Belladonna by River I showed up on his doorstep one hot, humid night in mid July. I didn't expect him to be happy to see me, but I expected at least a little surprise; we hadn't spoken in nearly ten years, since a Summer Solstice night a lifetime ago and a world away. The door swung open, and we stood staring at each other for a long minute. The sight of him brought back centuries of memories, most of which I would rather forget, but it also brought a strange comfort, almost a homecoming. He looked at me through those impassive eyes, black as damnation and just as hard, his expression unreadable. Finally, he asked, "What are you doing here?" I shifted my bag on my shoulder. It was heavy; it had what was left of my life in it. "I need a place to stay." He raised one dark eyebrow. "How did you find me?" I shrugged, which hurt under the bag's weight. "You're not the only one with connections." It was easily said, but the truth was it had taken nearly half a year of hundred dollar bills slipped into the right hands, questions asked in dark taverns all over Europe, then back to America, where the search had at last ended, here in a neighborhood where half the tenants were our kind, and all of them were richer than I could ever hope to be. I knew he had vast resources, but seeing the building he lived in - marble tile, velvet, guards armed against both human and inhuman interference - reminded me only too well that he maintained the nobility we had been born to. I, on the other hand, had lived most of my life far below my means, afraid I would outlive my money, and the last decade had been a miserable combination of middle - class respectability and pretension. We'd had a white picket fence. That said it all. "So can I come in?" Another long look, this one from my face down the length of my body and back up again, and I was suddenly uncomfortable - there was something in his gaze that made my skin feel too tight. I didn't have a name for it then. Wordlessly, he stepped back, allowing me to cross the threshold. It was much as I thought it would be: opulent but tasteful, sophisticated, enormous. The décor was mostly urban black with touches of dark blue - I remembered from our humanity it had been his favorite color. Strange what didn't change, and what did, in five hundred years. "Not bad," I said. "The women must love it." He made an indefinite noise, and crossed the living room - no mean feat, given its size - to the bar and poured himself a drink. I wondered vaguely what he'd been doing when the doorbell rang. He looked at me over his shoulder. "You?" I let my bag settle on the floor and sat down on a large, overstuffed sofa. Corinthian leather, black. It was almost unbelievably comfortable. "Bourbon," I said, letting some of my weariness show. "Double, on the rocks." Moments later he pressed the drink into my hand and sank gracefully into the chair opposite me. I had to admire how regal he looked sitting there, watching me silently, vodka in one hand. He was waiting for an explanation, of course. I took a deep breath. "I left her," I said simply. "Or, rather, we left each other." He sipped his drink, the very picture of indifference. "I doubted you would last this long." I shook my head, though what I was denying, I didn't know. "You wanted her too," I reminded him. "I would have made her one of us, or not had her at all. You should know better by now than to think our kind and theirs can ever truly marry." I couldn't stand his scrutiny any more. I rose, leaving the bourbon on the coffee table, and wandered over to the wall of windows that looked out over the city's darkened glory. We were twelve stories up, with the sprawl of the world below, and from here it looked like there might be some order to it all. I knew from experience that was an illusion. "It wasn't really that hard to find you, once I knew who to ask for," I said, changing the subject. "You have quite a reputation, you know. They call you the Raven." "I know." "It sounds better than the Crow, I suppose, though technically." I sighed. I wished I had brought my drink to the window - I could use something to steady me. "A lot of people are afraid of you." "As well they should be." "You can guess how the night guard reacted when I came in and told him I was the Raven's brother. If we didn't look so much alike he probably would have killed me on the spot." "He should have." I smiled. "Five hundred dollars made him reconsider." "You wasted your money. He called when you went into the elevator, so I could tell the floor guard not to stake you on sight." "How kind," I muttered. I had thought once I got here I would have some idea what to do next, but I didn't. Leaving her had been inevitable, I knew, but I still felt as though I had come loose from my mooring, and was adrift without even a current to carry me. Coming here was probably a mistake, but where else could I go? I didn't know how to be alone anymore. Ten years had ruined me for the world. "She wanted children," I said. "I couldn't give her any. We were going to buy one, but I couldn't go through with it - who would force a child to grow up with a vampire for a father? It wasn't the baby that was the problem, it was that she wanted a mortal husband, and I needed an immortal wife.someone who would understand." "Understand what?" I heard him stand up, felt him approach and join me at the window, arms crossed, saturnine and dangerous. I had to wonder how exactly he'd earned his reputation, though in all reality I could guess. "Understand that you're a weak, self - loathing fool who lives off rats and pigs' blood? You won't find a companion among our kind, brother, until you let go of the delusion that you are somehow better than the rest of us." There was old anger in the words, and disdain, and I couldn't help but share them. I shook my head. "I know I won't. I've known that for years now." I turned to him, and our eyes met; I held his gaze as long as I could, so he would understand that I was serious. "Why do you think I've come here, of all the places in the world I could go, if I wanted to go back to what I was? I can't be myself anymore and stay sane. I need.I need to be what I am, what we are. I need you to teach me." He didn't immediately reply, and I added, "I'm willing to learn. I have to.I have to or I'll go mad. I promise I'll do whatever you want me to do - even kill." Again the raised eyebrow, and I realized that this time I had surprised him. I wasn't sure I could back up that last statement, not yet, but I was willing to try whatever it took to let go of the pain of humanity once and for all. His stare became searching, penetrating, and I felt as if I was naked under those eyes, all my sins laid bare, my masks stripped away. I felt myself flushing - there it was again, that intimacy, the look of appraisal one would give a potential lover.or victim. After a long minute of complete silence, he turned away, saying, "The second door on the left is your room." "Where are you going?" "Out. I have hunting to do. You will join me tomorrow night, but for now you need sleep more than blood." He paused at the desk, took something from a drawer, and tossed it to me. I looked down at the plastic card in my hand - a magnetic key to the building, with a metal key taped to the back, for the apartment door. I held the card so tightly it hurt my palm, and as he left I called after him. "Damon." He stopped, half - turned, not looking at me, but listening. "Thank you," I said. The faintest ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "Make yourself at home." Then, he closed the door behind him and was gone. ***** I carried my bag to the room he'd indicated, which was large and furnished in the same color scheme as the rest of the apartment, with a queen - sized bed and adjoining bath. My few clothes looked pathetic in the expanse of the closet, but there would be time for shopping later; I imagined he would have plenty to say about my wardrobe if I was going for the full vampire makeover. The room was absolutely empty of personal effects, as if it were a hotel room and not part of a home, and I got the feeling it was rarely even opened. I poked my head into the first door on the left, which proved to be a small office with high - end computer and a variety of other techno - toys, as well as an impressive collection of swords hanging on the far wall. I recognized some from our era, but weapons had never been an interest of mine - come to think of it, I didn't have many interests, except perhaps art and to some degree music. Self - pity and denial had always been my favorite hobbies. At the thought, my eyes fell on the corner of the room, and I was taken aback - a violin, resting on a stool, with a stand stacked neatly with sheet music nearby. I had understood that I didn't really know my brother, but somehow the thought of him as a musician was strange to me. The instrument's case leaned against the wall, suggesting it had been recently played, perhaps even tonight before I arrived. I closed the door to the room and turned to the two on the right, the first of which was a linen closet. Everything was very orderly and cared - for, and I wondered if he had a maid. I could, if I tried, imagine him playing the violin, but cleaning toilets simply didn't register in the realm of possibility. The last door was the master bedroom, and I went in, knowing I would most likely regret my curiosity. It would be just my luck to have won him over only to be thrown out on my ass for snooping. I had a feeling he was as private as I was once. Another surprise. The bedroom was less contemporary than the rest of the apartment, as if transported from another house entirely. Dark wood, old and worn but sturdy; a gigantic four - poster bed with a scrolled iron headboard and curtains to block out daylight; cozy chairs by a small hearth that was closed this time of year but had definitely been in use at some point. The primary color was a deep, rich burgundy, like old wine, and though the rest of the apartment was practically sterile, the bedroom had a distinct and familiar scent.expensive cologne, coupled with a kind of wildness, a musky and masculine smell that I had never quite been able to place. It reminded me of our youth, watching him enchant every woman in a room just by walking through the door. I backed out, suddenly afraid he would come home and find me, and made sure the door was shut before returning to my own room. He'd been quite correct in the assessment that I was tired; I felt like I could sleep for a week. I dug shorts and a t - shirt out of the drawer where I'd stuffed most of my belongings and went to shower. I switched the shower head to its highest setting and let the scalding hot water pound my skin, wishing it could burn away the last ten years.no, the last five hundred. I wanted to reset my life and start from scratch, perhaps finding a balance between what my mind wanted and my nature craved.and never mind my heart. It had brought me to grief every time I let it lead. As I left the bathroom, flipping off the light, I heard voices - he