by Bea Biddle
The door opened. "Good evening. How nice to see you again. Please do come inside." The welcome was formal and stiff, but there was a sense of welcoming warmth to it still.
Gaston nodded approvingly and stepped into the shadows, he waited for Karen to join him and held out his hand for her. "It's quite alright," he told her, ”You are my special guest tonight, jolie fille. Come with me.”
There was something telling her to stop, something telling her no. But as she locked eyes with him, the striking blue pierced her mind, the fanged grin oozed charm and ease, she felt herself taking his hand. And the darkness engulfed her as the door behind her closed.
Across from them, another door opened, bathing the room in a soft red glow. The music wrapped her in a cocoon of sensual overload. There were no more barriers between it and her, and Karen felt immediately enthralled by it, under its spell. It was the kind of music that pulsated in thick, heavy throbs, slid up the walls and under the curtains, seeped into every crack and crevice along the floor, making its way up the skirts of women and into the pants of men. The kind of slow, relentless beat, mimicking the steady thrust of pleasure. Building yet never changing. Karen shuddered, gasped as the full effect hit her.
Gaston's smile grew wider watching her. "Here," he whispered in her ear, "Let me take this off you." His coat slid from her shoulders and disappeared along with her jacket, she didn't care where to, the warmth of the place had snuck into her, she was nice and toasty. Like Gaston had promised. "Let's get you something to drink," Gaston whispered, his cold breath fanning her ear, and offered his arm to her again. She took it without question.
He guided her through the doors that closed behind them, and she found herself standing in the actual club. She felt all eyes on her, the center of attention as soon as she stepped inside. Perhaps only a few looked up to see the newcomers, but she felt their stares like knives piercing her skin and her throat constricted. Red and black. Everything bathed in that red light. Her eyes slowly adjusted, large bed sized leather sofas appeared, cluttered around high tables. No windows, obviously, and it was impossible to tell the color of the walls, or even where they were. Everything covered in that red light, everything smothered by the penetrating, deep beat that clouded her senses.
And Vamps. Vamps everywhere. Crawling over each other, writhing together, their kisses devouring, so fierce they made Karen desperate to look away. But she couldn't. They were Vamps. She was locked in place with extreme, twisted fascination. Their moans, their groans, mixed with the music so seamlessly her nerves felt like they were on fire. They were so beautiful, all of them, so disturbingly beautiful, their movements sensual and enticing.
Gaston placed his hand on the small of her back, the action made her jump, and led her into the room. He moved with confidence, Karen just stumbled along, trying desperately to keep from staring, keeping her eyes on her feet but it was impossible. They passed a scantily clad woman draped on one of the couches, lounging casually. She purred, a low sound from her throat, as her partner nibbled on her neck, following Karen with her eyes as she walked by. Her fangs glinted in the dimmed light when her lips parted in a lascivious smirk. Karen swallowed hard.
Gaston felt her tense and pulled her closer to him. “Let us get you something to drink, ma amie. It will help,” he drawled in her ear. Bottles of blood swam around her in the writhing crowd, changing hands easily, emptied and replaced. She was completely sober, yet the music, the atmosphere, the feel of the place made her drunk.
"I don't think- I- I should probably-" She was stuttering, unable to get the words out. She couldn't handle this. She was in way over her head. No matter where she looked, curious Vamps eyed her hungrily over their glasses of blood. Crawling over a partner or two, licking their exposed skin, their eyes still followed her. She felt uneasy, like prey. She needed to get out of here.
"It will relax you." His fingers caressed her cheek. In the warm, humid atmosphere his skin was even colder than she had originally felt. "I assure you, nothing bad will happen to you." With a devilish grin, he added, "Nothing that you do not wish, of course." That didn't make her feel better. She didn't know herself anymore. Surrounded by all these Vamps, their beauty and arousal rubbed off on her. This place was getting under her skin.
"Water," she breathed, "I need water."
