Silence

by N. Isabelle Blanco

  Calamity begins outlining the plan to strengthen our cyber defenses, going as far as demanding a new round of recruits skilled in the field to add to the ranks. She’s midway through a breakdown of the new strategy when my brother cuts in.

  “This needs to become a joint tactical and cyber defense. Regardless of their dwindled numbers, they clearly still pose a threat,” the King comments, deep voice ringing out clearly. “Commander Obsidian has been fighting them since his late teens. No one here has as much experience as he does with them. Brother—” hazel eyes landing on my own from his lofty perch, my brother inclines his head in a show of respect “—we will need you and Calamity to join forces together against this new threat. We need a defense strategy set in place as soon as possible. Before the issue becomes dire.”

  nine

  T he doors to my brother’s study swing closed. “General of an entire department within our military?”

  Malachai spins in his chair, one leg propped casually on top of the other, and he doesn’t seem at all concerned about my mounting ire.

  Struggling for calm, I drop into the armchair in front of his desk.

  He simply returns my gaze with those calm, hazel irises. “She’s a genius at it. Helped take down four simultaneous attacks throughout multiple levels of our databases. War is war, Obsidian, even when fought in cyberspace.”

  Hence the four, brand new battle triumph tattoos that now adorn her once flawless skin.

  At my silence, Malachai exhales, as if preparing himself for my counterarguments. “Every heir to the throne must serve time in our military, participate in battle. Would you rather I send her off into one-on-one combat?”

  No, damn it. Hells no.

  Apparently reading the answer in my expression, he nods, that annoying, short, kingly nod that means he believes everything to be settled.

  “Malachai, tell me why—”

  The doors swing open. The scent of her barrels into the room, announcing her arrival.

  As if the way my heart jackhammers violently isn’t indication enough.

  I’m mentally dragged, kicking and screaming, to that night a week-and-a-half ago, where she’s in my arms, eating at my mouth. Where she’s needy and ready to feed me. To let me have her.

  Biting down, I prop my leg over my left one, much like my brother was just doing, trying desperately to hide what’s happening to me. I focus on my brother, on his unsuspecting face, and refuse to acknowledge the new presence in the study.

  Not even when she waltzes up to us, stopping next to the empty armchair to my right. “Father.” She nods at my brother and barely jerks her chin in my direction. “Uncle.”

  I ignore her greeting and return to addressing my brother. “Why would the Vlaqin want to keep us out of her medical files?”

  “You tried looking into them!” Calamity snaps, more of an accusation than a question.

  That tone brings my head swinging in her direction. She’s glaring at me with barely contained disgust right before she drops her tablet on her father’s desk and falls into the seat next to me.

  Wait a second . . . “The Vlaqin weren’t the ones that locked me out of there, were they?” I all but yell at my brother, straightening in my seat.

  “Obsidian—” my brother begins.

  “Why does he have the right to be so nosey?” Calamity interjects above him.

  “Nosey?” I whirl on the little brat, momentarily stunned by the way the filtered sunlight makes her profile glow.

  “Now hold on—”

  Again, my brother is interrupted as his chosen heir turns on me, leaning closer with narrowed black eyes that spit pure hellfire. “Yes, nosey. Want me to hack into your medical files?”

  “There’s nothing in there worth hiding!” I throw back in her face.

  “Both of you, enough!” Malachai slams his hand onto his desk hard enough to make it bounce off the floor. The sound of the impact reverberates throughout the now silent study. “I don’t know what’s gotten into the two of you lately, but it ends here. You’re family.”

  My lips almost peel back at that comment, baring my incisors.

  “You’re also going to work together on building as iron-clad of a cyber defense as possible.”

  “There is no such thing as an iron-clad cyber defense, father, which is why I asked for more recruits to begin training.”

  “What are you two hiding in her medical files?”

  Two pairs of incredulous eyes turn to me. “The Vlaqin are trying to infiltrate our databases, the repository of most of our knowledge, and this is what you’re worried about?” Malachai asks.

