Chapter 11

~~Julias~~

A sleeping Kindred is not really sleeping. Instead, they are nearly in torpor, an undead coma. When the sun disappears, they wake in an almost jarring pulse of energy from their dead body jamming vitae through their limbs. Older Kindred, like Julias, had long learned to rise with awareness and efficiency.

Younger Kindred like Beatrice rose with a startle, as if someone had injected adrenaline straight into their heart. They had fallen asleep together on his couch when dawn demanded they slumber, and when she awoke, she punched him with the sudden snap of a frightened animal.

“Ah! Triss!” He got up from the couch and rubbed at his jaw. Good, his new hand was there to rub the chin; it’d regrown over the night without issue. He was definitely hungry now though; regrowing a limb was no small thing.

“Shit! Julias, fuck...” The Nosferatu got up from the couch and walked toward him. “Hey, got your hand back.”

“Yes.” He took a moment to look himself up and down. Christ he was a mess, torn up suit and covered in Rebecca’s ashes.

Memories flooded him like acid. The fire. Rebecca. Viktor and Tony. Jack.

He stumbled back until he was forced to catch his weight against the counter behind him. “Fuck. Jack. I have to go look for him.”

“Right. Right.” Beatrice lowered her head and scratched at the back of her neck.

“Come on, I want you to come too.”

“What? Why?”

“Why not?” He had to find Jack. Kid was probably dead, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try his hardest to find him. “Speaking of whys. Why did you save me? Why did you follow me?” He threw questions at her, riding the anxiety of his situation.

“I ... because I was following the right hands cause Garry told me to.” She didn’t look up, but instead hooked her fingers together and shuffled her feet.

“And saving me?”

“Because!” She looked up at him this time, and her eyes were angry, frustrated, and a little sad too.

He looked at her, opened his mouth to say something, and stopped. Not the time, definitely not the time. “Just ... I could use your help. Please?”

“Alright. Yeah, let’s go. Got any Mehket friends to help with this?”

“There are plenty in the Invictus, but this is heavy shit. We need to be discrete, and I’d only trust Natasha with that. We don’t have time to get her though, we need to get going.” He moved and talked, threw off his suit jacket and threw on a coat to cover the mess of his clothes.

“Julias, I know you have to find your childe, but slow down and think this through. There was a massive fire there less than twenty-four-hours ago. It’ll be crawling with kine and you know the Carthians and Invictus will already have ghouls investigating. Someone will f-”

“It doesn’t matter! I have to look, I have to look!” He yelled the words. He didn’t mean to, but his voice just came out with enough volume that the Nosferatu almost jumped back. A touch of guilt quickly passed; the only thought in his mind was Jack. It was pulling at him. Blood inside was pulling at him, making him move, forcing him to go faster. He’d heard of the bond between childe and sire, but he had no idea, no idea at all.

He swung his door open, and stopped dead.

A tall, thin man was standing in the hallway, with an unassuming, passive face, complete with glasses befitting a Languages professor. He had one hand in his trench coat, and the other was reaching out to knock on his door; Julias had opened the door just before he had managed to. Whoever he was, the man had gotten in without being buzzed in.

When realization kicked in, Julias’s inner-beast almost screamed in shock before it started to whimper silently, terrified. It took all Julias’s will to not jump back in fright. The sheriff was at his door.

“Julias? What’re you – oh shit!” Beatrice held no such reservations, and jumped back hard enough to knock over his living room table. The sheriff managed a small glance at her, but Julias dared not look back to see what else she’d broken.

“ ... Mister Mire.” The sheriff, Daniel, pulled back his hand to adjust his glasses before slipping it into his coat. “And Beatrice.” He gave them both a small nod.

The sheriff of Dolareido was giving them nods, like this were regular happenstance. It was most definitely not regular happenstance.

“ ... Sheriff,” Julias said.

“Mister Terry is safe. He and the Prince are enjoying the evening together. He will be returned to you soon. Before dawn, maybe.” With that, the sheriff gave another nod, and turned around.

And then Julias’s hand was on his shoulder and turning him back to face him. He heard a gasp come from behind him, Beatrice, and even he realized what he just did was insanely stupid. But whatever the fuck was pulling at him did not care.