Gaston laughed at her again. "I don't believe we have that on the menu." He walked her to the far end of the large room. She hadn't noticed the bar before, she had been too busy feasting her eyes on the endless supply of beautiful creatures. She felt like they were showing off for her sake only, highly erotic dancing for her eyes alone, and there was no way she could ignore it. She caught sight of a woman sitting on a couch near her, her eyes were shut tight, her mouth slightly open as she panted in pleasure. A Vamp nibbling on her neck, a tiny stream of blood trickled down her collarbone from her neck, the Vamp was quick to lick it back up. "He's drinking her blood," Karen exclaimed in surprise. "She's human?”
"Familiars are welcome at the club," Gaston explained, "In fact, encouraged. We like sharing."
Karen wasn't listening, she was watching in sick fascination as the Vamp ran his hands through the human's hair, almost lovingly, while suckling on her neck. The woman's eyes shot open and Karen saw them roll to the back of her head as she groaned loudly. Her hips bucked on the sofa, her fingers flexed on her skirt, curling around the fabric. She gasped and moaned, hissed loudly and bit her lip. She soon found out why. The Vamp's other hand had snaked itself up her thigh, under her skirt, and in between her legs. "Oh, wow," Karen breathed and quickly snapped her head away, "Ok, they're really doing that. They're really doing that out here in the open. Alright." She reached for the stool, wanting to sit down, but stumbled against it.
Gaston laughed loudly as he steadied her. "Easy," he drawled. His voice reverberating through her. Karen quickly found the stool again. "You really have never been to Vein before? How absolutely merveilleux. One would assume Sevenskins had taken you? But the Witch, no doubt, would not want you to go?" She forced herself to stare at the dark wooden counter, drumming her shaking fingers on the surface. She couldn't hear what he was saying, her mind was brimming with what she had just witnessed. She tried ignoring the human girl behind her, moaning as her Vamp no doubt brought her to heaven and back. "Here, drink this," Gaston placed a glass in front of her. It was impossible to determine the color, the red light and darkness obscuring it. But she could smell the wine and downed it in one large gulp. Then hissed at the sour taste. He ran his finger along the rim of his own glass as he studied her with a hungry expression.
"Actually, Sly said that..." She tried answering him, finally found the courage to try to face him. Her words died out as her eyes caught sight of a tall, beautiful man, his long hair loose around his shoulders. He stood leaning on the back of a couch, both hands with a firm grip on the leather. His shirt was completely unbuttoned, exposing his lean chest, and shrugged off his shoulders. A female Vamp ran her hands all over every bit of skin she could find. The man's breathing turned ragged as her lips joined, her tongue played games with his nipples. His zipper opened, her hand snaked its way inside. The man groaned, then rolled his head back. Karen watched wide-eyed as the Vamp opened her mouth, her fangs glinting in the light before they pierced the soft flesh on his throat. Karen couldn't look away, it was impossible. Damn these Vamps and their enthralling glamour, they kept her attention and would not let it go. Karen let out a sharp breath, the Vamp had pulled out the man's member completely, stroking it rhythmically. The man moaned and cocked his head to his side, giving her better access, blood smeared on her lips as she laughed through eating. "Do you enjoy what you see, ma belle?" Gaston asked her, his voice a million miles away but tearing through the haze of her conscience, clawing up her back and into her skull. "Do you wish to join?" The low rumbling of his tremor made her shudder. She felt him run his hand through her hair. When had he gotten so close?
"I- Uhm-" Karen heard herself mumble, she couldn't
focus on his words. Suddenly the heat in there was overpowering, washing over her in pleasant waves. The air was thick and sweet, exotic. It was prickling her skin, sliding up her legs and thighs. Gaston laughed melodiously, his handsome, smiling face her anchor. She could hear the panting, the breathless hissing and frenzied moaning in the club growing. She knew what was going on, she knew if she turned her head to look she would be stuck, she would be trapped by their glamour. The sound of the girl behind her crying out sharply as she came was the last straw. "Right. Ok, alright," Karen mumbled and shot up from the stool, nearly falling in the process. "Too much. Too much. I have to leave. I need- I need to go." She held on to the counter, trying to force her legs to work.
