Page 9 of Blood as Sweet as Roses

Crimson

Murad greets me with a slow clap as I enter my office. He’s sitting comfortably on the leather couch, his legs crossed.

“Well, you know how to put on a show, I’ll give you that,” he says with a tilt of his head. “Castrating Xavian’s second-eldest progeny in your first week.”

With a shrug, I reply, “It will grow back as he heals.” I cross to the cabinet at the back of the office to pour two glasses of blood. I chuckle as I think about it. “Eventually. His pride, however, may take a little longer to recover.”

The other vampire grins. “You’re a sadistic bitch, Crimson.”

“Thank you,” I reply curtly, handing him a glass as I join him on the couch.

My hand moves over the smooth, supple leather.

The last person to sit here was that breather, when she confessed Wayland’s plot to me.

I suppose I owe her a debt of gratitude.

The opportunity to humiliate my brother in front of the entire clan and further cement my authority was truly priceless.

Strategic, yes. But also deeply satisfying.

Murad and I clink our glasses together and I take a long sip.

Distilled blood is delicious, but it really doesn’t compare to drinking directly from the source.

I would have liked to celebrate my victory by enjoying the new donor, but she seemed quite shaken up after the whole situation and I insisted she go to bed.

Quite generous of me, I think. See, I’m not always the cruel villain I seem to be.

Or perhaps I just want to ensure she’s well-rested for what I have planned for her tomorrow night…

“Where are you, Crimson?” Murad asks, sipping his glass of blood.

“I’m simply savouring my triumph,” I reply. Then I cock an eyebrow playfully. “And the thought of Waylan, bound in silver, suffering miserably in a locked coffin in the dungeon, without his most prized possession.”

“Are you sure it was wise to keep him animated?” Murad asks, his expression becoming serious again. “He’ll be furious whenever you let him out.”

“Let him be furious. I don’t want to stake him just yet.”

Murad regards me thoughtfully. The moment stretches out between us, just a little too long. Finally, he speaks. “You aren’t like him, you know. You don’t have to be.”

He’s not referring to Waylan. I frown at the other vampire. “I know, Murad. And I don’t need you to tell me what I can and can’t be.”

“He’s gone, now. Don’t let yourself be haunted by his ghost.”

An uncomfortable pit lodges itself in my core, and my fingers tighten over my glass. I rise from the couch irritably. “I should go back to the celebration. Tonight is about my ascension. I plan to spend it with my clan.”

“As you wish,” Murad replies, but there’s a note in his tone that tells me he can see right through me. But before I can snap back at him, he rises as well. “Let me join you.”

We rejoin the party, which has grown to fill the hallways and most of the main floor of the mansion.

Our celebrations tend to intensify as the night progresses.

There’s a scantily-clad breather seated on top of one of the side tables in the hallway, his back up against an impressionist painting, his legs spread wide.

A vampire, one of our younger ones, stands before him, pressing him against the wall, her fangs deep in his chest as she drinks from him.

“Watch that Renoir,” I tell her curtly. “It’s one of my favourites.”

She quickly pulls her canines from him, and gives me an obedient nod. “Of course, Crimson! Sorry!”

“Do you really appreciate fine art?” Murad asks me, as we enter the lounge. “Or do you just enjoy throwing your weight around?”

I roll my eyes at him. “Why can’t it be both?”

If the hallway was rowdy, the lounge is an absolute riot.

The music has taken on a low, bass-heavy tone, dark and sensual.

There’s another breather seated on one of the standing tables, her light brown hair in a bun at the top of her head.

Three vampires are drinking from her at once: one at her neck, one at her wrist, and one at the artery in her thigh.

The look of transcendence on her face whets my appetite, and I start to regret sending that breather to bed early.

Now that her scent is in my head, it’s difficult to concentrate on anything else. I only had a small taste of her blood, but it was delectable. Blood from living humans all tastes different, like a signature scent. Her’s was subtle, floral, sweet…

If she hadn’t stopped me, I certainly would have enjoyed her thoroughly.

I picture her in my mind, recalling the gentle wave of her ink-black hair, the generous splash of beauty marks upon her pink cheeks, the softness of her brown eyes.

She has the sort of beauty that settles on you slowly, working its way into your bones, aging like a rare wine.

And there’s a natural submissiveness in her personality that’s undeniably…

tantalizing to someone like me. I wonder if she’s fully aware of it.

If she’s allowed herself to explore that side of herself.

And she’s never been bitten before…

Murad catches the eye of one of his favourite donors, who’s spread out enticingly upon one of the couches at the back of the lounge. He gives me a nod to indicate his leave, and disappears into the thick haze of the lounge.

As I circle, the unoccupied breathers arrange themselves eagerly in my line of sight, accentuating their throats and thighs temptingly. I can sense their heartbeats fluttering, their pulses pounding with a mix of desire and fear, the sweet smell of adrenaline evaporating from their skin.

I spot one of the newborn vampires, Thomas, laid out across a velvet couch.

He’s the last new vampire Xavian created before he was staked.

He has reddish-blond hair and his pink skin is still vibrant and lively.

