Page 19 of Blood Lovers (American Vampires #1)

She can take us both

“What is it, Lucia?” She has knocked on my office door and this alone is enough to annoy me. So I only half-look up from my papers when she props herself seductively against the frame.

“I just got a very interesting call from the North Star.”

I reluctantly meet her gaze. “Well, are you going to spit out what you have to say, or should we play guessing games?”

“Ryet’s there.”

“He is?” My tone immediately switches to something altogether lighter. Lucia does not miss this and she frowns. She has been jealous of Ryet since he was made. Why, I have no idea. It’s not like she and I ever had a thing. She’s a witch. Not even a Black witch at that. She wouldn’t be here if she was. I would’ve bled her dry centuries back.

Hmm. Now that I have a little think about that, I would’ve preferred it to end that way.

“And he brought a woman.”

“Did he?” Well, well, well. Syrsee, you are a little trollop, aren’t you? I had taken her for a prude, but even I am wrong at times. “What time did they arrive?”

“About thirty minutes ago.”

“Thank you, Lucia. Please, leave now.” I’m not mean to her. I’m actually quite polite. I like to be polite when I can. But she has known me long enough to understand that my politeness is just indifference.

So she scowls at me. “Well, what’s he doing there? And who is this woman? I thought you had him on a job?”

“Is any of this your business? No. It’s not. Get out of my office, Lucia. I don’t like to look at you. You’re not as pretty as you used to be.”

See how I was so polite? I insulted her, but then I followed it up with a compliment. She was once pretty. I can’t deny that. It’s just, in my opinion, she no longer is. Her face is the same, her body is the same—but her ugliness is on the inside and it leaks out.

Lucia is used to my dismissals. But still, she huffs as she turns. And when she pulls the door closed behind her, she slams it.

I push my fingertips into my temples, staving off a headache. Why did I ever bring her here with me?

No matter. And then the would-be headache disappears because she brought me good news.

The spa. It’s a twist in this story. All those plans between the Guild and me for how to get little Syrsee into White River at just the right time for Ryet to need her so acutely. Well, it would be an understatement to say that they paid off. But I don’t think the spa is really the best place for them right now. Too many humans around.

So I shall have to see to this, I suppose.

Ryet will be angry when I show up, but it’s his fault, isn’t it? He’s the one who left town. I put him there for a reason.

And he should know by now that everything I do has a reason.

The lavender haze finds me easily once I go looking. The dreamwalk is something I have been doing since I was an actual child. It made me quite special back in those days because I was the first to tap into this magic.

It also made me a target in the eyes of the other vampires in Old Europe. But I came through on top there, so I don’t dwell on that much. Back then there were no American vampires. My banishment to the Americas was meant to be a punishment. It was a wasteland back then. Literally. I’m not much of a history buff. Don’t much care about the past. But everything they teach the humans about the origins of America is patently false.

All this is beside the point. The point being I can dreamwalk like a champ. And since both Ryet and Syrsee are prone to walking the the hazy mist, this is a very convenient way to connect with them on a whim.

Ryet’s been doing the dreamwalk since he was made because he came from me, of course. And Syrsee did do it quite a bit when she was very young—less so after she went to the Guild school because every moment she stayed there, her energy was being blocked.

The Guild has always underestimated me. But I didn’t need her back then and… well, she was in good hands and turned out far better than I could’ve hoped.

I sigh, getting lost in the times that have led us here. She is so pretty. That dark hair of hers is gorgeous. Not really my type. I have always gravitated to the fair-haired ones. But Syrsee is everything her mother was, and so much more. And while I wasn’t happy about the breeding arrangement at first—my God, have I ever been so wrong about something in my whole life?

I am a fully satisfied vampire now. Breeding Syrsee’s mother was a brilliant move. And I am so lucky that Josep was banished from the Old World at the same time I was because without him we wouldn’t be here on the cusp of a new era.

Reluctantly, I have to admit that Lucia was necessary as well. She wasn’t such a bitch back then. Hundreds of years ago she was new, and na?ve, and compliant. Always hopeful that her obedience would lead to greater rewards.

But she’s been using me. I’m using her as well, but it’s not the same. It’s my right to use Lucia. It is not her right to use me back.

Still, if there were no Lucia there would be no Syrsee.

I love that name, too. I chose it. It was written in the birth contract. And all these years, as I was waiting for the girl to grow up, I clung to it with delicious anticipation.

And now here we are and I am on the verge of accomplishing the impossible.

Anyway, where was I?

Right. The whole point of all my internal musings was to celebrate the fact that both Syrsee and Ryet can dreamwalk with ease.

Ryet tries to be careful about it, hiding himself from me at every opportunity. But he’s not himself at the moment, is he?

