Futuretake written to celebrate Lexi's birthday! Happy birthday, sweetheart!

If you haven't read Bloody Kisses, you can find the PDF on my WordPress—link on my profile.

Beta'd by HollettLA

Bloody Kisses - Futuretake

Bloody Situation

EPOV

Getting past security as a vampire is boringly simple, even here at CNN in Washington, DC. I'd at least hoped for some action—perhaps slay a few humans and smear their bloody remains on the walls.

Alas…

Isabella and I snuck into the news studio with ease, and then I was disappointed that there was no desk to sit behind, as I had envisioned that. But apparently this Wolf Blitzer human stands up a lot. However, Isabella was quick to appease me—knowing I've been in a bit of a pissy mood—and so she pushed a large desk to stand in front of the camera.

It's all good now.

Especially because she's kneeling under said desk and has my cock in her mouth.

It's only a matter of minutes before the dimly lit studio surges to life, but Mr. Blitzer won't host the Situation Room today. My wife—my queen—and I will. Because it's time to let the human scum know who their new leaders are. Or what they are, as it is.

"Fuck, that's it…" I sigh in pleasure and peer down at her ruby lips working my dick. Her equally ruby eyes rake over my bare torso, so fuckin' seductive and wicked. Her nails dig into the black leather of my pants, but not enough to break through. I used to have a shirt on, but she tore it off me when we came here. "Yeah, work my cock—make those noises." I swallow a groan as she begins her slurping.

In my periphery, I catch a few humans entering the set, but I weave my fingers through Isabella's hair to let her know I don't want her to stop. Not that she would've. Christ, I can barely keep up with my little wife's nasty mind.

A few months ago, we took down the Volturi and started planning our takeover of the world…and it was also sort of a honeymoon for Isabella and me. Fucking glorious. Can't wait to parade her all over the planet and ravish her wherever I want.

I hiss when she grazes her teeth along my length, and the small flinch is instinctual.

Piece of advice?

Don't piss off your mate. Last month, I told her she'd make a good slave for a king—for me—and she obviously didn't see the glint in my eye. So, later that night, she bit off two inches of my cock.

Don't worry, it's all good now. Gotta love being reattachable like LEGOs, and there's only a faint scar from the incident…and the memory of it.

"Uh-oh." She pouts up at me. ~You're softening.

"Is that weird?" I glare. "Just thinking about it…" I shudder, then push down her head again. "Keep sucking, darling."

By the time she's sucking steel instead of…something less hard, a collective gasp rings out from a handful of humans as the lights switch on.

"Who are you and what're you doing here?" one human erupts.

"Uunff…" My eyes nearly roll back in response to Isabella's pouty lips tightening. "You're in no position to ask me questions," I tell the human, caressing Isabella's cheek. "This is what's gonna happen: you're all going to do whatever it is you do to prepare—" I wave a hand at the studio "—you know what I mean. We'll be going live—me and my wife. And, oh yeah…" I moan. "And if you're a good little minion, we might let you live."

~Not likely.

I snicker at my wife's thought.

But my mirth is gone when more and more workers mill into the large room, their thoughts filled with confusion, irritation…one is amused, happy to see that something new is happening in his otherwise boring existence, another is thinking about calling security…only three or four have understood that I have someone under the table blowing me.

I'd ask her to block my mind reading ability if it weren't for the fact that I need to be on my A-game.

I smile at the two lanky interns who pull out their phones, probably to tweet something about this. Then I groan, my attention back to the missus, and she bobs up and down on my cock, getting me closer to the edge.

"Almost there, sweetheart," I grunt, looking down at her before I face the crowded news room. "What the fuck are you waiting for?" I ask irritably. "You do not want to know what I'll do to make sure you do what you're told. And—" I smirk darkly "—you do not want to face the wrath of my wife."

Isabella makes a happy noise and slowly releases my cock to stand up.

I jack myself lazily as she strolls leisurely toward the humans. And she looks so incredibly sinful wearing those skintight pants and a leather corset pushing up her delectable tits. Add blood-red heels to that and it's enough for any man to pop wood. And probably come without touch.

Frozen, the humans' thoughts are a jumbled mix of more confusion, lust for my mate, and wonder.

I was hoping for a little fear, to be honest. But in this day and age, if you step outside with red eyes, people will only think you're alternative. Which makes me curious about how the others in my coven are faring. Esme and Neya are currently in London, and that girl, Neya, dyed her hair purple for kicks before we left Italy. Will they think she's an adorable little punk rocker? And what about the Amazon sisters? They all maintain their ridiculous jungle wardrobe of fuckin' loin cloths.

Kachiri, Zafrina, and Senna are in this building, too. Somewhere. I can hear their thoughts, and their job is to make sure all this shit will actually go on the air.

"Edward…" Isabella's standing behind a human girl who looks apprehensive. "She's staring at you too much. I bet she wants to know how your dick would look with her lipstick marks on it. I don't like it."

My mouth quirks up in a half smile, and I incline my head. Though, the bitch isn't thinking about me at all. She's actually one of those I-don't-shave-my-armpits lesbians, a true travesty for Gillette. A good razor can also be The Best a Woman Can Get.

Anyway…

My wife snaps the human's neck.

"Well, that oughta do it," I mutter under my breath. A second later, the entire room breaks out in horror and shouts. Anger. They're still confident enough to feel anger—thinking they can take us. But Isabella puts a stop to it all. As I stroke to keep my erection, she sets them straight, killing off another few humans who try to escape. She barricades the doors…

~We have to get out.

