Chapter 4

~~Jack~~

It only took a small nod to the bouncer for Jack to get in. Just a week ago, he wouldn’t have dared dream of it, but Invictus connections were endless – larger than just Xnomina - so now here he was, stepping into throbbing music and pulsing lights. The air smelled of sweat, body’s grinding against each other with the beat, and enough skin was exposed to make his heart race. Or at least, it would have if it still beat; the fact it didn’t never stopped unsettling him.

Everything was an elegant mixture of sex and presentation. There were no tube tops or cut-short jean shorts, but instead open-back tops, fashionable blazers, silk shirts open at the neck, and stilettos. The rich and comfortable enjoying the night life, fancy cars and white lines included.

How many people were in here? The smell was on his nose, not offensive but defined. He could feel the animal inside him struggle against the inside of his ribs. He could hear more than just the music, or even the tap of feet against the floor and chatting of people in dark corners. He could hear flesh and blood.

“Julias does this all the time, Jack. The people here want to socialize, they want to get drunk and fuck and get high.” He straightened the open collar of his white shirt. “You can do this.”

Ahead of him was the bar, parallel to the run of the hall that lead into the more open area. Beyond the hall opened a large room, easily capable of fitting a hundred people. At least fifty were out on the floor, and streaks of white light exposed them in the otherwise drowning red dark. Each time a streak crossed a dancer’s path, it was a quick flash that showed the person dancing for a single moment. The dance floor seemed like it was a TV show running too slow, a stark contrast to the ear-numbing repetitive bass-heavy so-called music.

Jack looked to his left and right. Stairways on the side, beneath the red lights, lead up to a second floor where a balcony went over the bar. All along the walls, both above and below him, white tables with black booths had people. Some were alone, some were with others, some were almost dry humping as if the dark red of the Bloodlust’s lighting would hide them.

“Yeah ... maybe I should ask a Mehket where they feed. This place is going to make me vomit.” With a cringe, Jack moved past the bar and kept to the sidewall to find one of the staircases. He walked up the stairs while keeping his eyes off to the side and looking down at the people below. Some of them weren’t just rubbing pants in the seats. Some were actually having sex.

At least they kept their clothes on.

It was when Jack reached the top that he looked out over the second floor. It was more of the same, except darker. There were fewer tables, fewer people, and the music wasn’t as loud, but the people up here were mostly unchanged. In fact, he seemed to have come across the make-out spot of the club, as almost every booth had a couple in it. Some were drinking, most were kissing.

One booth though, at the far back and on a slightly raised platform, had a different arrangement. One woman, tall and with long hair was sitting alone, yet behind her stood two other women. They did not sit, but waited next to her, outside the booth, with their hands hooked behind their back and their eyes on Jack. He gulped.

Antoinette.

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. The animal inside him almost screeched. Run. Get the fuck out. You can’t be here!

The Daeva raised one of her hands and pointed her finger at him before curling it toward herself.

Jack made a quiet groan. His hands were clenched hard enough to the railing to damage it, and he was almost shaking in his new shoes. Why hadn’t he worn his new suit though? Casual black pants and white shirt weren’t exactly meet-the-Prince material. Why was she here anyway? Bloodlust was in the Invictus domain, Viktor’s domain. Then again, a Prince could go wherever she wanted probably. It was her city. And there were no other vamps here besides the two of them, so maybe other kindred avoided Bloodlust because of Antoinette?

She frowned.

He was stalling, and now she was angry. With a reluctant sigh, the tiny Ventrue walked over to her with his hands at his side, doing his best to not let her see they were shivering. At least the music wasn’t as loud up here.

Daeva were always beautiful, but Antoinette was different. Her long, wavy white hair was clearly unnatural, as her sharp face looked no more than 30-years-old, and her red eyes were just as unusual and alluring. Her lips were dark, and the red lighting of the club hid whatever color lipstick she was wearing, but she had indeed taken the time to dress for her outing. Hopefully she was just out for a social visit to her club.

She was tall, as well. Well over six feet, and now that only a few feet separated them, he couldn’t help but notice her glorious curves. Whoever had sired her in some ancient past had clearly picked his timing with purpose, as the woman was both lean with a fit physique, and yet endowed with exceptionally large breasts and wide hips. Julias had said who the Daeva sired was largely influenced by their appearance; Antoinette was a defining example.

Her dress was jaw-dropping, and it barely covered her body. An open-back black dress that tied around the neck and went down across the chest before wrapping the legs in a long, side-split skirt. The chest of it hugged Antoinette’s breasts tightly, barely able to contain them as it exposed the sides of her large bosom. No bra in sight. She was leaning back in her booth with her arms up on the backs of the seat, legs crossed, and clearly enjoying how the sight of her was making Jack squirm with fear and dead man’s arousal.

