“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 toshield 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 avampire. 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.
CHAPTER 8: SHE WOULD BE PROUD OF YOU
Paige
When I wake, I wonder if it was all a horrible nightmare. A strange, twisted dream filled with flashing red eyes and gleaming, pointed teeth. With the sharp edge of fear and with…