“He’s ... alive? And with the Prince? Why the Prince and not with his sire!”

Daniel barely reacted. He didn’t smile, didn’t frown, didn’t even brush Julias’s hand away. The sheriff, most powerful Mehket in the whole damn city and one of the only two Ordo Dracul in it, just looked back at him through his glasses.

“I suggest asking Mister Terry when you see him next. May I go?”

Julias’s hand twitched. Part of him wanted to throw the sheriff around, but he forced himself to let go. The fuck could he do to the sheriff anyway? “ ... thank you.”

“Good day, Mister Mire.” The sheriff gave him a small nod, and left with his hands in his pockets and movements so casual it seemed unreal. He pressed the button for the elevator and waited for it, didn’t even glance Julias’s way, until the door parted and he disappeared inside.

Julias slowly closed the apartment door, and turned around. Beatrice was standing by the counter, one of his stools knocked over by her feet, and her crocodile-teeth mouth was hanging open. Even the Ventrue’s mouth was parted in shock.

“Jack and the Prince? Jack, little itty bitty Jack, and tall, deadly Antoinette ... enjoying the evening?” Beatrice said.

“ ... yeah.” What the fuck have you gotten yourself into now, kid? “Um, yeah.” Julias reached up, ran his fingers through his hair, and eased himself down onto the arm of his couch. When he looked out the huge window of his living room, he could just barely see the Prince’s grand tower, in the center of her Elysium in the distance, with the lights of a building that never slept.

“Yeah? That’s it, yeah? Details man, details!” The Nosferatu had her claws against her lips like they were sharing juicy gossip.

“ ... The Prince and Jack are apparently ... dating.”

Beatrice collapsed. For a split moment, he thought she’d gone into shock, but the feisty woman was rolling on the floor, laughing like a hyena, claws reaching out to hold onto something while her body shook.

“Hey, come on. This isn’t funny.”

“Fuck yes it is!” She would have started to struggle breathing, if she were kine, but a Kindred could laugh ad nauseam.

“Well, at least the kid is alright, and far as I know from what he’s told me, Jack and the Prince are pretty close.”

“Friends in high places, man! Ah this is great. I’ll have to ask him for details myself.” The Nosferatu got up with a bounce, and sat down on the couch. To his surprise, she reached out, and pulled him off the couch arm to sit down next to her. “The fuck you still look so sad for?”

“Do I?” He reached up and touched the corner of his lip. “Just Jack, I guess, getting into such dangerous things so quickly. I may have really screwed up that kid’s life.”

“Come on!” She punched him in the arm. Always with the hitting. “Jack’s alive, good thing. Rebecca’s dead, fucking good thing.”

“ ... and there’s this thing with my girlfriend. I didn’t realize how much I scared her when I used my abilities on her friend, and I couldn’t figure out how to apologize because of how complicated the situation is. And all I really want to do is let her know I’d never betray her trust, but I have no way to prove it.”

The words sort of just fell out, some shitty, poetic confession, like a juvenile Daeva. He hadn’t really meant to say them, but now that he had, he raised his eyes and watched Beatrice’s.

It was her turn to look sad.

“Fucking hell Julias. I tore you up, and you’re the one apologizing.” Still looking away, she slid across the couch, and put her head against his shoulder. “Just ... you were right, ok? I was using that excuse to cover up typical drama bullshit. Can we just ... forget it? I trust you, alright? I mean, you were actually going to let Rebecca go cause she played the damsel in distress for just a second.”

He frowned. “Is that why you saved me?”

“I was on the fence about it, when watching you two fight.” She lightly dragged her claws up and down his arm. “But, seeing you stop fighting just cause ... yeah. You’re too damn soft, Julias.” To his surprise, she buried her face in his shoulder, and hugged his arm against her.

He could hardly believe what he was seeing, when looking down at the warrior woman holding him. She looked so gentle, caring even, and she continued to hold and pull and nudge into him with her forehead.

“ ... thank you,” he said.

“ ... you’re welcome.”

Awkward silence.

“I, um...” He blinked a few times and tripped over the words on his tongue. “I know I said som-”

“I said forget it. I don’t want to dig up buried shit just so we can let out our feelings.” She raised her head again, and he found himself shocked yet again. The Nosferatu was grinning at him. “I like you a lot, and you’re my boyfriend. That’s that.”

