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Samira enjoyed killing him. As she always did.
The crunch of bones and cartilage rang through the chamber. She grinned as the light faded from his eyes. As he stopped fighting against her supernaturally strong grasp.
Cold blood splattered across her face, dripping down the slope of her nose, the plump edge of her lips, the curve of her chin.
She spit the disgusting, putrid taste of Santiago’s blood out of her mouth. It was too old, too rotten. She let his body fall to the ground and stepped over it.
“Trinity!” She called, wiping her face on a handkerchief, before tucking it back into her the neckline of her dress and smoothing out her skirts. Her friend appeared from a doorway. “Find someone to rid me of him, please.”
The other vampire glanced down at the corpse of Samira’s lieutenant. “What did he do this time?”
Samira shrugged. “Left one too many witnesses. Wasn’t careful enough. I grew tired of his incompetence.”
“What will you tell the rest of the coven?”
”It does not matter. I am their mistress. They must listen to me.”
Trinity bowed and left the room, presumably off to find Dennis to do the removal task for her.
Samira walked down the halls of her estate, her heels clicking against the stone floor. Her long skirts trailed behind her and her curls bounced. Members of her coven bowed as she passed them, avoiding eye contact.
She knocked sharply once against a mahogany door. A moment later, and after some shuffling and rattling behind its surface, it opened.
“Mistress.” Victoria greeted her, hastily pulling the sleeve of her dress over her bare shoulder. The ties of her chemise were undone over the open bodice of her dress. A bit of blood was smeared at the corner of the younger vampire’s mouth.
Samira just arched an eyebrow. Victoria fumbled. “Uh, my apologies. I wasn’t expecting you.”
She walked into the room. Victoria’s human familiar, Cassie, was lounging on the chaise. Crimson was trickling down her pale neck and staining the white of her shirt. Samira sneered at the metallic smell of the woman’s blood. She ignored the human and turned back to Victoria.
“I am in need of a new lieutenant.”
Victoria’s eyebrows creased. “What happened to Santiago?”
“Let us say he’s been demoted.” She grinned, her fangs flashing in the moonlight gleaming through the open window. “He was unsatisfactory. Alas, I need a replacement. Someone competent, headstrong but will not argue with me, smart, personable, perhaps a weak moral compass. I need someone who will please me.”
The younger vampire nodded along, sitting at her cluttered desk and rummaging through her papers. “There is Raphael. He is c-”
Samira shook her head, cutting Victoria off. “No. I want someone new. We need fresh eyes, a new perspective.” And it meant Samira could go hunting, even if she’d be bringing her prey home with her.
“I know someone.” Cassie piped up. Samira frowned at the human speaking out of turn in her presence, but nodded, allowing her to continue. “A former Naval officer. Captain or commander or something of the like. He was stripped of his titles and accolades a number of years ago for speaking out against the Crown.”
“So, he is mad at the world? Cut off from any relationships?”
Cassie chuckled. “Very. He’s practically a hermit. He only leaves his house to get piss-drunk at the pub and rant about corruption and abuse of power to anyone who will listen.”
“And what is the name of this naval man?”
”Abbot. Jack Abbot.”
Samira hummed, repeating the name and tasting the way it rolled around on her tongue.
“Alright. Find me this Jack Abbot.”
-
He was beautiful.
This, Samira could not deny.
Even as he stumbled down the cobblestone streets, steps ladened by ale, he held himself with confidence and power. His grey curls glittered in the fading street lamps.
She had watched him in the pub, the fervor with which he spoke against the Crown. It was treasonous, and turned many away from speaking to him.
But Samira could see him. She saw the hurt, the anger, the grief underneath it all.
And she knew she could sharpen him into a beautiful weapon.
He turned down a dark side street, and Samira struck.
She stepped smoothly out of the shadows, her dark gown blending in. The only thing that announced her presence in front of him was the clack of her heels and the faint red glow of her eyes.
“Oh.” Jack hiccuped and paused, hazel eyes trailing up her form then crinkling. “It’s late. Isn’t safe for a lady out on her own.” Even in his drunken state, and alone himself, he was still chivalrous.
It almost made Samira feel bad for what she was about to do. Almost.
“You mistake me. I am no lady.”
