16884 words

I'm way way behind...but I'm still plugging at it.

I'm working on a book of prompts called "Writing the breakout novel."

Other than that, not much to say. I have a nasty cold or the flu and have run a fever pretty much all day.

So...here's a snippet:


Rozenn peered out the window of her third story apartment, her arms folded across her chest. She was tall, framed by the window, moonlight casting an eerie glow to her pale skin, her hair glinting in shades of flame and fire down the small of her back. She was dressed in nothing but the light and air that swirled around her. Unconcerned by who might be looking up, she peered down to the street below, worry marring the perfect lines of her classic face.

Behind her the man on the bed stirred, groaning in groggy slumber. He would wake ravenous, aching and starved for something he wouldn't understand. He would change, his ideals and morals would be replaced by the ravenous need to feed. He would find that he could no longer enjoy the light of the day, his skin would loose it's sun bronzed luster and he would hide behind thick drapes, coming out only when the light of the moon kissed his eyes.

She glanced back at him with an amused smirk, feeling no concern for the life she'd thrust him into, all for the gratification of a few hours need. He'd amused her. Arrogant and bold, the sort of swaggering John Doe who fancied himself the Gods gift to women. The sort of man who spent an hour on his hair before going out. The sort of man whose money and schooling bought him power and prestige but not infamy.

No. Not infamy. She'd given him that. He would become more powerful than he'd ever thought possible. At least by the standards of humans. In her world, he was her slave.

Damien De Simone pushed the door open and stepped into the room, casting a bemused glance at the man sprawled out on the bed. Kicking aside the clothes that had been cast carelessly he walked across the room silently and slipped his arms around Ginger's waist, drawing her back against him and brushing his lips across her temple. “Amused my pet?” He chuckled softly, finding her lips for a moment when she turned her head back, to meet his mouth. “Was he tasty?”

“Mmm.” she nodded, turning her body around and sliding her arms around Damien, her hand rubbing over his wide shoulders. He stood a good foot taller than her already tall height. Blond hair cropped close and a care worn look about his face and eyes, that added life to his tall pale figure. He was beautiful. Darkly beautiful, if you knew his true nature. She tipped up on her toes and let her tongue run over the line of his jaw up to his ear, placing soft kisses there meant to send shivers down his body.

“He amused me, Damien. Nothing more.”

Damien chuckled darkly his eyes glittering with a blue silvery light. “Did he indeed? Perhaps you are bored with me then, my love?”

“I could never bore of you. But I need to feed. You didn't seem to worry over the little blonde tart you brought home with you.” She grinned lightly and placed a playful kiss on the tip of his nose before pulling away from him. Pulling a silky black robe off the back of her chair she wrapped it around her, tying the belt around her slender waist. The black set off the pale, making her hair glow with a fierce red against it. It suited her and it was the color she preferred to any other.

He wore blues, pale and soft blues that lead to an air of seeming gentleness. And artistic timidity that lured his prey right into his trap. He had not qualms about his darkness, but wore is internally. Rozenn was the only one who was privy to it's depths. She fed off of it and together they'd risen to power, ruling together over the De Simone sect of vampires. Each of their servants were made. Created by those like them who had only a faint trace of pure blood within their veins.
And servants they were. Slaves to Damien and Rozenn, owing their very lives to them, their livelyhood bent on maintaining the sects extravagant expenses. Rozenn had insisted on their choosing only those of financial means in their human lives, and it had afforded them a mass of wealth, allowing them to feed and cloth and house their 400+ members in decadence. It kept them blindly loyal to the sect, making seeking a life on their own a daunting challenge that few attempted.

And those who did....

Damien's insistence was on absolute control of the Sect, in all things. He tolerated no insubordination and only let those that he absolutely trusted into the inner circle. And that sometimes took decades to prove. Now two dozen men and women ran the affairs of their clan, keeping tabs on all of the members, their movements and loyalties. Most of it was monitored over the internet but each member was marked with a tracking device, implanted at the first bite.

Now Damien glanced back at the man on the bed with quiet curiosity. This man would never again seen the insides of this house, or these chambers. He'd be taken by one of the lower members to be mentored and trained. He'd be indoctorined in pain. Taught to be unfailingly loyal to the clan. He would never doubt what it was that kept him alive.