With a devious grin, the Prince pointed to the open space beside her in the booth.

Jack gulped almost audibly and sat down. His fingers ran over his buzzed hair with nervous habituation, and he tried to not look at the Daeva next to him. Where the hell to look though? The two women standing behind them were quite attractive as well, both of small height, one a blonde and the other a brunette. They had soft features and ballerina figures, and were dressed in uniform black jeans and black shirts that left the midriff exposed.

Ghouls? Must be. They weren’t dead at least.

“I, uh ... I didn’t know ... I-” Jack came to a stop when the Prince brought one of her fingers up to her own lips with a quiet shh. The small Ventrue’s eyes followed the finger, now helpless to look away.

“You are Julias’s new childe, yes? Jack ... Terry.” The French in her accent was subtle, but still there.

“Yes ... your Excellency,” Jack said. Oh god she remembers your name.

“My Prince, please.” The goddess tapped her finger on the table to emphasize the title; it was important to her. “Julias is a good man. I see that he has chosen an ... interesting childe.” She liked to draw out her words, her sentences, and make every syllable dance on her lips with a playful articulation. “Most Ventrue prefer to sire those of ... greater presence, with greater power or at least the ability to pretend such power. You though, you have none of this.”

Words hurt.

“Yes, Prince.”

“My Prince,” she said.

He tensed; he’d made a mistake. But her tone was soft, and her gaze was teasing. She was the cat playing with the mouse. He knew very well she could have him killed, right here, if he said even the smallest offense. No one would risk her wrath over the death of a freshly embraced.

“Yes ... my Prince. Julias sired me for other reasons.” Keep it short. Answer her questions directly. Do not lie to her. His hands felt like they were trying to sweat.

“Oh? And what are those?”

“He ... chose me because I am...” He turned the words over in his head. Get to the point. “Because of my tenacity, so he claims.”

“Ah. That is indeed a powerful trait in an ally.” She leaned forward and hooked her fingers together with elbows on the table. Her chin rested against her knuckles, and she licked her lips. “A dangerous one in an enemy.”

His eyes went wide. She was going to kill him. Was she? She was just staring at him, this succubus of death and curves, and the little boy could only sit there and wait for her whim. The beast inside him huddled to the base of his gut and whimpered.

“Haha, do not worry little Ventrue. You are safe, for tonight at least. You amuse me. Most newly embraced would simply run, or have frozen, but here you sit. Tenacity indeed.” She winked at him in a motion so subtle he barely noticed. “It has been a long time since I’ve been able to talk with someone so new to the dark.”

He sighed in relief.

“You want to talk to a fledgling like me?”

“Yes.”

“But-”

“You offer a view of the world that is uncolored with decades, or centuries of bias. A freshly embraced like you is a welcome change of pace.” She let out a soft, masterful giggle. “You have met Viktor, I am sure. Imagine talking with none but his sort for years on end.”

Jack laughed, and quickly brought a hand to his mouth. Not only did he just laugh in front of the Prince, but he laughed at his sire’s sire.

“I ... understand, my Prince.”

“So, you have come to the Bloodlust to feed, little Ventrue?”

“I, uh ... yes.”

“How many times have you fed on the kine?” she said.

Kine? Oh right, humans.

“Just once. It was a ... violent experience.”

“You must be hungry then. And nervous.” A new smile graced her sharp lips.

“Yes ... my Prince.” Embarrassing did not even begin to describe his predicament. He tried to keep his hands on the table in front of him, but he couldn’t help but run his fingertips along his buzzed hair again. He really was hungry.

“Julias comes here. Women grow wet at the sound of his voice. He should have been Daeva.” She chuckled again and let her hands fall to the table. “You do not have such a commanding presence. His advice to feed here is probably misplaced.”

Jack sighed, and nodded. It was a terribly depressing truth, but the small Ventrue didn’t exactly bleed the confidence common to his clan. And without the Daeva’s natural talents for seduction, wooing women into his arms on a nightly basis wouldn’t be easy.

“Ashley. Come sit next to Jack, and let him feed.”

“Oooh, yes mistress.”

Jack sat upright with a jolt. He looked wide-eyed between the tall Prince beside him, and then to the ghoul who came to sit on his other side. The blonde, with her gentle features and soft smile, did not hesitate to obey her master’s orders. Up so close, he could see the subtle lines of her abdominal muscles from her toned, lean stomach. Her top was tight to her body, and while her breasts were tiny, her lithe figure was very appealing. She was small, like Jack.