In a flash, she was on him.
She sunk her fangs into his neck. She felt his carotid beat quicker and quicker as it sprayed gush after gush of fragrant, heady blood into her mouth. Her eyes fluttered and she moaned at the taste of it. She hadn’t tasted blood so delicious in centuries, maybe ever. Jack stiffened against her, but he didn’t fight.
As she drained him of his life force, his knees started to buckle. His strong arms wrapped around her middle, and she thought he was going to push her off, but he only clung to her. She pressed closer to him, allowing him whatever comfort he was searching for. If anyone passed, they would simply appear as lovers in a passionate embrace.
Once his pulse slowed to barely a crawl, she pulled her mouth away. There was so much blood in her mouth that it was dripping from her fangs, staining the pale and freckled skin of his neck. He was panting in her arms, head thrown back, eyes closed, pliant and willing.
“You are Death’s angel,” he choked out. “Come to take me home.”
“I am a close thing.”
Samira slid a nail across her own wrist, gashing the skin open. Thick, dark blood sludged from the wound. She pressed it against Jack’s mouth.
“Drink. It will take away your pain, all of it.”
She could feel him lick the blood up hesitantly, getting a taste, before his lips attached in earnest. He groaned and swallowed gulps of her venomous blood. He was eager, suckling at her wrist.
She soothed a hand in his curls, and cooed. “That’s it. Good boy.”
When he had enough, she pulled her arm back, the wound already closing. He stared up at her, pupils blown and dark blood smeared across his teeth and lips.
“You will make a beautiful vampire.”
-
“Mistress. He is awake.”
Samira snapped her book closed and followed Trinity to the room where Jack was resting. The turning took a lot out of a body. He had been out for the better part of a day. She stopped the other vampire at the threshold, who looked at her with wide surprised eyes.
“Samira. He’s a fledgling. You know how they are.”
“I know. He will not hurt me.”
“Fine, but I’m staying right outside the door.” Samira smiles. Trinity is so stubborn and protective. It’s why she chose her.
As she steps in, the room is dark, the curtains drawn and no candles lit. There’s nothing in the chamber save for a simple cot, with Jack sitting on it. His curls are a mess from having tossed and turned all night as the venom ripped through his veins, turning him undead. He looked up as she entered the room.
“It’s you.” His voice is wrecked, throat dry.
“Hello, Jack. I’m the vampire Samira Mohan. Welcome to my coven.”
Jack didn’t look surprised. His eyes flickered over her form then around the rest of the room, getting used to his heightened senses.
“How are you feeling? The turning can be unpleasant, but the result is glorious, is it not?”
“Empty.” Was his response. She knew that feeling well. That hollowed place in the chest. Everything known was drained, except for rage and hunger. She could see it on his face, in those bright eyes.
“You will have purpose again. I assure you of that.” Something crossed his face at that word, purpose. So she was right, this man, no vampire, just needed a little direction to find himself again.
We are going to do great things together, she thought.
“Why me?”
Samira crossed the room, looming over him. He craned his neck up to meet her gaze. She slid a hand down his neck, coming to rest at the blood-stained collar of his shirt. He shivered at her long nails grazing the sensitive skin of his throat, over the shiny white scars over his jugular where her fangs had torn into the skin.
“I am in need of a new lieutenant. Someone to aid me in ruling my coven. I am not kind, I am not lenient, and this is not charity.” She pressed her nails into his skin, but he did not flinch, he did not budge. “I need someone just as cruel, just as cunning. I need someone who will obey me. Can you be that someone, Jack?”
“Yes.” There was no hesitation, only obedience.
She smiled. “Good. Come with me.” She led him out of the room and into the halls of the manor house. Trinity was still waiting, pacing back and forth. “Jack, this is Trinity Santos, one of the oldest and most loyal members of the coven. Trinity, this is Jack Abbot.”
The two exchanged a formal handshake before Samira dismissed Trinity and gave her new lieutenant a tour of the grounds. He walked stiffly, with his shoulders squared and hands clasped behind his back. He walked just a step behind Samira, at her shoulder like a military guard.
