The Crimson Accord

They always ask me if I want the blood warm or not. As if I would ever say no. The owner of The Nectar Society has already stopped by my table in the back of the club three times. In the past ten minutes he had checked on me in between the parade of women he shoved in my direction.

​As each one passes they smile or wink, maybe attempting to show more skin even though the majority of them are wearing string lingerie that show plenty. Ignoring the obvious questions, I flick my wrist at the latest, a blonde with a gapped smile. She notices my interest and lights up, immediately forgetting her instructions of how to seduce a king. Her face is plastered with makeup but I’ve barely looked at it. She’s too eager. They all are. It’s not a hunt anymore, it’s an offering.

​She kneels at my feet and hands me the bourbon that has been sitting in front of me without being touched. “Yes, your highness. What can I give you today?” Her voice is young or maybe I am just too old for this.

​After a sip, I ask her “What is your name?” She leans into me and quietly says a generic name that I forget immediately. Whispering as if this is a confessional and we’re about to commit a holy act. But it isn’t.

“You’re wet,” I say, not to accuse her but to acknowledge the obvious truth. I can smell her need from across the club. She gives me a small nod and waits for me to finish my thought. “What are you getting from being here?”

​“My grandfather would like an audience with House Vortova to possibly get my brother a position within the private military firm and I was the only one in the family to volunteer on the Registry.” I think I can detect a hint of sadness in her voice. She knows what the Registry is now. She is new and obviously enjoys part of it, yet the clear tone of prostitution is visible once you are inside of it.

​Without allowing any further conversation, I put down my drink and grab her wrist. I pull her into my lap, spreading her legs wide so that I can see the shape of her cunt. Without removing my eyes from her wrist as I slowly lower my lips to one of the most fruitful veins. I slip a finger at the front of her thin red underwear. Her gasp is subtle as she tries to keep her cooler demeanor. Beneath my lips that have been busy kissing, I can feel her heartbeat.

​I know the blood will taste better from her if she’s relaxed so I don’t give a second thought when I start ripping the thong away and inserting a finger inside her soaking pussy. The line between feeding and fucking is always blurred but especially here when most girls would throw their breasts in my face if it meant they would get a dollar or a favor from me. Rhymically, I pump it inside her while licking her wrist. She’s dripping down my finger onto the palm of my hand. Pulling out of her, I press the pad of my thumb against her clit. Whimpering like a helpless animal, she throws her head back. I smile against her wrist, She’s ready.

​Pulling away from her wrist, I meet her eyes as my teeth descend and wait for her nod of approval which she gives so willingly as I put extra pressure on her center. I sink my teeth into her wrists and gulp the flow that has sprung from my incisions. It tastes like a sunny day, full of life and youth. She goes quiet after a few minutes and I know she can’t take much more. The older I get, the more efficient I have become and I only needed a couple of minutes to completely drain a person and I didn’t want to pay the fine for doing that today.

​I unclasped her wrist, my teeth receded, and my hand left her drenched folds. I don’t look up as I give another flick of my wrist to tell her I am done with her, but I can tell by the way she steps back from me and slowly walks away that she’s dazed. My saliva had that effect on my victims as long as they were willing. She would probably lay down and pass out for a few hours, her body needing the sleep to rejuvenate her.

​Wiping my lips with a napkin, I pick up my drink and consider my future. This was my typical night lately. It was necessary to feed everyday in between the regular human food and instead of drinking alone at Tencrest, I often found myself in this same exact spot. Knowing I would be welcoming the Founding Ten soon,I felt the weight of the month ahead looming over me. Tencrest would shift overnight, from a quiet fortress with limited staff to a tension soaked hive filled with fifty guests.

​I usually looked forward to the drinking and business deals the ball provided. But I was bored. I had fucked and fed my way through the Registry, I had made more money than God this past year, and I was nearing my hundreth year ruling over the Eternal Order. It was the same shit every day. And now I was expected to fulfill the Accord’s plans. They’ve picked a stranger for me. I’ll do what they want. I’ll fuck her. I’ll drink from her. I’ll give them a Crimsonborn.

​Every time I thought about tomorrow, a pit would hit my stomach. Was this nervousness? Excitement ran through me thinking about the woman that was soon to be mine. A permanent fixture in my bed, what a change that would be. If she stirs anything in me, it would be a miracle. If not, at least I would be entertained.

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