Rozenn poured two goblets of wine from a crystal flask that set on the table by the window. Handing one to Damien she lowered herself into a chair, crossing long pale legs and leaning back in a pose of practiced seduction. Damien wasn't immune to it but he sat as well, playing her game, a game he'd grown to enjoy so well. “What was his name?”

“Seth?” She frowned and pulled a dozier out from her brief case, glancing over it quickly. “Seth Blyton. He owns a software company in Silicone valley and came here on vacation. No wife. No children. Do not fret Damien..I pick my play toys with care. He will serve us well.”

“No doubt, my love. No doubt. Shall I have the filth removed?” He tipped the corners of his mouth up in a grin, his blue eyes hard.

Rozenn nodded and waved her hand absently, pressing a button seated under the table. Without a word two men of startling build entered into the chamber, silently moving towards the bed to drag the groggy, naked man from it, dragging him with strong hands under each arm. He would begin his indoctrination. Rozenn nodded at each of her guards silently and they returned the gesture, knowing what needed to be done.

“Now, my love...” She turned back towards Damien, tracing a blood red nail over the back of his hand, pricking a little line of blood. She grasped his hand between hers and brought it up to her lips, pressing a kiss there and sucking for just a moment, shivering as his blood flooded her mouth. He cupped her cheek with his other hand, letting her feed, brushing aside long strands of red hair and tucking them behind her ears. She pulled back, licking a line of blood off the corner of her lip and running her tongue over the wound to close it. “Now..what have you to tell me of the whore?”

“Ah. I was afraid you had forgotten our task in all your playing.” he teased gently, drawing her in to kiss her deeply, the taste of his own blood still ripe on her lips. “We've learned little more in the past twenty four hours.”

“No? But she is here?” Rozenn settled back against the chair, her watery green eyes growing brighter, a trick that would frighten most mortals, but Damien was unafraid.

“Aye, my love. She is indeed hear. Protected by a her band of guards, half breeds and elves. Foul beasts.” he wrinkled his nose up in obvious scorn.

“Beasts..” Rozenn nodded, letting the word roll off her tongue as if it tasted foul. “But remember, love, these beasts will be key in helping us get to her.”

“Ah yes. So you are determined then to honor your alliance with..them.” he hesitated over the last word, his nose wrinkling up a bit and he took a quick sip of his drink, trying to wash the filth from his lips.

“Yes.” her eyes flared darkly. He recognized the danger in them and nodded, not pressing the matter further.

“The whore sleeps surrounded by her guard. Not to be woken until they deem the time appropriate.” He shifted the topic gently back around, slipping his hand over Rozenn's and tugging it up to his lips to press a kiss to her pulse there.

“And her consorts?” The question was terse as she pulled her hand back, toying with the rim of her glass with the tip of her finger, painted blood red.

“They sleep as well.”

“Mmmm. Then the time to move is soon. Summon the Lycan to me. I wish to have words with him.”

“Here?” Damien didn't attempt to hide the contempt in his voice.

“Yes. Here.” she stood, her eyes flaring again, burning to bright green. The robe swirled down to the floor as she flung it off, moving to the bureau and throwing open the door. “Do not question my intent, lover, or my methods. We need the lycan to feel welcomed, invited. We need him to feel like we need him..” as she spoke she tossed garments carelessly from the dresser, letting them land where they may. Items of blacks and grays, lace and leathers and blood red velvets littering the floor of her bedroom. Finally she pulled out a skirt of lace and sheer muslin in black, a boned corset lined in red velvet and trimmed in lace. She pullled out fish nets, boots and a pair of skimpy thong underwear and slowly began to dress.

“I understand.” Damien muttered, watching as the panties slid up her long, pale thighs, momentarily distracted by the skin there. “But do you really want that..filth in our home? Our sanctuary?”

She didn't turn, tugging on fishnet stockings and the corset, tugging at the laces in silence as she let the weight of his question hang in the room. “I want to be rid of all questions of power.” Her voice was soft, deceptively so and it sent a chill through Damien. He knew the depths of her ambition but was startled at the depths she was going to in order to achieve their goals. Consorting with Lycans. Foul beasts.

“Then I will have him sent for.”