The Weblog of Victor Mason

This story takes place in 1773, in a rural part of of what will one day be eastern Germany. Shatzi means “treasure” in Deutsch, and is used often as a pet name for someone you hold affection for.
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It was night. The weather was warm since it was summer and the heat of the day lingered for a few hours after sunset. The temperature was just beginning to dip, marking the dawn as a few more hours off still but close enough that it was beginning to be an ever present thought in my mind.

We were about five kilometers out from the nest, at the bank of a stream that led to two very opposing routes. North, into a city, and south, towards the farmlands. I had no way of knowing precisely which way the girls would have chosen.

“Goddammit, where the fuck are they? Crazy whores.” I frowned and turned back to regard my companion, not caring if he saw my disapproval.

“Samuel…” He cut me short.

“Victor, just do your goddamned job and find the cunts before it gets much closer to sunrise. I want to have plenty of time with them.”

I regarded him somewhat more dispassionately this time. “Be silent, then, and let me concentrate.”

Samuel opened his mouth to object and I shot him a glare. He sneered in response but remained quiet. If Nathan had not insisted I needed to accompany him in the first place, I would never have granted my help in finding his runaway pet. The girl’s scent along with an unfamiliar one had trapsed through the nest and into the woods today. When Samuel realized he could not feel her close by though the fledgling blood tie he had established with her, he began raging at anyone within earshot about the laxity of our security, that a girl could walk out in broad daylight while we were all helpless in slumber.

Nathan had been less than pleased when I pointed out the second scent and came to the same conclusion I had. The pet had been rescued. It was a mercy that none of our nest was ashes.

But that did not stop Samuel from wanting blood and I honestly was not of a mind to object to whatever brand of justice he had in mind. It was his mistake that had led to this situation in the first place, taking that girl from the rural village that was far too close for such indulgences. But if the girls reached the city before we could reacquire them…

I pushed the thought aside and closed my eyes, emptying my mind save for one focus. Find the girl.

All immortals of my bloodline are gifted with supernaturally enhanced senses including strength and speed. The only reason I had been the one to first scent the second girl was merely because I was the first one to think to look for it. Aside from the fair laundry list of improvements to our mortal forms, each vampire was also granted one other, unique, personal gift when we became nocturnal creatures. Typically it would not manifest until we reached past our first century on this mortal coil and mine had been no different in that regard, but it was also a very interesting gift.

With my eyes closed, I reached out beyond the senses normally used for perceiving the world, looking for the strand of life that marked either Samuel’s pet or her savior. I had paused at varrying points while following their scent through the woods, to increasingly foul protests from Samuel, so that I could get a sense of what I was looking for with my gift should I have need to. After coming upon the stream, I was mentally patting myself on the back for the precaution because their scents had now vanished along with any tracks they might have left. The women were smarter than most and knew some woodslore for them to take the path they did. By walking on the shallow part of the riverbed, no foot prints were left on the stones and their all too human smells were washed away. Samuel and I had checked both sides of the stream for signs of their passing for nearly half a kilometer in either direction but found nothing. The girls remained on the river with a tenacity that meant they knew they were going to be followed.

And that made it doubly important to retrieve them. For the first time since the sun had set, I gave a silent nod of thanks to Nathan. Samuel would not have been able to find them from this point on his own. He had finally confessed to me that he had yet to give his pet any of his blood, meaning the bond was not in place to the point of allowing him to sense where she was beyond a general not here feeling. And we could not risk what the girls would tell either the farm folk to the south or the city populace in the north. Vampires were things of folktales but a still a believable reality if word ever spread. We would have to move our nest, at best, and at worst we would be hunted. It was the one rule of our society that we all embraced for the simple wisdom of it. No witnesses. Ever.

Curse Samuel for being a fool.

Admonishing myself once again for the momentary distraction, I finally quieted my mind enough to see the hues that represented the trails of any creature that had come this way in recent days. They were all faint, wavering, because the energy of the river distorted the traces. I sifted through them quickly, dismissing most since they were merely animals. A few more noteworthy subjects came to my attention, but I merely catalogued them away to menthion to Nathan later after this business was finished.

Finally, just as I was starting to feel the strain of employing my gift for an extended period, I found the two glowing trails I sought. My eyes shifted beneath my closed lids, following the paths in my mind. After a quick confirmation that the girls had not doubled back, I relaxed and my eyes snapped open, looking solidly in the direction they had fled.

“North.”

Samuel grunted but said not one word of appreciation. He had seen demonstration of my gift enough times to know that he could trust it. But I couldn’t resist the smirk that came to my lips as I considered the fact that I easily could have lied to him and led him south. If the situation were not critical, I might have given in to the temptation to embarrass him by not being able to find his pet. After all, if I could not find them, no one would have been able to, and that was certainty enough that no one would fault me.

But it was more important to keep the girls from rejoining their race than rubbing Samuel’s nose in his folly.

We set off to the north, moving swiftly and silently along the river as only two vampires can. Not one twig or blade of grass, not one stone, was bent or overturned under our feet as we moved. Vampires, the ones who did not closet themselves in cities, were naturally able to move through it the outdoors without touching or leaving evidence of our passage. Our only vice in that regard was the human blood we needed to survive. When it came to that, we could not help but touch…caress…consume…

A shiver passed over me as I considered the last time I had fed. Four days ago. A barmaid from the tavern in the rural village. She was as willing as any meal could be and I had enjoyed her brief company. No memory was left to her of the encounter and I had hidden my fang marks completely even despite them being in a discrete location, as was my habit. It had been a long time since I had felt a mortal die in my arms, from necessity only and not any pang of conscience. There was a fair number people to feed from in this area but our nest was rather large. A full dozen of us under one roof, with Sora as our mistress. Nathan served as her second, albeit begrudgingly at times. But it was a comfortable existence and I enjoyed the company of the nest after so many years of solitary living even if it meant going a bit longer between meals than I might otherwise have preferred.

Except for Samuel. Two centuries my senior, there was nothing we saw eye to eye on. I thought him a buffoon and he considered me the uptight prick. From the start we had been rivals of a sort. The foolish, younger vampires who looked to him for leadership were nearly as bad but there was little I could do other than bear them in silence. Nathan would intervene on my behalf when it was practical for him to do so, but Samuel was the same age as him and afforded only slight less respect than Nathan received as as second. Sora was kept ignorant of any skirmishes that happened between us because I did not want to seem the upstart and Samuel did not want to be seen as a threat to the hierarchy of the nest. It was a precarious balance we kept, and the only blight on an otherwise optimal home.

A grating voice jarred me from my thoughts again. “Victor, I swear to fucking god if you’re leading me on a goose chase…” This time I cut him off.

“Shut it, Samuel. You know I would never risk endangering the nest.”

My words were doubled edged and enough to cause Samuel to pull up short and whirl around, catching me by the throat before I could react. He lifted me from my feet as I glared down at him, glad for the fact that I had not needed to breathe in more than 150 years. “Listen to me you sack of bones,” he said, practically spitting each word, “You are nothing to me. I could leave you in this river, crushed under that boulder we passed not far back, and just tell precious Nathan that you suggested we split up to look for the girl. Even if he didn’t believe me there’d be nothing he could do because you’d be dust before anyone could come get you. And there wouldn’t even be a neat little pile for them to find since it would just get swept away in the stream.”

When I failed to react he merely got angrier. “Goddamn piece of…” He cut himself off this time, his head abruptly turning to the side. It took me a moment to realize why.

Sobs could be heard through the chill of the night air. The girls. We were close enough that they had heard us and no doubt they had been startled by our rather sudden appearance, enough for one of them to break into tears.

Samuel relaxed his grip suddenly and I fell to the ground, able to react quickly enough to maintain my footing and not go down in a heap but leaving me several paces behind him as he set off towards our prey.

Prey. Another shiver passed over me and I remembered again that I had not fed in some time. If I was fortunate, perhaps I could have a sip or two of the one who had rescued the pet. Samuel of course had claimed the other as his and would never acquiese to sharing her with me, but the rescuer…

I shook my head as Samuel came into view, towering over the frightened women. Hopefully I would be able to feed off of one of the other pets in the nest before going to ground tonight because I knew Samuel would never be generous enough to allow me to sample from the true source of his aggrivation.

And there they were. His pet huddled in a disheveled mass at his feet, cowering in abject terror at the sight of him. He liked his pets to remember him because it supposedly made their fear taste more vibrant. I was never one to prefer such flavoring so I had no way of knowing, but at the very least I could say that Samuel certainly knew how to inspire what he sought after.

Or so I thought.

Stepping closer, I realized the other woman was not cowering. In fact, she was defiantly standing her ground, a long branch from a nearby tree held tightly in a white-knuckled grip. I raised an eyebrow as I appraised her, my eyes taking in her slender, almost delicate body, her long blond hair, and stunning features. There was enough of a resemblance to the girl that was Samuel’s pet that I knew the two had to be related, either cousins or perhaps sisters.

A cloud shifted in the night sky and a beam of moonlight illuminated the darkness a few shades brighter, enough for me to notice her stormy, hazel eyes.

