by Aya DeAniege
“You have to take the tablet with you. I don’t want six hours of Lucrecia talking about the rules.”
“Okay, I’ll do that.”
“And you have to check in with me.”
“I can do that too,” he murmured. “You, you can write on your phone. It’s got a very good recording device on there, for our purposes. You may not want six hours of her going over the rules, but you should record it because you’ll get bored halfway through and you will need to learn them.”
“Fine. I’ll just seduce Balor if I get bored.”
“He’d be open to that.”
“I was joking.”
“I’m not. He might even let you practice hunting him, impulse control, remember?”
“No problems with that right now,” I grumbled.
“The problem right now is too much control. Unless you don’t want to do this, then we can put it off.”
“No, I want to.”
“So why are my pants still on?”
“Because you’re sitting?” I asked with a shake of my head.
“I’ve been waiting for you to undress me,” he murmured.
“Oh,” I said.
My fingers found the buttons of his grey dress shirt. I unbuttoned each one, then ran my fingers over the skin of his chest. The sensation of warm flesh against my cool fingers sent a shudder through me.
“There you are, sensations will feel new because everything is rewiring. Imagine what the feel of me against your lips would do.”
I kissed him, capturing his lips with my own. There was a distinct something in his mouth as his tongue darted out playfully. I couldn’t put words to what the flavour was, but I knew I wanted more. The kiss deepened, but only for a moment.
Then he pulled away, turning his attention to my neck instead. Lips and teeth taunted me, sending such a wave of fire across my nerves that I tried to rise to get away from it. The feeling was familiar yet overpowering. Too much for me to handle all at once. I had to separate from him to regather myself and figure out just what was feeling and how it was.
Quin kept me stuck in place. All I could do was writhe against him. His hands roaming over my back pushed and guided me. I bent my head and kissed his neck. His pulse under his skin caught my attention. Blood flowed through his veins.
No, really? Where else would it be? In his eyeballs?
I gave myself a shake and kissed his neck again. He made a small sound, fingers tangling in my hair as he moaned. Emboldened, I nipped him with my teeth.
“Yes,” he whispered.
I latched onto him, teeth sinking into his flesh. Quin moved under me as if trying to get away, yet pressing closer at the same time. The sound he made as my teeth pierced his flesh was near sexual.
It was like biting a peach. It takes very little to pierce skin when you think about it. I think I once heard that it only takes a pound of pressure. We like to think of our teeth as being dull, but they are sharp enough to pierce ripe fruit as well as rip into cooked meat.
But that first bite was like biting into a ripe peach. The resistance then sudden relief as my teeth sunk deeper. Like I used to do with my peaches, I locked my lips around my teeth, trying not to let anything escape.
My arms tightened around him, holding on as the dark blood filled my mouth. That something was in his blood as well. I gulped at it greedily as it filled my mouth.
I believe the flavour is Maker. That was what my Maker tasted like.
I had a Maker.
That giddy bit of information vibrated across my nerves as my tongue lapped at his skin. I could find no marks left in the flesh. When I tried to bite again, those fingers in my hair gripped me suddenly and pulled me away.
I couldn’t believe the strength he had in his hands or the fact that my hair didn’t rip out by the roots when I tried to get back at his neck.
“That’s quite enough to get you through,” he said. “I’m more interested in the other hunger. It’s a very real one, and your belly will not feel full until you see to it.”
A hand tangled in my hair, how could I protest? His free hand grazed down my side, bringing a shiver from me. I bit my bottom lip and made a sound of desperation.
“You would do anything for my blood.”
I nodded, realizing too late that it was true. That special flavour had wrapped itself around my belly, and I would not be the same until I got more, until I sated myself.
“You’ll have to make do with my mouth. If you bite me again without permission, you will regret it, understand?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Good, I’d very much like it if we could continue on the thread from before you bit me.”
“Talk?” I asked, trying to recall the conversation.
“Sex.”
I moaned.
“Everything will taste like that, by the way.”
I stiffened as Quin grinned at me like he had said something cute. As I continued to stare, he nodded, then motioned downward with his head.
“That’s not happening,” I said. “I don’t care if you shoot Maker’s Blood out that thing, it’s not going in my mouth.”
“Can I ask why?”
“Because you want it, and I’m just now realizing how stupid of me it is to say no blow jobs for all eternity.”
“So…”
“No,” I said with a shake of my head, wrapping my arms around his neck slowly. I bent and kissed his temple, pressed right against him and moving suggestively. “You don’t get whatever you want just because you might die. You come back the conquering hero, then you can have whatever you want.”
“You mean, I kill Lu and have free use?” he asked.
“You can be all Maker on a modern mortal.”
“I was going to be anyhow, but I like your willingness,” he said with a chuckle. “How about we move to the bed, hm? Want the first time to be there, don’t you?”
“Not a virgin. If I were, wouldn’t that just grow back constantly?” I asked, then it dawned on me. “Did you do a bad thing by not mauling me and thereby confirming or fixing the problem?”
He blushed and looked away.