  “You give her unprecedented power, you give her unprecedented leeway, and now you’re also apparently hiding secrets about her.”

  Calamity’s face appears inches from mine, features twisted with fury. “You’re just an ancient, grumpy, incapable-of-adapting-to-change, nosey, controlling—”

  “Calamity!” Malachai flashes to his feet, pupils dilating as his own aggression rises to the fore. “Enough. Both of you. I will not ask again. I am king here and you both seem to have forgotten that.” His voice trembles with his growing anger, from the size of his enlarged fangs.

  My brother was never as quick to anger as I am, but when he does it can get ugly.

  Really ugly.

  I once had to pull him off an obliterated, mauled corpse in the middle of battle. The dead vampire male had insulted his then-fiancé Alessandra and that was that. By the time I got to Malachai, the body was barely recognizable.

  That isn’t the only reason I shut the fuck up. I love this kingdom, our family, what we managed to build in the last ten-thousand-years since our ancient ancestor decided to forge his own empire. The legend’s been nearly lost, distorted through time. There’s probably an original retelling deep in our archives, but the fact remains: we descended from him and his queen, and have managed to remain in power for ten-millennia through compromise, sacrifice, and a commitment to our laws.

  “I just need to fully understand what’s going on here in order to help, brother,” I say, attempting to soften my tone. “I always have before, so I’m confused why I’m being shut out now.”

  Calamity says nothing next to me.

  Malachai exhales a breath, centering himself. “Calamity’s medical records have been locked to everyone except me, her mother, and the medical team. We chose to do it for security reasons now that everything is on the cloud, as the human’s say,” he replies, but for some reason it doesn’t ring entirely true to me. “I’ll work on allowing you to get access, although you won’t see anything of note in there.” His gaze flickers away.

  The sensation in my gut is new and I don’t know how to handle it. Even worse is how it not only leaves me questioning him, but myself as well.

  Is he lying? Hiding something?

  Or am I the one assuming the worst simply because I’m on edge? Calamity’s words from earlier return with a vengeance. “You’re just an ancient, grumpy, incapable-of-adapting-to-change, nosey, controlling—” Pushing them back, I watch as my brother sits behind his desk once more. “Okay. Thank you. I’ll be waiting for access.”

  “While you’re at it, father, I would request access to his medical files as well.”

  That little . . . scowling, I curl my fingers into a fist, resisting the urge to look at her.

  My brother rubs the spot between his brows and I can tell he’s silently praying for patience with the two of us. “Calamity, why would you need them?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see her calm shrug—a creature very used to getting her way. “For the same reason he gets mine. Let’s just make it fair, shall we?”

  I want to remind her I’m not the wild thing acting in strange, unholy ways, nor am I the one an entire empire’s traditions and laws are being bent for, yet something holds me back.

  The fact that if they are hiding something, asking more questions isn’t going to lead to the answers I seek. All it’ll accomplish is ma
king them suspicious of me. “Give them to her. If we’re to work together so closely, there might as well be trust between the future queen and I.”

  “May I be excused now, father? I’ve left all the reports on the tablet.”

  Malachai lowers his hand, waving her away with a kind smile.

  Calamity stands to leave without another word.

  “Set up an encrypted line of communication between Obsidian and yourself. I want you both working together starting tomorrow.”

  “Yes, father.” And she waltzes through the doors without another word.

  My brother turns his amused glance my way. “I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, but get it sorted out. Will you?”

  That question hits me with a whirlwind of inappropriate thoughts.

  Even worse, the memories. The one’s where his adopted daughter is writhing in my arms, angry that I’m refusing her my blood.

  “Just get me that access and we’ll take it from there.” It’s all I can say considering my own fangs are once again overreacting to the mere thought of her. Bowing to him, I make my hasty exit and head back to my chambers.

