Unforgiving Family

VYM

UNEXPECTED PARTY SWITCHING

Today, President Fidr forced upon the current assembly the simultaneous resignation of all its members, reappointing vampire Ulric Von Crimsonian as prime minister and head of parliament, shifting influence toward the Vampirist party. To everyone's surprise, no election was conducted. A warning was immediately issued by the Occult and Fae parties against dictatorship and tyranny. All sixty-seven members were immediately arrested for perjury.

Irma Doublehorn. "Unexpected Party Switching." Trollsville Express, July 7.

Iawoke to Fayra's message an hour ago.

Want to make new friends? Party at my place. Tonight, 9 p.m.

Yes, I will attend the event, but not before Ana—one of my beloved pets—releases me from the stress associated with mingling with other flesh bags. There's ample time. A forever lasting forty-five minutes before I get to see Fayra again...

Breathing out this heaviness that could drown a hydra, I let this little hand guide me into the living room. My eyes stay drawn to the pool shimmering behind the giant glass panels. I can't stop them from stroking the water, a glisten of moonlight breathing life into it.

How it casts eerie sparks of white and shadows of black.

Everything her.

Everything me.

I ache at the thought of immersing myself in Fayra, enfolded in crimson liquid, our skins as one, bathing in sin...

Swimming could, indeed, be tempting; however, due to a very last-minute party announcement, I cannot. I need the time for mental preparation.

As much as I love wasting my existence at The Restless—listening to the quick pulses of hearts beating to the sound of music, calling me like a siren's song—the very thought of socializing with mortals sends a tingle down my spine. I'm in New Orc for business, not to exchange social handles with my food. My brow cocks at the thought. Because, yet, here I am, nervous as I'm about to do so, dread taking over at the mere idea of flying across this city built on blood and ash... It's still crepitating, its buzzing life never too far away, even as it spills its light through the window beams cracked open. I only accept this reminder because it is joined by a warm summer breath. And while it is caressing my skin, it is, assuredly, not acting alone.

Delicate hands are kneading into my pectorals, opening my robe as they push me. "You need to relax."

I let my naked self drop onto my majestic cherry lounge chair. Even its color brings my desire to drink Fayra's blood back to the forefront of my mind. It is as if everything I do or see conspires to tempt me, to remind me of what I am, to remind me of what she is...

Bloodsinger...

The mere fact that I finally found my Bloodsinger—the one who completely scrambles my mind by her scent alone, by the promise of what she could bring me, my own lineage to start anew—now, of all times, when the country is in turmoil, and there are others going after her for her potential power, is not lost on me. Nor is the fact that she stunk of orc, which shouldn't be too much of an issue to remove...

My head hits the cushion, and I should be focusing on Ana, my devoted caretaker, but I can't. I turn my head to the water and its shimmers, a haunting need to watch stronger than soaking in the glint of Ana's eyes. Everything in me is stirring, my hunger a starvation without end. I can almost taste the anticipation in the air. It's the kind of night where I can picture the deep ruby of Fayra's blood flowing down my chin, a river of life drawn from a willing, magical vein.

Would anyone believe that there is something about her scent, how it quietly resonates inside me? It rings so peacefully that the crux around my neck burns from time to time, and I wonder if this is real, and I shouldn't be rotting in the wombs of Hell.

"My lord, you are so tense today."

Fortunately, Ana is here to help me cope with such disruptions.

A pet I'm taking too long to register—not that this detail will matter in a few weeks—has purchased some golden cuffs with one of my credit cards, suddenly feeling entitled. The issue with that is I am the one giving rewards.

So here we are, me giving her a chance to make amends as I spread my thighs. "The only reason you are permitted to suck me is because Khiva is unwell," I snarl.

My fangs must excite Ana because her little copper wings whir faintly, the velvet covering them conveying who she is—a moth fae, which vampires poetically call night fairies.

Ana hasn't an ounce of magic besides making flowers bloom at night. Hence, she shouldn't fear being ground for Glow or my father and Fidr's plan for magic monsters. She simply doesn't fit the mold they seek, and even if by some twist of fate she did, her lineage hardly warrants consideration as fodder for my father's Glow drug business. Fidr's looking for atypical magical abilities, a special someone with the Evariss powers, or one who would show a hint of it—a realm far beyond Ana's reach. No flicker of such potential has graced her presence. However, the enigmatic Fayra presents an entirely divergent narrative. Fayra...

The simple thought of her turns me to steel. "Do your best."