must have come home while the water was running. I hadn't thought he would bring anyone back with him; was it in vogue to take one's prey home these days, wine and dine them before dining on them? Cautiously, I eased the door open, and looked around the corner into the living room. He was there, and not alone. There was a young human with him, a male, about twenty years old, dressed as if he'd been clubbing - tight clothes, a sheen of sweat still clinging to his bare upper arms. I could smell his anticipation; he thought he'd been picked up for sex, and the minute the beautiful dark man with the smoldering eyes had gestured to him across the dance floor, he had come panting like a bitch in heat, willing to do anything it took to spend a night alongside that body. I didn't normally read mortals' thoughts, but this one's were so close to the surface I could hardly help it. He was standing a little uncertainly in the living room, not sure who would make the first move. I figured it would probably be Damon, only that move wouldn't be anything like what the boy expected.I was half right. He gave the boy the same elevator look he'd given me earlier, and said mildly, "Take off your shirt." The boy obeyed eagerly, tossing the sweaty garment on the floor, revealing a chest sculpted from months of hard time at a gym. There was a difference between muscle born of real work and that created for its own sake. All that remained were skin - tight jeans, the fabric showing plainly that the rest of the boy's body was as carefully constructed for just such a purpose. He spoke again. "You understand why you are here." The boy nodded. "For barter, an even trade." "You've been to Belladonna before, I see." "It's no big deal - what's a little blood if it means I get to go home with somebody like you?" He smiled, and it was the sort of smile a snake would give a particularly tasty - looking rat, if it could. Now I was absolutely sure he was going to kill the boy, but it was strange.I couldn't believe he would go to all this trouble just for blood. Lying for prey didn't make a lot of sense when all he'd really have to do was wrap his Power around a human's mind and call them out. I'd seen him do a variety of unsavory things in the name of the hunt, but this was more elaborate than was necessary. Try as I might I couldn't understand. He moved forward, reached out, and lay a hand lightly on the boy's shoulder, then traced a slow line down the human's chest. The boy shivered at the touch and shifted uncomfortably in his jeans as the hand slid into the waistband, around to the front, to unbutton and unzip. I caught a glimpse of standard - issue white briefs. Damon seemed to find the underwear amusing. "Cute." He brought his hand down over the boy's crotch, seized it with an iron grip, and pulled the boy hard against him - the human hissed out a pained breath but didn't complain. Then, he covered the boy's mouth with his, his free hand around the boy's neck. I stared, openmouthed, watching them kiss, watching them start to strip each other's clothes off - he had Power over the human, true, but it was all fueling the boy's lust, driving it into a fever, charging his blood with an intensity that would no doubt nourish a vampire for days. As his shirt slid off and onto the floor, I saw for the first time that his back was tattooed, a tribal design of dark wings that spread from one shoulder to the other. The boy's fingers ran over the lines of ink, and I felt a stab of anger that a mere human would dare to touch. I gripped the doorframe almost hard enough to break it, terrified of where my thoughts were going, terrified of what I was seeing. They were on the couch now, where I had been sitting an hour ago, and he leaned back to let the boy's mouth search over his skin, the boy kneeling, lowering his head as if in prayer. Long fingers wound through the boy's dark hair, holding him where he was, though not forcefully; the boy was perfectly happy there on his knees, sucking, eyes closed in blissful abandon. I wanted to step back, to close the bedroom door and hide, or better yet to run as far and fast as I could.but, in that second, he looked up and met my eyes. He smiled. Then I heard his voice inside my mind, as I had years and years ago, but this time it was little more than a mental caress: See something you like, brother? My paralysis broken, I retreated to my room and locked the door. ***** I was weak, but not weak enough to block out the next few hours, especially once he had taken the boy to his bedroom across the hall from mine. I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying desperately to think of anything that would take my mind, and my body, away from what I was feeling from them. It was no use; I spent most of the night unbearably aroused, harder than I could ever remember being in my life, and all the effort in the world couldn't banish the images that kept forming in my mind.skin on skin.soft whimpers of mingled pleasure and pain.the driving need to be filled, taken, used again and again.the boy wasn't remotely psychic, so he had no idea he was projecting, but his every desire tore through me until I had no idea whether he was being fucked or I was. At long last there was silence in my head, and my body began to calm, though I was as exhausted as I guessed the human must be. His host, however, showed no signs of wear, and after a moment I heard another whisper: Come here. I ignored the command, and it came again, this time accompanied by a gentle tug at my will. I knew he was capable of far more - as much as I didn't want to go in that room, I wanted to anger him even less until I had my wits enough about me to leave in the morning. Perhaps the stories I had heard in the last few months were true, perhaps they weren't, but all of them had the same moral: don't piss off the Raven. I got out of bed and followed the call, entering the room with my reluctance out where he could see it. At first I avoided looking at the bed, but he would say nothing until I looked at him, and after a minute of standing there feeling foolish I had no other choice. He was stretched out languidly on his side, a sheet draped from the hip down, propped up on one elbow. The moonlight caught his bare body in silhouette, an angel of darkness and fire, watching me through eyes that held more light than they should have. The boy lay on his back half asleep, head back where I could see the two small marks on his throat - marks that weren't closed, meaning they were either brand new or had been reopened repeatedly throughout the night. "Don't be shy," Damon said, lowering his eyes to the empty part of the bed. "It's time for lesson one." I found my voice with some difficulty. "I think I already saw lesson one." "Come here." No matter how old we were, no matter what had happened in Virginia, I still feared him more than I trusted him. I obeyed, lying down with the boy between us. The human glanced at me but didn't seem worried. I could tell he was completely unhurt, only weak, and in fact still had more than enough spare blood left to feed on - the drink had been shallow, savored, a sip at a time while the boy's passions were highest. He reached up and brushed a finger across my lips, then chuckled at my expression. "Oh, don't worry, little brother. I give you my word - I won't lay a hand on you." I swallowed hard. "Ever?" This time the smile verged on what I would call evil, but he would most likely call playful. "I don't take unwilling lovers." I decided to take that at face value, and to ignore the undertone that suggested there might be a time, someday, when I would be willing. I wasn't about to think about that, not when my body was already wound so tightly that the slightest suggestion might have me on my knees just as the boy had been. "For now," he went on, "a short primer in vampire society. This young lad is a patron of what we call a hunting ground, a bar created specifically by our kind for a specific purpose. The humans who frequent such places know exactly what they are, and what we are, and what we want from them. They come for the drugs, the alcohol, the dancing, the sex. They pay in blood." "No cover charge," the boy murmured, smiling. He seemed quite pleased with the arrangement. "You'll notice the stamp on his hand," Damon went on, lifting the boy's arm. There was indeed a black mark shaped like a bird - a crow, I realized. "It will last a month, no matter how hard he scrubs at it, and until then he is not allowed back in the club. By the same token, anyone of our kind who does serious harm to a patron or in any way violates the rules is cast out permanently, and occasionally punished in other ways depending on the crime. The result, then, is a way for us to have fresh, live human blood, offered freely, not even stolen from a hospital." "Why are you telling me this?" He sighed, as if at my idiocy. "So that you will understand the world you've come to. It isn't all about violation. It is possible for us to be Powerful without the expense of human life. The dichotomy wherein we either abstain from human blood to be 'good' or take it and be 'evil' no longer applies. You can be both if you want to be." I looked again at the boy's hand. "Belladonna.you own it?" "I do. As you mentioned, I have a reputation, and that reputation helps ensure that our patrons are safer even than at other hunting grounds - no one would dream of molesting a human under my eye. A few have tried, and they were made examples to the rest." I asked the human, "And you don't mind all of this? You're okay with being used as food?" The boy laughed. "Are you kidding? If I donate at the blood bank all I get is a cookie." I had to admire the precision of it. I knew there were people who got off on being prey - I hadn't realized how widespread the phenomenon was. Or perhaps it wasn't being fed on.perhaps it was the other half of the bargain that attracted them. The boy seemed to read my mind. "Worth every drop," he said. Damon pushed the boy's head back again, exposing his neck, and my stomach lurched painfully with hunger. He ran his hand down the boy's jugular, then tapped a place opposite the already - existing marks, and said, "He has plenty left." "You're done with him?" I asked, trying not to look at the neck, or think about the hunger.another losing battle. "I didn't say that. But Mother taught me to share my toys, you know." I found myself laughing a little. "It took you five hundred years to learn how." He smiled back. I couldn't help it - I warmed to that smile, to the approval I'd been craving and never received from my wife. She had never fully accepted me, as I had never accepted myself, but now I had the chance.and, whatever his agenda, I knew I would do anything to prove myself, to be accepted. I leaned in, breathed the boy's scent, which was mingled with another's and all the more intoxicating. He watched me as I licked the boy's skin, finding just the right place, and I felt like a wolf cub under its mother's tutelage, learning how to finish off a struggling rodent. My teeth stretched out, pressing