Ambivalence

Vast winds surrounded the bulging castle, as trees shook the shutters of broken windows. It was a cold night, as it seems to always be in Missouri. A windy road, filled with dainty cracks, intruded on the castle's brooding demeanor and on it, walked Jean-Claude. Long, leather-cladded legs enabled this man to tower over any average person, and his wide shoulders were covered with a fine, blackened, silk shirt; this would look insane to a human during this bitter day. However, Jean-Claude is not human. A regular being would slightly question his pale complexion and the way his eyes, a smothering blue, seems to enthrall and become intimate with your soul. He is no man. His strides were of ghostly demeanor- not uttering a sound, were his stout boots. Upon stepping on the threshold of the large estate, the wide doors whipped open slowly, and a gush of cool, crisp air set Jean-Claude's hair astray. Undeterred, he walked in quickly approaching the living dorm, in which is frequently inhabited under these circumstances. He is met with a pair of brown, female, natural eyes

"You've summoned me," There was no questioning tone in his voice. A leather-cladded chair awaited his arrival and a natural slouch was his posture.

"You would have come if I didn't?" the woman quipped and allowed no response, "Everything that goes on in this state does not go past your guard—unless you wanted it to."

"Those murders do not share concern with my affairs."

"So you've heard of them and you didn't inform me?"

The dark-haired vampire laughed faintly, "Oh Anita, you are a part of Special Forces; you only need my assistance in—particular matters," Which circumstances exactly, were left unsaid. Anita was not distracted by his toying. She pushed a stack of photos, crisp and polished, scattering across a glass, stained coffee table. Jean-Claude dashed his vision across them, slowly lingering on the scenes.

"The men were all mutilated, molested and tortured . Killed slowly and filmed the whole damned thing. Had no chance, the sick fuck."

"Do you know who is respon-?"

"I know this is not an ordinary pedophile. On their bodies some sort of alchemy symbol were cut into the bodies, these men were vampires, unless this guy has a personal vendetta against the undead- " Her voice gave away her sense of exasperation. Jean-Claude spotted one detail in particular:

"There is writing on the genitals."

"Sexual motive?"

A gust of wind swung the unattractive shutters inward as long, lean pant legs appeared from the opening. Metallic, golden hair followed afterwards, catching up. The male appeared silently, peering inside and inspecting the others. He grinned, maneuvering his hair in such a way that it cascaded down half of his face as the other half practically flawless with beauty and his aristocratic nose was pert and lips were flushed. Any human being would be envious at this display for his splendor was unmortal. The golden male was donned in a black, silk shirt contrasting against his pastel skin. Jean-Claude greeted him.

"Dropping by, my friend?" Jean-Claude joked. That was not understated.

"I missed you both, terribly" The male quipped and his vocals revealed a crisp, smooth sound, enunciating. One could tell his original language was not English. However, Anita was not amused in the slightest.

"Going back to the murders?" she flicked her wrists towards the males, "and you guys insist on meeting each other in odd situations?"

"Asher does not know of these happenings," Jumping in to defend. Asher questioned about the incidents.

"Three victims. Three males. Three murders. No suspects but we do have a profile; he's into necrophilia and likes to get comfortable with his guys before zoning in for the kill," The female was getting frustrated by the time being lost while they could be tracking for the suspect. Jean-Claude walked briskly to the window handing Asher the photographs. The recipient stared down at the objects firmly. Anita continued to express more of her concerns about the case to the only set of ears listening—Jean-Claude's. Asher's countenance revealed neither disgust nor repulsion; he was quite known for having a face made of stone… quite matter-of-factly, all vampires learned this skill from decades of practice. He flipped through the prints repeatedly. These markings… those wounds… were starkly familiar. By now, both Jean-Claude and Anita had discontinued their conversation and watched the other, shooting questioning glances at each other, while Asher zoned into his memory. Those markings are familiar.

Necromancer's Obsession

Asher strode through endless corridors, extremely familiar with its form. He was summoned and one would be mistaken to arrive in a late fashion. He spotted his female master across the place entertaining whispers in her ear from a male he is not familiar with. He harbored misty eyes with a full face and healthy. He was clothed in armor, possibly coming back from a mission. Many others like his kind with different builds crowded the hallways of the room, yet with grace Asher dodged shoulders with ease— almost on cue, people filtered out the room leaving only Her, the unknown male, and himself. As custom and expectance, he bowed and kneeled, metallic gold cascaded forward.

"My creation, how delightful that you grace yourself in my court," her voice leaked lazy superiority.

