Laying in darkness, surprisingly, I've slept like a baby, not being haunted by the disturbing memories of the murder. My mind didn't linger on how they'd extracted the vampires fangs nor, where'd they'd buried her. Maybe it was just because my conscious has been so mentally exhausted lately—maybe it died…

Just as the sun had set from yet another exhausting day, the traffic goes through. The men in the suits are back, as I sit on the couch, filing my nails next to Annika, a German prostitute from the late 1800's. She liked maintaining her hair in that messy yet kept high bun on her head. He lips were thin, and she had a good amount of meat on her body because she had the tastes of men with high prestigious incomes. The look in her mischievous face, carved in the essence of an angel; her face was one of a little girl's though she had died at 22.

"You know, I liked the house better when these people weren't here," she sighs with sour distaste, crossing her Germanic legs. Brown eyes gaze into mine, as her perfectly manicured eyebrow raises, Her makeup done to the T, "Oliver tells me to look my best and for what? I'm not a people pleaser."

Obviously...

I roll my eyes, then smile; Annika was mean. Not mean in the way she'd been a ruthless heart ripper, but, mean in the ways of gossip and belittling people.

She barley talks to me, which is why I like her so much. I think she has the idea of keeping her mouth shut when she hasn't anything nice to say.

"These fucking—" Negah stops himself, clenching his fists, wrapped in his light yet beautiful Persian skin. Yeah, he's dead, but his color still peaks through the icy deadness. With his hair perfectly quaffed back, his fists let loose as he looks at me with those wide golden-green eyes. His mouth goes to the side, composing himself further, plopping down onto the couch. "What the fuck are they possibly complaining about that they can't personally fix themselves?" he demands. "This house is a house of peace, not chaos."

Negah was beautiful, even when he spoke he reminded me of the finest silk; a model like peasant, was now eternalized in an immortal marble. He may have been a peasant, but peasant in past time quickly was evolved into a something incredibly model like—untouchable but in the best way possible.

"All the same bullshit—trying to find information on some kinda unexplainable being is fuckin' shit up," Annika sighs, "Oliver's going to have to find it—hell, we all are. If we want these sheriffs and these other pathetic assholes out of our house, we're going to have to do it immediately."

Negah sighs, "I can't handle them ruining my shit—No!" he screams across the room, zipping off of the couch, "That Vase is older than you, get your fifthly fucking hands off of it!"

"He'd kill a vampire with no remorse," she chuckles, her eyes darting at him. "It's no wonder I love him so much…."

The entire time I'd been here, Annika hadn't ever showed any other emotion aside from anger. Though this family did not show any physical genetic relation they were all very uninterested in everything. Oliver had taught them well.

"So your together?" I asked, setting down my file, about to apply the base coat for my nails. Everything lined up on the beautiful, yet protected table.

"We've been together," she curtly nods, "I mean, he's fifty years older than me. I had never seen anything so beautiful, human or undead—I'd never seen anyone with colored skin. He was ravishing beyond compare to anyone else I'd seen. I felt I was meant to be made for him." Though her tone was straight forward and never grew warm, you could hear the admiration she had for him.

I thought of it kind of sweet; but, I wouldn't dare say anything. Instead, I let one of very many layers of polish dry.

Just as I'd decorated my nails, and let the colors dry smoothly over my nails, Oliver right hand man set out, of the office, his eyes glowering, as he'd disappeared, reappearing with a woman. He was older than Negah, and said nothing most of the time.

Dragging her by the hair, next to me on the couch, she and he fell. She on his lap, as Annika rolled her eyes in disgust.

With no hesitation, the man with the short styled mop, with the slightest amount of curl looked at me, snarled and bit into the woman. She shrieked, for only a second, until his hands were fiercely grabbing at her chest.

His name is Joseph; it isn't short for anything, nor did he make up his own name and for some reason, he and Oliver share the same damn stick up their asses. Truly in age, he's older, but he's stuck in the body of a seventeen year old.

As he slurps front his victim, those ice blue eyes, glare at me occasionally, catching the corner of my eye as I pretend not to see what's going on. His build is slender, he isn't very tall, compared to Oliver, but is maybe average size around 5'11, maybe. Those full lips wrapped around the girls neck as he stopped, and let her lie in his lap.

"What is it?" Annika asks, asking as if she's reading from a script.

"I'm on edge, okay? Shit. Since when do you pretend to care?" he asks, growling. "Whatever this fucking thing is that's terrorizing our race so much, we need to stop it because I'm already on my last nerve. Don't you feel how fucking stressed Oliver is?"

"Which is why everyone is on the cranky side," Annika nods, "But, he needs more information. These are all the same people, making themselves at home for no reason. They know they're not welcome."