  It might be time to start doing some hacking of my own.

  ten

  T he Băneasa forest stretches before me. Dense. Seemingly endless.

  Blinding.

  I can’t see more than a few hundred yards in each direction.

  Scowling, I resume my trek, flashing every hundred yards, covering the distance.

  Searching.

  Hunting.

  She’s here. I know she’s here.

  A jerk of my head. A voice in my mind that sounds exactly like my own warning me. No, Obsidian. Stop this foolishness. Do not let her control you like this.

  Control me? Her?

  Bullshit, I know who I’m stalking through this mutated version of the Băneasa. Beneath my booted feet, shriveled vines give way, and through the red mist I can make out the deadened shade of the grass.

  Dead. It’s all dead. Or in varying degrees of decomposition.

  Faster. You draw near her. My attention is once again yanked to the hunt, my body cutting through the forest in a blur. I shouldn’t be doing this; I should stop this madness.

  How could I not search her out? With how she wrecks a new piece of my life every day? Haunted. Tortured. Not a second’s reprieve from the hunger in her dark gaze.

  It follows me. My every waking moment, all of my dreams. I disperse my molecules faster, reforming every now and then to scent the air for signs of her.

  As if I have to. The call of her is too strong, even without adding her scent to it.

  The scenery around me begins to change in spurts as I reform. To my left, a vortex of black smoke. A voice hissing from the darkness. “You know what this all is. The answer is always before you.”

  To my right, a lone figure in the distance, what looks like a long, red veil, a tribal, glittering crown. For a second, I almost whirl in that direction, believing it to be Calamity, but my body refuses to listen to my commands.

  Another flash, this one farther than the others. As I solidify, bursts of tiny light come to life all throughout the forest, millions of blinding pin pricks—

  They’re gone just as quickly, and the smell of smoke overwhelms me.

  Candles.

  For the split second they were on, the true extent of the forest’s putrefaction had been bared to my advanced eyesight.

  My mind registers this even as I find myself back on the move.

  Extinguished candles and the rot of the dead plant life all around, yet all that matters is the twisted energy I sense coming off her . . .

  Want her lips again. Her fangs in me. And the worst part of all, the most sacrilegious to our familial connection. Need to be inside her. Make her take me so deep.

  Think, Obsidian! What’s happening? I’m not blind to the oddity of any of this. To the sick quality of what’s happening. To the panic of seeing the monstrosity this place has become.

  Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. Get to her. NOW.

  The forest is denser than ever, the fog nearly impenetrable, and still her scent reaches me, as powerful as a voice. “Come to me,” it whispers insidiously, “forget who we’re supposed to be to each other and take what is yours.”

  Heat. So much heat. So much fucking hunger. It’ll never go away until she’s flowing down my throat. Will never ease until I feel her falling apart around my cock.

  I push myself harder and harder, the desperation taking on a new bitter edge—

  Eyes opening, I feel my upper body shooting up into a seated position.

  Black blurs before me in the light. The glare of computer screens. The silver statue in the corner.

  My room.

  I move to swallow and hiss as my incisors slice across the inside of my lower lip. My own blood floods my mouth and my heart pounds in response.

  Beneath the covers, my dick throbs against my abs, moisture beading the tip.

  Her lips. As long as I live, I’ll never forget the feel of those lips.

  I need to. Need her out of my system. Need a stop to this before it shatters an already destabilized kingdom.

  Shaking, I lunge for the black, carved nightstand, reaching for the cigarettes within. One of the few mortal vices that can also cause us harm.

  But not in the same way as the humans. Whereas they run the risk of cancer, high-blood pressure, and other respiratory illnesses, the toxic chemicals in these things build up in our systems over time.

  Let it build up long enough, and a system-wide cellular shutdown commences. Like a human slowly being poisoned to death.

  Fuck it. They’re addictive to our kind, too.

  I spark the light and take a large pull of the cigarette, praying it’ll ease the roaring arousal thrumming beneath my skin. Each inhale is a noxious wave, capable of harming even an immortal like I.

