A knock came to the door.
Jade poured herself another glass of wine. She made the nervous male wait.
Cruel.
Maybe she would let him live…
On that note, I was wrong. Detached from the scene, unmoving from the same spot where I’d penetrated her thirty-eight minutes fifty-four seconds ago, I stood by as she unleashed what she really was on the boy.
His first mistake was trying to fight back when she’d drained him just a little too much. It was the only time Jade was stronger than the rest of us, and whatever deeply set inferiority her father had fostered made a bully of the starved girl.
The harder they fought, the more violent she grew, the deeper she drank. Someone should have warned the child. Daywalkers couldn’t help but kill.
When it was done, when her dress was ruined with immortal blood and the life had gone out of the rival male’s eyes, the flash of regret in hers came. As it always did.
I would have killed him outside of these rooms, my jealousy in that moment was so acute. I longed to wrench his head from his shoulders, to tear off the cock she’d ridden as she’d feasted. She’d made him cum in his frenzy to survive her.
Sexual quota met for the night, but there wouldn’t be a child.
Jade would carry no male’s child but mine. We had eternity to assure it.
Disengaging from the corpse, its sorry, flaccid cock falling from her body, Jade failed to disguise her self-loathing.
My feet began to move, carrying me toward her because I could never resist. “Bathe yourself. I shall choose what you will wear.”
Voice small, she stared down at what she’d done. “Please leave me alone, Malcom.”
Never. Never for a single instant was she ever free of me. “No.”
“You’ve made your point!” The nearest treasure went flying, shattering against the conservatory’s bullet proof glass.
A Fabergé egg. Irreplaceable. I’d acquired it for her tenth birthday.
Ignoring her common outburst, I refilled her abandoned glass of wine, wondering what it was about that vintage that pleased her so profoundly. I’d never had it on my tongue, not when it was for her.
Someday I’d taste Jade’s after she’d consumed this drink. Maybe it would perfume her flavor. Maybe it would calm her when I drank from that perfect vein between her creamy thighs.
She took the offered glass, vibrant eyes weighing the temptation to throw it in my face. Instead she sipped, rinsing the taste of that lesser male from her mouth.
“Take a bath.” Wash the stink of another off your skin. “You’ve had a complicated day. You’ll feel better if you allow your body to relax.”
I love you. I love you so much that I broke an almost century-long pact and whispered it in your ear while you wept.
“I’ll clean this up.” Already I was dragging the corpse by the ankle toward her door. Servants would be called and the blood removed. Ours was an efficient hell.
Frustrated, tired, my darling said, “Malcom. You don’t have to stay…”
“Your father ordered me to give him a grandchild.” And these rooms were made of glass, the moon was high, and very little was more interesting for my people to watch, to hate, and to gossip about. Should I leave, it would cause her more harm than good.
“But I…” Blue eyes darting toward the door I’d flung the corpse of her feast through, all the color drained from her face. “I already…”
She would not be getting away from this. I’d watched every breath of her life and knew every last trick she’d used to humiliate the others. Not a single one would work on me. “There are ways to assure you enjoy it.”
I knew exactly where to touch her, what pressure she preferred, the order of strokes that would make her scream my name. There was not a single act of coitus she’d participated in that I had not viewed. With modern technology, I even had recordings of the best, so that I might study them and prepare.
Fresh tears, real tears began to gather in her gaze, and then she pled, she pled beautifully. “My father promised me he’d never let you have me.”
What was there to say? Only the truth. I’d literally just penetrated her before him. “He is the king of lies.”
And the things she’d done to earn that promise, the humans she’d allowed sully her skin. Another fragment of her pride crumbled, another flash of the real Jade shining through from underneath.
“I’ve ordered lamb for your dinner. It will be waiting when you’ve completed your bath.” Her favorite, prepared by a brilliant chef I’d personally turned in 1936 for this express purpose, because daywalkers need more than the blood of their brethren. “You will eat. Afterward we shall play a game of Risk. Beat me, and I’ll allow you to choose a film.”