Gaston rose quickly, he was on his feet next to her in a heartbeat. She stumbled back from him. He followed. With a fierce grin on his face, he kept advancing on her, forcing her up against the wall before he stopped. "You promised to be my special guest, ma belle," he drawled as his fingers caressed her arms. "Do not leave me just yet. Stay. Alyssa's pet human will be a magnifique familiar to me." Laughingly, he continued, "Let me taste you, little Karen." His palms massaged her arms into submission and relaxation, pulling her against him roughly. He was still devastatingly handsome, but he had changed, he was no longer warm and inviting. He was harsh, a feral gleam in his eyes that had turned to stone. And he had turned so gradually that Karen didn't even know when it had happened. He licked his lips and ran his finger along her jaw. "As my familiar, ma chére, you will never want for anything. Your pleasure will be my priority. Whatever you desire, whatever you want me to do to you, you need only ask. All I ask for in return is your delicious blood. What do you want, petit bonbon?"
"I want you to leave me alone," Karen whispered.
Gaston's eyes held her still, his body pressed up against her, his hands on her hips, and she felt his laugh rumble through his body. "Oh, no, no, no, little one. You walked in here with me freely, surely you don't- what is this?" he asked as his hand graced something hard in her pajama pants.
Karen slapped her hand on her pocket. The Skarram. She had completely forgotten it. She had almost forgotten Cef. "No!" she yelled at him and pulled out the Skarram. She elbowed Gaston away, holding it out in front of her, threatening to cut into the grinning Vamp. "I am not your familiar!"
"Karen," he drawled at her. He stepped one step closer. Karen sliced through the air, and through his arm. It was a deep cut, the sharpness of the knife surprising her, but there was no blood. Gaston studied the gash, turning his arm around, it gaped open, but still no blood. He chuckled at her, muttered under his breath, "Humans." Shaking his head, he reached for her again.
She ducked under his arm and jumped past him, leaving him laughing at her as she ran through the room. She needed to get out of there, she needed to escape. Curious eyes watched her from the couches, but she didn't care. She needed to find the door. She felt her way along the wall, but nothing. The moans from the room grew louder, the blood pounding in her ears did as well. Her heart hammered in her chest. She could feel herself start to panic when she finally found a doorknob. She turned it and bolted through.
It wasn't the exit. Instead, she found herself in another room, a smaller room. The light more natural. What she saw in there was not. Vamps and humans, naked bodies writhing and crawling and slapping together on couches, on chairs, on the floor. Humans passed around as bottles, moaning and gasping, crying out in ecstasy as Vamps took them as they pleased, as Vamps drank from them as they pleased. Clothes were ripped apart, blood dripping on the floor, dripping down bodies that shuddered and convulsed with pleasure and cries of bliss. "Nope," Karen breathed and shook her head violently. "Nope. Still nope." She turned, going to run, determined to find the way out. But a Vamp blocked her way.
"Who do you belong to, little human?" she asked Karen. Her short blonde hair framed her heart-shaped face, full pouty lips and a little button nose wiggled. Her large green eyes sparkled with humor, widened with interest as she looked Karen up and down. She ran her hand through Karen's disheveled hair, but Karen jerked her head away with a sneer.
"I don't belong to anyone.”
"An unaccompanied human?" the Vamp laughed in surprise, "A fresh, unopened vessel just walking in here freely? How absolutely delicious."
"It's the waitress, Alyssa's pet human." Karen heard someone murmur in amusement. Several vampires laughed. A few stood by the blonde as she let her eyes rake up and down the fresh blood in front of her. They circled her, laughing and purring, circling their prey.
"How did Alyssa's human find her way in here?" another Vamp drawled by her ear and Karen scrambled away, pressing her back against the wall. A dark-eyed Vamp glared down at her while licking his lips, clearly taking great pleasure in her fear. The whole club closed in on her. Vamps got off the couched, untangled themselves elegantly from each other, prowling towards her. Leaving their blood bottles behind, leaving their familiars to groan in frustration at the lack of bodily contact.
"I want her," the blonde female from before stated, her eyes narrowed at Karen as she licked her lips. "I saw her first."
Karen held out the Skarram in front of her again, pointing in a panic at every Vamp she could find, especially the blonde one who now waited patiently for an opening. Her mind was muddled, she couldn't tell where the voices all came from. They hissed and groaned and argued casually among themselves. All wanting a piece of Alyssa's pet human. She swung the Skarram around in lazy strokes, hoping she would at least keep them back.
