Chapter Fifteen

Emily had heard enough spicy scenes (heard in Simeon’s voice, no less) and read enough books with naughty parts to know that men wanted their cocks sucked. It had seemed sort of odd and maybe a little gross when she first heard of it, but then Simeon had just made her eyes roll back in her head when he licked her. So she would lick him and prove that she had skills, too.

Even if she didn’t, and even if Simeon knew that.

“Oh, my God. Emily...” Simeon’s voice faded in shock as she put her mouth on his long, smooth cock and felt it hit the back of her throat.

She gagged a little, and he was quick to sit up, abs rippling, lifting her hair as he pulled her away. “Sweetheart. Just little touches from you are enough. Slowly is enough.”

“How do women fit all of it in?” she asked, deciding she could be embarrassed later. He was about three-quarters the length of her favorite stake, maybe seven inches. Simeon’s erection was pearly white, the color of his cock a little darker than the rest of his skin.

It was his turn to look bashful. “I dunno. Some do, some don’t. You don’t have to take on the whole thing at once.”

“That’s what I do. Take on everything at once,” Emily laughed. “A Van Helsing fully commits. Does nothing by halves.”

Wait, does that mean I’m fully committing to him?

Scary thought. So many scary thoughts—a lifetime of them.

I like these thoughts the best, I guess.

“Yes, love, I know. You give your all, but for now, let’s try it in stages,” Simeon whispered, laying back and wrapping her hand around his sheath. “Stroke up and down.”

Emily let him guide her hand for a moment, loving the way his eyes closed and his body went limp with pleasure. He didn’t breathe, but his moans took on a breathless quality that made her feel like she was doing this whole sexual thing right.

And it was nice, to hold his hand, to learn something gentle with someone. To feel safe with someone.

She understood, suddenly, why you wanted to kiss your partner’s most intimate, private pieces. They were safe with you. Precious to you. They were instruments of shared pleasure and connection.

Her mouth sank slowly this time, halfway down, then up again. Simeon’s hand came to rest on her head, cradling it as his moans grew.

“I’m dreaming,” he whispered.

She looked up at him from her position between his spread, half-bent legs.

“Ohhhh, yes. Emily, yes, love. Look at me.”

Salty drops of wetness crossed her tongue as she sucked while looking at him. Simeon squirmed, moans becoming strained grunts.

“Why are you doing this for me?” he whispered, so much hope and desperation in his eyes.

“I want to. I want to show you... I want to show you.” What? Still finding the words for it.

“Love you, Emily.”

She kissed him again, swirling her tongue over his tip this time, dragging her teeth up and down the cold blue vein that ran the length of this cock. She stopped to do what he’d done, to kiss the soft skin of his inner thigh, to trace the muscles of his legs as she made love with her mouth.

She reduced Simeon to a groaning mass that clutched the sheets and praised her every motion until he suddenly pulled her hair and forced her mouth away.

Cool wet ropes splattered across her breasts and neck as Simeon came.

She’d finally gotten her coveted prey, the notorious vampire Simeon Crow, defeated and helpless, flat on his back.

“I’ve been fighting vamps all wrong,” she laughed softly.

“Beat me up like that any time you like, Van Helsing.”

“Dad! Dad, give me that! You’re going to break—shit.”

“Melino? Gaia! Is that the sort of language they teach you at Oxford? You’re grounded for a decade.”

“Dad. You can’t ground me. Now, ease in gently, or you’ll wake him. That would spoil everything.”

Simeon raised his hand. “I’m up.”

“No, vampire, you’re sleeping, worn out by your... hm. Milly, are you sure you don’t want to go visit your grandmother?”

“Daddy, I’m not sixteen hundred anymore. I know what Simeon and Emily were doing.”

“How exactly do you know that?”

“ Da-aaad .”

“Oh, if your mother were here, she would...”

Simeon looked around him. He was in a dark room, sitting in a bundle of rumpled sheets. Emily wasn't beside him. Nothing was beside him. “Am I dreamin’?”

“He’s very smart!” Milly pulled on her father’s arm. “That bargain you made with Lilith? It isn’t this demon’s fault. You don’t have to—”

“Milly. Go see your grandmother! I’ll be careful with your staff.” Hades’ voice was icy as he held a vaporous staff out in front of him. It was delicate and made of white and gray whisps, but within the staff, Simeon could see constantly changing shapes—screaming faces, skulls, cages.

Right. Melino?, Goddess of Nightmares, bringer of night terrors. “Is that how you get into someone’s head if you want to have a personal conversation?” Simeon pulled the sheets up higher, making sure his bits were covered.

Milly shook her head. “No, that’s how Dad has to do it. Seriously, this is why they don’t have a ‘Take your parents to work day.’ He has no subtlety.”

