[ multichapter ] Blood House VIII [ original ]
Title: Blood House 8
Author: frostberryjam
Rated: NC-17 (overall)
Fandom: Original.
Warnings: Gayness, smut, blood, violence.
Summary: It's 2010; there's an oil spill threatening to turn the Gulf of Mexico into the Dead Sea, the President is Obama, Simon Cowell finally left American Idol -- and vampires are an accepted part of society.
Evan Banks wants to spend only one night with a vampire, to satisfy a curiosity even he can't explain. One night with the vampire known as Santos however turns out to be far more complicated than Evan ever thought it'd be. Because if there's only one sure truth when it comes to vampires, it's that they all have secrets.
Author Notes: This chapter ended up being a bit short since quite a bit of it ended up on the cutting room floor. Oh, well.
Chapter Eight
The Principality of Monaco fanned out along the coast and glowed as if it had been gilded in gold as the sun set. Evan observed the spectacular twilight from the highest terrace of the Galanos villa, admiration split between the Mediterranean sea and the city itself.
The house sat on the arched end of a cliff, the highest point on a hilled street, making the three-story structure loom over the circumadjacent homes. Once it had been a lighthouse to lead ships away from the rocky face of the cliff, still functional but unlit. It had been remodeled in the latter seventeenth century, adopted into the design of a white-stucco villa with terraced levels on a sloped terrain. It was one of the oldest buildings in the historical district of Monaco-Ville, a scant half-mile from the Prince‘s Palace.
True love had bloomed for Evan with the house. Despite the elegance of the design, the feel of it was delightfully carefree and warm. Lush vines of yellow bougainvillea and wisteria climbed the trellised walls, their scent mixing with the sea breeze.
The only thing Evan did not like, although understood the need of, were the high murals that bordered the villa, complete with armed guards at the gate. Security ran the place twenty-four seven, always present at the corner of his eye, from mounted cameras set in every imaginable angle and to the lean, heavy-jawed guard dogs that prowled through the grounds.
Someone tapped his shoulder. He tensed.
“The sleeping beauties are done with their winks.”
“Oh.” Evan pushed back from the low-rise wall he’d been leaning on. Trepidation turned somersaults in his stomach as he followed Yvette into the house. Never again would he say to Santos ‘surprise me’, because as he’d discovered over the past twenty-four hours, Santos took it seriously.
A brief stop at his apartment had been unnecessary, he didn’t have anything in the house that he felt a need to protect. Not even a goldfish. So while Santos made arrangements, he’d called in sick for work. All he’d had to say was ‘swine flu’.
The first shock of the night had been Yvette. She and the redheaded woman were one and the same, although he could now see that she was well into her mid-forties, gray hair threading in the red. She functioned as Santos’s secretary and was very much human, which made sense, considering he’d seen her during the daytime.
While the other two had vanished, she had patiently explained the situation in a smart, precise British accent over dinner. Although none of them had really believed Ilya would be making a move, they had still assigned her to watch over him. The Galanos coven had more than one enemy, apparently, and Evan had taken the news with the same resignation he’d accepted everything else.
Not that he wasn’t angry. He was furious. It’d just have to wait until the right time.
They moved to the center of the house, an inner sanctum of reinforced steel. Evan declined going in. It was enough to give anyone claustrophobia.
With a metallic clack, the door swung open again.
“Good morning, Princess.” Zakhar chirped with damnable cheer.
“It’s not morning.”
“It is for me.” The vampire wandered out into the main house, humming irreverently. Evan rolled his eyes. He had the horrifying suspicion that if he weren’t so stressed out, he’d actually like the bastard.
“I’d best go pick up Laurel.” Yvette hurried out, leaving Evan wondering who ‘Laurel’ was.
“Her daughter.”
Evan stiffened and turned around slowly. “Did you read my mind?”