What happened to Beatrice? Did seeing him get his ass kicked in by Rebecca affect her that much? There was that moment, that one stupid moment, where the Daeva had asked for mercy; he froze then. Triss seeing that he really was such a stupid, stupid man was apparently a great thing.

He chuckled. “Oh so you’re agreeing with my terms then?”

“Yes.”

She gave him another punch in the arm, and just when he was going to let out a yelp, she grabbed his face and kissed him. Before he knew what she was up to, she’d already slipped onto his lap, straddling him, and was holding him by the back of his neck and head with her claws.

“Are you su-”

“Fucking course I’m sure.” Her lips found his again, and with a sinister chuckle of her own, she rubbed some of her giant crocodile fangs within her cheek against his cheek. “We got a good thing going, and I was stupid to think a big softy like you would do anything to screw me over.” She sneaked in another quick kiss. “And thanks for not letting your friends fuck up Mike. Stupid nerd is smart, but just a dumb kid.”

Before he could say anything else, she already had her lips on his neck, and her lap was grinding into his. She’d blushed, heat was starting to seep from her skin, and he could feel the warmth of her saliva on his collar.

He was no fool. When a beautiful – if perhaps also monstrous and scary – woman is on your lap and demanding sex, you give her sex. He put his hands on her back, let his fingers drift down her spine, and also blushed. The Nosferatu wasted no time once he did, and within moments she had her claws slipped under his coat by his shoulders and was sliding it off.

“Christ we’re both a mess, we should-”

Then his phone rang.

“You better ignore that.”

“I ... it’s the triumvirate.” He reached down into his coat pocket and pulled out the smart phone; the custom ring was the most horrible sound he could possibly imagine right then.

“Fine. Fine!” With a grumble, Beatrice got up, and stomped around. She was pouting.

He tried to not smile at her. Her pouting was as effective as a sad crocodile.

“Mire here.”

~Mister Mire, it is good to hear your voice.~ It was Michael McDonald.

“Sir?”

~We’ve heard no word from Alder Honors, or you and your childe.~

“I’m sorry sir.” He got up and started to pace around, but his eyes just glazed over everything. Shit, no Viktor? No Viktor ... no Viktor. “There was a huge fire, Mister McDonald. I was separated from my sire. Alder Viktor Honors is ... the Alder could be dead, sir.”

The line went quiet. Julias raised his eyes to Beatrice to find the Nosferatu had pulled herself up to sit on his counter, with her legs dangling off the side. He knew she wouldn’t make a sound; if Michael or Maria found out she was listening, they’d make his life hell, and hers too.

~Mister Mire, please come meet us at the Xnomina HQ in one hour.~

“I’ll be there, Mister McDonald. One hour.” He tapped his thumb against the end button, and walked up to the counter next to Beatrice. Once he put the phone down, he put his elbows against the counter and looked over at the woman.

“Think your sire is really dead?” she said.

“ ... maybe.” He managed a slow nod, and shifted out of his coat before hanging it up. Did he feel sad? Was he relieved? Was he happy? He couldn’t tell. Viktor was a scary man, but he’d always been a reliable man. Decades of knowing his sire was there, an anchor for the Invictus and a terrifying, powerful elder Kindred, just gone in a single night.

Not just that. Viktor was his sire. His sire. Trying to process the conflicting feelings was just too damn hard to do right then.

He started to make his way down the hall to the bathroom. “I have to meet Maria and Michael at Xnomina in an hour. I guess I’ll see you later?”

“An hour? Fuck that man. That’s more than enough time.” She hopped down from the counter and walked after him. Within moments, she’d already taken off her top and was kicking off her pants, even as she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the bathroom. “Shower-sex quickie. Let’s go.”

Despite himself, his old smile came back. The damn Carthian wouldn’t understand what it meant to lose a sire, not a real sire, and he was kind of thankful for that. He couldn’t pull the sorrow card, and at the moment, he didn’t want to.

If there was anyone who’d keep him from being a sad, stupid man, it was the Nosferatu in his shower.

