Author Note:

I hadn't planned on doing a dual perspective, so this kind of just happened!

Please let me know what you think - it's very encouraging!

Chapter Two

Ian

When Crispin came back from the bar with his whiskey, and a glass of neat gin for Cat, grinning like an idiot, of course, I had to berate him.

"Why do you look like the cat that got the cream? Shouldn't it be Cat that got creamed? Surely she did that before you left? Or in the car... Or both," Cat threw a her steely gaze in my direction.

"I've just met the most charming girl - and no luv, before you say anything, she wasn't even flirting - knew I was married before I could even say two words to her! Sharp lass." Cat's vampire territorialism over Bones was renowned in the undead community. She was firecracker.

"How did she know?" Cat asked.

"Women's intuition I guess. I only went to the bar because she was singing Kanye West in her head and I thought it was hilarious," he replied.

I enquired what song. Crispin's eyes followed a busty blonde girl on the arm of a balding man.

"Golddigger," he smirked. I smirked too. Though she did look good enough to eat.

Cat looked around the main hall. There was a fair number of women loitering around, many looking very bored and about as sharp as a butter knife.

"Is she the one with the bangs?" asked Cat.

Bangs? Bones rolled his eyes. "She means fringe - bloody Americans." Cat shot him a look that suggested he was going to pay for that jab later.

My eyes crawled lazily around the room. I wasn't interested in being here but the amount of money I put into the company earned me a free ticket to, what is commonly and 'affectionately' known in the rare artefacts community, the "Big Bidders Ball", or just "Big Balls". There was a couple of pieces in tonight's auction that I would claim by the end of the night and I was going to green-eye every one of these bastards to make sure I got them.

Cat pointed to a woman that was making her way into The Court Room. Tight black dress, killer heels and dark, dark hair. Delicious.

A man in a penguin suit rapped his gavel on the table to inform the guests it was time for dinner. Time for mine, too.

I turned to Cat and said, "Seeing as your husband rudely left me gasping for a drink, I believe I'm just going to have to find my own, more salty variety."

I had to be on top form for the auction, after all.

Cat exhaled loudly, and seeing as she had no need to breathe, I knew it was to tell me to behave myself. Like that was ever going to happen.

Weaving through the crowds descending upon their tables, I made my way to the entrance of The Court Room. I leaned against the frame, watching my prey, as if I was playing a game of cat and mouse.

She was enchanting, the way she moved with the shadows instead of being afraid of them, like most humans. I closed my eyes and listened to the rhythmic beat of her heart. It was soothing.

The human heart is very predictable. The stronger beat, followed by almost a quieter echo. Yes, you got irregular heart beats and those with a murmur or pacemaker - but the majority of the human race had the same heartbeat, and nothing could distinguish them - not race, sexual preference or gender. It was all very boring.

You can imagine my interest when, for a moment, I heard the tiniest of flutters. If I hadn't been lulled to boredom by the same beating drums which filled the halls, I wouldn't have picked up on it when surrounded by the crowds. I disappeared into the shadows, stalking, as my gaze devoured, what it was that made her heart flutter...

Interesting.

It was one of the pieces I had come to bid on. A piece of aboriginal artwork, dating about 250-300 years ago made with the usual intricate substances of hard work, blood, sweat, and tears, as well as teeth and bones. To me it was beautiful. It was my history and my life and my memories. I had to have it.

For each item in the room she gave the same care and attention, drinking the rich wine of history and beauty before moving to the next one. But none made her heart flutter like the aboriginal artwork. Except for…

Well of course. The diamond. I would have thought the whole of the next room could hear how the diamond affected her. Her delicate hand rose to her throat. I stalked silently closer.

That diamond. This was the main reason I was here. None of these breathers understood the true value of the piece, believing it belonged to our dear Queen Vic so that instantly made it covet worthy. But to the undead amongst us, we all knew it's history. Every baby vamp was told stories of The Black Diamond and how, if used by the right vampire, it could supposedly drain the undead of their powers and make them almost… mortal. A cure some might call it.

It had been lost since the time of Cain but apparently the royal bloodline kept it close to their blue blooded bosoms and now here it is. Oh how the mighty fall. I couldn't wait to hold it in my hands and feel the power pulse through them.

Did I want to become mortal? Hell no. Did I want to torture my friends and enemies with the idea that I could make them mortal? Yes. Oh yes.

The main point was that I was going to own it and that I could do what I want with it. Hell, I might chip a bit off and make a nice decorative bar for my Prince Albert so him and Vicky can feel close again. I liked that idea. My dick having the power to make mortals. The Mortal Maker. Double entendre intended (despite the swimmers no longer swimming… you get my drift).

Whilst I was having fantasies about my dick (not unusual), I'd subconsciously been creeping closer. The girl was bent over now, trying to get a closer look and sticking that delectable derriere in my direction. Hummm, dinner and a show. My fangs ached and I almost frothed at the mouth. I was now horny and hungry - sue me.

I finally got a glimpse at the girl's face in the reflection of the diamond. Large, brown doe eyes and soft, plump, English Rose skin. What's that word some use to describe it?

Albino? No, isn't that the gene thing?

I moved closer.

Alicante? Pretty sure I've been there on holiday.

I could imagine her skin breaking beneath my fangs and her tasting like caramel, or dark chocolate.

Ala...ala…

Her gasp jerked me from my inner musings.

Time to see what she really tasted like...