“No. I just… seem to know you, a little.” Santos explained cautiously, leaning against the doorframe with his arm. They gazed at each other, unknowingly replaying their first meeting.
Santos was the first to break the silence. “You were rather quiet on the plane ride.”
“I was asleep on the plane ride.” Evan snapped. As it turned out, he wasn‘t a good flier. Yvette had sympathetically produced a sleeping pill and the next thing he knew he not only wasn’t in the United States, he was in a different hemisphere. “You could have told me where we were going.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“I didn’t think I was being taken across the Pacific Ocean.” Oh, God, was his voice really that bitchy? Yes, yes, it was. Evan pinched the bridge of his nose, counting to ten. “It’s really hard to scream at you when you’re using that sexy just-woken-up voice.”
“If it helps, I swear to God that I’m sorry. I had every intention of going slow. Well, at least regarding this. I was rather looking forward to our Oriental weekend.” Santos ran a hand across his bristly jaw and stepped away from the doorway. “Are we good?”
“Hell no, we‘re not good. But your ass is mine until I say it isn’t, considering all the shit you’ve put me through.” Evan answered coolly. “So if you’ve got some kinky harem thing going with your coven, they’d best stay away until I’m done with you.”
Evan took in the vampire’s delighted expression and snorted. “Oh, liked that, did you?”
“Very much so.” Hands gripped Evan’s hips, drawing their bodies together. Santos curled down, staring into his eyes. “You can have me for as long as you want me. I’m just surprised that you do, after all this.”
“You kidding?” They were so close that their words brushed against their lips, more felt than heard. “If I’m going to have a gigantic bull’s eye on my back, I’m going to have your cock inside my ass.”
“I have only one objection.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t say things like that unless you want it. Right now.”
Evan framed the vampire’s face with his hands, palms prickling with the feel of short hairs. “I’m still mad. So hold on to that thought.”
Santos leaned his face into the hands cradling it. “There’s one more thing.”
“Don’t tell me Laurel’s your daughter. I‘m not sure I can take it.”
“Ah, no. But her mother is one of my attempts.”
Yvette? Evan processed. Obviously those two had nothing going on, they treated each other more as long-time boss and employee. But that only said something about the now, not the past.
“So you and her, then.”
“Uh. Feel this?” Strong fingers manipulated Evan’s hand down to press against the hard length inside the thin trousers Santos wore for the evening. “Hard to achieve this reaction when I have no attraction to her gender.”
“Your point has been succinctly made.” Despite the fact that Santos’s fingers had slipped away, his own stayed exactly where they were, happily squeezing and making small, circular rubs.
Evan lifted his face to examine Santos. Those amazingly green eyes were at half-mast, returning the regard cautiously.
“I thought you were mad.”
“I‘m furious. You still owe me a lot of explanations.“ He removed his hand and walked out of the sanctum. “So why isn’t Yvette a vampire? If you two are biologically a match.”
“When we met, Yvette was pregnant. I made an effort to get to know her. Those we make are often the closest thing we have to family. But she didn’t want to. She wanted to grow old and raise her daughter. ” Santos explained as they wound their way to the first floor.
Zakhar was having dinner at the large kitchen island. Evan gawked in fascination as the vampire sucked on a plastic blood bag as if it were a pouch of Caprisun.
“That’s not something you see every day.” Evan murmured, not noticing the anxious stare he was getting from Santos, who then relaxed at his comment.
“It is around here.” Santos walked over to one of the two fridges in the elegant, circular kitchen, taking out a bag for himself.
It didn’t disgust Evan, what they were doing. Good thing, because their diet was currently the least of his problems and he was glad if it stayed that way. Evan went to the other fridge, knowing there was food in there. He browsed through the contents before pulling out a slice of leftover cheesecake and taking it to the island table.
He dug in and then asked, “Do you drink blood every day?”
