arranging transfers through a bank did not afford the one-on-one interaction that a face-to-face did, he explained. It’s hard to look someone in the eye if you’re trying to screw them over, I guess.
“There is a lot you can tell by the way someone talks to you, if they avoid eye contact or seem overly complimentary. And that’s where you come in.” Clive said. “I would like to use your particular skill set. You can mingle the crowds and let me know if anything is amiss. I also want to introduce you to a few vampires in particular that I have concerns over, to get your impressions. Mainly, I’d like you to use your empath abilities. I don’t plan on trying to influence anyone but you tonight... later of course.”
He leaned back on the ottoman and gave me a salacious grin. He looked so jumpable that I almost considered climbing up for a ride, to hell with my hair. But then he spoke again and all I wanted to do was wallop him.
“Of course, I do have one small task in particular that I’d like you to accomplish. Ethically, it’s in a gray area, so I’d rather wait until the moment presents itself to run it by you,” he continued.
“Oh, come on. No violence, not tonight. It takes a lot to clean me up; I don’t want to get dirty so quickly.” I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, but in reverse through the mirror. “Promise me, the only blood I’ll see tonight will be in a goblet.”
He chuckled and nodded. “Of course, I will not ask you to bleed anyone. I promise.”
I smiled and spun around. “Good. Now tell me how fabulous I look so that we can get this show on the road.”
Clive stood and approached me, taking my face in his hands tenderly. “You, my dear, look good enough to eat. And that’s the man in me talking, not the vampire.”