She showed him the dance hall, the gardens, the piano room, the banquet hall, and all of the opulence that she had conquered for her coven. They met vampires along the way, each one wishing Jack luck with his new position. Samira was notoriously hard on her lieutenants, but she had a feeling Jack could be the one to handle it.
“Is this the Moorhouse estate?” He asked once he saw the grand foyer with the family’s crest engraved into the marble flooring.
“Indeed it is.”
“I thought they all passed of plague.”
”A terrible affliction.” Samira’s eyes sparkled as she remembered the sounds of their screams and the taste of their blood.
They passed the library and Jack’s steps faltered behind her, keen nose catching something. She could smell it on the air as well. It was the smell of a human. Robby’s particular blend of cedarwood and sadness.
“Ah.” Samira snapped her fingers, returning Jack’s attention to her. “Dennis will be quite sad if you eat his favorite pet.”
“My apologies. I’m just, so hungry.” His fangs had dropped from his gums and were digging into his bottom lip.
“Of course you are. Let us find you a proper meal.”
-
Hunting a hunter was cliche, but they really did make the best prey.
They willingly went into the dense forest alone for days on end. It really made a vampire’s job easy.
Jack needed little guidance from Samira. He was already an expert tracker, his abilities enhanced by his new sense. Despite being a vampire for only a day, he had better self-restraint than many decades older than him. She let him take the lead and she sat back admiring his, really her, work.
“How does he smell?” She asks into his ear, peering over his shoulder through the brush.
“Good. Like gunpowder and something rich.”
“Bring him to me.” Her nails trailed along the back of his neck, releasing him like an attack dog, and he was off, just a dark shape bolting through the woods.
Samira watched with a sick grin on her face and Jack pounced on the hunter. He was so quick and silent that the man had no chance to react. Jack’s biceps flexed as he snapped the man’s neck. It was quick and efficient. Samira preferred to prolong her victim’s suffering, but this was cleaner. Jack grabbed the man’s body by the ankle and dragged him back over to Samira, presenting the catch to her like a cat with a dead bird.
She rolled the man’s head, exposing his neck to Jack. “Good job. Dig in.”
With Samira’s permission, he sank his fangs into the jugular. He let out a small groan at the taste, gulping down mouthfuls. Samira watched Jack feed for a minute, appreciating the shine of his curls, the pretty smattering of freckles across his nose, and the intense hazel of his eyes, before biting into the other side of the man’s neck.
It wasn’t her favored palette for blood, but this hunt wasn’t about her.
Jack’s eyes found hers and held her gaze over the body they shared. Jack was huffing out small pants as he fed. His eyes were wide and dilated, almost feral.
When all the blood was drained, they stepped away, letting the corpse fall of the forest floor. Jack stood still, still breathing heavily. His fingers twitched but he didn’t move, waiting for Samira’s command. The woods were silent.
High off the fresh blood, Samira reached forward and grasped onto Jack’s shirt collar.
“You are my most beautiful creation.” She pulled their lips together.
The kiss tasted of the blood that filled both of their mouths. It was messy and animalistic. Samira could feel Jack lick the blood off of her teeth. One of his hands tangled into her hair and the other settled in the curve of her waist. He pulled her closer, whining into her mouth. She chuckled against his lips at his eagerness.
Using a hand in his curls, Samira pulled his face away from hers, a red-tinted string of spit connected their mouths. He tried to chase her lips, but she pulled again and he stilled.
“Come. Let’s go home now. We have much to do.”
-
With Jack at Samira’s side, the coven had improved greatly. Risky hunting ceased, numbers had grown, and morale was high. The members respected Jack, or at least were too afraid of Samira to disobey him. He had grown more comfortable, more confident.
With Jack at Samira’s side, she felt more dangerous.
She barged into his study, not bothering to knock. He was sitting behind his desk, reading through papers and maps. He looked up when she entered and a lazy grin spread on his face.
“Mira.” He was the only one who dared to use that damnable nickname. Lucky for him, Samira liked him enough not to kill him for it. “To what do I owe your oh so pleasurable company?”
“Want to get into trouble?”
“With you? Always. What kind of trouble are you thinking?”
“The royal kind.”
Jack sat up straight in his chair and set his pen down. “What are you planning? The royals …. that’s risky.”