Without the mastery only Khiva knows, Ana wraps her thin fingers around my length in preparation for her treat. "With all my might, my lord."

I close my eyes, searching for peace, and what infiltrates my thoughts? A damned blonde fairy, fluttering around in my mind. She keeps coming and going as if my brain is the VIP section of my club.

"My lord..."

"What is it?"

"As much as these taut muscles and slabs make my pussy ache..." she drawls, her hands sweeping over my abdominals, "I need something else. Maybe your?—"

"Come closer." Hardly slanting my eyes down to her, I place my fingers under her chin and invite her to rise. "How about this?"

Ana reaches for my lips, pressing her generous breast against me. "You speak my mind, dark prince."

This kiss could easily be one of death and resurrects my erection, the venom I seep into her mouth a release.

"Again..." she whispers, her mouth on mine.

"That's all you'll get, pet."

Ana is so addicted to my venom that she will go to any lengths to obtain more of it. She is one of those stars who fell victim to drugs and poor frequentation. If I hadn't intervened, she would have been rotting in an alley with a needle sticking out of her arm.

Indeed, not all fae had it good. Some were propelled into stardom, while others were used and discarded—Ana is part of the latter. This fallen actress used to play in movies, portraying the grandiosity of the Faerhan nation during the war. I don't need to draw a picture to illustrate that almost all antagonists were orcs at the time...

"You taste so sweet... My lord, please," Ana begs, clawing at my neck.

My eyes widen at the recklessness with which she speaks. I tighten my grip around her neck and kiss her coldly. My hunger is awakening, and I'm not in the mood for extended foreplay. I send her a heavy dose of toxins as my fangs scratch her lips.

"Forgive me, I spoke," she says weakly.

"Then don't." I push her away and stand. With a flicker of my finger, I invite her to walk with me toward the sprawling windows.

I swipe a hand over the beam, watching the reflection of her curves move behind me.

I turn at once and flash at her neck. It's hard not to snigger as I feel her backside press with desire against my cock. "Oh, Ana." The freshness of her bare skin shivers as a moan escapes her. "Although your blowjobs may be terrible, your body has always been well-suited for me." I trace the outline of her bulging breast with the backs of my fingers.

"Take me." Her mouth is as begging as her hunkering curves, and if not for the strained clasp I maintain on her wrists, these hands would be holding on to me with a passion I'm not ready to give back. Still, my smile slits, curving wickedly to one side.

"There is no need for you to ask." I flip her over, her hands slamming against the glass, and drive my cock into her.

Grunts and moans ripple out of us as my frustration and her lust mix. Ana breaks it with a hiss, followed by a perverted laugh. "Blood-lusting for me?"

I stare at my reflection, at my black eyes...

I am... but not for you, Ana.

I clench my lips and hum at her ear, my mouth watering at the pulsating artery below. The tips of her wings droop low to the ground as I brush my lips along her neck. It's already high time for her.

Trapping my little fly, I place her hands flat above her head. They smack a second time against the glass, and a fraction of her strength dwindles, my venom mollifying her like a wet sugar cube.

With a firm grip on her thick gold bracelets, I grate my teeth against her ear. "So the gold cuffs are for what, Ana?"

She's taking too long to answer.

With an intensity that is familiar to her, my hips hit against her.

"For you!" she whimpers.

Intense heat builds inside me, my fingers forking between hers.

I catch Ana smile—gapping at me as I stare at the window. Something shifts behind it.

It's Anamos. My step-brother's orange eyes are pinned on me as he sits on one of the pool's recliners, pants down, with a nymph's head in between his legs. And I think he's enjoying the view by the way he's smiling at me. I return a toothy grin. There is one downside to owning a penthouse: anyone can land on the terrace...

"For me? What purpose could they possibly have?"

Unstirred by this voyeur, and with her cheek deeply pressed against the panel, Ana hashes out, "To shackle me..."

Growling in her hair, I bring one of her hands down. Soon her fingers join my cock as I force them together. "I prefer leather, Ana."

Steadily plunging them along with my length, her skin stretches, her moans extending...

There is no overstaying. Sharing is not my cock's nature.

I drag them out and bring them to her lips. "Taste yourself."

Without hesitation, her lips latch onto her soaked fingers and she begins suckling. My way of pacifying what awaits.

Anamos's laughs can be heard from outside. Apparently, my uninvited brother is enjoying my little exhibition.

While she sucks on her fingertips, I pull out and thrust into her ass.

