...
Downstairs was hot, thoroughly justifying Michael's choice to stay in his boxers despite it being early spring out. Light through the stained glass windows freckled the hall with color. There was a peculiar energy in the air that charged his mood even as it put him on edge.
Reaching the doorway to the kitchen brought quite a sight into view. The black and white room was splashed in rusty red. There was blood all over the floor. Moyra was down on all fours in her shortest skirt, scrubbing at the mess aggressively. She paused when he entered and shot him a glance that managed to be sexy and unhappy at once. Silently she went back to work.
The maid didn't interest Michael at the moment. It was Tisi raiding the refrigerator who caught his attention. She was eating directly from the fridge and as he moved closer, he could see she was eating the raw meat that was kept on hand for him.
No. She wasn't eating it. She was devouring it.
"Good morning," he said when he was right behind her.
She startled, and turned, her eyes wide above her gore-smeared mouth. In her fist was a chunk of bloody, dripping meat. Michael's stomach growled again.
Tisi swallowed the large bite she'd been chewing. "I'm sorry. I was—"
"Shh," Michael shushed. He could hear something, but not clearly when she was talking.
The source of the sound was her middle. Concentrating, Michael could sense a small life growing there. He put a hand on her belly, which was firm and just a bit rounded beneath her bloody, shapeless dress. Tisi hesitated, disconcerted by the treatment. But her ravenous appetite overcame her, and she continued wolfing down the raw meat.
Opening his senses further Michael found he could identify the rapidly growing fetus inside her. He would know Pieter's energy signature anywhere. He withdrew his hand and reassessed the woman.
"How long until he's born?"
"We don't know," Tisi said with her mouth full. "Hours? Days, maybe? A week?"
Covered in blood and reeking of hormones as she was, Michael found her incredibly desirable. Riding alongside the physical attraction was the instinctive knowledge that he could plant his own baby in her alongside the warlock. He didn't know how he knew that, but he knew it. His cock stiffened and he found himself having to fight back the urge to fuck her. Repressing his sexual whims did nothing to improve his mood, but he already had enough problems dealing with the twins. He did not want to play father figure to a twin of Pieter's.
"I want to know as soon as it happens."
He reached around Tisi and grabbed a chunk of goat leg. He gnawed on the cold meat as he left the kitchen, taking his frustrations out on it. It didn't taste good. It was cold. Lifeless. He wanted something hot. Fresh. He wanted to fuck someone. Not anyone at the mansion. He wanted new blood.
—
The drive was uneventful and fast. The sun-bleached asphalt flew by as Michael sped down the empty, weed-choked streets of Los Angeles. Despite it being late December, the sun shone down bright and warm. Even at the end of the world the state of California was determined to be itself.
Rubber squealed on the dusty street as he pulled to a stop outside Elysium. He sat there for a moment looking at the weathered building. Then he slid out of the driver's seat. He had dressed for the visit in his trademark black with a splash of red: Black suit, black pointy ankle boots, red silk shirt with the top buttons left carelessly undone. Nothing complicated or difficult to shed.
He considered knocking, but when he got to the door it was unlocked so he just let himself in. Entering the boarding house was like stepping into a silent film from the 1920s. There were people socializing in the hall, men in fancy suits from yesteryear and women in fringed dresses with strappy shoes. The air was hazy with smoke. From somewhere unseen, old timey jazz played, hollowed by distance.
Though some of the people Michael passed glanced his way, no one tried to intercept him as he moved deeper into the house, down the long hall. The heady scents of opium, cigars, and perfume teased his senses. He suspected there was something more than opium in the air, but by the time he reached the stairs and began his ascent, it didn't matter to him. Not enough to bother fighting off the effects anyway. The cloud over his thoughts had no bearing on whether he would stay or what his intentions were. It just took the edge off his recent failure.
He fished in his pocket and pulled out the key the Madam had given him. Number 18.
In a dreamlike state he climbed the last few steps, fingers of his free hand trailing on the banister. The world flickered like an old movie as Michael passed a couple who were making out next to one of the many doors that lined the upstairs hallway. Just like the people downstairs, they watched him in silence. As soon as he was past them, they dove back into their love-play.
Michael was suddenly facing a door – her door – without memory of actually getting there. He swallowed and found his mouth dry. Was it the drugs affecting him? Or his own excitement?
He lifted a hand and rapped on the auburn wood lightly.
"Enter."
Her voice, sultry and strong. How was it that a single word from her could send such a thrill straight to his groin?
Michael let himself in and was immediately hit with the musky scent of incense. The room was lit with hurricane lanterns that cast flickering golden light over the dark red velvet wallpaper. Tastefully appointed with all manner of fine vintage furnishings, it was a suite fit for the Lady of the House.