Samira huffed. “I am tired of people telling me that! They should be scared of me.” She growled out. “I am immortal. I am supernatural. I am in charge of a fierce coven. I should not have to bend my knee to any man!”
Jack just watched her, slowly nodding along. She rounded his desk and sat on it. She caressed one hand over his face, over his sunspots and the creases by his eyes. “And don’t you want revenge?” She softened her voice. “They took everything from you. Don’t you want to take it back?”
“How will we do it?”
“There is a ball. A large one. One for ambassadors from other realms at the end of the month. Security will be heightened but they’ll be stretched thin. Many of the palace guards have been deployed to the borders.”
“How many of us are needed?”
“All of us. The coven can feast.”
Jack was silent for a moment, weighing out the plan in his mind. She pet her hand down the slope of his cheekbone and he smiled.
“You will look so lovely with the royal jewels around your neck.”
-
The ball was easy enough to invade. Mateo charmed a foreign ambassador, swiped her invitation, and handed it to Victoria who crafted thirty perfect imitations.
The rest of the coven set about to the preparations, mainly the dress. They had to be able to blend into the noble crowd, but not draw any attention to themselves until the moment was right. Samira had approved each gown and suit, down to each very fine detail. Not a stitch out of place.
Jack had taken the helm for logistics. Who would arrive when, who would be stationed where, specific targets for the night, what signals to give. He ran through the plan over, and over, and over again.
Emma was fastening the buttons on the back of Samira’s gown when there was a knock at her chamber door.
“Enter.”
It was Jack.
“Is it unlucky to see the conqueror on her ambush night?” His suit was cream, with shimmering golden details and frills at the collar and cuffs. He looks like a cream puff, Samira mused.
Samira rolled her eyes and waved Emma off. “Leave us.” The girl squeaked out a goodbye and scampered off.
Jack stepped in behind her, taking over the duty of buttoning her dress. His fingers brushed over the smooth skin of her back as he did. Jack moved her curls away and dipped his head down. He pressed slow kisses to her exposed neck and shoulder. The stubble on his jaw scraped over her skin, making her shudder.
“You look like a princess.” He murmured against her throat.
“By the end of tonight I will be a queen.”
She glanced at herself in the mirror. In the light pink and golden gown, and with Jack loyally by her side, she could almost see the crown on her head.
Jack closed the top button, kissed the slope of her neck once more and pulled away. He grabbed her hand, twirling her around with a twinkle in his eyes. “Your carriage awaits, my queen.”
On the ride to the palace, they went over the plan once more. Slowly, the coven would pull members of the court away, drain them quietly and stash them away. Not enough to draw suspicion, just enough to start dwindling numbers.
Then, it was time for the royals’ final dance.
By the end of the night, the king would have to join the dance circle, customarily. Wine would be flowing and guards will be down. That’s when they would attack.
That was the plan, and the plan went off without a hitch.
Samira watched as her coven fooled the foolish mortals into a false sense of security and comfortability. She watched as Dennis batted his eyelashes, as Victoria feigned a misstep with a dance, as Jack flashed his charming smile.
She didn’t join the fray until that fateful last dance. She took the hand of a distant cousin of the queen’s, coyfully giggling and stepping into his embrace. It disgusted her.
She timed her stumble perfectly. One trip sent her into the arms of the king. The old man smiled down at her, too stupid to realize the trap he had danced himself into.
“Careful, dearie.”
“Oh, my apologies, your Majesty.” She returned his smile with her fangs on full display. As his eyes widened, she snatched the crown from his head. “I believe this belongs to me.”
Samira sank her fangs into his throat and reared back, ripping it out. His scream cut off with a wet gurgle. Warm blood splattered across her face, across the slope of her nose, the edge of her lips, the curve of her chin.
Similar screams erupted all around the ballroom, echoing up the high ceilings in an endless, horrid, beautiful cacophony.
The queen let out a wail as Samira dropped her husband’s body to the floor. The woman tried to run but Samira was in front of her before she could blink. She sliced her neck open with a nail, the blood spraying down the front of her baby pink gown. Samira licked it from her fingertips.
Fear always tasted better.
She turned to survey the rest of the carnage when a sharp pain lanced through her middle. She glanced down to see a sword in her side, pierced through the bodice of the ruined dress. A young, trembling knight was on his knees in front of her.