Ana choking on her hand enthralls me, and my lip, evidently, curls up.

She's maybe crying against her fist now, I don't know.

I'm barely aware of my surroundings.

I moan, directing all my fury into her. But something inside me won't make me come. "They serve no purpose aside from being bulky..."

Her body tenses, and she cries, "I wanted to look pretty for you."

"There is no need for you to be pretty; you're already beautiful." My breathing grows harder as I push deeper within her. I grab her neck with one hand and stop her blood flow while invading her clit with my other. "Now choke, pet. You know how much you strangle my cock when you do." Ana's anal rim clenches around my dick, the much-wanted sound of her nectar dripping on my feet.

I release her throat when nails scratch deep into my skin.

My grunt muffles against her hair. There's a pulse under it, and it's suddenly quickening.

It's stronger than me. I sink my fangs into my pet's throat, splitting the tender skin of the artery.

Anamos is now cheering like a lunatic, his nine tails aflame with excitement.

Caged in my arms, Ana cries as her feet leave the ground with each thrust, heels rubbing at my legs, painting them red.

It feels fantastic.

Grunts and cries overlap, mine against her bleeding wound while hers steam up the window.

Fae wings brush against my face, and the image of Fayra appears in my mind, desire fast to burst forth.

It's a single thrust, a claiming bloodied one as crimson tears run over my pet's body.

Ana might be choking on her blood, but she still comes again, barely able to hold herself up.

Finally fucked free, I release her.

Her little hands make a squeaking noise against the glass as she drops to the floor.

As quickly as possible, I bring my thumb to the tip of my left fang and slit it open. As I hunch over Ana, I smudge my thumb over the wound, which reabsorbs instantly.

"Fuck!" Ana roars.

I don't know if she's shunning me away or attempting to slap me.

Despite this, I grab her fighting hand and tug it, resulting in her jolting to my feet.

I chuckle. "What is wrong with you?"

"You didn't need to bite so hard."

A wave of mortified silence wraps around my ears, and as I stare outside, I realize Anamos has stopped laughing and is listening to our conversation. It's piqued his interest enough that he's deep-set on us, and I can't let anything show—especially not my shame at the harm done to Ana.

In the world of vampires, emotions are weapons, and loved ones are instruments of blackmail. Vice runs through our veins—it is genetic—yet my mother had no evidence of it, a detail that doesn't mix well with the wicked streak I inherited from my father.

While maintaining pretense, I sneer at her coldly. "I will bite harder next time."

I watch my pet massage her wrist silently as she turns away.

Overcoming myself, I step back, a forced rictus of disgust forming over me. "These gold cuffs are fit for a queen, and you're nothing close to being one."

"If I'm not fit, then who is? Khiva?!" she spits between clumps of brown hair, weakly gathering her knees under her.

"Maybe."

She throws me a look that could kill, and my eyes smile... and constrict.

Ana immediately throws her gaze to the floor, her metal-like wings wrapping around her as she nods. "Of course he is. Please forgive me."

My smile fades as I remain fixed on her for long seconds. A sense of unease grips me.

Khiva.

My other pet, my favorite, has been suffering lately...

With a sigh, I raise my head and swat my hair behind my back, having grown tired of seeing her act out.

As I stroll along the glass panel, my feet drag over the threshold to greet Anamos. Besides the corpse of a nymph lying on a recliner, there is no trace of him on the terrace.

There's a short cry, followed by suckling and bones breaking.

I spin on my heels to the sound.

Anamos's daggered grin drips red as he holds a lifeless Ana against his chest, his chalky fox ears turned forth, unruffled by the situation.

I struggle not to flinch as I look at her. "You could've just asked for a glass of blood," I quip coyly, mostly battling to conceal the tremors in my fingers.

Blood is smeared on my brother's bleached skin and hair as it spews from my soft fairy, her eyes wide, unable to close again. Ana's delicate neck is twisted, her spine a game of guessing between flesh and blood.

Shame. I liked him. And now he has to die.

"No pet should talk with such disrespect to the prince of vampires, heir of Moontithe," he sneers. The scars on Anamos's face distorts most of his facial expressions, the one I gave him slashed across his lips, giving this once demon fox an eternal smile.

"I find your loyalty to be legendary," I spit.

"Do not worry, big brother, I won't say a word to Father. We wouldn't want him to know his most beloved son isn't respected by his pets."

I swallow. My father is not known to be understanding. "What would I do without you."

He snorts derisively. "Any other disrespectful pets I should know about? The sick satyre, maybe?"

