Cathedral (Cradle of Darkness 1)

However, more often than not, the females were relieved to be free of their yokes. Half in love with the beautiful stranger who whispered in their ear that the world could serve their every desire.

Hundreds of women I gifted with the night. To this day, perhaps a dozen still walked the earth. For immortal beings, vampire’s lives were miraculously short.

War. Feuds. Humans. Earth too hard to carve out a hole in which to sleep before the sun might strike.

Boredom…

Centuries passed. True cities began to spring up, to offer hunting grounds and a haven for immortal delights.

Vampires became myth—desirable, eternally young, untouched by the troubles of the human world.

Glorified, yet every last one of us in this age was beholden to a master.

Those who lived ages, lived in even a way I—after century upon century—could hardly grasp. King Darius was not the only ancient.

If rumor stood, neither was he the most cruel. All of them were rotted souls on the inside, whether their bodies be beautiful or hideous. But they were also necessary to the survival of us all.

We were not a gentle species, and with such long memories, we rarely forgot even the smallest of slights, eager to exact our petty revenges. Kings were required to control the flock. Queens were required to enforce laws. Those who could not be cold and cruel and do what needed to be done became dust.

Jade was a terrible vampire, a terrible human, but for a daywalker… she was everything.

Could be anything.

So pretty with her lips parted and her chest rising and falling in rest beside me on the couch. Dark hair, thick and smooth as satin. I preferred her unpainted, unpolished, just like this.

With pink toes.

Had I met her when I was still human. Had I pillaged her village. At first glance, I would have taken her for my own, hefted over my shoulder after spilling my seed in her womb. Claiming her for my tribe to see.

She’d have born me a dozen sons, half dark as her, half fair as their father.

My mother and sisters would have taught her our language and marked her with lashes until she loved me as she should. No matter what modern history books say, women didn’t get traded for goats. They were stolen, branded, and claimed.

I would have fucked her day and night until her belly swelled with my offspring. As my father did my mother, I would have tamed her until she accepted that she belonged in my hut. In these modern times, males drew their women with food, drink, entertainment, gifts.

It was exceedingly unnatural.

Had I found her ages past, she would have earned gifts from me as she nursed our young. Stolen trinkets from the Romans, fine furs from my kills. We could have grown old together. Whichever of us had survived the other having been burnt alive with their spouse’s body so united souls might never be parted.

I’d burn with her now in this horrible rising sun if it would assure she’d be with me for eternity.

She and I in the fire, ready to face the Gods of the afterlife. Finding the children we’d lost to fevers waiting—and her brothers, slain by my sword, would smile to find her joined to such a powerful warrior. Even there I’d care for her.

It felt like eons since I’d seen my mourning mother burned with my father, since I’d heard the songs sung.

Jade would have been happy in my hut after I’d filled her with a child or two, after she’d surrendered. And what a glorious surrender. Those who fought the hardest made the best wives.

Modern humans had no idea what they’d lost with each advancement.

Had her King Darius not prevented my rightful claim, Jade would have done well to be locked in my vault for a few decades, where I could take care of her, and she could grow to know me in the old ways.

Hate could be broken with a hard cock and a practiced tongue, and my sleeping beauty was a glutton for physical pleasure I was only too happy to dole out.

Hidden underground, with no sun to set me to sleep, I could fuck her for years straight, feed her from my very veins as I pumped her full of seed. Instead, I watched her traipse around a window-filled penthouse. Instead, I rejected sleep so I could lurk in the darkest shadows of her life.

Instead, I bought up entire vintages of wine, created undead to serve her, left trinkets in her room she never noticed… and painted her pretty toes pink while she watched a movie.

Our night together ended.

With unearthly grace, I slipped my arms under her body, moving so slowly that not a hair was disturbed on her head. Lifted to my chest, I took her to bed, making sure she was covered by a blanket that would offer some respite from the rising sun.