into my lower lip, and I nuzzled the spot once more before biting. The boy gasped, then gasped again as a second pair of teeth pierced his throat, reopening the holes that were already there. I drank, luxuriating in the overtones of lust that were still in the blood, reveling in the taste of humanity that I had denied myself so long. He tasted like a long night of fucking, like youth and beauty, like leather and late afternoon sun. I pulled away reluctantly, my need sated, a flood of well - being washing over me, another thing I had forgotten. Animal blood never left contentment in its wake, never soothed like warm milk. I felt at once more alive and more tired than I had in decades. Our eyes met over the boy. "Go to bed," he said. "Lesson two, tomorrow." ***** "So are you gay now?" I asked, accepting the drink, which turned out to be bourbon, double, on the rocks. All around us the club pulsated, the dance floor filled with humans and vampires together, pairs of which would sometimes wander off to back rooms or houses or simply to corners to bargain life for life. We had gotten a number of interesting looks upon our arrival. He smiled over his own glass. "Gay, as in happy?" He was toying with me. Funny how after a week I was already learning the subtleties of the neverending chess game that was my brother. "Gay, as in homosexual," I replied. "All you've brought home this week have been boys." As if in answer, his eyes drifted over to a human woman passing by us, wearing about a half yard of fabric stretched tight over her.assets. She gave us both a look of open invitation, but he returned his gaze to me, and she shrugged and sauntered off in search of other predators. "Lesson four," he said. "When you are feeding on lust, men are the best targets." "Why is that?" "Several reasons. One, you're male, so you know how to work them - even the most experienced lover can't know all the secrets of a woman's desires. Two, men are uncomplicated, easy to arouse and easy to keep aroused. Three, even if a woman is out for a one night stand, she still has an emotional agenda, whether acknowledged or not. Men aren't wired directly from heart to cock, especially gay men. They don't come here with romance in mind. They expect one night to be one night, and therefore want that night with you to be the most memorable experience it can be." "That's incredibly sexist," I said, not really caring if it was or not - a decade with an American woman had trained me well. "Perhaps. But it's true. You'll notice most of the humans down there are male." I hadn't, but I looked over the railing, and a good two - thirds of them were in fact men. "So you only fuck men to feed off them?" "I didn't say that. In all honesty I've been with men on and off for most of my life, since I was very young." Something very dark crossed his face. "One of the hazards of being an altar boy." "Holy shit," I said before I could stop myself. "You mean Father Lazio." He shook his head. "That wasn't what caused it. He bent over every boy who ever went into the rectory, but of the six of us, I was the only one who went back willingly - for five years. I had plenty of women, too, and enjoyed them just as much. Call me an equal opportunity whore." "I had no idea." He smiled with a good deal of irony. "There were a lot of things you didn't know, brother, and there still are. It helps if you look up from your navel once in a while and observe the world around you. But the point is, after five centuries it makes sense to start letting go of old human labels and boundaries. Distinctions of sexuality, like any other such category, are a mortal invention designed to help those in power divide and conquer those who are not. Why should they apply to us, when we have Power over them all?" I had no answer for that, but watched the floor below, not sure what to make of his admissions. Instead I concentrated on evaluating the humans in the crowd, as he had taught me in the past few days, looking them over for strength and health. Feeding the way he did meant feeding less often, or less per meal; we had shared his prey all week, but by the time I got to them they were tired and losing the Power of sex and desire that made them so much better for us than the average human off the street. I was getting stronger already, just from that much. I had forgotten what a difference human blood made; not only was my physical health improving, but so was my mind. I could think more clearly, react more quickly. I could see in the dark again. I had spent ten years living an even sadder life than a mortal's, for at least a mortal accepted those limitations of flesh that were theirs to bear, but a vampire would always know there was more, so much more.as I was remembering. "Tonight you choose, and call one out," he said. "You can do that much already." I frowned. I had watched him work, had lived off his seconds, but was I ready to take the next step and actually hunt for myself? There was, I reminded myself, no other way. I had promised to do what he told me, to accept my lessons with gratitude. It was much better than killing or taking blood against someone's will. They were here at the club, which implied consent. I had to at least acknowledge that. "Do you have any recommendations?" I asked. "There are so many." He eyed the crowd with about as much concern as he might choose a bottle of wine. "Stay away from the redhead in the black dress. She's tainted." I followed his gaze, and there she was, dancing as if her life depended on it, casting glances around to see if any of our kind had noticed her. When I looked with my Power instead of my eyes, I could sense it - a poison - green undertone in her aura, the color of sickness. Disease couldn't kill us, as they were destroyed by our immune systems almost immediately, but the more virulent strains lingered long enough to make us ill for a few hours or even a night. They also tasted foul. Human blood took on nuances of diet, health, and spirit. This one had something terminal, and nasty; I would bet it was HIV, with that telltale taste of stagnant water. The fact that she was here meant she either didn't know she had it, or didn't care. Neither of those were appetizing thoughts. Before I could select another, though, he said very quietly, "Look over there." I did, and saw nothing especially intriguing, only a pair who had just come through the vampire - only entrance to the club, which let out onto the catwalk we were standing on. One man, one woman, both gorgeous and dressed as if they knew it. "What about them?" "That is the other major Power in this city," he replied. "He calls himself Thorn." The vampire in question was fair - haired, tall, and had the same catlike grace and nobility I had come to associate with the stronger members of our species. The arrogance on his face was plain, as was his strength. He wore it out on his coat sleeve, as if daring anyone to look anywhere else for the strongest vampire in town. Perhaps it was Damon's influence, but I found Thorn immediately dull, though he probably struck as much fear into the collective heart of the underworld as my brother did. The difference was that Damon didn't have to show off; others deferred to him because it would never have occurred to them not to. He commanded the entire room without effort or attention. Thorn had to work at it. His woman was a perfect example of modern American beauty - stick - thin, blue - eyed, with expertly dyed hair in shades of auburn and no fat anywhere on her body. She reminded me for some reason of what I had left behind.but before I could avert my eyes, she caught them, and I had to grab the railing to steady myself. Pain. Terror. She was in complete agony, and afraid for her life.no, for more than that, afraid for her soul. He had her there against her will, under Power, practically chained to his side. Her eyes begged for help, for mercy, for death, any release - God knew what he did to her when no one was looking. Thorn saw us and smiled broadly - a little too broadly to be genuine. They approached, and I had to put a psychic barrier between myself and the woman's pain. "If it isn't the Raven himself," Thorn said, displaying a distinctly upper - crust French accent. "And my, my, look what you've brought with you." He looked me over, with every bit as much innuendo as Damon had, but instead of the tightness in my chest I felt nothing but disgust and a touch of instinctive fear. I felt tendrils of Power stretching towards me, the same kind that he had around the woman, and I fought not to shrink back. He was strong, frighteningly so, and had no pangs of conscience about taking what he wanted.from whoever happened to have it. "Thorn," Damon said. "A pleasure as always. I see you still have Monica with you." Thorn stroked Monica's hair, ran a hand down her arm, eliciting a shiver that was not of delight. He wrapped his arm around her and let one hand rest on her breast, possessive. "I did not think you were the type to take a thrall, Raven. I should warn you: after a while they start to get a little rebellious, so it is best to train them well from the beginning." The look he bestowed on Monica said clearly that she had not been properly trained, and was being punished for her disobedience now. I started to say I wasn't about to be trained - by him or anyone else - but Damon took my arm and nearly broke my wrist in his grip. "This one isn't a thrall, Thorn," he answered calmly. "I have no need to resort to Power to keep anyone in my bed." It was an insult, and a blatant one - Thorn's lip curled, and the aura of Power around him swelled and darkened. I knew a challenge when I saw one. "Be careful," Damon said, still quiet and undisturbed. "You are not on your turf." Thorn glanced around, seeming to remember where he was and who owned it, and drew his Power back in until he was normal again. "You should be careful, boy," Thorn said with false nonchalance. "As weak as that pretty thing is it would be very easy to steal him away." A smile, so dangerous even I wanted to hide from it. "Try it." Thorn laughed. "Someday I will. But not tonight, I think. Tonight my toy and I have come to partake of your little establishment. We are paid members, after all." "Of course, and you are welcome here as long as you abide by the same rules as everyone else." "Rules," Thorn hissed over his shoulder as they left, "were made to be broken." When we were alone again, I tried to decide on what question to ask first, but all I could say was, "That woman." He nodded, still watching them descend the stairs into the crowd. "Remember lesson three?" I thought back. "That there are essentially two kinds of Power relationships?" "Yes. The first is partnership. One vampire takes a companion, or sometimes two; they live together and share both blood and bed. There are ways they can share Power as well, which makes two more formidable than one. The second is slavery. The most popular kind is what you just saw." "A.thrall?" I felt a horrified anger at anyone who could treat someone else that way, no matter how strong they