“Mister Mire.” Michael was leaning back against the conference table, and Maria was looking out the window with her hands hooked behind her back. The ghost woman managed a small peak over her shoulder at Julias, but her expression was bewildering.

She looked happy. Or at least as happy as a recently killed girl dragged from the riverbed could manage.

“Mister McDonald ... Madame Turio.”

“We’ve scoured the site of the fire, Mister Mire.” The Gangrel folded his arms across his chest. “With what little was left of it after the kine had their way during the day, we managed to piece together at least one thing. From the ashes, we know at least one Kindred died. We haven’t heard from Alder Honors.”

“And,” Maria said, voice raspy as per usual, “Madame Vola has reported that both Tony and Rebecca are missing.”

Julias gave a small nod. If Natasha said Tony was missing, he believed it.

“My childe and I both escaped, and with how fast the fire spread, it was a very close call.” A small smile managed to sneak onto his lips. “I did kill Rebecca though. That I can confirm.” No need to bring Beatrice into this.

McDonald gave a hearty chuckle, reached out, and patted him on the shoulder. “Good form, Mister Mire. That bitch was a constant thorn in my side. But I am sorry about your sire.”

“ ... are you, sir?” Julias said.

Maria turned around then, and slowly made her way toward him. With her wet, black hair covering her face and clinging against her white dress, her approach gave him the distinct impression she was going to reach out and pull him down into the abyss.

“What do you mean?” the Nosferatu said.

Sometimes he forgot how scary Maria and Michael could be. Viktor Honors dominated any room he was in, but Michael and Maria were elders too, hundreds of years old and both with a long history of murder and Invictus servitude to their names. Now that the small ghost woman was only a foot in front of him, staring at him with an almost sinister gaze, his inner-beast started to shrivel.

But it was too late now.

“Madame, I ... there’s been more than a little talk about Alder Viktor.”

Michael gave a small snort, not too dissimilar from a wild hog’s. It fit the large man.

“My sire was one of the oldest Kindred known. He...” Julias forced himself to make eye contact with Maria. “And he was not the man he was when he sired me. After his long torpor, I ... he was-”

“Instead of another torpor to calm his bloodlust, he was going to start drinking Kindred blood to sate it,” Maria said. When Julias’s jaw dropped, the Nosferatu gave a shrug. “It is the way of things, Mister Mire. We grow old, and we eventually succumb to the curse. Alder Honors was not the first partner we’ve lost to time.”

Michael eased himself down into a chair at the table. “Something had to be done, but you know as well as I that the Alder was no push over. He was...” The big guy struggled with the words, chewed them up in his mouth, and eventually settled with a sigh as he put his hands on the table.

“He was going mad, but his unlife was wholly dedicated to the Invictus; we were unsure of what to do.” Maria took a seat opposite of Michael, and netted her fingers together before resting her elbows upon the table with her chin on her knuckles. “A brilliant actor, Alder Honors kept his fits of paranoia and delusions well hidden. Those delusions may have very well proved his undoing in this meeting with Tony.”

After all that, the small ghost woman could only give a small shrug, and settled her eyes on Michael. “It all burned. We will never know the details.”

Jack. He would know the details. He might be able to fill in some of the blanks.

“The Invictus in Dolareido have survived decades because of the power of a triumvirate, Mister Mire.” The Gangrel tapped his fingers against the wood, but his animal eyes were staring long and hard at Julias. “Not only are you one of the oldest ancillae within the Invictus, but you are the most powerful and intelligent of them. It would be both practical and fitting if you would replace your sire on the council.”

Holy shit. They wanted him on the triumvirate. He was still just an ancillae, with at least another fifty years to go before the power of elder was in his grasp, but the highest seat of power of the Invictus in Dolareido was being offered to him.

He looked down at his regrown hand. He knew he was powerful, Jessy and Natasha confirmed it, and he knew he was smart. Part of him had just assumed it was Ventrue pride, but the animal and the ghost of the Invictus council apparently disagreed.

“This is not the formal invitation, as we will have a banquet for such matters of presentation. But this is the moment of truth, mighty Ventrue.” Maria reached out to the chair next to her and pulled it out for him, complete with a beckoning motion. “We have need of younger blood on the council, and we both agree that you are the best candidate. Do you accept?”