Before another thought could pass my mind, I found myself stepping forward beyond my own volition, “Samuel…”

He glanced back at me, features set in a cruel expression of ill-tempered amusement. “The little one thinks she’s safe with that stick pointed at me.”

The tone of his voice caused me to frown again. “Not here. We have to take them back to the nest. It will be dawn soon enough.”

“Damn the sun! I want to tear this bitch apart.”

Something in me forced my voice to calm rather than the barely contained anger I usually felt when Samuel was being unreasonable. “We are far too close to the city,” I said smoothly, “And it is the season for game. If the human huntsman find her body, we are undone.” When I was greeted by a moment of silence I ventured a few words more. “Sora’s command…”

Here he cut me off again, but his tone was marginally more restrained. “Don’t fucking quote at me, Victor. I know what the damn rules are, what Sora and Nathan said. I’m not an idiot.”

I refrained from commenting that the only time that phrase was ever uttered was typically to prove its invalidity.

He turned to look at me, this time without his fangs. “You get the whore. I’ll take my pet.” As he reached down to pick up the girl at his feet, the other moved to bring the branch down on Samuel’s head.

I was beside her in an instant, my fist wrapping surely around the upper part of the makeshift weapon and holding it firmly in place. She tried to yank it from my grasp only to have her palms slide over the wood, causing her to lose her balance and fall to the ground. Our eyes locked and for the first time since coming upon her I saw genuine fear reflecting back at me. It struck me as a bit of irony that she was scared of me and not Samuel.

She had been silent during the exchange Samuel and I had engaged. I did not know if that had been because she was too scared to speak or if she thought there might have been something gained from listening. In either case, it at least marked a fiber of her being as one that would fight even against the odds stacked against her. Even without being vampires, two men coming upon two women in the forest at night with no one close by would result in only one thing, so she was right to be fearful of us. But that would not help me get her back to the nest.

My voice was calm as I let my glamor stretch out to her, not breaking our eye contact. “You are safe,” I said gently, “I am going to take you home. You have no need to speak unless I request it of you. And you will follow my commands without question. Do you understand?”

Her voice was hollow and lacking inflection as she replied that she understood, but even so I could hear the slightly deeper, almost sultry, tenor it possessed. I hesitated for one brief moment, a nagging thought in the back of my mind that I could not quite bring myself to fully think.

“Victor, please don’t fucking tell me you need me to glamor her for you.”

Mentally shaking myself, I reached down and picked the girl up easily, slinging her over my shoulder in the same manner than Samuel had done with the other, bending her double at the waist, arms dangling in front of me and her legs behind. Without bothering to acknowledge his taunt we both set off toward the nest, moving much more swiftly than when we had been trying to locate the women, even with the minimal burden of carrying them added to the mix. The forest seemed to blur around us as we dodged through trees, ducking low hanging branches, jumping some of the bits of rougher terrain. It was an exhilarating feeling even after all these years, the sense of being master of the night, and I relished the silence just as much as the chance to run.

When we were only a few minutes from our destination, Samuel abruptly came to a halt, forcing me to do so as well. I wondered if he had caught sight of something I had not and began looking around us cautiously, considering if I should employee my gift again. But Samuel’s movement caught my attention to the exclusion of everything else and I watched while he deposited the body of his pet onto the ground without any gentleness. She flopped into a contorted position, for all intents and purposes asleep.

“Give her to me.” His hand extended towards the girl slung over my shoulder and it occurred to me that he had planned this. Being this close to the nest, it was only a few minutes to shelter from the sun but still far enough that any sounds, any screams, would not reach our brethren who would mostly be settling in for the day at this hour of the night.

I looked at him steadily. “We’re almost back at the nest. When we get there…”

“Sora and Nathan will decide to make her a pet because we need the food. One of them will force their blood into her to ensure her submission and she’ll eventually lose all that spirited free will she displayed earlier and be completely useless to what I want to do to her.” Samuel’s recitation of the girl’s fate caused me to blink, and not in regard to his objection to it. I wasn’t sure if I was more surprised that he would take the time to speak of it in rather pointed detail or at my reaction to hearing it.

Something about seeing this girl broken bothered me.

Samuel stepped closer, one hand closing around one of her wrists from where she hung over my shoulder. “I want to hear her scream before,” he grinned sadistically, “…if I take her back to the nest.”

He wasn’t looking at me since his eyes were fixed solely on the girl, but I felt myself tense. Something about my shift in posture caught his attention and his gaze raised to mine, flashing with anger and contempt. “I dare you to fucking try and stop me, Victor. I don’t give a shit what Sora and Nathan want. She’s caused me enough grief and I’m collecting my due. Now hand her over.”

When I didn’t move he yanked her wrist, thinking to pull her from my shoulder and overbalance me in the process. But I rolled my shoulder forward before he could dislocate her arm and she fell smoothly to the side rather than propelling us both towards him. Oddly, my gaze focused on her rather than the danger of Samuel as her body splayed onto the ground. The moment she connected to the unforgiving surface, time seemed to stretch around me into a second of silent debate. Samuel still held her wrist, causing her body to arch and her head to loll back, exposing her throat. Hunger was not what gripped me when my eyes focused on the beating pulse just below the surface but before I even had time to think through the repercussions of the impulse, I was crouched over on top of her, driving my fangs into her neck. It was such a seamless, sudden action that Samuel was completely unprepared for it. He shouted in protest as her blood coursed over my tongue and slid down my throat. I couldn’t resist the need to groan and that was what snapped me back to my conscious mind.

I lifted my head, not bothering to wipe the blood from my lips as I looked at Samuel defiantly. “Mine.”

His eyes went wide. For what seemed like an entire minute he couldn’t form a word in response. Then finally he let go of her wrist and snapped a blow at my head. Unprepared, I took the full force of it and found myself sprawled on the ground, a dizzy ringing in my ears from the impact of first his fist and the ground after.

Pushing myself up with my hands, his kick caught me in the side and propelled me into the air. My back slammed into a tree a few yards away and my body bent nearly double with the sudden halt to my unintended flight. As I fell towards the ground, my thoughts caught up with me and I attempted to relax so the impact wouldn’t be quite so jarring. But before that happened I felt a set of hands rough upon my clothes as Samuel grabbed me and slammed me back into the tree. This time my head connected after whipping backwards and I felt something snap in my chest. He pulled me off the tree and threw me again but this time I managed to catch hold of a branch in mid air. It snapped under the force, but it allowed me to right myself so rather than slamming into another tree, I was able to get my feet under me and skid to a stop, my toes digging into the earth.

But Samuel was faster and stronger than me. As a blur, he approached and I knew there was little I could do to stop him from pummeling me to death, or close to death, whichever he was more of the mind to indulge. It was not a gamble I was prepared to make.

My mind emptied without conscious thought as I directed my focus at Samuel, his energy, the raging aura that surrounded him, and I reached for it in a way I had never done before. My reactions were nothing more than instinct and I discovered a side to my gift I had never thought to employ.

When he was close he moved to grab hold of me once more and I pressed my hand forward, my palm connecting with his chest. He had just enough time to be aggravated that I would try to fight back and the expression on his face snapped my control. The energy that surrounded us lashed back at him, knocking him away with a force even greater than when he had been tossing me about. He tumbled through the air, yelling his rage and shock, until he connected with the thick trunk of a tree and had the air expelled from his lungs, silencing the shout. Dazed, when he finally raised his eyes to mine, I saw the telltale flicker of uncertainty wash over them.

Quicker than I could have expected, he darted forward again. But this time there was no attack. Instead, I watched as he stopped next to the body of his pet and picked her up once more. He did not even offer me a parting glare before disappearing into the night.

Like a gale of wind that abruptly cut out, the effort I had expended doing whatever it was I had done came crashing down on me. I faltered on my feet, collapsing down to my knees as exhaustion swept over me, lulling me towards sleep. Forcing myself to maintain consciousness, I shook my head in an attempt to clear it.

It was her whimper of pain that caught my attention enough not to pass out.

Her. Realization swept through me of what I had done. Claiming her as my pet, defying Samuel…

I groaned, sitting back on my heels as I pressed a hand against my head. I was a fool. The girl’s warrant had already been signed and her fate was well deserved. Now I also had to hope that Sora and Nathan could be made to understand, that I wanted to keep her rather than see her broken.

That thought echoed in my mind and I frowned again.

Samuel would find a way to kill her, that much was for certain. And I would not be able to oppose Sora or even Nathan if they wished for the girl’s head, tradition or not. The memory of her hazel eyes surfaced as though I was looking directly at her once more while she held her ground, branch in hand, without faltering or giving in to the fear of the unknown. And I also considered that she had risked herself, traveling through the forest and braving the perils it contained to mortals in order to find the girl she had wanted to rescue.

She shifted from the forest floor, raising herself to sitting and began looking around. I watched as she placed a hand to the side of her throat and was suddenly reminded of the taste of her blood on my tongue.

I was beside her in an instant, catching her eyes with mine and soothing her to calm once more. “No fears, treasure. I will look after you.”

The words were spoken without thought, intended merely to be a comfort to aid in capturing her in my glamor. But I was startled to realize I actually meant them.

