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A Taste of Blood

By: Edge23



Violet Smythe stepped into the women's only lingerie shop, A Kitten's Dream. This was no big deal as Violet was, in fact, a woman. Nineteen and gorgeous, she was also one of the most recognizable women in the world, having been the face of Sexy and Sultry, her father's cosmetics company for three years. No, she was not the problem. The problem was the giant of a man that came in with her.

His name was Tyler Mangum. Bodyguard by trade, he was a babysitter in his own mind. He casually took his place right inside the door, watching the store as instructed by Thomas Smythe, Violet's father.

"Excuse me, sir," said a store employee, the word 'sir' falling off of her tongue like a ton of bricks. "You are not allowed in here. See the sign? 'No Men Allowed.' I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Tyler looked down at his verbal assailant from his six and a half foot height. She was maybe five foot two, but he honestly had a hard time telling the heights of people that were that much shorter than he was. "I'm afraid I can't do that," he replied in his soothing baritone. "I'm here to protect Ms. Smythe."

He continued to look her over. She was petite, probably not weighing more than a hundred pounds. One ten at the outside, he guessed. She was of Asian decent, Chinese by her features. Her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail with a pen behind her right ear, her red shirt bearing a nametag that read 'Grace.' She had on a black skirt and stockings with white running shoes that were more trendy than athletic. Despite her size, she projected an air of competence and authority.

"I know why you're here, big fella, but you are not allowed in here all the same. Now, will you leave or do I have to call security?" She had put her hands on her hips and was staring up at him. The pose made him think of a five-year old pouting at an adult. He resisted the urge to smile.

"I'm sorry, Miss," he said. "But I am only to be dismissed by the person I am protecting. In this case, that is Ms. Smythe."

Grace nodded and walked down the aisle, speaking to Violet in quiet tones. Violet looked at him and waved her hand, dismissing him. He nodded and stepped outside. Once out there, he grabbed his cellphone and called Violet's father. Tyler was to call and tell him every time this happened. He hated calling Smythe. Thomas Smythe was one of the wealthiest men in the world and acted like it, at least he did when it came to protecting his daughter. However, he paid well and Violet was his only child, so Tyler received a great deal of money to baby-sit her and keep her safe. It didn't matter that she was the world's oldest terrible two-year old. As he slid the phone back into his pocket, the front door of the store opened and Grace walked out. His half-pint adversary spotted him immediately.

"Hey," she said, leaning against the wall next to him. "Sorry about the fuss in there."

"No problem," he replied with a shrug. "We're both just trying to do our jobs."

She nodded and stood silently for a moment and then spoke. "I'm on my lunch break. You want to go get something to eat?"

He smiled down at her and shook his head. "I can't. I have to stay here and wait for Ms. Smythe. I appreciate the offer, though."

"Sure," she said with a smile of her own. "Do you want me to bring you anything? She is going to be in there for a while."

He thought it over and asked where she was going and asked her to bring him back a grilled chicken sandwich. When he reached for his wallet, she put up her hand.

"No. I'm not taking your money. I have to make up for being a hardass earlier."

Tyler laughed and said that was fine and Grace left, leaving him with his thoughts. She was back very quickly, explaining that the fast food place was only a couple of blocks away. She handed him his bag and he inhaled his chicken sandwich. Her eyes bugged as she had taken two bites of her salad and his sandwich was gone.

"I don't have time to eat slowly," he explained. "Except breakfast. I always have to be ready." He stood and looked in the window, seeing Violet take what looked like twenty items into one of the fitting rooms. He sighed and sat back down on the nearby bench next to Grace. She took a drink of her soda and smirked at him.

"I hope you don't eat everything that fast and move onto something else."

He turned and looked at her, a broad grin crossing his face. He didn't say anything, which made her laugh. She held out her hand. "Grace Chan."

"Tyler Mangum," he replied, taking her small hand in his large one. "My friends call me Ty."

"Nice to meet you, Ty. Here's my card," she said, pulling a business card out of her skirt pocket. She pulled the pen from behind her ear and scribbled a number on the back. "Some night when you're not playing superhero, give me a call." Tyler looked over the number, trying to see if it was fake. It looked legit. He tucked the card into his pants pocket. Grace looked at her watch.

"Sorry, big man, but my lunch is over. I have to get back to work." She stood up and started walking back toward the door.

Tyler stood up as well. "What? No goodbye kiss," he asked with a chuckle.

Grace stopped with her hand on the door and walked back to him, the picture of seduction. She grabbed his shirt and pulled the front of it out of his pants and pressed her lips to his belly, above the navel and just below the ribcage, her tongue brushing his skin. It was a kiss that held promises and whispers of things to come. Tyler could only stand there stunned as Grace smirked up at him and turned, walking away, a little extra swing in her hips.

Once she was gone, he snapped back to reality, tucking in his shirt, wincing when his fingers brushed his now hard and aching penis. He knew he was going to call Grace that night. He had just gotten himself back together when Violet walked out of the store with four large bags, which she handed to him.

"Come on, Ty. Daddy called and said he wants me to come home. He said that have the night off, by the way. Something about a dinner party."