She was seated in a wide-backed chair of mahogany lined with velvet cushions that matched the walls. A throne worth a fortune in times past. She wore a form-fitting blood red sheath dress, gathered in pleats at her bosom, held with a gold pin in the shape of an ankh. Her dark hair fell loose past her shoulders. A single ruby-studded comb swept her hair back from her face on one side. Her feet were bare, and Michael could tell by the way her clingy dress hugged her that she wore no undergarments beneath it.
On the floor circling her seat was a hairless brown beast as big as a panther and gruesome of face. Its sharp fangs were massive. It gazed at Michael with bored hostility.
The woman's rich crimson lips curved in a beckoning smile. "Mr. Wolf." Then, to the beast at her feet: "Go. Michael and I have business."
She pet the creature on its broad, smooth head. It stopped glaring only long enough to shoot her an adoring look. Then it skulked out, its leggy strides carrying it out in just three long steps. The door shut behind it, seemingly on its own.
"Madam." Michael executed a half bow and heard the lock on the door click into place. The insinuation in the gesture made him smile. He took a step forward.
"Did you bring me anything?"
The unexpected question gave Michael only a moment's pause. "The pleasure of my company."
She laughed, a melodic sound. Not mocking. "I see."
She rose from her chair then and moved closer to him with the fluid grace of a predator. The dress clung to her curves in a way Michael couldn't stop staring at. He closed the distance as well. They met in the middle of the room, electrified by the undeniable mutual attraction they both felt. His dark eyes met hers and found lustful fire he ached to be burned by.
He reached for her, wanting to touch, to kiss, to devour. She surprised him by taking a step back, putting her just out of reach. Her eyes danced with playful amusement.
"Do you want a drink? I have some delectable absinthe..." An invitation and a tease.
Sensing her game, Michael bit back the spike of temper that surged at being denied. He knew how to play. He took another step toward her, closing the distance between them again.
"Ah, Madam," he said. "You are the only thing I thirst for."
One of her fine brows arched and she took another step backward, in the direction of her chair.
"Some party favors? The opium is the purest the world has seen..."
He chuckled, desire thickening the sound to a throaty growl.
"Had some on the way up."
He considered letting her toy with him longer because it was incredibly arousing, but he was already starved for contact with her. In a lightning-fast move, his hand shot out and seized her wrist. He pulled her into his arms. Their bodies and lips crushed together, and he tasted the sweet wine of her mouth.
Abruptly she wrapped her arms around him and forcefully pulled him down with her into the throne. Her teeth sank into his lower lip when they collided with the seat. He tasted blood. The flavor and the twinge of pain only added fuel to his desire.
His hand found her side and slid down the length of her body to settle on her hip. Her hand was at his waist now, tugging at the fly of his pants. Yanking. The button popped off and she ripped at the zipper. Michael grabbed a handful of her dress and tried to pull it up. The narrow skirt didn't cooperate. After a brief struggle he separated from the kiss far enough to take firm hold of her skirt with both hands. Tearing the fabric was as easy as shredding a tissue.
Her smile said she approved of the barbaric act.
Dress out of his way, Michael slipped a hand between her thighs, the other tugging at the front of his shirt. Another easy rip tore the onyx buttons off and left his shirt hanging open. As he explored beneath her ruined skirt, eliciting sweet gasps from her, she shoved his trousers and silk boxers down. Soon her hand was on his cock, stroking.
With a near-feral growl he pressed himself down atop her. Grabbed her hips and with a rough thrust penetrated her. He drove deep and was rewarded with her moan. The delicious sound dissolved into a breathy laugh.
"...wanted to make you wait..."
He closed in for another brutal kiss, hesitating only to say: "You did."
Then he fucked her harder and more viciously than he had any mortal woman. She raked his back with her long nails, drawing blood. They bit, clawed, and screwed, lost in the moment, until they were both completely spent. After the frenzied joining they lay sprawled together on the floor, naked and battered, exhausted. Michael surrendered first to unconsciousness. And as the darkness settled over her to carry her to something like sleep, Lilith knew she would bear his child.
...
Author's Note:
The film I wrote has wrapped! It is in post-production now, which is why I've been radio-silent for so long (if you caught this announcement on my Asylum fic, apologies for the double-up). And what better way to fire things up again than a date with Michael? The Asylum story also got a hefty does of adult content. This was not planned to be timed this way. Just a happy coincidence.
I'm neck-deep in finals week after which I will have some down time I'm planning to use to make strides on bringing both stories to their inevitable conclusions. If you've been with me a while, I hope you'll find it worth the long ride.