“We don’t have to every day, but it’s good policy.” Zakhar crumbled up the ghostly bag, drops of blood still inside. A very reddish tongue peeked out, stroking his bottom lip and around the gold piercing, hypnotizing Evan. “Particularly when you live with humans. Those nutso health food vampires have a point. Exanimus Cruor isn’t the same as getting it from the source.”
“Mmn?” Evan said, finally lifting his gaze off the gleaming metal stud. “Sorry, what was that? Exa… animus…?”
“Exanimus Cruor. Lifeless blood.” If he was jealous, Santos didn’t show it. “If we drank fresh blood, we’d only need to feed once a week. In truth, we only need one bag every two days -- three, if we don’t mind getting a little hungry. But we don’t take those chances around here.”
“Oh, you are cute.” A young voice commented from the doorway, causing Evan to twist around.
Laurel was slim, of average height, with reddish-brown hair and a sprinkling of flat, round brown freckles spreading from one ear straight across to the other. Inquisitive blue eyes peered at him. She was a pretty girl despite the drab, grayish-green uniform she wore, complete with long-sleeved jacket and ruffled skirt that reached down to her shins. The outfit had the unfortunate side effect of making her look twelve years old, instead of the seventeen or sixteen that she probably was.
“I’m sorry?”
“She thinks you’re cute.” Zakhar injected. Evan blushed.
“Oh. Thanks.” He rolled his shoulders. “If it’s any worth to you coming from a gay man, you’re pretty cute yourself.”
“Thank you!” She beamed and then took a seat next to him. “It’s nice to have more humans around here, although I’m sorry about the whole thing with Ilya.”
“Thanks. You knew him?”
“When I was little. He still--” Laurel hesitated, looking at the two vampires out of the corner of her eye. “He still sends me presents for my birthday and Christmas. He’s really not a bad guy, he’s just being fucking stupid.”
Zakhar tossed away the empty bag. “Amen to that.”
Santos said nothing, expression mired bleakly. Evan barely protested as Laurel stole his cheesecake, worried about everything he knew, and everything he didn’t yet know.
Like what exactly Santos hoped to get from him.
Author: frostberryjam
Rated: NC-17 (overall)
Fandom: Original.
Warnings: Gayness, smut, blood, violence.
Summary: It's 2010; there's an oil spill threatening to turn the Gulf of Mexico into the Dead Sea, the President is Obama, Simon Cowell finally left American Idol -- and vampires are an accepted part of society.
Evan Banks wants to spend only one night with a vampire, to satisfy a curiosity even he can't explain. One night with the vampire known as Santos however turns out to be far more complicated than Evan ever thought it'd be. Because if there's only one sure truth when it comes to vampires, it's that they all have secrets.
Author Notes: This chapter ended up being a bit short since quite a bit of it ended up on the cutting room floor. Oh, well.
Chapter Eight
The Principality of Monaco fanned out along the coast and glowed as if it had been gilded in gold as the sun set. Evan observed the spectacular twilight from the highest terrace of the Galanos villa, admiration split between the Mediterranean sea and the city itself.
The house sat on the arched end of a cliff, the highest point on a hilled street, making the three-story structure loom over the circumadjacent homes. Once it had been a lighthouse to lead ships away from the rocky face of the cliff, still functional but unlit. It had been remodeled in the latter seventeenth century, adopted into the design of a white-stucco villa with terraced levels on a sloped terrain. It was one of the oldest buildings in the historical district of Monaco-Ville, a scant half-mile from the Prince‘s Palace.
True love had bloomed for Evan with the house. Despite the elegance of the design, the feel of it was delightfully carefree and warm. Lush vines of yellow bougainvillea and wisteria climbed the trellised walls, their scent mixing with the sea breeze.
The only thing Evan did not like, although understood the need of, were the high murals that bordered the villa, complete with armed guards at the gate. Security ran the place twenty-four seven, always present at the corner of his eye, from mounted cameras set in every imaginable angle and to the lean, heavy-jawed guard dogs that prowled through the grounds.