~Someone needs to call the police!

~Oh, God! Am I gonna die?!

~Who the fuck are these people?

~How can that woman move so fast?

I shake my head, attempting to tune out the thoughts of the humans, and Isabella soon returns to my side. She's more than a little thrilled, nearly bubbling with excitement, so I give her some cock. In the meantime, a handful of humans scurry around to set up the cameras.

"We'll do anything—j-just don't kill us," one cameraman stammers, thinking about his children.

I grunt, more focused on my mate's mouth. "God, I love you…"

She winks up at me, and she gets me there in no time.

My head lolling back, I'm sprawled out on the chair, pumping my dick into Isabella's mouth, as I release in thick streams.

"Goddamn…" I blow out a breath, thoroughly sated for now. Despite never really reacting to temperatures, an invisible flush of heat presses to my surface. "That was lovely." I pull my wife up and kiss her soft lips. Then, while she goes to spit out my cum in someone's coffee mug, I zip up my leather pants and straighten in my seat. "Hope you enjoyed the show." I bare my teeth at the cattle in a feral grin. "So, we about ready to go on the air?"

XXX

We're live in 5…4…3…2…1…

I humor Isabella as she delivers the line the regular human usually does.

"We want to welcome our viewers in the United States and around the world," she says smoothly, barely holding back her snickers. "I'm Isabella Masen; this is my husband Edward Masen, and you're in the Situation Room." She grins at me. "I fucking nailed that."

Her cuteness reminds me of the fact that even though her true generation is about to die of old age, Isabella is still only an eighteen-year-old girl. Mixed with the sinful greed, sharp wit, and clever mind, there's an air of childish innocence and glee about her. At least for me, since I was changed at thirty-three. And thirty-three in 1917 was practically ancient.

Maybe that makes me a pervert, but I sure as fuck get going when she giggles about creating complete disorder in the world.

"You did, baby," I chuckle, facing the camera. "And as you viewers can tell, this isn't an ordinary news update. But we do have news for you." Hearing sirens in the distance, I move on, just wanting to get my message out there. "My wife and I realize basically none of you will take this seriously until serious sinks its teeth into your neck, so this addresses the superior race."

"We're taking over," Isabella pipes in, nodding. "Human laws bore us half to death, and Aro was an old fart—"

I squeeze her hand affectionately, but to take over. "My coven has erased the Volturi," I say, welcoming Isabella onto my lap. "The world should be our playground, not some prison where we take the humans' lead. There will be no laws; if you want to create mayhem, be my fucking guests." My stare morphs into a leer. "Feel free to toy with your food."

"Suggestion?" Isabella's eyes flick from me, then to the camera. "Stay away from pregnant women." That's a sound idea. "We do need humans to sustain us forever, so breeding is a good thing. Drain them once they've given birth—" she waves a hand "—or whatever. Use common sense."

I can smell the fear from the humans in the studio, and not only does it create a situation in my pants, but it causes venom to pool in my mouth.

"And to the peace-loving shape-shifters around the globe—" I grin "—catch us if you can."

Isabella squeals and claps her hands, excited by the new thrill in our life.

This is only stage one in our plan, of course. You can't rule chaos, but you can let it run its course, and then the Masen coven will step up with the empire we're already planning to build.

Until then, I plan on having fun on every continent, instilling fear into humans, fucking my wife, and…I don't know, maybe do some sightseeing? I hear Australia is lovely this time of year. Or maybe we'll start right here on the East Coast and turn the Guggenheim into a bonfire. Hell, all of Manhattan in ruins would look incredible. Our beloved capital, too.

And I wanna fuck my baby against the Liberty Bell.

"It's time we had some fun," I murmur and shift Isabella's hair aside. I kiss her delicate neck. "A new era."

"Era, my love? That indicates it will come to an end one day." Isabella smiles salaciously. "This is the beginning of a bloody fucking eternity."

Right you are, my dark angel.

XXX

"That's fucking rude!" I point to the federal agent who just shot me in the chest the minute I stepped out of the CNN building. "Where're your goddamn manners, rodent?"

"Fire!"

Isabella and I are both blasted with bullets, to which we laugh for two seconds before we growl and charge.

They shoot at my wife and think they can get away with it?

"Donut-eating, good for nothin', fuckin'…" Isabella is a vision as she rips heads off to left and right. "You annoy me!" She snarls at a police officer.

The terror in this corner of the world is now real.

Humans scream in horror, running in every direction to seek cover.

I stand in the middle of the street, bullets flying, leather pants tight, still shirtless thanks to my greedy mate who can't stop getting me naked, and soak up the intense pleasure of power and superiority.

Really, I only duck when a bullet whizzes too close to my head, 'cause I remember Isabella's words.

No one messes with the hair.

"That was fun." Senna, Zafrina, and Kachiri join me on the street. "The segment is all over the nation."

"Wonderful." I smile, watching my wife in her half-crouch while she circles two innocent high school boys. She's amazing, and she deserves to be unleashed like this. "Should be worldwide news soon enough, then."

Let's see how the precious puppies in La Push—and Emmett's family, of course—react to that.

"How many have you killed today, Edward?" Senna chuckles.

I grin and start toward Isabella, walking backward so I'm still facing the three Amazon vampires. "Around forty, maybe." I shrug and scratch my chest. "Who's counting?" Spinning around, I dart over to my wife and hug her from behind. "Let's move on to the next city, my darling."

Anarchy is waiting.

Oh, and Isabella's Post-it list of celebrities she wants to kill.