  And it’s still not enough to drown out her presence in my cells. To drown out the misery of wanting what I can’t fucking have.

  Sonofabitch. The way she called to me in that dream.

  “Come to me. Forget who we’re supposed to be to each other and take what is yours.”

  It’s not that simple! Why doesn’t she accept that? Why must she torment me like this? She doesn’t understand. It’s no longer about keeping a kingdom intact . . .

  I don’t know how to control this new demon she’s awakened inside me.

  The ache in my dick is sheer brutality. I finish the cigarette and immediately reach for another. Giving into this right now won’t benefit me. At all. If I take care of the situation myself, the image of her will be there.

  If I head down to the harems to fuck anyone willing, the image of her will still fucking be there.

  Second cigarette down and I’m reaching for a third. Smoke tendrils rise before my face and disappear before making too much of an impact. My chambers are too vast, it would take at least six of us constantly smoking to fill up the space.

  Then again, the cigarettes are doing nothing to ease the black hole inside me. The scalding, dry hunger razing down my throat. Sticky moisture coats my lower abs, growing worse with each pulse.

  Nothing eases it. Nothing ever will until I either find a way to purge her from my system, or until I lose this battle and give in.

  Can’t. The repercussions aren’t just familial. We’re the fucking royal family, for the dark gods’ sake.

  By the fifth cigarette, not only is my mostly immortal heart pounding under the chemical onslaught, but from the frustrated arousal that shows no signs of abating. All it takes is closing my eyes for a few seconds and I’m lost.

  Lost in this desire.

  Lost in the vicious fantasies it calls forth.

  Suddenly, I’m transported from my chambers, no longer lying in my black, Victorian-inspired bed. I’m in the vast, cathedral-like throne room, standing before the king’s throne.

  And Calamity is there, the crown of queen upon her head. O
n her knees before me, naked except for that crown and her gauze-like, red veil. I’ve never seen her nude, but my mind has no trouble providing the curve of her breasts.

  The flat, solid planes of her stomach and waist as they taper down to her round hips.

  In my fantasies, her pussy is bare, glistening.

  Ready for my tongue.

  For a slight prick of my fangs.

  I’m vaguely aware I’ve lost myself again, that in the real world I’m leaning back against my black silk covers and I’m lightly running my fingers up the underside of my erection. In my fantasy, however, Calamity crawls closer and it’s her tongue teasing me with a feather-light touch that makes me cry out.

  She’s the queen in this vision. The ruler of this entire kingdom.

  And I’m grabbing her by that crown, the one that currently sits on her mother’s head. I’m bring her forward, forcing her to walk on her knees.

  With generations of my line depicted on the stained-glass windows around us, I slide my cock inside her, watching her lips stretch tight to accommodate my girth.

  Just like her pussy would.

  Her ass.

  The pleasure mutates something in me, forever changing me, yet it’s the image of me taking every hole on her that truly gets to me. I fuck her mouth in my fantasy, watching her gag around me. Watching those eyes flood entirely black with hunger. Her fangs grow to the point I can’t avoid them, grazing along me with every thrust, and I growl towards the ceiling from the sensation.

  She chokes on my length, throat milking me. Wet gushes of saliva leave her mouth in torrents, bathing both my dick and my balls, and on a snarl I’m fisting her veil, her hair, sending that crown tumbling off her head.

  I fuck that sweet mouth deeper, rougher, losing myself to the void.

  Fully aware that there’s no going back after this. I’ve already imagined it. Nearly felt it. My soul will never let the idea go now.

  My female. My queen, despite all odds. Mine to fuck like this. To desecrate.

  The orgasm slams into me out of nowhere, the force of it slapping me out of the fantasy.

  Chest curling inward, I shout into the emptiness of my chambers, my dick throbbing harder than it ever has before. Jets of cum shoot from me on powerful spurts that land all over my chest.