“Uh ... my Prince, I...”

When he looked to Antoinette, he went rigid at the sight of her sliding closer. She inched her body across the booth until she was touching leg-to-leg with Jack, with her closest arm upon the booth behind him. Her breasts, massive and hugged tight by her dress, were inches from his chest. She was leaning into him.

“Go on. Slowly. Enjoy it. Let her enjoy it.”

Jack gulped and looked to the ghoul, Ashley. This one was apparently quite happy to indulge the Prince’s commands. He’d imagined Viktor’s ghouls as beaten, broken slaves; the blonde kine was nothing like that. Ashley was smiling playfully at Jack even as her breath quickened. She wanted it.

“Julee, I think Jack is unfamiliar with women, as much as feeding.”

“I believe you are right mistress,” said the other ghoul. She had wandered over at this point, and was leaning over the booth from the other side. Jack was completely surrounded. A deer in headlights.

“Have some fun with him Ashley. He will hold still, won’t you Jack?” There was a quiet hint of absolution to her voice, as if the very idea someone like him would disobey her was unfathomable. Frozen, the best he could manage was a small nod.

“Yes mistress.” Ashley was almost giddy with excitement. “I never get to get to be ... the one leading.” She ran a finger up and down Jack’s shirt, across his stomach. “He is a cute little boy isn’t he?”

“Yes, very,” the Prince added. When Jack turned to look at her in surprise, she gave another wink and put a finger to his lips. Julias had warned him about Daeva, but only now did he recognize how deadly they were. Without threat of violence or risk of danger, he was a puppet to Antoinette’s games.

Things could have been worse. A lot worse, he realized, as Ashley nudged her head toward him and put her lips against his neck.

The ghoul’s neck was completely exposed. The black shirt she wore was barely more than a tank top, and now that she was snuggling into him, he could see that it was open-back like much of the clothing in the Bloodlust. A single string tied it to her neck, where it then hooked under her arms and tied around her lower back. A fact she was aware of, apparently, as she guided Jack’s nearest arm around her and placed his fingers to her naked spine.

The Prince had told him to not move, and he was not going to move. Well, maybe squirm a little.

“The Daeva enjoy a much more ... delightful approach to feeding, when we can.” Her finger on his lips moved down, and Antoinette’s hand soon found itself on the boy’s shaking leg. She pressed it down with a sudden power, and his shaking stopped from the sheer strength of her grip. She was smiling though; there was no anger in her eyes. She was merely enjoying herself.

“You can bite me,” Ashley said, her voice barely audible underneath the music, “whenever you want. Please be gentle.” She leaned up to his ear and gave it a little nibble. So close, he could smell her, almost hear her heart pumping that warm, thick, delicious blood.

His hands started to move on their own to take her, if only slowly and gently, and hug her to him as his cravings started to rise. She started to shake in his grip, but with excitement instead of fear. Her nipples had grown hard until they were pressing into his chest. One arm was tickling along his back underneath his shirt, and the other was joining Antoinette between his legs. The ghoul’s hands were warm, unlike his or Antoinette’s, and the heat of them was making his fangs grow.

The dark, red light of the Bloodlust was becoming far too strong a metaphor for his own bloodlust. Unable to ignore his desires anymore, he closed his eyes, and leaned into Ashley’s nibbling. His lips found her neck, and she shuddered with anticipation. His fangs were at their full length now, and all it took was just the slightest, tiniest bit of pressure, to gently sink through her skin and into her muscle.

“ ... oooh.” Ashley moaned into him once the first signs of pain faded.

Holy hell.

Jack could not believe the sensation of it, the power of it. He could literally feel her heartbeat pumping tiny flows of that hot, heavy liquid up from her neck and into his mouth. He didn’t have to pierce deep, it didn’t take much force at all to gently coax the blood from her lean flesh.

His legs shook for a few seconds, but the elation settled him. He didn’t have to pin this person down, or fight them. The beast within was left to sleep while he got to enjoy the pleasure of it. It was inhuman. The thirst, the cravings quenched felt so amazing that it left him relaxing into Ashley’s neck. Once the initial cravings were subdued, all that was left was basking in the bliss of that sweet, sweet liquid trickling down into his cold body.

“He’s ... gentle,” Ashley said. She was mewling quietly into his ear, and her body was relaxing into his as much as he into her. Her muscles shuddered every so often, a little jerk that surprised him. She was enjoying herself far more than he’d anticipated.

Without breaking the kiss, he looked up and over to Antoinette, who was now leaning in so close as to nearly be touching noses with him. Her red eyes were gorgeous.