He looked between the two of them. Julias was a great actor and poker player. He’d learned from the best, and could read anyone, but these were Invictus council; their gaze was cold and pure. It was like reading steel.

“ ... I do.”

~~Antoinette~~

It was just the two of them in her bed, quiet, deep in her tower, and holding each other.

Truly, it was her holding him, but the boy did not seem to mind. He was nervous at first, the poor thing, like a mouse before the tiger. All Kindred contained within them an animal, a beast that spoke in the unseen and the unheard, and the boy’s was terrified of hers, while hers was basking in the glory of superiority.

But there was more. That demon inside, disgustingly poetic as it was, was accepting the young man as more than just someone to force into submission. She found herself pulled to him, hugging him tighter just because she had to. What the boy felt inside, she could not know, but he sank into her and returned her embrace with the most precious sighs of contentment when she held him.

Sometimes she worried if her tall stature, greater age, or superior might would suddenly crush the boy’s intrigue, as it had done to others before, but he returned her kisses with the same nervous joy as that first night in Bloodlust. Only Jacob could fully understand how lucky she genuinely was, and she did not envy the Witch his solitude.

With a warm chuckle, she sat up and started to comb her hair over her shoulder. When she saw Jack sit up and found his face frozen in a shocked, amazed expression, she blinked. She followed his gaze, and realized he was looking at her breasts. The silk had fallen from both their torsos, leaving their bare skin exposed. His eyes only made her smile.

“Already you lust for me? Were I not informed, I would assume you still kine.”

“I ... just I ... um.”

Neither of them had performed the blush of life again since their last bout, so their skin was pale, lifeless, and their frames slightly thinner. It was not enough to dissuade the boy’s eyes though, and that made the Prince smile all the more.

How would she treat this? Hundreds of years ago, she could faintly remember such a time with Tony, when her sexual wiles had controlled him, when her teasing and use of sex as manipulation had been a source of amusement and confidence. She did not want that. She would not create another Tony.

All the mistakes she’d made with her childe crept into her mind. What could she do differently this time?

“ ... Jack.” She put a hand to his chest, and his eyes raised to hers. Lovely, green eyes that bared the boy’s honest soul so completely, it was sometimes painful for her to see. Now, she craved it. “I want you,” she said, and gently pushed on his chest until he was laying down once more, “to come to me when you wish for my touch.” She leaned over him, still sitting up and with a hand on his flat stomach, her heavy breasts hanging over him. “Do not be shy with me. Whenever you wish of it,” she said, and traced her fingers along his abs, “and if I am available, I will gladly share it.”

The boy Ventrue quirked a brow, more confused than ever. He did not know why she said such things, and that was fine. Her history with Tony was painful, and unneeded. She would do things better this time.

“Of course, my Prince.”

Like a resonating note, the words rung clear and unmistakable. It was so obvious a barrier, and one she would have to throw away.

“ ... call me Antoinette.”

The boy’s eyes widened all the more.

“And I do not lie, little Ventrue, when I say I will gladly share my touch, my bed, even Ashley and Julee.” While still leaning over him, sitting, and the boy on his back, she had one hand free to roam his body. She took his wrist, and placed his hand upon her other arm. “Whether you wish to be in my embrace, and rest against my bosom,” her hand reached for his other wrist, and this time raised it to place his palm underneath the weight of her nearest breast, “or share in any carnal delight you can imagine.”

The boy froze, eyes wide, jaw dropped. Apparently, her honesty had robbed him of speech. She could no longer hold back her laughter, and she let herself fall against him so her torso pressed to his. She put her cheek to his and snuggled against him, whispered sweet nothings to him, and held him under her with gentle hands. A few moments later, the boy finally responded, and raised his hands to hug her.

“Damn, um. Yes, my ... Antoinette,” he said. “Yes, gladly. And, uh, you can ... well ... yeah, you can do anything with me, any time. Not just physical too, you know?” He gave a tiny shrug and dopey smile, like joyful surrender.

Surrender. It was such a horrible word, one that a Kindred would never use as anything but insult or tragedy. Kindred were lone predators; their societies and covenants were created to force cooperation, not because of it. But to see the boy just give into her so completely, honest green eyes smiling up at her, his hands on her back and almost afraid to touch her, was overwhelming.