So I walk right into the lavender and a moment later I am in the cabin, watching them fuck on the couch. Ryet is on top of Syrsee. She’s completely naked except for her bra, which has been pulled down in that way Ryet likes to do, to prop her tits up for sucking. He’s got his pants mostly on, but it’s not slowing him down. I get lost in his movements for a moment. He’s shirtless and the muscles on his lower back are fascinating. Hard, and taut, and the way the dent of his spine slips down inside his pants just turns me on for some reason.

He’s fucking her hard and then… then I realize that she is feeding him.

Oh, I nearly clap. But I don’t want to interrupt their tryst. It’s very erotic because he’s sucking on her neck.

How good that must taste. And she took my advice. Instead of those little drips and drops from her hand she is flooding his mouth with blood from her jugular.

Syrsee’s head has flopped to the side and her eyes are closed, but she is not passed out, just drunk on his blood lust—and probably his cock as well. I know she is not passed out because she is moaning and lifting her hips up to meet his thrusts.

He has his mouth sealed against her neck, but he must sense me, because he pulls back for a moment, pausing. Allowing the blood to slip down her chest, over her breasts, and on to his cock that is only halfway inside her now.

Ryet doesn’t acknowledge me. He can’t, really. Not like this. He’s not himself. Not even close. He’s just an animal right now. An animal with needs. Sex and blood.

Syrsee grabs his hair and pulls his mouth back down to her neck. And the moment that his teeth sink back into her flesh, and he takes that long draw of Black blood, she comes. Gripping his hair with tight fists, biting down on the firm, hard muscles of his shoulder.

I watch them as I slowly unbutton my shirt.

The dreamwalk is funny now that the grandma’s spell has been broken. It is so easy. I am here. They are here. If we touch each other, we feel each other. But I am not really here.

I love it. I absolutely love my life, and the magic, and the blood and sex, of course. But that goes without saying.

I throw my shirt aside and go to work on the pants. Once that’s done, and I’m completely naked, I walk over to them and take a seat next to Syrsee on the couch.

Her head flips in my direction. She came just moments ago, so she’s still a little drunk on it. Her eyes try their best to focus, but even if she knows who I am, she can’t articulate it. It is just as erotic to be drained by us as it is for us to drain her.

So she is feeling the very same thing that Ryet is. And all this is new to her, so she’s quite lost in her lust.

Ryet, on the other hand, is an old champ at dreamwalk sex. And he hates it when I come to him like this.

But he’s drinking Black blood right now. He’s not even here. It’s not him, just his animal form. But still, he sees me. And he’s just about to open his mouth and growl at me—perhaps even attack me—when I bite my lip and release my own blood.

We are kissing less than a moment later, his mouth on mine, him sucking on my lip as he fucks the little Black witch. I grab his hair—Syrsee lost her grip when she came, so it’s all mine now. And I pull him over into my lap so we can kiss and play a little easier.

And he is willing. Usually he’s always fighting me. Always trying to deny me. Always trying to deny himself.

But the Black blood makes all the difference. He loves me. Right now, I am his world.

I play with him and bite my lip, over and over. But Syrsee is feeling left out. She joins our kiss and then, before I can even think twice or question whether or not this is the most practical way forward, she’s drinking me too. Licking my lip. Sucking on it. And then she’s kissing me.

And when her blood mixes with my blood inside my mouth, I am… gone .

The next thing I know, she’s in my lap, Ryet is next to me, and we are both feeding off her neck. One of us on each side of her.

If she were any other Black witch, we could kill her this way. Easily. Within minutes. Because what we are doing right now—feeding on the same girl—is a little bit like the long drink.

But Syrsee is not any other Black witch. She is the one. And she can take us both.

Because not even the long drink can kill her now. Not after she tasted me.

Finally, after hundreds and hundreds of years of planning, and waiting, and failed attempts—Josep has gotten it right.

As my body fills up with her blood, I drift, only half-realizing that she has my cock in her hand. When I look at her, I see myself. Drunk on the sex, and the blood, and the lust.

She has no idea what she’s doing to me, or Ryet, or even herself.

But it’s not the time for explanations because she is throwing her head back, hands pumping up and down our cocks as we suck on her, and she is coming. Over and over again.

And I can’t help but wonder if I have died and gone to Heaven.

And it is in this drunken lust that I make a bad decision.

Isn’t that how they always happen? When you are drunk on evil things?

And my decision is to bite my wrist and put it up to her mouth. She is a creature of Hell and even though she never had the craving for blood the way a vampire does, once it’s offered in quantity, the hunger rears its ugly head and takes over like any other addiction.

She forgets who she is when she draws in my blood. Drips from my lip are one thing. Enough to turn her slutty, and wanting, and willing. But a small stream will do much more than that.

Suddenly Ryet is pushing her off me, pulling her into his lap, growling. “What are you doing? What the fuck are you doing?”

So he’s back. Well, it was nice while it lasted.

“Are you feeding her?”

I smile at him, then touch his face and look into his eyes as I croon, “Go to sleep now, Ryet. It’s just a dream. Nothing but a dream…”