were supposed to be. "Can't you do anything for her?" "No," he replied sharply. "As I said, Thorn is a player here, and to publicly humiliate him by stealing his thrall would cause open war. The balance of Power is delicate in this city. He would most likely have this place burned to the ground and send every assassin he could afford after me, unless I killed him first. I've worked too hard to throw it all away for some idiot woman." He must have seen my outrage, because he added, his tone bordering on compassionate, "Besides.she can never be free until he releases her. A thrall comes to her master of her own will, and now it's too late to change her mind. He'll let her go when he tires of abusing her.and even if she could escape, until he lifts the thrall over her no one else will be able to satisfy her. She could have a dozen men a night and wouldn't come for a single one. She would thirst for him as she does for blood, and just as eternally." I took a deep breath, nodding, trying to accept that. "He sounded like he might be in the market for a new one soon." "Yes, and that's why you are to stay as close to me as possible whenever we're here. There are others who might have the same idea - none of them will risk my anger, but if you are caught alone and unprotected - " "I'm not that weak," I snapped. "I can take care of myself." He merely looked at me. "Monica is twice as strong as you are. He broke her without a second thought." "You could do the same to me," I said, "if you wanted to." Was I daring him to try? What in the hell was wrong with me? Baiting him was more than unproductive, it could be deadly. I had already seen that, even when we were children. I had to be going mad. "I know I could," he told me, not even batting an eye.but he straightened, no longer leaning on the rail, and moved closer, bruisingly close.until I could feel his breath on my neck, his hands encircling my waist, pulling me against him so hard I could feel his heart beating through my chest. My breath froze at the touch of his tongue to my ear, tracing a line down my cheekbone, ending across my lips. A shiver ran through my entire body, just as one had through Monica's.but mine was not from fear. "I told you I don't take unwilling lovers," he said, no more than a whisper against my mouth. "I won't have you until you come to me of your own choice, offer yourself freely, and I claim you as my own.forever." I forced myself to speak. "I thought you told him you don't need a thrall." He licked my upper lip again, then stepped back, smiling. "I don't," he said, his voice like silk. "And I don't want one. I want exactly what you want, brother.and I don't need Power to get it. It's a matter of time, your foolishness, or my patience, whichever runs out first." With that, he returned to the rail as if nothing had happened, and nodded toward the dance floor. "Choose one and let's go." I was shaking so badly inside I could barely think, but I managed to zero in on a likely candidate. "The brunette in the leather skirt." He sighed. "Are you sure you want a woman?" I nodded, unspeaking. "Fine. You'll get to see the difference if nothing else. Come, then." He beckoned for me to follow him down the stairs. Her name, or at least the name she gave us, was Rachel. She came along easily enough; I had already learned long ago how to compel humans to follow simple commands, so drawing her out of the crowd to where we stood was no trial. Really, once she realized we had chosen her, she let go of her will and came eagerly. When he informed her that she would be feeding - and enjoying - us both, she looked a little scared, but it didn't take much assurance that it was indeed allowed under the rules, and that she would not be hurt. She probably wouldn't have minded a trip to the hospital in exchange for a threesome anyway. As we walked back to the apartment building I kept my hands in my pockets, not sure I believed the world I was now in or what I was about to do. I had sworn never to use humans for food; I had pledged my undying loyalty and monogamy to one woman. I had already broken the first vow this week, and knew perfectly well I would be expected to break the second tonight. That was part of the deal - we got blood and sex, she got to fuck vampires, everyone went home happy.and I knew that the humans went home very happy, if the sounds that came from his bedroom were anything to go by. She looked around the apartment with interest. "This is nice," she said. Humans always tried to make small talk, as if this night was going to result in anything lasting. I recognized the look on his face. Hunger. Sharing his prey with me meant he had to feed more often. He walked around her in a slow circle, and from earlier lessons I knew he was sizing up what kind of woman she was, what would bring her the greatest pleasure and thereby make her blood the strongest for us. It was her first time at Belladonna, but she had her hand stamped, so she had signed the release papers at the door before they would let her in. She knew what she was doing, even if she was a little afraid. It might be that, like many other humans, she didn't really believe vampires existed, and thought we were simply part of some weird subculture that believed itself immortal. "So," she said, growing nervous as the silence stretched on, "one at a time or both at once?" He chuckled. She looked even more nervous at the sound. "Both at once, my dear. He's still learning." She swallowed. "My friends aren't going to believe this," she said, and I pitied her a little as I pitied them all. I was starting to have thoughts that mirrored his - for instance, that mortals were almost uniformly stupid. "I mean, Sue saw me leave with you guys, but nobody else was watching, and - " He rolled his eyes and moved across the room too quickly for her to see, then clamped a hand over her mouth while his other arm pinned her back against him almost violently. She squealed, started to struggle. "No more talking," he said callously. "We have work to do - you can either shut the hell up and have an amazing story for your friends tomorrow, or you can stop wasting our time and go home with all of your blood but without a single orgasm. It's entirely up to you." She held still, and he immediately released her and moved back to a nonthreatening distance. A smart person would have left right then - if he was capable of bullying her, what else might he do? She had only our word and the reputation of Belladonna to verify that we wouldn't murder her or worse. She stayed. My pity dissolved - it would serve her right if we did kill her. Again, I didn't sound at all like myself.but I was starting to realize, and accept, that I didn't want to sound like myself. I was tired of everything that had ever made me who I was. I wanted to be someone else now.by any means necessary. We both approached her at once, closing in, bringing her between us. She closed her eyes as he lay a hand lightly on her shoulder, then moved up behind her, hands moving around to start unbuttoning her blouse. She smiled a little, and encouraged, I helped with the bottom buttons. Four hands moved over her arms, around her back, pushing the thin fabric off her and revealing the tiny little black thing that passed as her bra. One quick movement, and he had unhooked it. I pulled it off, exposing the soft roundness of her breasts. There was no help for it - it was now or never. I got closer, pinning her back against him, and kissed her mouth hard enough to startle her. She reached up and dug her nails into my shoulders, like a kitten's claws. So small and fragile, so mortal.I wanted to swallow her, let some of that innocence take me back to some distant time when there was no blood in my mind, no driving need fighting its way through me like a caged animal. As I kissed her, he slid one hand up under the hem of her skirt, while the other sought a way to remove it completely. She shifted slightly to let him touch her, then gasped, arching back toward him while he licked and nibbled her neck. I could sense it building in her already, a deep liquid heat centered around the hand that expertly parted her thighs and found her wet and ready. I knelt, pausing to suck first one breast, then the other, drawing her down to the floor with me. Was it really this easy? It must be - but I still had no idea how to work with the Power that rose in her. I could help it swell all night, but had no experience in using it. Watch and learn, he murmured in my mind, and suddenly my senses lurched so I was almost looking at her from the opposite side - he had opened to me, psychically, so that I could see what he was doing. I followed the lines of energy, saw him tap into her and set up a flow that would double back, her own pleasure feeding on itself to grow stronger and stronger. It didn't look all that difficult, really, simple and elegant. Once the circuit was flowing, he returned his attention to her, now that we were all on our knees on the floor. He found the last catch of her skirt and pulled it off, baring her to us completely. It wasn't much of a surprise that she wore nothing beneath it. She was beautiful; as he slid his fingers into her, stroking gently back and forth, I watched the light play over her skin, watched the fall of her hair over his shoulder, her back curved like a serpent's, her mouth open, eyes shut tight. A wave approached, crashing through her...and, cruelly, he withdrew the hand before she could break. She cried out in frustration, her body so fevered she couldn't even speak. Just watching her was enough to send my pulse skyward. Her need was contagious, and I reached out, running my hands down the length of her body. He eased her down onto her back, teasing her with his fingers. She writhed against him, and he gazed down at her and then inclined his head toward me. "Would you like him to fuck you?" he asked. She whimpered, nodded. "Please." We were still both dressed, which was inconvenient, as my motor skills had abruptly vanished. I couldn't summon the coordination to pull my shirt over my head. Her desire was battering my hold on consciousness from all sides. He made an impatient noise. "Idiot boy," he muttered, then said to her, "Wait here." He pushed up from her side and took hold of my shirt, pulling it off me roughly. My senses were so confused that I momentarily lost vertical hold, and all but fell into him, groaning, wishing to God it was bare skin instead of linen that I felt against me. I needed to be touched as badly as she did - I was a fool indeed for not shielding myself better, for losing my hold before I even had it. "Get control of yourself," he told me irritably, pushing me onto the floor next to her. "Was all my effort this week wasted?" He leaned over me, those obsidian eyes locked on mine while he finished undressing me and tossed what remained of my clothes up onto the couch. I felt myself turn scarlet as his gaze swept slowly, possessively over my bare skin, lingering. "My, my," he said with a wicked grin, "so it does run in the family." Even as crazed with need as my mind was