Part of her knew her Daeva blood was twisting this into obsession, but another part of her knew there was more. So much more. Dusty old words, long buried and forgotten, would have to be unearthed to make sense of it.

“I have only fifteen minutes time before I must prepare for my first meeting,” she said, “but I am sure I can satisfy you in less, if you wish.” She sat upright again with her weight on her hip, leaning over the boy, palm pressed to the blankets, free hand caressing his chest.

“I ... really? Like ... just like that?”

“Of course.” She gave another warm chuckle, and this time, leaned further in until her breasts were hanging over his face. The boy, to her delight, had proved to be quite enamored with them. They were heavy, very large teardrops, and if not for her Kindred body, would have been a source of pain and frustration. She had long since learned to enjoy her great height and curvaceous figure though, even if some others found it intimidating instead of arousing. The fact that Jack found it to be both was delightful.

And when she blushed for him, the sight of his beautiful eyes opening even more wide was intoxicating.

She mouthed ‘blush’ silently, and the boy was quick to also perform the blush of life. Such a young man, that once his body took on the color and signs of a living human, his erection returned in seconds. With a chuckle, she watched his fake heartbeat cause his member to rise against the blankets, higher and higher, until she peeled the sheet away to reveal the naked boy. The way he squirmed, the way he struggled against his shyness, the way he avoided eye contact but kept sneaking glances at her naked body, it was all deliriously arousing.

She slid down the blankets a little further from him, got onto her hands and knees, and with an arched back to prowl and emphasize the curves of her form, she slipped between the boy’s legs. He watched her like she were some fairy tail creature, those wide eyes of his struggling to grasp the reality of what she was about to do.

She got down onto her elbows, laid herself on her stomach between his legs, and took his member with one hand to point it up to her face. The boy sat up enough to put his weight on his own elbows, but otherwise did not move, paralyzed by her. Good.

Her lips found his shaft, and with ginger kisses, she brought her lips from the base of him up to the tip, while her hand eased the skin down to expose its head. The pink flesh of his glans was so swollen, she gave it a kiss as well, and Jack trembled under her touch. Another kiss, and again he shivered, with eyes drawn and mouth parted to moan quietly.

Jack was no supreme lover, or ladies’ man. He had no large history with women, no well of experience to draw on. He was just a boy, barely a man, and that meant everything she did and everything she would do to him was a new moment of pleasure he had never experienced before. When she finally wrapped her lips around the whole of the head of his cock, that alone was enough to make him shudder, and when she suckled on it while drawing her lips back across its skin, he let out a blatant moan. Hers were the first lips he had ever felt on his body.

His inexperience was addicting.

She wanted to edge him toward orgasm. The sight of his eyes, eyebrows raised in pleasure, was making her mad with need, and she wanted more of that. She wanted to hold him down and slowly, over agonizing minutes, milk pleasure from him while gazing into his eyes.

And she would, for the moment. There was not enough time to really indulge, but there was enough to have a little fun. So she watched the poor boy squirm while she eased her lips back down along his ripe and swollen length, and yet again gave it gentle suckles while sliding her lips back and forth around the tip’s base edge. While she did so, her hand around his member lightly stroked up and down, and her other sneaked down to find his testicles to softly tease and caress the skin with her fingertips.

The poor boy. He was already twitching with rising pleasure. His muscles were flexing, and his shaft was pulling against her lips with its gentle spasms, announcing his orgasm.

So she stopped.

He let out a relieved sigh, but his eyes spoke volumes. Begging. He was silently begging her to continue.

She kissed his cock in small, teasing pecks that raised from the base of him up to his glans once again, where his twitches brought out a couple drops of his precum. With a playful grin, she gently licked it off. Jack’s eyes closed and his head rolled back in obvious bliss, but she gave the base of his shaft a hard squeeze, just hard enough to hurt a touch.

“Watch,” she said, her voice soft but firm.

He raised his head, forced his eyes open, and watched her with those begging, green eyes. In turn, she watched him, gazed at him, grinned at him while she tilted his shaft to point toward her chin, and then eased her mouth down upon it. Her tongue danced along its underside while she slipped inch after inch into her mouth, before finally bringing her lips to the base of him.