"She is mine," Gaston's steady voice cut through the crowd. "The blood is mine."
Karen almost dropped the blade out of pure shock. She hadn't heard him approach, hadn't heard him move through the others to get close to her. He was behind her and she had no idea how that had happened. The other vampires hissed angrily at him, exposing their fangs, their lips twisted in a snarl, bloody from their previous feeds. But they made no move to claim Karen for themselves, they made no move towards Gaston.
He pulled Karen close to him, pressing her back into his chest. She had no time to react, no time to fight. Her wrists were in his hand so fast she dropped the Skarram on the soft carpet. He kicked it away from them. His arm clamped down on hers, holding them tightly against her chest with inhuman strength. She couldn't move. His other hand was tangled in her hair and he twisted her head back. A sharp pain in the back of her neck shot through her at the action and she uttered a small cry that seemed to excite him. With her throat exposed, Gaston licked her skin tenderly. "We will have to do this the hard way then," he whispered, his words laced with anger, "I was going to ease you into it. I wasn't going to drink from you before you begged me to. I was going to be nice, ma belle." In a last desperate effort, Karen tried kicking him, but Gaston was too strong. He only laughed again and pressed her up against the wall, locking her legs with his. "Easy, mademoiselle. It will only hurt a little. I could hypnotize you, oui? You wouldn't feel a thing. But then again, I imagine I will prefer if you squirm. Do try to fight me, it will make your blood so much sweeter." Roughly, he pulled her head back further. She whimpered, feeling his sharp fangs caress her skin, scraping on her neck making their way to her throat.
Searching for the vein she could feel throbbing there.
Seventeen.
Shutting her eyes tightly, she waited for the moment those sharp fangs would pierce her skin. It never came.
"Enough!"
She barely heard the word. It almost didn't register through the throbbing beat, the Vamps' clear disapproval, and the loud pounding of her heart in her ears. But Gaston's teeth left her instantly, his body torn from her, no longer holding her prisoner. Instead, a hand, an iron grip around her arm, dragged her along, through the club, through the dangerous music, through the throng of Vamps hissing at the interruption.
Karen blinked furiously, feeling as if waking from a deep slumber, only to see an ice blonde man pulling her along. Black silk shirt and tight dress pants. "Sly?"
&nbs
p; He looked at her over his shoulder, for only a moment, before he roughly pulled her along again. It was no friendly expression, his eyes were hard, anger shone from them. "Get moving!"
She obeyed but had a hard time keeping up with the pace set by his long legs. Without knowing where they were going, her mind still cloudy, she let herself be dragged along. Through a heavy door, she stumbled and fell against a twisted staircase, her knees scraped against the rough metal. Sylvester growled in impatience and yanked her back up. She ended up panting and fighting to regain her breath as she scrambled after him.
Icy cold air hit her like a punch in the gut, painfully filling her lungs to their capacity as she inhaled deeply, spluttered and coughed. Feeling as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped on her head, she landed on all fours on the dirty ground, her hands and knees digging into muck and grime. She had woken up from a dream. That had to be it. Nothing had been real. How could it be?
She crawled a few paces forward, clearing her lungs, trying to dust the cobwebs from her brain. Her hand landed on something hard, a tip of a shoe, Sylvester's sharp, black dress shoes. She looked up at him.
With a scowl on his face, he stared daggers down at her. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?" he hissed. He stood bathed in moonlight, the cold, gray light a very welcoming change from the dark, humid, red, pulsating club underneath her. She could still feel it through the roof she was on. Roof. He had brought her up to the roof. She tried answering, but her throat was dry and she coughed instead. He pulled her up and forced her to stand. His cold fingertips digging into the soft flesh on her upper arms. "What the actual fuck were you thinking?" he roared at her, giving her a shake.
"I- I-" She didn't know what she had been thinking. She couldn't remember thinking at all. She was still a little hazy on the details of what had happened. Did she even remember stepping into the club? The more she dug in her mind, the clearer the images became. The fog was lifting. And she didn't like what she saw.