Someone tapped his shoulder. He tensed.
“The sleeping beauties are done with their winks.”
“Oh.” Evan pushed back from the low-rise wall he’d been leaning on. Trepidation turned somersaults in his stomach as he followed Yvette into the house. Never again would he say to Santos ‘surprise me’, because as he’d discovered over the past twenty-four hours, Santos took it seriously.
A brief stop at his apartment had been unnecessary, he didn’t have anything in the house that he felt a need to protect. Not even a goldfish. So while Santos made arrangements, he’d called in sick for work. All he’d had to say was ‘swine flu’.
The first shock of the night had been Yvette. She and the redheaded woman were one and the same, although he could now see that she was well into her mid-forties, gray hair threading in the red. She functioned as Santos’s secretary and was very much human, which made sense, considering he’d seen her during the daytime.
While the other two had vanished, she had patiently explained the situation in a smart, precise British accent over dinner. Although none of them had really believed Ilya would be making a move, they had still assigned her to watch over him. The Galanos coven had more than one enemy, apparently, and Evan had taken the news with the same resignation he’d accepted everything else.
Not that he wasn’t angry. He was furious. It’d just have to wait until the right time.
They moved to the center of the house, an inner sanctum of reinforced steel. Evan declined going in. It was enough to give anyone claustrophobia.
With a metallic clack, the door swung open again.
“Good morning, Princess.” Zakhar chirped with damnable cheer.
“It’s not morning.”
“It is for me.” The vampire wandered out into the main house, humming irreverently. Evan rolled his eyes. He had the horrifying suspicion that if he weren’t so stressed out, he’d actually like the bastard.
“I’d best go pick up Laurel.” Yvette hurried out, leaving Evan wondering who ‘Laurel’ was.
“Her daughter.”
Evan stiffened and turned around slowly. “Did you read my mind?”
“No. I just… seem to know you, a little.” Santos explained cautiously, leaning against the doorframe with his arm. They gazed at each other, unknowingly replaying their first meeting.
Santos was the first to break the silence. “You were rather quiet on the plane ride.”
“I was asleep on the plane ride.” Evan snapped. As it turned out, he wasn‘t a good flier. Yvette had sympathetically produced a sleeping pill and the next thing he knew he not only wasn’t in the United States, he was in a different hemisphere. “You could have told me where we were going.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“I didn’t think I was being taken across the Pacific Ocean.” Oh, God, was his voice really that bitchy? Yes, yes, it was. Evan pinched the bridge of his nose, counting to ten. “It’s really hard to scream at you when you’re using that sexy just-woken-up voice.”
“If it helps, I swear to God that I’m sorry. I had every intention of going slow. Well, at least regarding this. I was rather looking forward to our Oriental weekend.” Santos ran a hand across his bristly jaw and stepped away from the doorway. “Are we good?”
“Hell no, we‘re not good. But your ass is mine until I say it isn’t, considering all the shit you’ve put me through.” Evan answered coolly. “So if you’ve got some kinky harem thing going with your coven, they’d best stay away until I’m done with you.”
Evan took in the vampire’s delighted expression and snorted. “Oh, liked that, did you?”
“Very much so.” Hands gripped Evan’s hips, drawing their bodies together. Santos curled down, staring into his eyes. “You can have me for as long as you want me. I’m just surprised that you do, after all this.”
“You kidding?” They were so close that their words brushed against their lips, more felt than heard. “If I’m going to have a gigantic bull’s eye on my back, I’m going to have your cock inside my ass.”
“I have only one objection.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t say things like that unless you want it. Right now.”
Evan framed the vampire’s face with his hands, palms prickling with the feel of short hairs. “I’m still mad. So hold on to that thought.”
Santos leaned his face into the hands cradling it. “There’s one more thing.”
“Don’t tell me Laurel’s your daughter. I‘m not sure I can take it.”
“Ah, no. But her mother is one of my attempts.”