I still shut my eyes with embarrassment - this, after all, was my elder brother, and the look on his face was anything but fraternal. So was his touch. He stretched out beside me, sandwiching me between him and the girl, and I stifled a cry as his hand glided down my chest, over my stomach, to bestow a single gentle stroke along the length of my cock. I wasn't sure if the move was out of desire or simply to torture me - or both - neither would have surprised me. I was about to lose my mind already, and after that I forgot what I was supposed to be doing and practically pounced on him. He chuckled, nudged me off. "Not yet. The girl - go ahead, take her." I shook my head. "I can't move." Another impatient noise. "I swear you are the worst student I've ever had." He seized my head and bent it away from him, exposing my throat, and this time I did cry out; he bit me. As the blood flowed out, though, so did some of the lust that had me in its grip. He drank it from me, leaving me able to think again, and more importantly able to breathe. I concentrated on infusing the blood with gratitude as well, and got a mental caress in response that reminded me why I was here. I turned to the girl, who was panting, eyes closed, her nails digging into the carpet. I wondered at his ability to keep her so aroused without even touching her; perhaps that would be lesson five. "Ready, darling?" I asked her. This time she couldn't even nod, but moaned, a sound that I took as a definite affirmative. I rolled over onto my side, then pulled her to me, wrapping her legs around me. I moved onto her, and into her, at the same time, and she practically screamed with relief. I moved inside her, losing myself in her warmth and the lapping waves of her passion, unaware of the room around us or the motions of either of our bodies - I could feel nothing but heat, burning me from the inside out, taking us both. I dimly noticed a hand snaking its way between us, down where it could part the nest of curls between her thighs and drive her even closer to the edge, and a voice I thought I knew said in my mind, Drink. I let my teeth prick her skin, not hard enough to jolt her out, but deep enough to taste her. That was all it took - the wave slammed into me, into her, and as she tore her nails into my back and cried out to God, I drank until I blacked out and collapsed onto her, my mouth still at her throat. ***** She left at four in the morning, walking stiffly, lightheaded from blood loss but otherwise fine.except of course for her memory. She would have no recollection of the journey to or from the apartment, and would in fact forget which building we lived in, and even some of what we looked like. The Power that took away the memory was strong enough that even hypnosis wouldn't be able to find it in the dark recesses of her mind. I had never been that strong. At the rate I was going, I never would be. "That was very close to pathetic," he said, sipping a glass of merlot. We'd both showered, though my knees were too weak to stay upright for long, and now I sat in the living room waiting for a scathing critique of my performance. He wasn't angry or even upset, just disappointed that I had forgotten so much so quickly. "I'm sorry," I said tiredly. I pulled the bathrobe - one of his, dark blue - tighter around me, letting the couch cushions hold me up. "But it was my first time, after all. And I did much better after that, didn't I?" "Only because I was prompting you. I would have expected better from someone nearly as old as I am. You are supposed to rule the human's desires, not the other way around. You gave up control repeatedly - think with your brain, not your dick." I frowned. "You weren't any help. You kept knocking me off center - just when I got control, you." "I what?" He was holding back a smile. "You touched me, damn it. Why did you keep doing that if you knew it would blow my focus?" The smile crept out around the edges. "Because it would blow your focus. Call it a test - or curiosity on my part, if you like. I admit I found it rather amusing that it worked so well, for all that you insist you're straight." I was flushing again, and looked away. "Apparently the rules don't apply to you." Another sip of wine, casual. "You don't have to pretend not to watch, you know. You're supposed to be enjoying yourself too - if that means your eyes are on me instead of on her, that's fine." Against my will I remembered the shadows moving over his muscles, the way he curved around her as if they were two halves of a single animal.the look of unrestrained bliss that crossed his face when he came.the lines of his tattoo that seemed alive in the room's half - light.the way she had begged him to fuck her again and again, and never stop, though she was so exhausted she could barely speak.and the way he'd been so gentle with her afterward, helping her walk to the shower, getting in with her to be sure she didn't topple over. I hadn't expected him to treat her that kindly, as if she were more than a meal and a night's pleasure. He'd even given her cab fare. "You'll try again tomorrow," he said, and I started, returning to the present. I nodded, and asked, "Does this ever get old? Do you really enjoy it every time, or do you get bored?" His eyebrows lifted, indicating he'd never considered the question before. "Not so far. There are so many different kinds of humans, after all. This was the first woman I'd had in a while - she was stronger than they usually are. Unique. And," he went on, sounding faintly mischievous, "just when things were starting to become routine, you appeared. It has been a long time since I was part of a team." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. "So we're a team now? Even as horrible as I am at this?" "You have.tremendous potential," he said. "Another few weeks and you'll be ready to strike out on your own." I hadn't thought about that. Go it alone? Live somewhere by myself, hunt by myself, come home to a vacant apartment with my prey and then sleep alone when they were gone? For some reason the idea left me feeling empty, a little sad. When I lifted my eyes back to him he was watching me with an expression that said plainly my emotions had showed on my face. "You don't have to," he said, almost softly. "You could stay." I held his gaze a moment. "I don't know," I replied. "Won't there come a day when you'll want a true companion, a lover as well as a hunting partner? I would hate to get comfortable and then find myself a third wheel." He shrugged. "Worry about that if it happens." "People will make assumptions." "They already are," he said, unconcerned. "It might be safer for you if they make assumptions anyway, at least for a while. Thorn might try to steal a thrall from me, but he would think twice before making a move on my companion." "But I'm too much weaker than you to be your companion, aren't I? He'd never believe it." He shook his head. "Power equality has nothing to do with it. After enough years we would even out; most partnerships start out with one strong and one weaker. It's a matter of compatibility, attraction, sometimes even love. That's why Thorn doesn't have one. Most of us have better taste." There was a moment of silence, broken only by the sound of a plane crossing through the sky high above the building. Finally, I forced myself to ask what had been on my mind all night.and, in truth, since the night I had arrived. "Damon.do you want me as your companion?" The silence went on. He sipped his wine. I felt acutely ashamed for asking, my face burning yet again, and I wished I had a wine glass to hide behind. But, at length, he answered. "Yes, I do." My heart stopped. My breath stopped. Time, itself, stopped. I had asked, but I hadn't anticipated a truthful answer; I had expected some sort of verbal fencing, a parry and a change of subject. He had very rarely ever lied to me outright, but I had been unprepared for simple honesty. All I could manage was, "Why?" He considered that for a moment before replying. "Why does anyone want anyone?" "Well.but.I'm.we're." "I know that. Does it really matter? Human rules, remember, do not apply to our kind unless we let them." He stared down into his wine and added, "We've shared enough thoughts this week that I know you aren't horrified - in fact, I know you've thought the same thing at least once tonight." Before I could say anything else, though, he stood, and I wondered if admitting the truth had shaken him as badly as it had me. "Don't worry," he concluded, "your virtue is safe enough. If it bothers you that much I'll stop.testing you during the hunt, as it were." "No," I insisted, "don't. I mean.I don't want anything to change. I trust you." He left his glass on the coffee table, turning to go to bed, and paused long enough to say, "Good. Think of me whatever you like, brother, as long as you believe this.I've hurt you enough in our lifetime. I wouldn't willingly do it again." There were a hundred things I wanted to do right then. I wanted to stand, to go to him, to offer myself in any way he'd take me - companion, thrall, it wouldn't matter, as long as I could spend even an hour at his side. I wanted to hide and pretend I wasn't feeling what I knew I was, because I was terrified of what it meant. I wanted to get horribly, thoroughly drunk. I wanted to tell him.what? I wasn't sure. I settled for, "I believe you." He nodded once, curtly, and vanished. I heard the bedroom door close. I leaned forward, put my head in my hands. I'd thrown away the life I knew, the woman I had nearly died for - twice - and the relationship we had struggled to build for ten years. I'd renounced my own identity, every principle that had ever meant anything to me, and fucked and fed on a complete stranger for hours and hours on this very floor. I would do the same again tomorrow night. I was very, very close to giving myself, body and soul, to my own brother. That settled it; I had gone completely insane. The worst part was, I was already forgetting what sanity felt like.and I didn't want to remember. ***** It was different after that. I hadn't wanted anything to change, but it did. Without saying or doing anything differently, he held me at arm's length, and the intimacy I had already come to depend on was gone. Even sharing a human, taking turns in her body and her blood, there was distance. I hated it. Finally, I suggested we try a boy, hoping a return to his usual prey would open him back up to me. I had discovered he was right about women - they were wonderful, delicious, but it took a lot of effort to get them to the point of orgasm, sometimes so long that I thought I'd starve to death before they were ready. Most women were much slower to wake than Rachel. It was a delicate balance: you had to drink from their highest point of pleasure without taking too much, or the lust would dissipate and you had to start all over again. If she didn't leave satisfied, or better yet totally spent, we had failed. Belladonna would lose a customer, and she wouldn't encourage her friends to join her next time she visited the club. It