"You've called me, Belle Morte," he quickly added, "My service is for you to utilize," Asher briskly learned his role in her empire, he was not used for warrior-type missions; espionage was his forte to use his powers, which were limited to seduction.

"It seems you have met our guest previously," Amusement flooded her words. He took the time to glance at the person in question to the left of His lady. As if reading his mind, the stranger strolled down the steps, never taking his eyes off Asher. The latter averted his out of custom; guests were of special circumstances and benefits, only Belle Morte sampled them and in most situations, in the most sexual of ways. Asher's creator fed off of lust.

"I have not,"

"You shall get to know Thane quite well; he requests that you join his bed," Belle Morte bluntly stated.

The golden-haired male's countenance did not reveal his surprise.

"Bell—"

"Rise to your fullest, Asher and let my guest observe why you are my most wanted," the haughty female interrupted. Asher rose and as expected, eyes. . . light grey, in fact traveled down his body. He is constantly reminded of his fair features, mostly in the rudest looks. The male spoke for the first time:

"Ah yes, a sin," His warm voice had a trace of husk lurking. Thane cupped the former's chin, tilting it upward and only then did Asher realize that Thane was slightly taller than his 6'1.

"Release me," He twisted away and surprisingly the other freed without conflict... And stared after him as Asher directed his look at Belle Morte, who was temporarily forgotten.

"Oh Asher, play nicely," she was thoroughly enjoying this encounter, dark-honey eyes danced, "Thane." Abruptly, she pushed off her throne and commented that she had her own affairs to attend to (with the tan male at her heels) and while doing so, she muttered a phrase meant only for Asher's ears that provided an ultimatum, just the one choice. One would be mistaken then to not heed them. Do not keep your guest waiting.

His mind was busy within those couple of hours till dusk approached. Asher was no virgin; Belle Morte was his first when she turned him in his mid-twenties. He does not remember anything from his human years and in a sense, he was relieved. Brought from his musings, the smell of wax filled his nostrils leading up to Thane's space. He twisted the cold knob, entering quietly. Awaiting him, was the other clothed in only a towel and bleached bandages among his arms, with candles illuminating the room in red shades. Asher stepped fully inside taking notice in the dark colors of Thane's bedding… no windows. Using the other's close scrutiny, Thane mustered close and reached out to trail a couple of fingers down the side of Asher's face.

"Your hands are unwell,"

"They will not deter me, tonight," Thane rebutted as he moved to unbutton the shorter's off-white blouse slowly revealing equally, pale skin devoid of scars one would envy. He seemed to have muttered those thoughts exactly out loud, for Asher's eyes averted. He felt heated hands brush across his nipples; his breath hitched. Thane was obviously pleased by this reaction, for his expected the other to hold back.

"Stop treating me as a woman!" Asher hissed, annoyed at the situation. 'How dare he mock me...' It did not dissuade Thane, for he grabbed and gently laid the golden-haired vampire on the softened bed. Asher simply wanted to end this… perhaps if he pretended—he felt his pants give way.

"You are beautiful," The other simply stated after a long pause.

"Hurry up," Asher stared into the candles heat, losing himself in the blue irises of its eye, "I have things to do,"

The golden vampire donned on his garments that were discarded and left without a word, aware of silent eyes following him. Asher paid no mind; it was a regular occurrence from those who shared his bed, because of his bite. It has the power to fill his partners with unbelievable lust, like an orgasm. And way after the lovemaking, his partners would forever have flashbacks of that caliber at any given moment. He did what Belle Morte wanted which was to secure her connections with the other council… now, he will not give this Thane another thought.

Thane had watched Asher leave and craved that the doors would concave and leave him trapped with him forever .However, that wouldn't be the case because he knew how politics work. He knew that the golden one was sent to establish valuable connections. He knew Asher did not enjoy the coupling and only looked upon it with business eyes. Yet, he craved the feeling of touching soft, smooth skin, again. He craved the feeling of himself being swallowed by foreign heat. He craved to hear the other cry out. He craved the view of seeing Asher lost in pleasure only he can give him. He desired more of this angel. Fuck, his neck throbbed from Asher's bite. The chilled-eyed male's reputation was not disputable and was thick solid. He will show he is not a force to be taken lightly; he is, of course, a predator and quite good at what he does (since he was hired by someone as harsh as Belle Morte). Peering at a mirror, he saw a vampire warrior whom would be insignificant no more in the eyes of the guinea pig, of Master of a Bloodline, Belle Morte.

Should I continue? Leave Reviews please so I can be inspired

-Ollie