Her blood spilled over her shoulder, staining the dress she wore. It was torn and filthy from her trek through the woods but it did nothing to detract from her beauty. I suddenly found myself contemplating a very odd notion, one that I had always thought I would give a great deal more care and consideration to carrying out.

My eyes focused on hers again and my doubts resolved themselves into nothing. I gathered her into my arms, smoothing her hair back from her face and studying her for another long moment. Her scent, the beat of her heart, the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed all seemed to imprint themselves onto me as I evaluated her. Then I bent my head, cradling her gently against me, and bit into her throat once more.

This time my draw was much more insistent. Her blood bathed my mouth, infusing me with warmth, renewing my strength, and clearing my mind entirely of the fog from the fight with Samuel. Still I drank, swallowing mouthful after mouthful. And I hoped the strength would be enough.

As her heartbeat began to flutter and I began to sense her growing cold and weak, I stopped. Pulling back enough to look into her eyes again, I found her looking back at me, a sense of curiosity on her expression that caused me to smile despite myself. “My dear, you now have a choice to make. Die, here, now, in my arms, or ask me to allow you to wake again.”

She looked at me, her curiosity turning to confusion.

“It will not hurt, I promise you. It is a gift I offer. But it is your choice, my treasure. You will die, or you will be mine.”

“I don’t want to die,” her voice was weak and barely above a whisper, but the words were crystal clear.

I met her eyes steadily, trying to impart the importance of this on her, even if it was at the last. Her heart grew weaker by the second and I knew I had precious little time to finish my task. “Will you stay with the living then? Will you stay with me?”

Recognition hit her, or at least that is how I interpreted the look she gave me in response. She was silent for long moments, her body cooling as I held her close and her breathing becoming more shallow. Finally, just when I thought she would let herself succumb, she spoke again. “Yes.”

Wasting no time now, I lifted my wrist to my mouth and tore a deep gash. I shifted myself over her and brought the wound to her lips, letting the first drops of blood she would ever taste spill onto them. “Drink, Shatzi. Drink and be free of worry. I will make certain you wake again.”

That was all the encouragement she needed. I felt the play of her mouth as her tongue moved to taste my blood from her lips, but then the proximity to my open wrist seemed catch her attention and I felt her mouth close over the wound.

The first time she drew from me my eyes clenched shut as a wave of euphoria and arousal slammed into me. She drank again and I forced myself to swallow past a need to exclaim my pleasure. Again, and again, she sucked and swallowed, and I felt my blood becoming part of her, taking hold of her, and making her mine.

I forced myself to stillness and silence even as she brought me to a powerful climax. My ecstacy was undiminshed until she stopped drinking and finally fell limp beneath me. Her breathing stopped and her eyes closed in the repose of what could have been sleep but what I knew was much more significant. Her heart beat twice more, weakly, pitifully, and then fell silent.

I smiled down at her, reaching to brush her hair back once more. “My child.”

It took me until close to sunrise to find a more suitable location to bury us both in the ground so Samuel would not know where I had hidden her, but I completed the task without complaint despite my exhaustion. Safe in the earth, with my arms wrapped securely around the girl, we both slept in peace. If I dreamed, they were untroubled by fear or doubt.

Hopefully that would continue to be the case tomorrow.

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3

That had been the end of May. It would take another month for things to become strained to the breaking point. The night Celeste demanded Peter to leave with her and he refused took place early in the second week of July. Frankly I was almost surprised it had taken that long.

And so we had separated from her, citing, publicly, that Flynn had been the source of unrest between us. Which he always had been to some extent. Even on the days that the assassin and I were not staring daggers at one another there was no love lost between us. The veranda incident was a clear-cut example of that. It also made Peter all the more determined to integrate his personalities, to eliminate the threat that Flynn posed by the fact that he could turn on a dime at the slightest provocation.

Lying in bed, Delilah soundly asleep as the sun crept over the horizon, I recalled the night Peter had actually performed the merge. Robin and I had been at his side, both worried for the outcome. Peter was certain that he would overcome Flynn and remain the dominant personality but his brother and I were still realistically cautious. Thankfully, when all was said and done, aside from a splitting headache and a desperate need for blood and… other things, Peter had been successful.

Although I think even Robin was taken aback at how swiftly Peter had me pinned to the couch and began stripping me bare before he had a chance to take two steps out of the room.

My hunter.

Shivering, I pushed the memory aside. That had been after the final split with Celeste, the one where she had walked out on both of us merely stating that she wished to keep the estate and the children, nothing about wanting me.

And it was that moment that I realized her attempts to win me back had been a farce. She’d written me that letter, a glowing, shining example, or so I thought, that she loved and appreciated me for who I was. My heart had opened up to her and I loved her again. I had truly believed that she wanted to work things through with me, that she loved me back.

But even when it became patently obvious that it had been a lie, I found I could not shut off my feelings for her. I had no idea why, and more often than not cursed myself for a fool.

I glanced at Delilah, again, remembering what it had felt like to indulge the fantasy that I had Celeste back. Continuing the fantasy, allowing myself to be swept up in the carnal aspect, the at least somewhat therapeutic relief, was very tempting. Conceivably I could maintain the habit indefinitely. Peter and I had discussed openly the potential that my relationship with Delilah would continue as it always had, and I was not hesitant in stating that if she expressed an interest in him I would not be opposed to my lover taking the opportunity. Delilah was very much a carnal creature, though I would never call her a vixen. She was a vampiress and that was the simple truth of it, and I know she’d never had any shortage of lovers through the years. In fact, I would almost be surprised if she did not show Peter some level of attention in that vein, considering some of her questions tonight had been decidedly on that level as she speculated just how good he was in bed to have me convinced that I should marry him.

I’m certain my grinning response was enough to tell her that she would just have to find out for herself.

So I considered the train of thought that I could use her for an outlet to my obsession with the jade-eyed vampiress I was still in love with. It would be easy. The more I thought about it, the more the idea appealed to me. I could sleep with Delilah as an outlet and no one had to be the wiser.

Except for me.

That thought echoed in my mind and I immediately felt almost nauseous.

Would it really solve anything? Would it make things better? No.

No, it would not. In fact, it would probably just extend my torture. Possibly even take it to new levels as I made my relationship with Delilah into a cheap imitation of the one I had shared with Celeste. Could I really do that? Could I use my Child that way?

And could I lie to Peter? Could I deceive him into thinking all was well when it clearly was not?

No. Everything within me, every cell of my body, every fiber of my being cried out in objection. I could not let let myself commit such a bold-faced act of betrayal. Even indulging it this one time had been bad enough.

With a bitter taste in my mouth, I looked at my unresolved issues with Celeste eye to eye and firmly said to myself, Never again.

The resolution coursed through me, healing over the open wounds and soothing the remaining pain and bitterness I harbored. My frustration diminished. My thoughts quieted. And I was finally able to drift to sleep.

_______________________

Now, looking back as I put this to paper, I can admit that since that night I have not felt a single temptation to reach out to Celeste. My phone no longer feels heavy in my palm when I think of her. My email window no longer tempts me to open a new message. And even before this, I had resolved to myself that if I was going to reach out even merely as an attempt to seek answers, it would be before the wedding or never at all.

It was now Thursday, October 1, the last night we would be in Vegas before heading to Lake Tahoe for the ceremony. I sat my desk chair with my email open, mouse hovering over the ‘compose mail’ link as the final test. I had to force myself to hold the mouse steady as I ran through everything in my mind, remembering the good times, the bad, and all the questions that were still unanswered.

But the reason I had to fight to hold the cursor still was because I immediately lost interest and wanted to slide the mouse away so I could do something else.

I held steady, asking myself in as many different ways as I could think of if I was certain. If there would be temptation in the future. Because it was now or never.

I smiled and finally let the mouse move away.

It was done.

I was still in love with her, but it was with the memory of her more than the woman herself. It made accepting the blood bond that still existed easier, putting that perspective on things. And I could live with that. I still believed she had loved me at some point and I know I had loved her as she was. The siren who had captured my heart.

And steered me to where I was today.

The computer finished turning off and the monitor shut down. I stepped away from the desk and paused in the doorway to flick the lights off in the room, not bothering to look back.

Never again.

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2

I stared at the spot she’d been standing in for long moments after she left. All these weeks, all the emotions I’d been allowing myself to admit to for the first time, and it apparently was only being met with suspicion. Just this morning in a conversation that had lasted nearly until sunrise, I had told Celeste that my feelings on the matter of entertaining others outside of the bed I shared with her and Peter had changed. And while I did not spell it out, it had altered because of how much I was falling in love with her.

My mind flashed back to another conversation that had taken place shortly after I had bedded one of the local mortals who previously kept the company of another vampire. It had been before Celeste and I had become lovers, before all this started. But I had already started to fall in love with her. And she had known it.

Celeste looked at me, her arms crossed across her body and hands holding the outside of her own arms. “I hope you can get rid of her when the time comes…”

She shook her head. “Now you know why I say I have no right. Don’t make it easier on me. I truly am sorry I said anything.” Her gaze softened, but I could tell it was forced. “Be, Victor. Be who you are. Be what you are. No more protests from my lips. Just be and enjoy. Truly I mean this.”