Khiva...

"If you lay so much as a finger on him, I will end your life. And you are my brother. Imagine the sadness that would overtake me if you were to die." I smile.

Anamos's bowing is more than theatrical as he mocks, "My apologies, my lord." Behind him, his tails open like a fan made of white fire, striking a peacock pose.

"Leave."

Anamos seems keen to show me the slivers of Ana's flesh stuck between his fangs as dimples form on his cheeks from a smile I am tempted to rip off. "I just came to tell you that Fidr is losing patience. Father is worried. We need to find her."

"Is this why you came? You could've texted."

"Well, I also wanted to talk to our sister. Have you seen her by any chance?" Shrugging, he takes another bite of Ana, and my mouth goes dry.

"Mordana isn't here," I falsely claim.

"Too bad." Anamos licks his fingers before dropping my pet like a vulgar bag.

I turn and start walking to my chambers. There is nothing more to say or do. Anamos is a brother I have never cherished, and today, he unknowingly granted me the wish to kill him.

But since I have a date, I'll have to do so another day.

My pace increases as I hurry to get ready.

My brother's whiny, nasal voice calls behind me, "Where are you going?!"

"To find myself another pet!" Another lie. My intentions for Fay are clear, and I have other plans for her, especially since Mordana has succeeded in implanting a theory in my mind...

If Fay is indeed who Mordana believes her to be—the descendant of Mab—then I am not the only vampire who desperately wants a piece of her. Though, my reasons are far less... immediately destructive than my father's or Fidr's. I want Fay because she is my Bloodsinger, the most delicious morsel that would ever hit my gums; but not only that, Fay could be my chance to create my own family line, and maybe even be the miracle my satyr so desperately needs. Fidr and Father's plans, however...

I shudder to even think what would happen if they got to her first...

I rush into the bedroom, the door banging behind me, startling a satyr in his sleep.

Upon switching on the light, a series of words are hurled out of him. "Why are you covered in blood? Where's Ana? Why are you breathing like that?" Khiva lifts a little, tucking his elbows in, a look of confusion evident on his face.

"You don't need to know. Go back to sleep." I shuffle into my closet for a change of clothes and throw some items on the bed. "A member of my family is here. Remain in our room until I return. I will lock you in from the outside."

"I already know Mordana is here."

"Not Mordana, a sire-bonded brother, my father's."

"Should I be worried?" he asks as my eyes linger on the blisters covering his arms, how they lace his limbs like claws.

There is a bowl of water sitting on his nightstand. I sit next to him, grab a towel soaking in the basin, wring it out, and apply it to his burns. "Please do not be afraid." I transfix a purple bullae under his left eye and can't help but wince. "Rest." I drop the soggy cloth in the bowl and suppress a sigh. Despite my desire to have him sleep, I do not wish to see him suffer from nightmares that threaten to consume him. Dreams that gnaw away at his life, eroding his very being, coming to life in the form of burns and the shredding of his limbs. Yet, if he remains awake, his wounds will linger, resulting in more suffering. He needs peaceful slumbers so he may be able to heal. And each time, I fervently hope that he finds them.

His throat bulges, and he swallows with no apparent ease. "How can I?"

"You have to." With light pressure, I invite him to lower himself, my hands pressing down on his shoulders with firm insistence.

A moan of pain fills the room as Khiva slides his head back onto the pillow. The sound of his voice is often compared to that of a streamlet in spring. Still, the discomfort it causes me is one of boiling acid—astringent. "Where's Ana?" Khiva keeps insisting, his sunburnt curls pressed against his forehead, cemented in sweat. Even his horns have taken a dull gray tint...

"My brother was hungry." Khiva's face wrinkles, and the glance he casts at me seems impossible to maintain. I should've lied... "Please do not allow your eyes to become sad." His distress weighs heavier upon me than Ana's demise. His mind must remain undisturbed, ever more so before sleep. "So why do you allow yours to be?" he asks, locking his sparkling blue gaze on mine.

Bringing a finger to my cheek, he leaves a delicate trail of warmth in its wake, and my eyes purse at his touch. "You must hide your emotions, my lord," he mutters, pulling away from my skin, and I grit my teeth upon noticing a crimson tear running down his hand.

"I'm going to shower, Khiva. In the meantime, do nothing but let your mind drift into uncomplicated dreams."

Rule number one: Always layer the doors with silver and secure them with a good lock if you wish to prevent your siblings from damaging your possessions.