was the strangest form of supply and demand I'd ever seen. I hadn't tried a male yet, but I knew my own responses, and knew that a man's arousal was easier, and quicker, to manipulate. If they lost it, we'd be set back a few minutes, not an hour. He didn't seem especially excited at my suggestion, though I'd hoped he would appreciate the novelty of it after two weeks of women. I had to choose, but I was used to that by now; I'd selected the human every time since Rachel, although twice he had vetoed my choice, once because he knew the girl had bought her way in more than once that month, and again because the one I picked reminded him too much of someone he refused to tell me about. "If we can't take any that remind you of some romantic mistake, we'll never feed again," I insisted. He'd given me a look that was at once withering and amused, and overruled me, calling out a long - legged redhead that turned out to be into bondage. That was an entertaining evening; I didn't ask where he got the restraints or the cat - o - nine, though I wondered with morbid curiosity what else was in that particular dresser drawer. Finally, he agreed it was time to broaden my horizons. We would have to start from scratch, since I had no experience with men besides feeding off the ones he'd already finished with. I asked him to take the lead on the first one, ostensibly out of nervousness, but more out of a desire to engage him in the hunt, so that he might drop his guard a little, get caught up. It helped that I had absolutely no idea how to pleasure a male - for once, my ignorance could pay off. We took home a slender, elfin lad who claimed to be twenty but was certainly not. He was eighteen if a day, and reluctantly admitted he was also a virgin. "Kids these days," Damon sighed, out of the boy's earshot. "We can trade him in if you like. It might be better to start with one more experienced." "But we're already home," I said. "Besides, you're doing most of the work this time, right? You're hungrier anyway. Just tell me what to do." "Mother of God," he muttered under his breath as we turned back to the boy. "Two virgins. I need a drink." Drinks all around; I suspected the boy needed it worse than we did, given how pale he was. If he really was a virgin I didn't blame him. Chances were he hadn't planned on losing it to two vampires. "If you've never been with anyone, what were you doing at Belladonna?" I asked the boy, settling on the couch a few feet from Damon. The boy stood in the middle of the living room, holding his glass like a life preserver. "It was my cousin's birthday," he said, only stammering a little. "She turned 21 yesterday. Her friend got me in past security. Fake ID." He held up his hand, showing the crow - shaped stamp, as if to prove he was telling the truth. "Remind me to discuss that with the bouncers," Damon said to me, finishing off his drink. "We have a hard enough time with the law without admitting children." "I'm not a child," the boy said. "I'm old enough to know what I'm doing and what I want." One dark eyebrow arched. "And what do you want?" The boy swallowed. "I.I want you to fuck me." I was surprised, and impressed, at his boldness. Damon and I exchanged a look, and I saw that he approved. Again I was glad I'd convinced him to let me take a passive role in the proceedings - if I didn't know what to do with a man, I sure as hell didn't know what to do with a.newcomer. "You understand you'll be fed upon," he told the boy. "We will take our pleasure of you and drink your blood, then you will go home to your parents and not come back to Belladonna until you are of legal age." "Okay." "If I see you there again after tonight I'll snap your neck. A corpse is more easily disposed of than a lawsuit." The boy's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, but he nodded dumbly. "Very well, then. You should also know that my partner here will mostly be watching and drinking, so don't be offended if he doesn't assist me in fucking your brains out. He's new at this too." The boy seemed to relax a little at that. The scariness of the evening had just been reduced roughly by half. We rose, and each took one of the boy's arms, leading him down the hall to the bedroom. Once in, it occurred to me to ask, "What do you want us to call you?" I asked it that way because many of the humans at Belladonna were there in pursuit of a fantasy, the perfect night of sex with a child of the night, and they left their true identities at the door. Many assumed a persona or at least a pseudonym. The bondage redhead had gone by Cherry, which she most assuredly was not, and was probably an accountant or schoolteacher by day. The boy apparently wasn't in on the game. "Jack," he said almost immediately. "Well, Jack," Damon said wryly, leaning against the bedpost, "Nice to meet you. Take off your clothes." Jack's hands shook a little as he started unbuttoning his shirt. I couldn't help it - I hated how nervous he was, as if he didn't want to be here, or we were about to molest him. He wasn't a child, but he might as well be if he was that afraid. "Here," I said, going over to him. "Let me help." I glanced over. Damon nodded at me. "Go on." I unbuttoned Jack's shirt, which was a slinky material that caught the light of the already - lit candles spaced about the room. Underneath, the boy was well - built, with defined muscles and just a few wisps of downy hair the same white blonde as the hair on his head. "Not bad," Damon said. "You work out?" Jack nodded, and a bit of humor found its way into his voice. "I told you I was gay, didn't I?" I held back a grin and tried to concentrate on what I was doing. I put my hands on him, feeling firm muscle and a rapidly beating heart, and reached down to unzip his pants. They dropped to the floor past narrow hips, revealing white Hanes briefs. I found myself laughing. "Cute," I said. Jack blushed, which I had to admit was also cute, especially the way the tips of his ears turned bright pink. I hooked my thumbs in the elastic and pulled them down, bending my knees as I did so, and finding myself face - to - face with the boy's swiftly - hardening dick, which turned me bright pink. I felt like I was eighteen again myself, all fumbling hands and burgeoning manhood, the night I'd lost my own virginity to a pretty round maid who unfortunately turned out to be a prostitute with syphilis. I was about to stand back up, but too late. "Stay there." I looked up toward the bed. "What." He gestured at the boy. "You might as well start where you are." Belatedly I realized what he meant, and found my own heart hammering. Suddenly I wasn't sure I could really do this - talking about it was one thing, watching quite another, but. "Try to stay relaxed," he added. "It might take a few before you lose your gag reflex." I was going to flat - out refuse, but then I recognized the look on his face. He was enjoying this, even eager, trying not to look as if he cared. It was the first real interest I'd seen in him in days; since the night with Rachel he had been mostly phoning it in, without any real relish for the hunt. This had been my plan, after all. I had to follow through if I had a prayer of regaining what we had lost. I took a deep breath and returned my attention to the boy, who was standing awkwardly under our combined scrutiny. I caught Jack's eye, and smiled. He smiled back tentatively. In all the long years of my life, this was the closest I'd ever been to another naked man, my face hovering mere inches from his belly, my eyes taking in the length and breadth of him. I'd had enough head to know the general procedure, and leaned in, touching my lips to him to gauge the response. The boy held very still, and I felt his eyes on me, but kept my own on the flesh that I kissed one more time, then carefully licked. Jack drew in a ragged breath. I thought of the first time a girl had done the same to me - I had half expected my heart to smash its way out of my chest with its beating. I curled my hands around his hips, settled more solidly on my knees, and started to suck. I sensed the other presence in the room setting up the Power flow from the boy, and just in time, as Jack's level of arousal skyrocketed the second I had my mouth on him. I couldn't help but enjoy the effect, and lucky for me he wasn't terribly big, so with a little adjustment I managed to take all of him, tasting soap and sweat. The best I had hoped for was not to be disgusted.instead, I practically swallowed him, smiling - mentally - at the low groans of pleasure I heard above me, and the tremor that threatened to send the boy to the floor. Building, building.I grew greedy, applying more pressure, and sensed movement. The boy tensed, whimpered - blood flowed. A second body joined us, supporting his back while drinking from his throat, just a little. Then, distantly, I heard, "Enough." I sighed, pulled back, and Jack moaned. "God, don't stop." I wiped my mouth on my sleeve. My jaw ached, and my jeans were entirely too tight. As Damon guided the boy to the bed, I pulled my shirt over my head, suddenly sweating. I rubbed my neck absently, watching. He ran his hands over Jack's body, murmuring his appreciation, and I walked around the side of the bed, not sure what to do now. There was something new in the way he looked at me, and I wondered if he had really thought I would go through with this. "Undress," he commanded, "and get in front of him." I obeyed, taking my time, turning to face the other direction. I knew he was watching as I pulled off my jeans, and when I glanced back over my shoulder he looked away quickly, reaching up to his own buttons with one hand and pulling open the nightstand drawer with the other. He took something out that looked like a tube of toothpaste, tossed it on the foot of the bed, and pushed the drawer shut again. When he noticed my curiosity, he nodded toward the tube and said, "Common courtesy." I glanced down at the label. "Especially for virgins, I suppose." He almost snorted. "For everyone. There's only so much screaming I can take, after all. One of these days I'll show you the difference." I wondered if he meant using a human as an example.no, I already knew he didn't. When I didn't comment, he grinned to himself and returned to taking off his shirt. "Want some help?" I asked, giving him the elevator look, which I think went well for a first attempt. He looked at me for a moment in silence, and I froze, afraid I had crossed the line and pushed him away again. Then, to my astonishment, he laughed. I had never heard him laugh before, at least not for real. Derisive chuckles weren't the same. "No, thank you," he said, shaking his head. "Just keep him busy for me." I nodded and climbed up on the bed, facing Jack, whose eyes were glazed with need. He was still rock - hard, wanting, the anticipation painful. I kissed him on the mouth, feeding him my tongue, and was suddenly inspired as to how to occupy him. I moved back just a little, into the pillows, and wrapped one hand around his neck, pulling him downward. He got the idea right away, and lay down