Yvette? Evan processed. Obviously those two had nothing going on, they treated each other more as long-time boss and employee. But that only said something about the now, not the past.
“So you and her, then.”
“Uh. Feel this?” Strong fingers manipulated Evan’s hand down to press against the hard length inside the thin trousers Santos wore for the evening. “Hard to achieve this reaction when I have no attraction to her gender.”
“Your point has been succinctly made.” Despite the fact that Santos’s fingers had slipped away, his own stayed exactly where they were, happily squeezing and making small, circular rubs.
Evan lifted his face to examine Santos. Those amazingly green eyes were at half-mast, returning the regard cautiously.
“I thought you were mad.”
“I‘m furious. You still owe me a lot of explanations.“ He removed his hand and walked out of the sanctum. “So why isn’t Yvette a vampire? If you two are biologically a match.”
“When we met, Yvette was pregnant. I made an effort to get to know her. Those we make are often the closest thing we have to family. But she didn’t want to. She wanted to grow old and raise her daughter. ” Santos explained as they wound their way to the first floor.
Zakhar was having dinner at the large kitchen island. Evan gawked in fascination as the vampire sucked on a plastic blood bag as if it were a pouch of Caprisun.
“That’s not something you see every day.” Evan murmured, not noticing the anxious stare he was getting from Santos, who then relaxed at his comment.
“It is around here.” Santos walked over to one of the two fridges in the elegant, circular kitchen, taking out a bag for himself.
It didn’t disgust Evan, what they were doing. Good thing, because their diet was currently the least of his problems and he was glad if it stayed that way. Evan went to the other fridge, knowing there was food in there. He browsed through the contents before pulling out a slice of leftover cheesecake and taking it to the island table.
He dug in and then asked, “Do you drink blood every day?”
“We don’t have to every day, but it’s good policy.” Zakhar crumbled up the ghostly bag, drops of blood still inside. A very reddish tongue peeked out, stroking his bottom lip and around the gold piercing, hypnotizing Evan. “Particularly when you live with humans. Those nutso health food vampires have a point. Exanimus Cruor isn’t the same as getting it from the source.”
“Mmn?” Evan said, finally lifting his gaze off the gleaming metal stud. “Sorry, what was that? Exa… animus…?”
“Exanimus Cruor. Lifeless blood.” If he was jealous, Santos didn’t show it. “If we drank fresh blood, we’d only need to feed once a week. In truth, we only need one bag every two days -- three, if we don’t mind getting a little hungry. But we don’t take those chances around here.”
“Oh, you are cute.” A young voice commented from the doorway, causing Evan to twist around.
Laurel was slim, of average height, with reddish-brown hair and a sprinkling of flat, round brown freckles spreading from one ear straight across to the other. Inquisitive blue eyes peered at him. She was a pretty girl despite the drab, grayish-green uniform she wore, complete with long-sleeved jacket and ruffled skirt that reached down to her shins. The outfit had the unfortunate side effect of making her look twelve years old, instead of the seventeen or sixteen that she probably was.
“I’m sorry?”
“She thinks you’re cute.” Zakhar injected. Evan blushed.
“Oh. Thanks.” He rolled his shoulders. “If it’s any worth to you coming from a gay man, you’re pretty cute yourself.”
“Thank you!” She beamed and then took a seat next to him. “It’s nice to have more humans around here, although I’m sorry about the whole thing with Ilya.”
“Thanks. You knew him?”
“When I was little. He still--” Laurel hesitated, looking at the two vampires out of the corner of her eye. “He still sends me presents for my birthday and Christmas. He’s really not a bad guy, he’s just being fucking stupid.”
Zakhar tossed away the empty bag. “Amen to that.”
Santos said nothing, expression mired bleakly. Evan barely protested as Laurel stole his cheesecake, worried about everything he knew, and everything he didn’t yet know.
Like what exactly Santos hoped to get from him.