And that had been the last we’d spoken of the matter. After I had become Celeste’s lover, I had entertained a handful of other women in the earliest days, before we were publicly establishing our relationship. Most who knew us suspected, though it did not stop women from showing interest in me when we were out. But as my feelings for Celeste deepened I became aware of the fact that I did not wish to seduce my meals in that fashion. It had been quite some time since I had last done so, though I waited to admit this to her. We spent most of our nights together anyway so I assumed she would have recognized the change. This morning was the first time I went out of my way to tell her, and she had seemed genuinely surprised at it. But happy.

I had no idea what had changed in the past day to provoke her wanting to kill me.

Later, after returning from her hunt, Celeste confronted me in my room. She walked in holding a sword and handed it to hilt first me as I moved towards her. “This is not how I feel about you, amour. I swear it’s not.”

My anger had not yet dissipated and I still wanted answers from her. Wanted to know if the vixen I had lost my heart to realized what it meant for me to give it to her in the first place. I looked at the sword in my hand, tightening my fingers on the leather wrapped grip and then looked back up at her. “You never answered me.”

Celeste shook her head. “I didn’t. Because I don’t know. The intensity of your love, the openness of which you encompass us. I’m not used to this, not used to being given such a love and trust. This morning you said something that knocked me back ten feet, in a good way, and I went to sleep with a smile on my face. I woke with a sense of awe and sometime during the day, I turned frightened of such a declaration thinking there had to be more behind it.” She went silent, seemingly struggling to voice the next part of her thoughts. “I know this was not the way to solve anything, but it is my way. Now use that. I deserve it.”

I didn’t move. “I would like to know what in particular I said. What did I declare to you that knocked you back?” There had been other things discussed and I could not fathom how my telling her that I intended to stop pursuing the mortals who were interested in me could have provoked the level of murderous rage that had been in her earlier. And the words she’d issued about me being a snake who had slithered into their family were still ringing in my ears.

“The subject of your being intimate with others and if it bothered me or not.”

Looking at her, my head nodded slowly as I tried to grasp if she was telling me the truth or not. It quite simply did not make any sense to me. My eyes dropped back to the sword, looking it over and watching the glint of light play across the edge as I turned it slightly. “And what about that astonished you so much.”

“That you would consider my feelings over continuing it. I would never try and bridle you but that you would love me, or consider my feelings, well I suppose the voices wouldn’t let me believe it. They’ve been riding me hard all day.”

My eyes flicked up to hers as I processed what she’d just said, no hint of my thoughts showing on my face. She stood still, bearing my penetrating gaze without flinching but also without adding anything else to her explanation.

I did not appreciate my love of her being called into question.

Eyes dropping back to the blade, my voice took on an odd quality. Cold. Emotionless. Empty. “Do you want to know how easy it would be for me to use this? Let me tell you.” I raised my head, looking at her with a deadly edge to my gaze and my face an expressionless mask. “I would plunge this through your heart and twist it inside your body while staring into your eyes. As I pull it back out, my arm would catch you from falling but only so I could swipe a gaping hole in your neck. Your blood would drench over me and onto the ground but I wouldn’t even be tempted to taste it as your life seeped out of you. That done, I would take your body outside and lash it to a tree deep in the woods for the sun to finish off at dawn, knowing that you would be too weak to scream even if you’re lucky enough that the slash to your throat didn’t take out your vocal chords. And I would leave you there, no tears shed, no apology. No guilt.” I sighed softly, grip shifting on the hilt of the sword as I raised it and stepped closer to her, the point aimed straight for her heart. The raised eyebrow on my face served as the only hint that I expected a response. “Do you want to know why?”

Again, she didn’t move, didn’t speak, and it spurred my anger to even new heights. I sneered at her, looking at her with disgust. “Because this is how I existed for four centuries. No emotion. No caring. This is what I am at my core, what I fight against with every declaration of love to both you and Poet. You think this is an easy thing? Something I take lightly?” Rage seeped into my face and my actions, my arm tensing as I strained against impulse but unable to still it entirely as the blade pressed hard enough against her flesh to draw blood. “Who are you to wonder what it is right for me to think and feel, to worry that I might be changing myself too much or too little as I explore passions I’ve never even dreamed of? This simple answer is this: I answer to no one but myself. I know my own soul without a shred of doubt and I listen to it when I hear it whispering. For the first time ever I was also allowing myself to listen to my heart, and my life was starting to become a whole rather than a simple existence. You have no right to wonder if I do too much or too little as I learn to balance the conflict within me.” My eyes flashed in a haze of red, the exquisite sense of almost being beyond my own control like a drug dancing in my veins but I reigned it back. I never killed out of rage, or hate. Always with precision. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of provoking me into an emotional kill. And so I forced myself away from the edge, looking at her again with a slate mask and speaking in a calm voice. “Still nothing to say? Not even a goodbye? How about for Poet, if not for me? Surely you would want to bid farewell to him. It would only be fair, after all, to try and make him understand.”

That finally got a reaction. She stepped around the blade and I let her. Her shove knocked me back a few steps and her own mask broke, the anger on her features all too apparent. “Now hold on just a fucking minute. In case you missed it I was trying to tell you I made a mistake and was all but kneeling at your feet with apology and asking forgiveness. Offering up my own life to you but I can see I wasted my time. There is no forgiveness in you even when one realizes a mistake has been made. And what about Poet? Leaving?” She looked around as though wondering if she’d dropped into an alternate reality. “Now I’m the one who missed something. I do have some pride left and you just bumped into it. I won’t make this mistake again.”

I hissed at her, my mind flashing back to her own objection earlier. “Forgiveness? What a human concept.”

She nodded. “Yes, I suppose you are right. I’ve been wrong it would seem.”

Realizing she wasn’t biting, it occurred to me she was no longer looking for a fight. What happened tonight? My gaze was still cold as I regarded her. “Yes, It would seem that way. I still wonder, my Lady,” the title that I used to address her, always said with the love I possessed for her close to the surface, I hoped it would serve at least as some form of apology even as I finished the thought, asking, “why you set yourself as my opponent.”

Celeste never answered me.

Later, I spoke of the confrontation to Peter, who was none too happy to learn of what I’d said to her or my actions, but understanding the reason behind them.

When I got to the part, in my recounting, where I told her forgiveness was a human concept, Peter perked an eyebrow.

I nodded and explained, “It was a game at that point, brother. Merely that. I was proving a point to her, that I do not take well to being manipulated.”

“That she listens and does not flee before the point is proven,” he commented thoughtfully, nodding for me to continue.

The last line, asking her why she set herself as my opponent, was met with a nod of understanding from my lover. “That is what I constantly cannot understand myself.”

“Oh I know. Or suspect.” I nodded, my eyes distant. “She wants me to be the tempestuous lover. The one who fights with her but comes back with declarations of love but who she can feel free to question when the time suits her.”

Peter sighed, his gaze turning as distant as mine as a frown and a trace of sadness imprinted on his features. “Because that is what I have been.”

I looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “How you have been?”

He turned to look back at me. “I am the one she constantly calls to question when the time suits her as well. Everything you said about fighting with her and coming back with declarations of love…” His words trailed off.

My eyes closed, focusing inward as I sighed. “I love her, Poet. Gods help me, she owns a part of me and the sheer recklessness of it makes me delirious and giddy and I don’t know what the fuck else to even try and describe it as. I can’t explain it to you, what it means to feel such passion after four centuries.” My eyes opened to regard him. “I could have done it you know. Killed her. But I was lying when I said I wouldn’t feel anything over it.”

Watching him, he nodded and reached out to touch my shoulder. “I know. I understood it clear and plain as daylight on the horizon. Merely stating why I have agreed with the point you have been trying to prove. Loving her is not called into question.” He smiled softly. “We both love her completely.”

Tilting my head, I considered Peter’s words and a thought occurred to me. “I don’t think she doubted my love in this instance. She was balking at my suggestion that I could remove the nagging thorn of my lack of…well it wouldn’t be monogamy at this point.” I chuckled. “But removing the option of intimacy with others. It’s such an easy thing to argue about, and she didn’t like hearing I could change it.”

His eyebrow perked eyebrow in response. “Why would she wish to continue having such a thing to argue about if it could be changed. I am confused.”

I smiled wanly. “She wants to fight with me. If it can be over something actually legitimate that makes it better. Tonight was supposed to be an illegitimate argument. I turned the tables.” Nodding, I amended, “Actually, Flynn turned the tables.”

Peter gave me a solemn grin. “She wished a battle but not even the assassin can wage a war without a definition to the lines.” His voice caught and I looked at him curiously.

“Something else?”

He frowned. “As the assassin came to light within my consciousness, I began to realize why he has not been an outspoken presence in my psyche these days. And she will not like hearing this, dear Victor. I do not know how to state it to her.”

This time it was my hand raising to touch his shoulder as I replied, my voice soft but encouraging. “And what might that be, brother?”