on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, to do the same for me that I had done for him. Now it was my turn to gasp. I leaned back against the headboard, my hands clenching the iron scrollwork that Cherry had been tied to last week, biting my lip. For someone with no experience, Jack knew his way around a cock; whether it was youthful exuberance or the fever pitch of lust we had already roused in him, he sucked me with more enthusiasm than any woman had ever shown. As if that weren't enough, I raised my eyes in time to watch Damon undress, and he was watching me just as intently. There was an intensity of desire in his eyes that might have frightened me if I'd been in any position to give a damn, and he continued to watch even as he removed his own clothes, giving me another prolonged look at the lithe perfection of his body. It didn't worry me anymore that I wanted to shove the boy off the bed and beg to take his place. I had unconsciously acknowledged the longing, even if I couldn't say it, even if I was still afraid. Just now none of that mattered. He sculpted the boy up onto his hands and knees, and I rose to a kneeling position so Jack didn't have to stop in the process. He let us move him about like a doll, his attention entirely on his task, so that he barely noticed the hands on his hips. Jack did, however, notice what happened next. He stiffened, groaning, as Damon moved into him, slowly and carefully, one inch at a time. The boy trembled, and I touched his face gently, trying to reassure him. He whimpered, unable to move until they were completely joined, his shaking hands clutching at the sheets and his eyes shut tight against the pain. Every sound he made vibrated through me, the sensation exquisite, and it was all I could do not to take him by the neck and fuck his mouth as hard as I could. The boy's lust lowered somewhat from the shock, but within minutes it began to rise again as he got used to the feeling and the pain faded into heat and pleasure that I could feel as clearly as my own. We rocked the boy back and forth, perfectly in rhythm, filling his lovely young body with ours. I knew I wasn't going to last much longer at this rate. I looked over the boy's back, met half - closed black eyes. He was close too. Out of some instinct that surprised us both, I reached for him psychically, touching my mind to his, letting him feed off me and me off him, our own need swirling in smoky spirals between us as if we were fucking each other. His darkness wove through mine, a contact more intimate than any other we'd ever shared. I opened myself wider and wider, knowing I could die from this, not caring. Orgasm ricocheted through us both, then through the boy, spilling over - and neither of us cared that we hadn't fed. The boy could keep his blood for all it mattered.my body gave out, and I let go, feeling the mattress rise up to hit my face while the world spun away. Minutes or hours later, someone held something warm to my mouth. An arm, already bitten. I latched onto it, drinking deeply, savoring the coppery taste. It was still highly charged, even after the peak had subsided, and soothed the deep itch in my veins after only a few swallows. I opened my eyes, saw the boy on his stomach fast asleep, a charming half - smile on his face. Beyond him, those same dark eyes caught and held mine, one hand resting on the boy's back. I extended a hand, lacing my fingers through his, feeling the cold metal of his ring. He sighed, then pulled his hand away and averted his eyes. Another week went by, three nights of women and one man, and we didn't connect again the way we had over Jack. I came away from each hunt full, but still hungry, longing for something I wouldn't let myself name. I tried to bury what I had felt that night, tried to concentrate on learning, but my heart simply wasn't in it. I could tell his wasn't either. In those rare moments I wasn't repressing, I tried to sort out my feelings, trying to decide what exactly it was I wanted and why I couldn't have it. I knew it was my fault, and knew what I would have to do.but I couldn't do it. I couldn't cross that line, not yet. Why? Why not? Every night when I ended up seeking my solitary bed, hearing the door across the hall click shut, I had to fight with myself not to get up and knock, to admit that I already belonged to him, and that the only thing standing between us was me. I ached, dear God I ached. To this day I don't know how I survived that week, so close, but alone. Our eyes never met, and there was always a human situated carefully between us, not even an accidental brush of hands. I couldn't blame him for not wanting to torture himself - until I gave in, any contact at all was a reminder of what we didn't have, but could.if only. Several times that week I woke to the sound of sweet, sorrowful music somewhere beyond my door, strains of composers I barely remembered floating to me, calling me. I imagined the hands that wrought that music caressing me as they did the violin, and curled up in a ball of misery, the pillow clamped over my head to block out melody and yearning both. "Pick one," he said that Thursday night, as we stood in our usual place at the catwalk rail, a perfect vantage point for choosing off the menu. The floor was especially packed with sweating bodies; it was August, the summer blanketing the city and practically melting the pavement. "Male or female?" I asked. "Whatever." He wasn't even looking. Last night had been particularly dreadful; I had screwed it all up spectacularly, bringing the woman before either of us got a chance to feed, after almost two hours of constant effort. I was so afraid of losing myself to him again that I'd blocked him out, so he could barely direct me or warn me when she was on the verge. After that she had been useless. We'd fed on her anyway, but she was the only one who went home sated. He'd left the apartment once she was gone, returned with a bag stolen from the nearby hospital, which he tossed in my lap wordlessly before going to bed. I knew he was about to give up on me, even as a student. It was almost a relief. I could leave, find someplace to live alone and subsist off animals or bags, and perhaps eventually I would stop dreaming. I noticed that Thorn and Monica had arrived; we'd seen them a few times since I had first come to Belladonna, but there had been no further trouble from them. Thorn seemed to like the setup at the club, and in fact had brought a few of his cronies again tonight, showing them around. Monica hung off his arm, pale and wan and vacant - eyed, her expression a perfect mirror of my feelings. One of the bouncers appeared at Damon's elbow. "Sir," he said, "there's a situation at the doors." "What situation?" "A girl wants to get in - she's only twenty, but she claims she's the mayor's daughter. I thought we should consult you before we deny her access." He narrowed his eyes. "Let me see her. I've met Woodward's girl. I'll know if it's an impostor." He turned to me. "Stay right here, don't move. Don't talk to anyone - pretend you're invisible." I nodded, a little irritated that he didn't want me to go with him. He'd had me in his shadow every single time we'd been here, but now seemed grateful for a moment away from me. I nearly reached for his arm, but didn't. My cowardice won out every time. Someone spoke behind me. "Good, he's gone." I turned, and faced Monica, who cast a hunted look around the catwalk to see if anyone was watching. I followed suit. "Where's your master?" I asked warily. She crossed her arms over her chest, drumming fingers whose nails were bitten off to the quick. "He went for a drink," she said. "He's tired of me. Is yours tired of you?" I sighed, not caring what she thought. "Yeah." She looked around again, and I saw a flash of desperation in her eyes. She shifted closer to me, bending her head to my ear. "I need help," she whispered hoarsely. "When I saw you the first time, I thought.you looked like you might be willing to help me. You looked like you cared.but I can't offer you anything in return. Everything I have is his." "What can I do?" She shook her head. "Not here. We can't talk freely here. Will you come outside with me? It's safe in the alley; he won't see where we've gone. I can tell him I went to the ladies' room. He lets me do that alone most of the time." I nodded, and followed her to the vampire entrance, figuring I had a few minutes. I couldn't think of anything I could do to help her, at least not without Damon's permission - it was his ass on the line here, not mine. As much as I pitied her I could understand his viewpoint. The only way to be sure Thorn wouldn't be a threat would be to kill him outright, and that would be extraordinarily difficult without an element of surprise. We went down the metal steps and around the corner of the building, her movements furtive and hurried. I hoped none of Thorn's lackeys were around, but the few of our kind milling about outside didn't even look up as we passed. I rounded the corner of the alley. Thorn was waiting there for me. He wasn't alone - four of his associates were with him, two blocking the exit from the alley, the other two moving in behind me to block the way I'd come. I looked at Monica, who wouldn't meet my eyes. She went to stand behind Thorn, who petted her head and said, "Well done, darling. He's as stupid as I thought he'd be." I knew there was absolutely no way I could outrun them, assuming I could get past them in the first place. I'd never been a fighter. I still wasn't strong enough to shift shape. There was no escape. "What do you want?" I demanded, trying to sound imperious and aloof the way Damon would. Thorn chuckled. "I have a question for you." "Oh?" Then I felt a hand of Power, black and enveloping as hell itself, wrapping around my mind. I tried to move, to bolt, but my limbs were like lead, and I was rooted to the spot. Thorn seized me by the throat, and said smoothly into my ear, "Has he fucked you yet?" I tried not to answer, but heard myself: "No." "Oh, good.very good." A lurch, as Thorn threw me hard against the wall. I felt something in my shoulder crack, then my head struck the bricks and I tasted blood. My vision went grey, filled with painful stars, and I fell to the ground. Someone kicked me in the stomach, then again in the chest, and I couldn't breathe - one of my ribs fractured, possibly several, and a sharp pain told me I'd punctured a lung. I still couldn't move, couldn't defend myself, but no more blows came. Instead, I was hauled to my feet and flung back against the wall facefirst, then held there by a strong arm. The Power lifted enough that I could hear, and might be able to speak, but I was too weak to yell either aloud or otherwise. I felt cold, despite the oppressive heat of the night, as someone ripped aside my clothes and bared my ass to the alley. I forced words out, trying to buy time. "I won't be your thrall," I said. "You'll have to kill me first." Thorn laughed. So did his friends, who I realized were watching. "I already have a thrall," Thorn said