Negah comes out, scowling, growling, beyond angry, "Annika, if you are not in that room, naked in four fucking seconds—"

Annika's eyebrows furrow, as she disappears to wherever they sleep leaving me with the quiet one, kneading the breasts of a woman who's lazily against his body.

"I think I should go," my nail polish was dry.

"You will stay," he says. "Oliver will be out shortly and I will be back in there to take down the complaints."

"Joseph!" Oliver calls.

They switch, as the woman in his lap has now been thrown on the floor.

"You okay?" I ask, horrified at another fear filled squeal.

"Yeah," she giggles, "Daddy sometimes forgets I'm here."

"Daddy?" my eyebrow raises.

"Mhm," she nods, getting to her feet.

Just then, Oliver is at my shoulders, "I think it's time for you to come back tomorrow. Joseph has work to do."

"Okay," he childlike voice disappears as she doesn't take his word lightly.

"Where is Annika?" he asks.

"She's helping Negah with some….anger issues?"

He chuckles quickly, grimacing,"when I turn you, you know you will have to obey me?" he asks, a questionable grimace on his face in a soft voice. "All I'll have to say is, 'Autumn Harlow Holgata, as your make I command you,' and you'll have to obey." His lips softly touch mine, I find myself winded as he spirals from the bottom to the top of him on the couch, at my lips again.

"You would you though?" I ask, with curiosity. "I don't think you would—"

"If you try to make me go any amount of time without sex then, I would resort to it without thought….I highly doubt that. You'll have an amazing sex drive."

I shake my head, "I can't imagine having to live forever—" I kiss him again, pressing myself against him, nestling myself within his neck, biting him. His skin is so smooth and cold, when I press my forehead against him.

"Do you have a fever?" he asks.

"It's a little hot in here."

"It's sixty something degrees; it's cool and you're burning."

"I wasn't burning, I felt fine…just a tad sweaty. I mean, there was no body heat to warm the house, but most people get the occasionally hot flash.

"Here," he takes his shirt off, slipping mine off, wrapping his arms around me.

"I'll fall asleep, I warn, "Today was the last day of class. I'm exhausted."

"Then sleep," he sighs, squeezing me tight.

Never would I think I could close my eyes in someone's caring and concerned arms. To think, I was squatting in high school with a bunch of drop outs. To everyone who wasn't a teacher thought I would never amount to anything for anyone despite I was smart, though I had an emerging problem with Speed. I felt humanly impossible, after homework, I'd allow myself to fly through a pipe.

Harsh words made me believe it too though when I did the drug with friends, I didn't it because it was fun. I watched my friends need it; compared to myself, where I did it by choice, and could go without it and not get sick for weeks.

It was the desperateness in their eyes that made me realize I couldn't do this anymore. I got a job, enrolled in certain programs and got to my feet. I graduated, proving my social worker wrong, proving everyone who had though I was going to be found in a ditch dead from overdosing on whatever they'd come up with….

In high school, I felt like Grizabella, ugly, untouchable, but not in a good way. I was tattered, wore grungy clothes, while everyone looked at me as if I would pass on to them some kind of disease. Being a foster kid wasn't easy—they'd placed me a horrible family, I left, still attending school; my life was a stage. Eyes of disgust and disapproval though I'd hung with the smart kids who didn't give a fuck; they were the thin string because they were all misfits in one way or another.

His hand was cold, but he'd brought warmth to my stomach, when that icy hand touched my arm.

My eyes shut. Having a job allowed me to buy clothes, makeup…things I never had.

Everything was falling into place though I wasn't sure of living with vampires. When he was loving, like this, I was brought back by the man I'd met not too long ago who'd not flashed me a smile, but a content look down at the coffee shop. He never bought coffee, but he came every night before closing for what I assumed to be a quiet place to read, or occasionally listen to the entertainment.

It took weeks before he'd come up to the counter, looking at me with those ice blue eyes, his beautifully slicked hair, looking like a model, hovering over me behind the counter. "Pardon me, but I can't help but admire you. My name is Oliver," a sweet smile, it didn't seem forced but it seemed hard for him. "May I have yours?"

"Autumn," I blushed, looking at him in the candle light. I was off, and joined him, with a hot chocolate.

He was a gentleman, not trying to hold my hand, opening doors and carrying on a conversation with eyes that were not vicious nor curious; he continued on this façade until the new broke out, and vampires had emerged out of the darkness, shaking the world of half of the mysteries it held. He could be himself fully around me, but it terrified me knowing he could kill me, when I'd finally lifted off the oppression from my shoulders.

Now, here we were, as I can fully accept him despite his title, and what he is. I felt as if another layer had been shed as I shut my eyes.