His eyes met mine. “I am the assassin. I know that sounds like an obvious thing to state, but the one thing often keeping the line in place between him and me is that I have been unable to integrate into my immortality. To deal with the carnal pleasures and bloodlust I harbor as a vampire. I feared what I would become should I embrace it.” Peter swallowed hard and looked away. “But embrace it, I have, and there has been harmony within my psyche. And she will not like to hear this.”

I raised an eyebrow. “But Flynn still exists. You might be more a vampire, Poet, but that was still a different creature in the room tonight. I admit, I saw a lot of you in him, and I can see a lot of your vampire nature coming to the forefront the more time we interact. I don’t see why this is a bad thing, though, even if it is happening rapidly.”

Peter nodded. “Flynn does exist, but he exists in those fragments which have yet to attach themselves to my consciousness. And truth be known, I do not wish to be a splintered being any longer. Such is why I have embraced,” he motioned with his hand, “everything here. When I figured out I could be a vampire – even a decadent one – without losing my emotions and finding pleasure only in sadism… then I ran for that road as it is the reconciliation I have been craving. To love a woman,” he smiled at me, “to love a man. To share with those two beings the beauty of what we are. This is the balance I have sought for all this time.”

I smiled back at him. “But the balance is what matters. It’s so easy to tip.”

And there, our conversation trailed off, marking the end of that particular episode of unrest between the three of us.

But I did have to wonder if that was the beginning of the end for Celeste and I.

Pt. 4

Pt. 1

How do you save someone from themselves?

I clenched my eyes shut, forcing back the flood of emotion that threatened to spill out while I tried to relax against the bed, thinking of Celeste. I missed her. I wanted her. I was saddened that things had ended the way they had. And I wondered if I had made a mistake, if it was all my fault and that I had not tried hard enough, that I had given her some reason to doubt me.

But I am who and what I am.

Glancing over at Delilah, the image of Celeste superimposed over her once again. I knew I had let myself become swept up in my emotions earlier. In the regret. That was why I had indulged the fantasy.

And I also very desperately wanted it to last for more than a single night.

That thought inspired a frown. …Could I continue this path? I knew what contacting Celeste would lead to. More heartache. More doubt. And as I already stated it would destroy my relationship with Peter. But with Delilah, there was no risk of things becoming overly complicated, as long as I kept the truth from her. I did not want to confess to my blood bond with the raven-haired vampiress because I know my child would severely, and rightly so, question my sanity in allowing it to be established.

The best answer I had was that I had loved her and believed she loved me when we began forming it.

I lifted a hand, rubbing it over my face as though it would help clear my emotions away. That night when I’d resorted to passing out in a drunken stupor had been my darkest moment since parting from Celeste and my thoughts had not been entirely rational. Looking back even the next day, I confessed to myself that I still believed she had loved me at one point. I just could not for the life of me figure out when the love had ended.

It may have been the night that she accused me of being a serpent that slithered into their family.

_______________________

Celeste walked into the study where I had been working for the better part of the evening. I glanced up at her, away from the computer screen and pushed the seat back from the desk as I smiled at her. It very nearly froze on my lips as I noticed her measured step, the barely restrained tension in her body. What on earth…

She spoke before I could ask the question. “Excuse me? May I have a moment of your time?”

Her tone was overly sweet and I wondered if I had perhaps misjudged. “Of course.”

“I have an intense need to kill you. I was wondering if you’d take exception to that? Now, I’m sure we can bring you back, but for now… Would you mind?”

I felt as though she’d just slapped me. “What?”

She looked at me as though she wondered if I’d suddenly forgotten English. “What, what?”

Forcing myself to respond calmly, I said, “You do realize my kind don’t ‘come back’.”

“Really? That’s a hindrance then, isn’t it?”

My head nodded up and down slowly as I tried to sort out the purpose of her words, what might have provoked them. “Yes, I should say it would be.”

Celeste looked thoughtful, but not in a particularly considerate way. “Hmm, I might have to think this out a bit more. Because I sure was looking forward to the killing part. Hmm.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Can I at least know why you mean to kill me?”

“Well it’s like this… I’d tell ya, but then I’d have to kill ya.”

Silence stretched between us. I honestly could not think of anything to respond.

“Mason?”

Her use of my last name to address me caused me to blink. “Yes?”

“I need a good fight!”

This was the first time I detected any sort of genuine playfulness and it made me relax a few degrees. Sitting back in my chair, I gave her an amused look. “A good fight, love?”

“Yes, a good fight. Ever had a good, ole fashioned, knock down drag the fuck out fight?”

“It has been a while.”

“I have a rage building. I honestly need to kill something or at least have a fight for it.”

My eyebrow raised. “You’re suggesting a bit of a no-holds-barred see what we’re made of tussle?”

“Mason… is tussle even a word in the nosferatu dictionary?”

I laughed. “Only because I used it.”

She glared at me in response. “Ok. Fine. A no-holds-barred see what we’re made of…” Her voice lowered to a begrudging mumble. “…tussle.” Perking up slightly, she looked at me with no small amount of challenge in her eyes. “You in?”

My mind was already running down possible scenarios when Peter appeared at the doorway. Looking in and seeing both Celeste and I, he smiled and strolled into the room just as I was asking, “Weapons? What rules of engagement, if there are any?” I nodded to Celeste. “This is a yes, by the way.”

Peter’s confusion was quickly evident as he realized he had walked in on a less than normal conversation. I chuckled and nodded to him in greeting.

Celeste was not amused. “You are kidding, right?”

I looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “I was gauging your intent, love.”

“My intent is to kill somebody.”

The widening of Peter’s eyes was almost comical. “Kill somebody?”

Turning to look at him, Celeste answered, “I am pissed off at the world and need some relief. Got a problem with that?”

I answered, standing from my chair and covering for Peter’s stunned silence. “None at all.”

Celeste looked between the two of us, her tension rising quickly and spilling out into restless movement as she began to pace. I watched her warily and even Peter looked slightly nervous now. Pacing was usually a sign of the jaguar being close to the surface.

He spoke to her first. “Beloved…you say you wish something dead and somehow I am sensing we are not talking about draining a mortal…”

Her pacing quickened. “Nope, too easy.”

My phone chirped and despite the situation here I knew it was not a call I could put off. Frowning at the caller ID, I nodded to both Peter and Celeste. “A quick moment to myself, lovers. I’ll be back.” My finger was already on the ‘talk’ button even before I made it out the door. The conversation was not one that would be overly important despite the fact that the caller was, and I was long since used to dividing my attention successfully. So it was that I was listening in to the conversation now transpiring between Celeste and Peter while conducting the small piece of business down the hall a short ways.

I heard Peter’s voice. “Beloved? Is something the matter?”

“Yes, something’s wrong. I can’t put my finger on it, but something is wrong.”

“Something is wrong, you say? What precisely do you mean by that?”

Even if I hadn’t been listening in, I would have heard the next part. Celeste’s voice rang out with contempt and no small amount of anger. “Victor! It’s Victor.”

“What did he do, my love?”

This time her voice was indignant. “What the hell? Why would you step away like that?”

“Your anger is downright palpable and I am at a loss as to why our lover has made you angered.”

“So you step away from me. Is that how it is now?”

Peter’s tone altered. “Perhaps so. Perhaps not. I simply wish to know what the problem is.”

As I answered a question posed to me on the phone as Celeste responded, the venom of her words reaching well past the open doorway. “Is that how it is or isn’t it now? Hmm, that didn’t take long now did it…” Her sarcasm was cutting. “…beloved.”

A deep throated growl sounded in response. “If I had the foggiest notion of what you meant, then perhaps I could answer your question, but as it stands right now I have no clue as to what you mean. What did not take long?”

“There is something not right about this. Something, wrong. Something nagging at me about him. Do you think I like having these doubts? Or voices whispering that something is wrong without answers?”

“Then speak of this to those who love you. Do not resort to inflicting pain. Speak of your doubts and work through them with us.”

“Mortals.” The word came out with an razor edge of contempt. “That is for mortals, Peter. We are not mortals. We shed blood to work things out and sort through the body parts later.”

“And yet, we are not animals. Wild, untamed, and without bounds and limits… yes. But at our core we are human. We still possess the ability to think and reason.”

There was a hiss and a growl from Celeste. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Human? The ability to think and reason? I am an animal lest you forget, and if you’ve decided to become a pet then maybe….”

He cut her short. “Nobody calls me a a pet, Goddess. Not anybody. I stand where I am on my own terms, not because any being domesticates me.” My eyes widened and I suddenly found myself having to recover from a prolonged silence during my own conversation.

A malicious laugh sounded from the room. “Ah, Flynn. I wondered if you would come to his aid. You see, now here’s something I didn’t expect. For some reason I thought you would get a kick out of the fact that he’s actually trying to profess to being human. Was I wrong?”

There was a great deal of anger behind his next words. “I do not have to abide by his definitions to know what I am, or did we forget that I have never been the one with an identity crisis?” He hissed at her. “Human, yes. Mortal, no. There is a very pointed difference between the two.”

“You and I have never had a time where we really disagreed, Diablo. Do you want to start now? This whole argument was about Mason.”