It hasn’t yet taken on the telltale pallor of the undead.

There’s almost a flush across his cheeks as he kisses the woman beneath him, his hands traveling nervously across her body.

When he pulls away from her, I can see his irises are tinged red with bloodlust, his fangs arching over his lips.

He locks eyes with the woman below him, her long lashes fluttering. But he’s a new vampire, and he’s still getting used to his abilities. I can see him struggling a little to complete the glamour.

I hand my half-full glass to a nearby server, and I come up behind their couch. I lean over the couple, putting my hand on the back of the young vampire.

“Don’t force it,” I tell him firmly. “She’s willing, you only need to capture her with your spell. Try to relax, and imagine the space between your gaze and her’s.”

“Yes, sir,” he says. Then he meets her eyes again, but more softly now, more confidently. The woman sighs pleasurably as he glamours her, her pulse slowing slightly.

While she’s still clear-headed, I ask her directly. “What would you like him to do?”

“Oh,” she says breathlessly. “I…I’d like him to bite me.” Her cheeks deepen in a rich, dark pink and her heartbeat quickens. “And…more, if that’s all right.”

I look at Thomas. He nods, a little bashfully.

“You’d like him to fuck you?” I confirm with her.

“Oh, yes, please,” she sighs.

“He can make the spell enhance your sensitivity, if that’s something you would enjoy,” I tell her smoothly.

Her breathing becomes heavier. “I’d like that!”

I turn back to the young vampire, whose own eyes have become almost completely red with lust. I instruct him clearly.

He seems to be a quick study. “If you hone your desire while you glamour her, you can transfer some of it into your spell. Draw upon your own sensations, and it will increase her pleasure for as long as she’s glamoured.

The more skilled you become, the longer it will last and the more intense it will be. ”

“Yes, sir,” he says dutifully.

The woman leans back against the couch, pushing her curly hair back from her throat. The vampire crouches over her, looking at her tenderly as he pulls her into his glamour.

There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, a softness. He’s so young. This could be one of the first breathers he’s ever drank from. For a moment, I feel almost sentimental. I wonder if there was ever a time I felt such a way. Before the harshness and cruelty of the vampire world taught me to be hard.

A strange tug in my chest disturbs me. For just a moment, I want to shield this young vampire from that world. I want to be harsh and cruel, so that he can be soft and tender.

Is that what leadership is? Making the difficult decisions, living with the consequences of your unforgivable actions, so that the less powerful can remain pure and free?

I don’t wish to dwell upon it. I turn my attention back to Thomas, who’s now captured the woman in his spell.

“Can you sense her pulse?” I ask him.

“I think so,” he confirms, his brows narrowed in concentration.

“Don’t lose track of it,” I instruct. “Ensure you stop drinking from her before it becomes too weak. If you’re not sure, stop just in case. You wouldn’t want to drain such a beautiful source.”

“Of course, sir.”

He begins to look for a place at her throat. I bend over her, running my finger along her delicate veins. I’ve done it so many times, it’s easy for me to trace the river that runs under her skin.

“Be thoughtful where you tap her vein. She’ll gush most powerfully at her artery. You can sense it if you tune yourself into her heartbeat. See? Just there.”

“I see.” Thomas gives me a smile. “Thank you, my king.”

“Good boy,” I tell him, tapping him on the shoulder. “Enjoy, and take good care of her.”

“I will,” he promises.

I watch him puncture her tender throat with his fangs, carefully placing them at just the right spot.

He’s a quick study, and I’m proud of him.

He may not be my direct progeny, but I’d like him to think of me as his Creator.

If I’m going to maintain my position as the most powerful king on the eastern coast, I need a clan of vampires who are blindly loyal to me, and to me alone.

Fostering a sense of allegiance in them is important.

And if they’re strong and skilled, that only adds to my own power.

I scan the lounge. There are many young vampires here, the majority created by Xavian himself.

Most older vampires try not to create too many progeny.

It’s a time-consuming, difficult process that only works one out of every ten times.

And newborn vampires are tiresome to watch over.

It takes time to become accustomed to bloodlust and the attuned, sharp senses that come with being a vampire.

Many new vampires wreck havoc upon living humans, draining them out of excitement.

That sort of behaviour exposes all of us, and makes enemies of the nearby witch covens and shifter packs, not to mention the local non-magical government.

That’s why it’s important to teach newborns a sense of control, of respect for breathers so that we can maintain our food source.

Like tending to a garden, so that we may enjoy the roses for years to come.

But Xavian was known for making many new progeny, and forcing them to compete for resources. He allowed only the strongest and cruelest to survive. He culled his flock regularly. And relied on me to do his dirtiest work.

That disturbing tug in my chest returns.

I’m becoming too thoughtful, too lost in my own musings. Only a week of leadership, and already I’m becoming dangerously introspective.

I must stay grounded. I won’t let myself become like my Creator. I have to focus on what’s here, in front of me, tonight.

I catch a glimpse of a silky, smooth thigh.

And I allow myself to celebrate my victory.

To sanctify it with blood.