snidely. "This, my boy, is a good old - fashioned rape." I heard him unzip his pants, and cold terror gripped me. "I've let his insults slide for years, biding my time - not anymore. I'm ready for something more direct. What could be a better declaration of war? Just imagine," he hissed, pinning my arms up over my head, "how angry he'll be when he finds out I had you first." I closed my eyes, waiting for the stabbing pain, felt the head of his dick shoved hard against me.and then nothing. Abruptly, the force pinning me to the wall fell away, and I sagged to the ground, boneless, collapsing in a heap on the filthy sidewalk with my face still jammed into the bricks. I heard something, a struggle, scuffling - no words - then an impact, as of something striking a target, and another impact, as of something heavy hitting the ground. It was immediately followed by the pounding of retreating footsteps, several sets of boots and one of high heels. My body was free again, though I could barely move it, and I pushed myself up enough to flop over so I could see what had happened. A few feet away, Thorn lay on his back, eyes gaping open at the night sky, a trickle of blood at his mouth. A shaft of wood jutted from his chest. His cronies, and Monica, were gone. A shadow moved over me slowly, and I flinched as someone touched me. I made a noise that was half fear and half pain, and heard a voice. "Shhh. Don't move." Hands so gentle they didn't seem real.pain as my clothes were pulled back into place.more pain as I was lifted off the ground, held against something solid and comforting, the steady thrum of a heartbeat at my ear. My consciousness faded in and out, but I knew I was safe. The atmosphere changed from humid heat to cool, dry air, and I heard another voice from a great distance: "Sir, are you all right? Do you need any help?" I didn't hear the reply, but felt my stomach turn inside out as something dragged me upward - an elevator, I realized. Then the air changed again, warming slightly, and I felt softness beneath me, the scent of leather. Couch. A wrist pressed to my mouth. "Drink." I did, though it was hard around the agony in my jaw. The more I drank, the less it hurt, and the pains in my shoulder and chest lessened as well, gradually. The wrist lifted, and a plastic tube took its place - the tube off a hospital bag, I thought, and sucked. Some kind soul had warmed it first. I drank until no more came, and the throbbing all through my body had become bearably dull. Another smell, soap, the sound of running water. Cool air, my clothes peeled away. At last, I could open my eyes again, and found myself in a strange room tiled in marble. I was propped up on the closed toilet, leaning sideways against the wall. There was an enormous round tub in the center of the room, filling with hot water. I was lifted again, and lowered slowly and cautiously into the tub. The water was almost scalding, but felt like heaven to my battered body, and I felt a disturbance in the water as a second person got in. I looked. Dark eyes met mine. "You're a mess," he said, smiling a little. The room was lit only by candles, thankfully, since having one's head smashed tends to make the eyes a bit sensitive. I blinked until my vision cleared. He was washing the dried blood off my face. Something was starting to relax my muscles and make me incredibly sleepy, and I didn't care what it was. "What.what happened?" My mouth felt full of sawdust, and the words sounded strange and thick to my ears. He shook his head, looking angry. "I was a fool. I left you alone knowing full well Thorn was there. When I returned you were gone." "How did you find me?" He coaxed me to lean back, soaking my hair, so he could scrub the filth out of it. I had to struggle to stay alert under those hands. "The connection," he said. "Since Jack.you've been pushing it away, but it's still there. That sort of thing doesn't just vanish because you want it to. I called it up and followed it." "Just in time," I murmured. "Ten more seconds and I wouldn't be wearing white to our wedding." He smiled again. "I see the morphine is working." "Morphine?" I vaguely remembered a pinprick at some point that might have been a needle, but I wasn't sure. "That bastard," he said, almost to himself. "He must have been mad to think he could get away with that." "He wanted to start a war. He thought if you knew he'd had me first, you would be angry enough to come after him." "Well, he was right. But he didn't know I would be able to find you so quickly. He also didn't know I travel armed. At least now I don't have to worry about his people; they'll spend the next few months fighting amongst themselves to see who takes his place before any of them think to come after me.that, of course, is assuming they would be that stupid after what they saw tonight." I was drifting off, but said, "You fight like you fuck." Amusement. "Do I, now?" "Yeah.silently. Not a sound but breath." I couldn't see the smile, but I could feel it. "Go to sleep." ***** I woke slowly, unsure for a moment where I was, but my mind began to come back into focus and I pieced it together - dark blue linens, the warmth of a down comforter, the scent.I stretched, then winced. My shoulder and back were still sore, and there was a deep ache in my head where I had been hit. Memory of the night before came rushing back, and I clamped down on a shudder. Distantly, I heard music. I sat up, dizzy, putting my hands to my head in an effort to stop the room spinning. Music.violin. I smiled. I climbed out of bed, straightening my shirt and shorts where they had twisted around me in my sleep, and followed the sound like a dreamer. Melody led me to the living room, and I looked around the corner. For a while I stood watching him silhouetted against the windows, swaying back and forth in time with the bow that waltzed over the strings. He was shirtless, eyes closed, lost in the music. I knew the piece faintly from a long time ago, something by Mozart, but in his hands it took on a new life and a new darkness, drifting through the silent apartment like incense smoke to leave its scent upon the air. I don't remember when I decided to cross the room, but I walked up behind him noiselessly, until I was within arm's length. Hypnotized, I reached out, let my fingers trail over the outline of the tattoo. The ink was slightly raised, as if in Braille. He didn't start at the touch; he had sensed me near. I pressed the palm of my hand into his skin, drew it down to rest at the small of his back, and the music wound to a close. Violin and bow lowered, but he didn't turn around, merely stood there, waiting. A deep breath, and I slid my arms around him, leaning my cheek on his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent from his neck. He shifted, taking both bow and instrument in one hand, the other winding fingers through mine. We stood that way for a long time, until some boldness seized me and I nuzzled where neck joined shoulder, and then kissed lightly, tasting. My mouth traveled up the graceful line to his ear, and I whispered, "I'm here." No reply. I pulled him closer to me, heartbeat touching heartbeat, and said again, "I'm here.of my own choice, offering myself freely." He moved, and I was afraid he was pulling away, but instead he turned in my embrace so that our mouths were less than an inch apart. One arm wound around me, the other hand lay over my heart. "So am I," he replied, and kissed me. I sighed into his mouth, and within seconds I was drunk on the taste of him. When he drew back, I started to protest, but he laid the violin on the desk, then took both of my hands. He took one step back, then another, toward the hallway, and the bedroom. I followed. It was strange that, after a few minutes of violence and broken bones, I was no longer afraid. I went along almost shyly, pathetically happy, the way Jack had when we left Belladonna with him in tow. My heart was racing, but the residual ache in my head and shoulder and chest was far away, no longer important. There was only one ache that mattered right now. We sank onto the bed together, staring at each other for a long minute, and I knew he was waiting - my choice, my move. He was giving me the opportunity to back out while I still could, but the amazing thing was the idea seemed absurd to me. This was why I had appeared on his doorstep, seeking a place to belong or at least a hope of one. It seemed so simple now, and I'd wasted so much time fighting myself. So, I smiled, and said, "You understand why you're here." He brushed a hand over my lips then around the back of my neck, light dancing in his eyes. "An even trade." "That's right. I belong to you," I told him, as we lay back in each other's arms, "You belong to me, and everybody goes home happy." "Fair enough," he replied, and covered my mouth with his. When we brought humans home there was always an urgency, a need to hurry things along.not now. We took our time, undressing each other slowly, reverently. I finally let myself touch the skin I had been craving, learning flat planes and curves, tasting every inch that I could. There was no Power flux, no manipulation, just the two of us. A long, deep kiss.I touched his mind: I want you inside me. He made a low noise like a purring lion, and pushed me onto my back. There was fire in his eyes, and a touch of wickedness in his smile. "This way?" I asked. "This is new." "I want to watch your face." I couldn't help it - under that intense, dark gaze, I had to close my eyes. My hands sought the curved bars of the headboard; I held on tightly, remembering the agony that had lanced through Jack, like being torn in half. He kissed me again, softly, and I wrapped my legs around him. We breathed in rhythm together as he entered me - I think I cried out, but the overwhelming pleasure that followed made the memory of pain evaporate into nothing. I'd never known anything like it.being filled, possessed, endless nights of longing finally dissolving into sweat.the lines between us blurred, one mind bleeding over into the other, and I forgot everything except the body sliding against mine, the taste of mouth and skin, and the knowledge that, Power or no Power, I was indeed his thrall, tonight and from now on. Hours and hours later I rested on my side with him spooned up behind me, enjoying the quiet rise and fall of each other's breath, still joined both in body and mind. I couldn't summon the presence of mind to form any words, but then they weren't needed. Mutual appreciation and contentment flowed between us freely without the human formality of language. He nuzzled my ear, one hand groping along the bed to find the sheets, which had escaped fairly early on. He tucked the sheet around us both, settling in to sleep. Finally, as I was starting to follow his heartbeat into oblivion, I heard him say, "Time for your final lesson." "Yes?" He drew me back more tightly into his arms and kissed my temple. "No matter where you hunt or how you feed, be certain you have someplace, or someone, to call home." I smiled into the dark: lesson learned. fin.