I finished my phone conversation and clicked it shut, slipping the device back into my pocket as Flynn answered. “I know damn well what this argument was about.”

“Something isn’t right, Assassin. I don’t know what but mark my words. Something isn’t right. And tell me you don’t feel it in Peter.”

“What may or may not be off within the seer has little to do with anything. We are talking about you. What are you expecting me to tell you?” There was a short pause before he added, “What has gotten into you, I ask?” I raised an eyebrow, listening.

“Me! Me?” Celeste’s tone was full of indignation. “Nothing has gotten into me. I’m standing here telling you that something isn’t quite right with a vampire who has all but slithered his way into the family, our lives, and could very well destroy us and you look at me and ask, ‘what has gotten into me’?”

Anger flared within me, hearing those words. Up until then, between my distraction and being unable to figure out the cause behind Celeste’s actions towards me tonight, I had been willing to chalk this up to a simple spat brought on by the changes of the past week. Peter and I had become lovers just five days ago and although she had been more than accepting of it, encouraging even, things had become decidedly more strained between the three of us. But she had thus far been unwilling to admit to the source of the problem and I had been attributing it to petty jealousy that would no doubt sort itself out in time.

This was entirely unexpected. And I quickly recognized that there was no way it could be solely from jealousy.

Flynn’s response brought my attention back to the argument taking place. “And that is a block and a mask for what your true sentiments are. You assign him nefarious motives when in truth there is something else bothering you that has nothing to do with his motives. Have you forgotten that I am here, in the periphery? Tasting the same blood and observing the same actions. Would I allow myself this position I am currently in if I sensed an enemy at the gates?”

“Don’t fucking touch me, Assassin. There is nothing wrong with me. Something is wrong with him. Now back off.”

I didn’t know what to expect, but at this point I decided to step back into the room. Taking in the scene, noting that Flynn was practically breathing down her neck, my face was carefully expressionless as I regarded Celeste directly, what I could see of her past Flynn’s shoulder. “Perhaps you could ask me.”

She peered around him to look at me. “Consider yourself asked, Mason.”

My eyes locked on hers as I spoke in an even tone with no inflection to my voice. “There is nothing wrong with me, but I am curious what makes you think there is.”

Celeste stepped away from Flynn, moving towards the patio doors. “I could say go back to playing your games but then what good are games when the opponent figures out the moves of the other player?”

Flynn crossed his arms over his chest, looking at her. “What good is throwing veiled accusations, either? Goddess, again, I tell you I have stood here in the periphery. Do not confuse my silence for apathy.”

I nodded at Flynn, feeling an odd sense of camaraderie at his comment because it was the same question I often had in regard to Celeste. If there was something wrong, something I had done, she never confronted me and I always had to play guessing games. My response was directed to her. “What opponent have I been playing?”

She looked between the two of us, her expression one of disbelief and annoyance. “Enjoy your camaraderie. Nothing I have said has any merit here. I’m going to hunt.” And with that she was out the door.

Even Flynn winced.

Pt. 3 | Pt. 4

________
Content Warning :
The story below contains some sexual content.
________

Normally, the more things change the more they stay the same. In this instance, though, I had to admit to myself that something had most certainly altered, and in a way that I could not quite put my finger on.

My child and I enjoy a fairly typical relationship. I bed her on the occasions I have to see her and both of us find this to be a mutually agreeable arrangement. Despite the superior experience of having an immortal lover, vampires of my bloodline hardly ever sleep together outside of the rare single-night indulgence due to the bonds our blood exchanges create, and it takes entirely too much willpower to always resist the urge to bite. But no amount of exchanging could alter the maker-child bond, so it was that many of us readily assumed a carnal relationship both with our own makers and with any children we turned through the years. If our progeny did not have the natural compulsion to leave our sides, I’m certain more of us would create them solely to keep as lovers.

But on this occasion, for the first time in more than two centuries, I was hesitant to indulge in our standard behavior. There were several factors running through my mind as to the cause for my reluctance, first and foremost my relationship with Peter. Neither of us ever claimed to be monogamous, make no mistake. I have long since lost track of how many mortals we’ve seduced to take both for their body as well as blood, and just thinking of my lover’s fangs stained crimson from his latest victim, offering me the opportunity to taste the lingering flavor on his lips, causes a shiver to run up my spine. I enjoy watching him as much as he enjoys observing me in terms of the act of seduction, feeding, and fucking, or however we might be inspired to indulge ourselves on a given night.

Peter with a blade in his hand is an especially devilish sight because I well know what he is capable of with it, and I will never issue a single complaint when he is in a mood to indulge his darker desires. Seeing him comfortable with that part of himself, something not entirely possible prior to merging his personalities, I have to say my lover could stand to teach even me a few things.

Here and now, though, something tugged at my conscience. I had anticipated that Delilah would find it odd if our relationship suddenly changed though this was the first time we were seeing each other since I had fallen in love with Peter. And while it had taken me four centuries to entirely lose my heart to someone, my child had fallen in and out of love several times since her turning. She knew better than I how vampire relationships were usually approached and was no stranger to accepting that cornerstone of what we were.

Neither was I, but still something was different when it came to Peter and me, though I could not put more precise words to it.

The entirety of the reason behind contacting Delilah was to share the fact that not only had her maker fallen in love, but intended to marry the man who had captured his heart. That, at least, was one difference that I could readily admit to.

Needless to say, my child was shocked in more ways than one.

I told her the bare minimum of information to convince her that she should indulge in a longer visit to last for the two weeks remaining before the wedding. She was intrigued, and wanted to meet Peter, obviously, but also was eager to see me. This was perhaps the first time that I had ever contacted her for purely personal reasons.

All this I knew before venturing to the hotel room she had secured for the beginning part of her stay here in Las Vegas. I felt that I owed her the chance to speak to me alone, in person, because she had been my sole truly lasting and significant relationship in all my long life. I had never loved her and that was far from the reason I’d turned her, but I had come to rely on her over the years and she kept in contact with me of her own free will not merely out of loyalty. I held a great deal of affection for her and she for me, but that was the beginning and end of things. More importantly I trusted her.

So I accepted the offer to join her in private and told her of my life over the past few months, though I did neglect certain, gritty details. By the time the conversation was finished and she had run out of questions to ask, several hours had gone by but she recognized that I truly was in love with Peter and would not be deterred from my plans to marry him.

In all honesty, I had the distinct impression that she was mostly amused and genuinely happy for my sake.

But that did not change who my child was and how she was used to me behaving towards her.

At the end of our talk, I was sitting on the edge of the bed and she sat down next to me after a prolonged, but not uncomfortable silence. Knowing precisely what was on her mind without even having to ask, the air took on a different quality and I found myself suddenly fighting to keep my eyes off of her. I asked myself the question that had been plaguing me since arranging to see her again.

Did I want to do this?

Her touch across my chest, starting with a single, delicate finger and then blossoming until her palm was pressed over my silent heart sent jolts of desire through me. I well remembered what those delicate fingers could do.

“Delilah…” Strain was embodied in my voice.

She looked at me curiously but did not remove her hand. “Master?”

Now I looked at her. Eyes sliding over to her from the side and traversing the entity of her body, taking stock of the beautiful vampiress I found myself contemplating. As I focused on her lips, a burning need lanced through me. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. She took it as a queue to straddle my hips and settle herself onto my lap. My fangs came down and my hands went to her thighs as my chin tilted up towards her, very nearly capturing her mouth in a kiss but resiting from fully closing in on her as I warred in myself.

“Master, do I displease you?”

My eyes shot open, lids falling back half-way shut almost immediately as I looked at her with lust evident in my gaze. “Nein, Shatzi.”

“Then why won’t you touch me?” She asked softly, seductively, the movement of her lips a tantalizing play that I very desperately wanted to claim.

“I…” My voice caught. What could I tell her? That her maker was more tame than he claimed?

Her gaze shifted from seductive to arrogant. “You said you weren’t domesticated.”

I growled and my grip on her thighs tightened unconsciously, which was probably the response she’d wanted. “It’s not that.”

“Then what?” she looked at me with exasperation, and then smirked. “It’s not from a lack of desire,” she stated as her hips grinded forward and provoked me to hiss at the intimate contact.

Looking at her, I could not bring myself to tell her. I hadn’t been able to form the words from the moment I’d laid eyes on her again. The other, and currently more pressing reason behind my hesitation. The last vampiress I had slept with had been Celeste and the taste of her, the feel of her, still haunted me. I had once claimed I was addicted to her and the sad fact of the matter is that I still was. Even after all these months, all the trials she had put me through, I still wanted to drown in her arms.

As the silent admission rang in my thoughts, the view in my mind’s eye changed. This was no longer Delilah, no longer my immortal child sitting on my lap. It was Celeste, back in my arms, and desiring me as she had. I groaned and stared at crimson colored lips. I looked up into pools of jade. I warred with myself and lost.

One hand went to her hair, blond in reality but shimmering obsidian in my mind, and a growl rose in my chest while I grabbed her close and kissed her, the hand remaining on her thigh shifting around to her ass as I pulled her against me. She growled back at me and the shred of control I was scrambling to maintain evaporated completely.