“You won’t get away with this, you monster!”
“But I already have.”
Before she could put the poor thing out of its misery, there was a deep, guttural growl. In a flash of silver, Jack appeared behind the knight. He tore the boy’s head from his shoulders with a yell and sickening crunch. It was pure animalistic strength. It would have made Samira’s breath catch in her chest, if she needed to breathe.
Then he was at her side. “Mira? Are you alright?”
Samira had forgotten how young Jack was. She smiled and slid his fingers through the hole in the fabric. They touched soft, smooth, untorn, skin.
“I am fine, Jack. Immortal, remember?”
As they stood there, the din started the quiet around them. The once gold and white room was now red. It stank with the metallic smell of blood and anguish.
Samira laughed manically. “We did it. I am a queen!”
“There is nothing we, you, cannot do. So, my queen, what do you wish to do now?”
Samira looked out to her rejoicing coven. She kicked her shoes off. The marble floor was slick with blood under her bare feet. It was on her dress, on her skin, in her hair, in her teeth.
“I wish to see my throne.”
She grabbed the open ties of Jack’s shirt, his hideous dress jacket having been lost in the commotion, and pulled him with her.
She threw open the doors to the quiet throne room, the boom of them slamming shut behind them nearly deafening.
Samira practically skipped over to the ornate golden throne. She ran her fingertips over the jewels encrusted into the back and dug them into the plush red velvet of the cushion.
She spun and sat in it, giggling gleefully. She looked back at Jack. “Well, subject. Kneel before your queen.”
Jack knelt at the foot of her throne. Samira leaned forward and ran a hand through his curls. “Do you wish to please me?”
“Yes, my queen.”
“Good.”
She crashed their lips together, fervid and passionately. Jack moaned into the kiss. She opened it and licked into his mouth, tasting the blood that he had been feasting on. She could hear it coursing through his veins as he panted and whined. “God, Samira, please.”
Samira tilted her head back, letting him kiss down her neck and to her chest. His tongue was warm as he lapped up the blood that was staining her skin. The rasp of his stubble made her arch into him. He nibbled at her chest where it was pushing against her tight corset.
Hands hooked under her thighs, pulling her to the edge of the throne’s seat. Jack pushed her skirts up to pool around her waist, exposing her bare legs to the cold air of the chamber, and sat back on his heels. “Can I, please?” He sounded wrecked. Like he would starve if Samira didn’t let him put his mouth between her thighs.
She grabbed onto his hair and yanked him closer. They both groaned when he kissed her sensitive cunt. She threw her head back, her moan echoing up the marble walls, as his tongue drew up her slit, not yet dipping into her folds. He kissed again, slow and sweet.
Samira looked down. Jack was already staring back up at her, his nose buried in dark brown curls. “Come on.” She growled at him, baring her fangs. “Stop wasting my time.”
Finally, he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked harshly. “Fuck yes! Yes, Jack!” She chanted, yanking his curls, uncaring of how hard. She knew he could take it.
Jack trailed down to her cunt, opening her up. He had picked up the pace and was licking and slurping at her messily, all while making little noises into her. His hands were gripping at her thigh, like he was trying to ground himself. Heat was quickly building in her core. She was warmer than she had been in centuries.
“That’s it. Good boy.” She groaned out. Her hips twitched as he fucked his tongue into her, over and over again. Samira threw her legs over his broad shoulders, clamped her thighs around his head, and pulled him closer. His tongue slid deeper inside her. She shuddered at the new angle and rolled her hips against his face.
“Make me cum.” She demanded.
Jack’s mouth found her clit again and two thick fingers slid into her cunt. “Holy- right there!” She cried out, bucking her hips again, chasing the pleasure. The heat was cresting. She could hear the wet sounds she was making around his fingers.
Pleasure flooded her, washing over her middle and up her spine, as she came hard against Jack’s face and hand. She slumped boneless against the throne. Leaving her with one final kiss, Jack lent back on his heels. His curls were a mess, his mouth was glistening with wetness, and his eyes were hungry.
“Good job.”
“Thank you, my queen.”
“Get up. I’m not done with you yet.”