Hades lost his imposing look and tossed Milly a reproachful stare. “Yes, I do! I just think immortals ought to stick to some traditions. A helm of invisibility. A cloak of darkness. A—”

“Mustang of heated seats? Real traditional, Dad. Simeon, how are things going? Dad can’t leave the Underworld right now, and he’s having an attack of worry-wart-itis. He wants to look around your brain to make sure you’re not lying.”

“That’s not it! I want to help ! I might see something he doesn’t, a clue that he doesn’t even know is a clue! You check the girl’s head.”

Milly rolled her eyes. “You mean, ‘Milly, check the girl’s dreams, please, sweetheart?’”

Hades smiled faintly. “Yes. That. Would you, Milly?”

Milly tried to look stern, but like her father, she quickly lost the battle. “Fine, since you asked nicely. ‘Please’ never killed anyone, you know.”

“Actually, there was this beekeeper in Argentina—” Hades held up a hand with a thoughtful frown, but Milly poofed out of sight. “Hmph. Well, then.” Hades turned his gaze to Simeon. “Ah. Vampire.” He was once again a cold, imposing thing of shadows and sweeping robes.

“It doesn’t work, Your Deadliness. Oh, I know you could hack me into little bits with a snap of your fingers, but after watching you argue with your daughter... The fear’s ebbed, shall we say? Hey, got a light?’ Simeon had just discovered pants had materialized on him, and they came complete with menthols. He’d been avoiding smoking around Emily’s human lungs, but since this was a dream... No harm done, right?

A flaming ball of death the size of his head appeared next to his nose, restlessly dancing in Hades’ palm. “Is the fear back yet?” Hades asked with a nasty sneer.

“Very much so. What can I help you with, boss man?” Simeon gave his best smile and courtly bow—well, as best he could while sitting in a pile of sheets and trying to rear away from the flames.

“You talked to Demeter. What leads? Clues? Anything?”

“Well, I—” Simeon started talking, but then saw the point was moot. The blank black walls that made up this dreamscape suddenly filled with pictures of Emily and him, sitting at Demeter’s kitchen table.

Don’t think about what Emily said about Zeus. Don’t think about—

His head betrayed him. Wouldn’t take orders, just like his heart. Emily’s troubled face appeared, words pouring out in an urgent argument.

“I get that Hades is missing a few pieces. He made Zeus swear that he hadn’t touched her. He made sure Zeus wasn’t holding Seph in his palaces. Hades made him swear Zeus would never lay an unwanted hand on her. Don’t you get it? Seph ran off with Zeus on her own. There’s no kidnapper, there’s no unwilling kidnapping. Demeter is lying to protect her daughter and her more powerful brother. Seph is changing her appearance so Hades’ spies can’t find her, and Demeter and Zeus are giving Persephone ambrosia to keep her healthy.”

Her sound faded out as Simeon lost his concentration. The mental movie shut off as the dreamscape seemed to rock. The room was glowing red and blue. Hades' whole body seemed to be flexing like a rotted rope bridge that was overwhelmed in a tempest. “I’m going to have one hell of a headache,” Simeon muttered.

“It’s not true. Seph despised Zeus. She knew... She knew who her father was, even if Zeus never claimed her, even if Demeter never discussed the relationship. We are immortals, not made of flesh and blood, nor bound in the same way, but Persephone and I... I have seen too much death not to treasure love.”

“I get that, mate,” Simeon reassured softly.

“We didn’t feel the same way as the other gods, thinking we had an eternity to fornicate with anyone and everyone. We had an eternity together, to love each other, to be a family. We raised our children to be our children . Zeus was a tyrant, is a tyrant!” Hades spat. “He knows nothing of love. Even if Seph left me, she wouldn’t have left me for him .”

“I said that. Well, not about Zeus, but about you an’ her. Look.” Simeon pointed to the black walls and called up his reply to Emily.

“No. I don’t buy it. I don’t... If you had seen what he showed me... She loved him. Loves him. Loves her children. I can’t believe this. I can’t just stop looking for her because you’re sure it’s an affair of epic proportions.”

The dark space seemed to mellow, and Simeon relaxed, letting out the tension in his chest. “I’m on your side, Hades. But... I do think Zeus is involved. Where could I find him? Where could he stash her?”

“I’m telling you, he swore on Styx, and no immortal can break that vow! He hasn’t laid a hand on her. He doesn’t have her in any of his homes.”

“Mhm. So what about his businesses? What about his minions or his acolytes or whatever you call them? Who would know where and how he could get away with lying through his teeth for a bloody millennia?”

“An expert on his constant lying and his deviousness? There is someone who might help you... even for the mere pleasure of inconveniencing him and watching Zeus sweat.” Hades snapped his fingers, and the vision of Simeon and Emily conversing dissipated, replaced by an elegant Upper West Side Boutique.

Simeon squinted at the misty mirage, focusing on the floating letters above the gleaming glass doors until they became solid enough to make sense of. At last, he read them out. “Hera’s Bridal.”