Flipping her underneath me, I crushed her back into the bed. She moaned appreciatively and as she reached for my tie and slipped it from my collar, the simple wrap she wore was thrown aside without second thought. My hands skimmed over her body, taking in her curves, pausing at her breasts to pinch and pull before descending downward to her stomach, her hips, and finally delved between porcelain thighs, parting them as I cupped my hand around her womanhood. She was wet and ready and her scent flooded up to me, eliciting another groan that interrupted our kiss. My lips found her neck, her shoulder, moved down over her breasts, pausing just long enough to capture each nipple with my mouth before I journeyed further. Kissing across her stomach, lower, I finally found myself level with my goal while my fingers teased along the outside of her slit.

Motioning forward, my tongue darted out to lick at her clit. Her hips rose off the bed and prompted me to throw her legs over my shoulders before continuing my assault. Tongue, lips, fingers, my movements insistent until I felt her start to buck uncontrollably underneath me. The hand not exploring her slick folds slid up her hip to hold her in place as I drove her wild and was rewarded soon enough with a flood of her juices as I felt her core pulsing around my fingers. Eagerly lapping up her taste, I drew out her climax as long as possible and just as she was coming down from the high I turned my head and bit into her thigh. The taste of her blood mixed with the flavors already on my tongue caused my cock to ache with the need to be buried inside her.

Licking the wound closed, I quickly discarded my clothing, caring little for what ripped or tore as I climbed back up her body. I paused to tease at her breasts again, this time driving my fangs in at the edge of her nipple so I could suck both the sensitive flesh and her blood into my mouth. A few more licks and I found myself firmly over top of her, my hard length pressing against the inner curve of her hip as she shivered under me. I licked my lips, running my tongue over my fangs as I looked down at her.

I saw Delilah and almost had to stop, but the look of abject need etched on her features prompted me back into the moment.

Reaching down, I encouraged her to wrap her legs around me before taking hold and guiding myself to her opening. I closed my eyes, again envisioning the vixen below me and slammed myself forward, filling her in one, slick thrust.

The rest of the night was a haze. I don’t know how many times I fucked her, in what positions, or which of us bit each other the most times. All I knew was that by the end of it I was exhausted, my frustration spent, and as I collapsed back onto the bed and Delilah rested her head against my chest, I felt a wave of self-satisfaction that inspired a smug smile as I stroked her skin softly.

And the very next instant I had to choke back a sob.

Thankfully, Delilah took no notice of it, as wrapped as she was in a blanket of euphoria from my nearly manic love-making.

A short while later as she drifted to sleep, her on one side of the bed and me on the other, I felt no better than I had when she had first straddled my hips.

I found I couldn’t slumber as I realized I was finally face to face with a dark desire I had buried none too deeply. The bitter truth is always a hard thing to face and tonight was forcing me to stare at it eyeball to eyeball as my thoughts drifted to Celeste, this time not just out of carnal desire but also in regard to what I felt about her.

There was an night rather recently where I had become all too keenly aware of what place she still occupied in my life. Ever since Peter and I had separated from her, I’d made at least some point of keeping tabs on how she was faring. My motives were not entirely altruistic, I admit. I also wondered if she regretted what had happened, wondered if there was a piece of the puzzle I was missing because for the life of me I still could not figure out what precisely had gone wrong.

And then I found out she’d replaced us. Me, specifically. The similarities I thought I saw in her new beau were all but disturbing, and yet I also couldn’t help but feel that he was a pale shadow of myself, more a mockery and cheap imitation than anything else. Perhaps it was just my mind playing tricks on me.

But then I heard about a specific instance that I could not help but equate to a very personal memory all three of us, Celeste, Peter, and I, had shared.

And my heart shattered all over again.

I told Peter, naturally. And he winced but his true reaction was nearly unbridled anger at Celeste, not for his sake but for mine. I remember being glad that we were in Vegas, no where near her, though there was at least a brief discussion of wondering if the trip to our former home would be worth it to confront her.

Somehow I doubt greeting her with a blade and a bow would have done much in our favor other than at least making certain nothing like this could happen again.

Later that night, I faced the demons inside me. And as ashamed as I am to admit it, I lost the battle then, too.

_______________________

Sleep eluded me as I clung to him. The dull ache emanating from the center of my chest radiated outward to my limbs, making them shake if I didn’t consciously hold them still. It was a hollow roar that started in outrage and ended in self pity and loathing. And it was a inkblot stain on the otherwise peaceful soul that belonged to the man in my arms as much as it belonged to me.

But that stain, that wretched hollowness, and the drowning ache were hers.

How could I really explain this to him? Would he think less of me for knowing? Would his anger kindle again and provoke him to threaten her with her life?

How could I tell him that last night, even after she ripped open my chest and tore out my heart yet again, I did not think I could kill her? …Or watch her be killed? It’s not… not that I feel that way all of the time. There have been moments where I knew that I wanted her dead and would gladly have been the one to let the final arrow fly to pierce her callous heart without a second thought. But for what ever reason, here, tonight… I could not do it.

I confessed that to him. “Lover, I don’t know if I could watch you kill her.” Does he know why? Does he feel it through our bond? Dear gods, how can he love me, knowing? But I can’t speak the words aloud. I cannot. Will not. To do so would give her even more power over me than she already retains.

I feel her inside me.

The bond with Peter drowns it out, most days. And I keep the one between her and me shut down as possible. I do not wish her to know what I am feeling. And I wish like hell I did not know what she felt.

They say truth is a bitch. I think I might know her name.

But tonight I knew with utter certainly, unable to delude myself any longer, that she had never loved me.

Never.

Not even at the beginning.

I suppose I’ve been in denial. It’s been pretty fucking obvious. But I didn’t want to think that I’d bonded with her for false reasons. And in a way, I know I hadn’t. I had loved her even if she hadn’t loved me. I willingly bit her, drank from her, and in turn let her drink from me, knowing precisely what it would do to me. Bonding with her consciously every step of the way. Yes, part of it had been about pleasure. I cannot deny that, especially as I remember precisely what her fangs felt like in my throat, drinking deep enough and long enough to bring me to a blissful peak without her even having to lay a hand on me. And I remember another time, later, where it was just she and I wrapped in each others arms, the first time she taunted me with her body by tensing her muscles into a near vise-like grip and I had responded forcefully, our love-play turning from just that into an animistic battle for dominance between us culminating with her slicing into my chest with a claw for access to bite into the artery above my heart, while my only thought during the episode being that if she were to kill me I would die in ecstasy and hardly mind.

Gods I remember all too well.

Dark hours that I could not even confess to Peter. Recalling vividly her taste, her touch. Of looking at my phone or the window of my email and having to shut them down or walk away so that the temptation to reach out to her did not pull me under. I knew what would happen if I did. I would destroy the trust he and I had. I would probably not even get the answers I wanted from Celeste. And more likely than not, if she tempted me, I would tumble back into her bed yet again.

Those words I wrote, so many weeks ago…

Bend me, break me, shatter me, subject me, I choke on my pride as I cry out and beg for more.

I am a fool.

I was nothing to her. Nothing. Anything she would ever say otherwise would be a lie, would be poison slipping between crimson lips …and yet I know, despite everything, I would still capture her mouth with mine and drink of the venom like it was the nectar of the gods.

She makes me feel…

Sick.

Disgusted.

What was I doing? Thinking of her like this with Peter in my arms?

I look down at his face, features I could have sculpted into clay from memory alone, and I knew I was beholding something special. This man loved me. With this man, I had found meaning to my life that I didn’t know was missing or that I could even have. I wanted nothing more than to be with him, love him, have him love me in return as we share our lives together.

And yet I suddenly feel as though there is oil in my veins, making me feel filthy from the inside out. There had been a moment earlier where I had very nearly retrieved Peter’s blades so that I could slice open my wrists, my throat, whatever other major artery I could until I lost control of my hands, so that the corrosive, tainted feeling of having her flowing within my veins could bleed out of me.

I knew it did not work that way and yet still I was tempted to do it. Anything to get her out of me.

But then I realized that doing that… As much as this hurts me, as many times as I fluctuate like a pendulum swinging between the dual emotions of hate and its counterpart, I never want to leave Peter.

Is this really so great a burden to bear? Can I live with it, as I have been?

Or will there finally come a time where I succumb either extreme? Will I ever seek out the kiss of a blade to bleed myself or open the email to say…?

I don’t know.

All I know is that I am weary of having to be the strong one. Of resisting. Of understanding.

I want it done.

And yet not at the price it might cost.

I let go of Peter, slipping my arm out from beneath him and using the bond to send peace and tranquility even if they were very sparing in my economy at the moment. But it kept him from stirring and I rose from the bed without interrupting his rest.

It was after dawn but as tortured as I felt I had no desire to play with the rays of the sun again. I knew even blinding pain would not cure what ailed me.

Gods I wish there was a way to dampen it, just for a little while. Clearing my mind was next to impossible.

So what could I do?

I wandered through the house, looking into each room I passed as though seeking something, anything, to speak to me enough to distract me. But my instruments held no sway for me. My desk and the computer keyboard were far too tempting for other things.

