A pale hand ran back over slicked back white blonde hair. He had a low serious brow with a sharp nose and a square jaw. Underneath the brow were a pair of cold, steel gray eyes. These eyes watched the fire. Watched the flames jump and dance. He had finished with the files in his lap. Personnel files. He liked to keep track of his kind in his city. Their names, their dealings, all of it. It was the only way to keep them all in check. As Prince of the City, it was his responsibility. The Prince raised himself up from the dark high backed armchair. He stared silently out the large window of his office in his mansion on a hill out on the city outskirts. The moon was high and casting its silvery light across everything under it.
For ninety six years the city had been his. The responsibility handed down to him from the previous Prince, who was his maker. He had worked hard to keep The Kin, mortals, and other supernaturals, at peace. Upstarts or anyone looking to break The Masquerade, was dealt with accordingly. He watched the lights of the city. Cars, skyscrapers, clubs, shops, neon lights, all alive in the night. The unsuspecting human population was not even remotely aware just how close to the truth they were. How the monsters were right under their noses. The masquerade, as The Prince's Kin called it, was just that good. It protected the mortals, and The Kin alike. And anything else in between. The Kin weren't the only things that went bump in the night.
A knock on the heavy wooden door disturbed his solitude. The door opened after a few moments. A slightly younger man in appearance entered, tall and broad with dark brown pony tail and decked in a heavy black leather jacket.
"You called for me sire?" he addressed The Prince.
"Yes Billy, I need the car ready. We leave for The Palms in an hour." The Prince instructed. The one called Billy bowed slightly and respectfully then left quickly.
He needed to show his face tonight. With jealousies between Houses and Families rife these days, he needed his presence felt, and his kind still aware who ruled. Especially when one of tonight's special guest performers was one of his own House. Of his own bloodline. He was sure no one would be stupid enough to attempt, much less even entertain, the idea of laying a hand on one of his own. Still, just to be sure. Besides, he owed the Maloofs a visit. And he hadn't seen one of his own in the decade since he sired him. The Prince had brought him back from the brink of insanity, self destruction and addiction. Stopped him from becoming another dead and washed up rockstar. Now he was breaking in new generations to his music and his art that he'd been making for thirty years. It would be good to see his childe again.
She stretched like a cat. The night was young. The Prince was going to be out and about tonight. And as usual so would she. Normally she would just head out and do her own carefree thing. But the Prince's safety and protection was utmost. But that didnt mean she couldnt have a little fun. They were for all intensive purposes going to a rock show in The Palms. Loud music, lights, hot bodies, warm blood. All for the feast of the senses. In every sense. She slid off the dark curtained bed and let the soft sheer robe fall to the floor. The dark material fluttered down around her feet. She momentarily admired her naked and porcelain-like skin the moonlight. Amazing what almost three centuries could do. She shrugged and glided to her dressing table. She slid on the super tight black latex pants like a second skin and left them low on her hips, followed by a high neck vest in same material with a dangerous drop v front that corseted beneath the breasts. Her already ample bust now more than obvious and her bare narrow waist seeming more miniscule, which made her hips undeniable. Just how she liked it.
She decorated her eyes and lips in heavy black. She slowly pulled on leather gauntlets with her little tricks hidden inside. She pushed her feet into sharp, tall, black chrome heeled boots. She tucked more tricks into the legs of her boots. Satisfied she looked dangerous enough she stood and pulled on a floor length leather coat. She kept it long for numerous reasons. Several of which were pinned in folds, secret compartments and the like. Her attire was as much for entertainment, as it was for practical reasons. She wasn't the best at what she was and what she did for nothing. When ever the Prince needed a sticky job done, she was the one to call. She didnt mind. She felt a little like the harbinger of death. Only better looking.
After zipping up the coat at her chest, she climbed out on the window sill of the mansion. His car was ready and waiting. Her monstrous motorcycle was parked beneath where she was now. The night breeze blew coldly past, whipping the coats tails around her long crouched legs. Not that she could feel it. She almost giggled at the fact not even the wind could blow her spiky messy teased mohawk over she'd done it that well. Watching now, she saw the Prince move down the stairs of the mansion to the opened door of the car. House of Morgan was on the move. She closed her eyes and swan dived.
The Prince stopped by the opened door of the BMW. He heard her motorcycle roar to life. And then barely had time to crane around as she tore past them on the driveway at high speed. His senses sharp enough to take in her over all look. He tried not to smirk. He glanced up at his man Billy who was sniggering slightly, trying to disguise it but failing miserably. The Prince just had to choose her for his right hand all those years ago. She had not failed to amuse and disturb others with her appearance and her quick tongue in all that time.
"Shut up Billy." The Prince shook his head smiling.
"I didn't say a word sire."
Billy answered amused and shut the door after The Prince. The drive would take a little time, but not so long that he would miss anything at The Palms. The Prince watched Las Vegas's glittering neon chaos start to envelope the darkened horizon ahead of them. Various kin under his rule checked in with Billy, co-ordinating their protection of The Prince and his guests. The Prince's cell danced in his pocket silently. He pulled the little vibrating phone from his pocket. He grinned at the name on the display and immediately answered it.
"Dear boy it is good to hear your voice."
"Dorian Morgan get your ass here to rock."
"Haha, we'll be there soon Nikki."