“Okay, let’s disprove that,” I said, reaching for his pants. “It’s going to be clumsy and stupid and look and sound like virgin sex, but that’s only because I’m bad at sex and have had it less times than I have fingers and toes.”
“Do you like sex?”
“I quite do, just don’t, you know, get all upset because I can’t finish.”
Quin stilled. His hands on my hips, he seemed to study me for a moment.
“Pain, or inability to orgasm during your, what, twelve bouts of sex?”
It was my turn to blush.
“Answer the question, Helen.”
“I just don’t orgasm, that doesn’t mean I like it any less, it doesn’t mean that I’m going to stop having sex or trying to have sex. It just means that I appreciate the journey more than most and I frankly don’t like it when guys get bitchy because all their past girlfriends came at the flick of a finger so the problem must not be with them, it must be with me. And they act like it’s an actual problem. Like... like I’ve got a sink full of dishes, and I’m just not cleaning them, or like I pee the bed or something. I mean, come on. It's a scientific fact that not all women can through all methods so why do they need to make such a big deal about it if I just want them to climb on top of me and show me a good time? I don’t need fireworks, I’m not expecting a nuclear bomb to drop in my underwear. If I wanted to orgasm, I could masturbate and get it done in five minutes. I don’t want to orgasm. I want to have sex.”
“Do you feel strongly about that subject?” he asked in a strangled sort of voice, like he was holding back a laugh because he knew I would take it the wrong way.
“I might not orgasm. Still want sex. Don’t think less of sex, or you, because I can’t.”
Quin smiled again. “I, uh, I swear I explained that.”
“Explained what?” I asked.
“If I orgasm with or near you, you do as well, at least until the weaning is done. After that, you pretty well come when called. That’s not just for summons either. I was being coy.”
The idea of that just blacked out all thought.
“Helen? Sweetheart?”
I jolted out of my cloud and looked at him.
“Seriously?” I asked.
“Let me show you.”
“Like over distances too?” I asked. “That’d be an awkward phone call.”
“Can I show you instead of telling you about it?” he asked.
I shrugged. “You’re the one with a naked lady in your lap and not doing anything about it.”
“That’s not...”
“I’m not Lucrecia. I’ve been taught the other way. The guy does the initial whatever, and you just lay there and take it. Then I found out it was nice but guys are mean about things. You’ve never taken control before?”
“Not with another vampire,” he murmured. “Not with another complete woman who is a vampire. Go get on the bed.”
I smiled and climbed off his lap, headed for the bed. By the time I was sitting on the edge of it, he had stripped off his shirt and was kicking off his shoes.
Quin approached me as he pulled his belt off and tossed it aside.
“All the things I want to do to you.”
“You are a Maker now so you can do them all. But tonight, I believe we’ve agreed on regular sex.”
He slipped off his pants, but I kept my eyes carefully on his face. He reached out and slipped a hand up my jaw, drawing my face upward as he shifted closer.
We kissed, and his hand slipped downward. With a firm grip, he lifted me off the bed and tossed me towards the middle of the mattress. It startled me, to be picked up and tossed like a rag doll. It didn’t seem possible to me that a mortal man might have that strength.
The questions welled up, but he was on me in a moment, pressing me into the bedspread as he bent and captured my lips once more. All thought left me then.
His hands roamed down my sides as if he couldn’t quite believe what he had before him. He teased my nipple with his lips, tongue, and teeth. First one, then the other, then back to the first.
I could hardly contain myself, writhing under his ministrations. My nails dug into his shoulders, I tried to pull him back up, away from my breasts but he only chuckled in response.
A hand slipped between my legs, caressing gently at first, teasing at my burning desire.
When I thought I could take no more, he rose and captured my lips with his own. His tongue darted into my mouth as he penetrated me to my very core.
I cried out, and he whispered something to me, something I didn’t hear over the sensations that threatened to consume me.
When he stilled, I had a small satisfied moment before it hit me. My body tensed as if it had a mind of its own, and for the first time in my life, I orgasmed during sex.
I clung to him as it washed through me. As it passed, he pulled away slowly, breathing a little faster than before.
“I hate to do this because I want to stay here curled around you, but I’ve got to run.”
“The glow has barely started,” I protested.
“I’ll make it up to you sweetheart,” he said, giving my cheek a kiss. “There’s still a duty I need to perform, recall.”
“Fine,” I said with a sarcastic sigh.
I watched him slip off the bed and begin to pull his clothing on, one article at a time.
“Weirdest foreplay ever, by the way,” he said.
“I think we’re just awkward and new at this.”
“I’m not new to sex. I’ve had plenty of sex. Just not the voluntary kind. We’ll figure it out.”
“Practice makes perfect,” I said with a smile.
“It does,” he said with a serious nod. Then he stopped as he bent to pick up his shirt. Straightening with the fabric in his hand, he frowned at me. “That means something besides what it means. I am familiar with your phrase but not how you are using it.”
“You should watch some television.”
“Too much to do,” he grumbled. “You will attempt to explain, later. I think someone else used it the same way before. I thought she was being sarcastic or critical.”