Finally I ended up in the kitchen. It was never stocked with human food except on the rare occasions I would entertain mortal guests. But as my eyes caught on the glass tumblers I remembered that there was a small stock of alcohol in one of the otherwise empty cabinets.

I grabbed a glass and opened the cabinet in question, eying the various liquids with a small bit of trepidation. This is what humans did, yes? And thanks to Peter’s blood mingling with mine I knew I could consume them and feel their effects.

To hell with thinking.

I grabbed a bottle at random, not even bothering to read the label to puzzle out what it contained, and poured myself a glass. I raised it into the air in a mock-salute to the woman who owned a part of me like it was a piece of fucking real estate and threw back the contents in one swallow.

It burned just as badly as the first time I had ever done such a thing but as the sting left my throat I poured another glass and repeated the process.

And again.

And again.

At some point I stopped using the glass and switched to a different bottle.

Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4

• @BillsSlippers *grins* Somehow I have difficulty imagining being mean to a pair of slippers. But thank you again, Lady Bunny. *winks* in reply to BillsSlippers #
• @AmmerieRain *laughs* I do have to admit, that nickname is rather amusing. in reply to AmmerieRain #
• @poeticimmortal *hums, brushes my nose against yours and smiles* You inspire me in much the same way, these sentiments echoing between us. in reply to poeticimmortal #
• @AmmerieRain *chuckles* Shall I give you my permission to use it more often? in reply to AmmerieRain #
• @AmmerieRain Permission granted. *winks* in reply to AmmerieRain #
• "…restless tonight…it's nothing I planned…but you should be mine…" ♫ http://blip.fm/~d0pfv #
• @poeticimmortal *chuckles* Suffice that we are both amazing, lover. And I am very thankful for having you in my life. in reply to poeticimmortal #
• @BillsSlippers Rest well, Lady Bunny. Hopefully Bill hasn't worn you out too much. *winks* in reply to BillsSlippers #
• @AmmerieRain *grins broadly* Very practical of you. *winks* in reply to AmmerieRain #
• @poeticimmortal *grins* And I love you, my poet, with all I am and all I shall ever be. I'm yours. *kisses you* in reply to poeticimmortal #
• @poeticimmortal *hums, smiles, kisses you again, lingering for long moments and pulling away to touch my nose to yours* Forever, my poet. in reply to poeticimmortal #
• / ♫ http://blip.fm/~d0q82 #
• @poeticimmortal *raises an eyebrow, looking amused* It has been a thought in my mind for quite some time as well, lover. *grins* in reply to poeticimmortal #
• @poeticimmortal *smiles brightly, taking your hand in mine and twining our fingers together* I must admit, there is something about the -> in reply to poeticimmortal #
• @poeticimmortal idea of standing in front of you and the heavens and stating that I will never leave your side. in reply to poeticimmortal #
• @poeticimmortal *kisses you back, wrapping my other arm tight around you and pulling you close* {{…It will be my happiest day, lover…}} in reply to poeticimmortal #
• @poeticimmortal *feels the kiss deepen as my hands across your back* {{…I quite like the sound of that, lover…}} in reply to poeticimmortal #
• @poeticimmortal {{…and yet I can't seem to get enough of you…}}*fangs slipping down, my lips breaking from yours to kiss down your neck* in reply to poeticimmortal #
• @poeticimmortal {{..and I am yours, my intoxicating poet..}} *plunges my fangs into your throat, drinking from you…reaching for the shade* in reply to poeticimmortal #
• @poeticimmortal *locks the shade in place* in reply to poeticimmortal #

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There are a great number of reasons for me to look forward to Peter taking a shower, but today was different. As soon as I heard the water begin to run I had to tell myself sternly to be patient. My desk chair became unusually uncomfortable for the few long minutes I counted down to when I could be certain that Peter would not emerge, towel around his waist, water dripping from his hair down his neck, beads of moisture on his chest and shoulders, with a devilish grin on his lips asking me to join him.

As you might imagine, I can never bring myself to deny him.

Today, though, even with memories of those encounters playing through my mind, I hoped for a few moments to myself. The minutes dragged by and finally I allowed myself to push away from my desk, quickly leaving the study in favor of heading towards one of the less frequently visited rooms of the house that was used for little more than storage. As I rounded the corner in the hallway I couldn’t help but chuckle at myself and when I slid aside the closet door in the room a grin plastered onto my expression as soon as my eyes came to rest on the object inside. I’d had to leave specific instructions with Cole on when and where to put it in the house because I had not wanted my lover to have any notion that it was here.

I bowed at the waist to grasp the handle, fingers closing around the modern material and inspiring a reflection on the contrast that perhaps explained some of my obsession with such things as this. A present day casing for a small piece of history.

Picking it up easily, I stood and backed out of the closet, closing the door and leaving the room in favor of returning to the bedroom. The shower was still running so it would muffle the sounds of my movement to Peter’s vampire hearing, which was a secondary concern I had taken into account to stage the surprise.

Humming to myself, smiling broadly, I set the case on the bed. I debated for a short moment over leaving it closed but an old memory surfaced and made my decision for me. I recalled vividly the first time I opened such a case. Fingers skimming over the surface as though it was the skin of a lover. Becoming impatient at the tentative touches. Seeking out the locks, hearing the distinctive clicks as they opened. Latches swiftly flipped undone. Hesitating briefly, savoring the moment, and then putting forward the small amount of effort to raise the lid…

The water shut off and startled me out of my thoughts. I snatched my hand away from the case and ducked out of the room, knowing Peter most likely heard my footfalls as I returned to the study.

A thought occurred to me and I grinned again, changing my destination.

I made my way toward the piano as though something was propelling me there. Sitting down at the bench and sliding the protective wood panel off of the keys in a coordinated movement of long habit, my hands extended and my touch ghosted lightly over the ivory before settling into position. I drew in a long breath and let the silence of the room permeate my senses.

The first chord sang out bright and clear and was quickly followed by another, and another. Nodding to myself as I played,smiling, I waited for Peter to join me and tell me what he thought of his gift.

A Gift for Peter…

• @AmusingChaos *claps* Very well stated, Lady. I certainly hope that everyone takes a moment to step back and… http://post.ly/2eri #

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It has come to my attention in recent days that there is a heady amount of gossip in the "underbelly" of the twitter community surrounding a few things that involve me, personally. Normally I take a long step back and keep my nose out of things, but in this case I feel something needs to be addressed.

Before I begin into the reason behind this message, I would like to preface it by saying this: I have made quite a few friends during my time on twitter, both on the stream and off.  There are a select few that I speak with rather often behind the scenes, people I share things with about myself, from what brought me to twitter, why I created "Victor", where he's been, where he's going, and occasionally a tidbit about a storyline that I am working on, or some upcoming event that I have heard about from my fellow role-players. As I'm certain most of you have guessed, I am a rather private person behind the scenes, so I hope you appreciate my previous statement with that fact in mind.

I put quite a bit of value on those friendships, honestly. And I am thankful to have met such amazing people. I'm certain there are many of you that can name someone or several someones that you feel the same way about. For the most part I think the role player group we have here on twitter are people who simply enjoy being able to put on the face of a character that others love to watch. I am also well aware that we all have different comfort levels with what we share with other people, and I myself rarely speak my opinions or thoughts except when directly asked for. When I do share things, I make every effort to be very clear that I speak for myself and not with the intention to start gossip or rumors.

While I realize that I might be seen as a bit intimidating or even stand-offish, this, but this is simply because it is how I choose to portray my character. I enjoy the interaction with people here and it is not that I’m not a social person, but most of the time I am happy in my own little corner of the world so I don’t reach out beyond it all that often.

When I do reach out, it is done with a great deal of trust, so these things I am hearing through the grape-vine are felt very keenly as a betrayal of that trust. The sources of these rumors, these insinuations, are people who have very obviously written me off both as a character and as a person and the things they are saying are clearly being stated with a malicious intent.

I don’t expect everyone to like me. This is not a popularity contest. I do expect everyone to have some basic respect for the role-play community and trust everyone involved in it to be able to form their own opinions without inserting vindictive ascertations into the rumor-mill.

What bothers me is not even that there are rumors being circulated that call my character (and I mean that as the type of person that I am, not the person I portray on twitter) into question. That I can take with a grain of salt because there are always hard feelings when people part ways and if that is how the other person chooses to express their hurt that is up to them. No, it is the callous nature of what is being repeated as though it were fact that bothers me. If someone has a problem with me I would expect them to confront me directly like a rational, adult human being, not drag others into the cross-fire in an attempt to slander my reputation.

It boils down to this, ladies and gentlemen: ask yourself who is making these public and private attacks, and take them with a grain of salt.

I also promise you this: if I was truly flinging daggers there would be no question in your mind that the daggers found their mark. I am not the type to conduct underhanded or indirect attacks against people so if I was going to consider taking that type of action, it would be very, very clear.

Private matters should remain private between the aggrieved parties. There is no reason to take things to this level over a personal dispute. I trust that most people would agree with that whole-heartedly.

Posted via email from The Vampire, Victor Madden