“It’s neither of those things,” I said with a shake of my head.
“Interesting,” he said as he slipped his shirt on. “Practice makes perfect.”
“You never expect sex to be perfect.”
“Well, now I’m just confused,” he said with a frown and a shake of his head. “But I still need to go.”
“Okay, try not to leave a mess that can be traced back to you.”
“That’s why they hire me,” he muttered.
“Just…” I sat up.
“You want me to bring you something?” he asked.
I frowned at him, not understanding. He winced, just barely.
“Another side effect you may not be going through. I must say, I’m relieved at that. What did you want to ask?”
“You’ve started to call me sweetheart.”
“It sometimes happens, with some mortals,” he said with a shrug. “Your blood began almost bitter. Caused by illness and all sorts of various reasons. The closer to the edge you came, the sweeter the flavour.”
“And that happens sometimes?” I asked.
“They, the older ones, they call it having a sweet heart, the slower it beats, the sweeter you taste. I could ask around if you’d like to know more.”
“So, that’s why you’re calling me sweetheart?”
“It’s also an appropriate term of endearment. I can’t say that I’ve ever met a mortal who, to me, meets the definition better.”
“That’s weird.”
“I know, most of what I do is. Behave, don’t tell the Council about what we’ve discussed. If you get hungry, tell Lucrecia. She’s got bottled Maker’s Blood for you. I wanted to make certain what happened to me didn’t happen to others, so there’s that.”
“How long will you be?”
“Only an hour or so. I just need to...purge.”
“Okay, be careful.”
We watched each other as if we were both uncertain if we should speak more. I wanted to. I wanted to throw out a million questions and draw him back to the bed. I wanted us to spend the night together, tangled in the blankets.
But I knew that couldn’t happen.
He seemed to nod, then he turned and left. I sat in the bed, feeling utterly rejected. A part of me couldn’t understand why he had left, where he would go that was more important than being there with me.
The rest of me understood.
Once Lu realized that his plan had been thwarted when they turned me, he’d come to finish the job. With his rage, he probably wouldn’t stop at my death or even that of the Council.
The city would become a battleground, and no one would be able to stop him.
Well, almost no one.
Hello?
You left the tablet.
Woops. Are you supposed to be calling me?
I dunno. It seems to be working fine. Lucrecia said you’ll be driving for a bit, can we talk about the vampire in the room?
You mean Wraith? Is Lucrecia there now?
Yes. You’re on speaker phone.
Lucrecia, get her some food. I’ll wait.
Is she doing it?
She is, she’s—is it a juice box? With a cartoon vampire bat on the side? Mr. Fedora, you are a twisted little man.
I thought the box might make the transition a little easier. Anyhow, let’s talk about Wraith then.
It’s been easy to hide, considering the mobility of most young vampires. We would slip away for decades at a time. Sometimes I would go with Sasha, then leave her somewhere along the way and be back before anyone knew that Death and Wraith were about.
Suffice to say, while Lucrecia’s methods of weaning can work, I cheated as often as I could.
I would be called
to serve and be given just enough of the blood to keep me active. Maker’s Blood isn’t just a drug that we take. It is a means of transference as well. There’s power in the blood, and that power can boost the strength of the Progeny.
He’d give me a bit of food, then the staff. By the time he put me to work, he had the staff as one item. The head of the tool was important, but he needed the staff. Something about the head made it impossible for him to grasp the head while projecting his image.
So, how?
I don’t know how he’s doing what he’s doing. That’s what I’ve got to figure out. The staff was made of that wood to deter others from trying to use the tool. He told me this story about the staff being turned into that weird flesh-eating tree. That he set the tool into the ground someplace in South America and it just sprouted a tree overnight.
You remember the story I told you of his finding me?
He had a scythe with him?
Yes, that was the tool. He set that tool on the wall in his home, on a shelf built just for it. I witnessed him praying to it and little clay figures on more than one occasion. The figures aren’t Summeric in nature, I don’t know where he picked up the ritual, but I’ve a good guess that it has something to do with Bau.
By the time I was seven, I knew the tool was dangerous for mortals. Several of the illnesses that came into the house began when someone traced a rancid smell back to the tool and attempted to clean it.
Didn’t you touch the tool, in your village?
I did, that probably should have been his first warning. Or perhaps he took it as such and was curious, maybe Wraith wielding the tool had been his plan from the moment he laid eyes on me.
After I was turned, another figure was added to his little family that he prayed to. One of the figures was split down the middle. Two heads joined by the waist. The new figure was the same way, except the figures were intertwined, holding hands even.
The one split was him: an expression of the duality he had felt since being turned. Perhaps he felt that way even as a mortal. Many like him disconnect from what they do to others. His way of disconnecting was to say that there was another being inside of him, one whom he fought with constantly.
Unlike the myth of the white and black wolf that I’ve heard attributed to Native Americans, both of Lu’s wolves are dark. Just different shades of black. Not even of greys, but black as the pits of hell and black as the darkest point in the night.