He followed her, knowing what she meant. A dinner party was always held at the Smythe mansion where their own security staff could handle everything. This particular party was for a merger between Sexy and Sultry Inc. and Cosmetix, Inc. He had gone over the security plans with Mr. Smythe the day before, so he knew everything would be safe and got the night off. Tyler was glad he was only on retainer when Violet left the house.

Violet got to the car and sighed a princessly sigh as she waited for him to unlock the car. He hit the remote and she still stood there, waiting for Tyler to open the door for her. He rolled his eyes and loaded the bags into the truck and moved to the rear passenger door, taking her outstretched hand and helping her in. He muttered to himself and walked to the driver's side door of his Interlagos Blue Metallic BMW M5 Sedan. Granted, the car wasn't extremely prevalent in the States, but Smythe had those kinds of connections. After Tyler's suggested modifications to protect Smythe's 'one and only,' the car weighed in at almost five thousand pounds and had cost Smythe in the neighborhood of two hundred thousand dollars. That kind of money was chump change to the multi-billionaire but Tyler figured if he was going to take this spoiled little rich girl around, he was going to do it in style. He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, preparing himself for the forty-five minute drive back to Violet's house.

"Ty, put on some music," Violet whined from the back seat. "And not that depressing crap you always listen to. Turn on something fun."

He was tempted to start lecturing her on how the 'depressing crap' he listened to was some of the greatest classical music ever written, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. He pushed button six on the six disc CD changer and 'So Far, So Bad' by Violet's favorite band, Dog Day After Lunch, came blaring through the speakers. Tyler sighed. He didn't hate the music, though he had definitely heard better. It was Violet singing along in the backseat. She was a good kid, mostly, but her singing was horrible. Drunken karaoke night with William Hung was better than supermodel Violet Smythe.

They were about halfway home when Tyler's cellphone vibrated in his coat pocket. He pulled it out and was confused when the Caller ID read 'Violet.' He checked the rear view mirror and saw Violet still bopping to the music. He quickly adjusted the audio so that he would be able to hear the phone.

"Hello?"

"Tyler. It is you."

"Grace," he said, surprise in his voice.

"Yes," she laughed. "Ms. Smythe left her phone here at the store when she was looking for 'daddy's credit card.'" Tyler tried, and failed, to hide his grin. He could hear the quotation marks in her voice. "Maybe you could come back after you drop her off and pick it up?"

Tyler looked in the mirror again, seeing Violet paying him not an ounce of attention. "And would that be all I was picking up?"

She laughed again. "We'll see when you get here, big boy."

The call ended and Tyler slipped the phone into its cradle on the dashboard. He hit pause on the CD player and silenced reigned in the car for half a second before Violet spoke up.

"Hey, you jerk! I was enjoying that!"

"You know," he sighed. "One of these days, I'm going to turn you over my knee and give you the spanking you deserve."

Violet grinned at him in the mirror. "You never know, Ty. I might enjoy that, too."

He shook his head and winced when she started her high-pitched giggle. "Anyway," he continued. "That was someone from A Kitten's Dream. You left your cellphone there."

Violet immediately started digging through her purse, almost crying when she couldn't find it. "Ty, I need that phone! My life is in there! We need to go back and get it!"

"I'm going back after I take you home. I'll keep it safe and give it back to you tomorrow." Before she could say anything else, he started the music again, for once thankful that he couldn't hear.

*

Chapter Two

Tyler cut the music as he pulled up to the gate of Smythe Manor and swiped his key card, waiting for the gates to swing open. Once they were out of the way, he pulled into the large circular drive, stopping in front of the house. Violet bounded out, rushing inside as Tyler got her bags out of the trunk and eventually followed her inside. He hated the Smythe place. It was too gaudy for him. He didn't like ostentatious displays of wealth and this place was loaded with them. Little did he know that this place would become his sanctuary and his home.

Tyler came from a lower middle class family and money had never been in great supply, but they managed. He had made a decent living playing second-tier football in Canada, but never lived up to his potential coming out of college. The money he had made was invested well and now he lived comfortably. He sighed and walked into the house. Isabella, the maid, was there waiting for him so that she could take the bags.

"Buenos dias, Señorita Isabella," he said, knowing full when that 'señorita' did not apply to the fifty-something matron. It was just a game they played, Tyler enjoying watching her blush.

"Buenos dias, Señor Tyler," she replied, the blush creeping into her light brown cheeks. "You keep up with that 'señorita' stuff," she laughed, "and I'm going to make you marry me." She winked at him and laughed, walking up the stairs to Violet's room. 

"Tyler!"

Tyler turned and saw Thomas Smythe walking toward him like a ship under full sail: starting slowly but speeding up, definitely with a purpose. Smythe was in his early forties, with dark hair and bright blue-green eyes. He wasn't what you would call handsome so much as striking. He had been military at one point and still kept himself in military shape. Today, he was wearing a charcoal gray suit with a white shirt and black tie.

"Yes, Mr. Smythe?"

"What's this Violet says about you refusing to go back for her cellphone?" Thomas ran his hand through his hair, something he did when he was either thinking or concerned.

Tyler cleared his throat. "Yes, sir. The dinner party, in my mind, took precedence. Besides, we were almost here and turning around to go back might have put her in danger." He added this to play off of his employer's paranoia. "I have already made arrangements to retrieve the phone and I will bring it with me when I report tomorrow."

Smythe clapped him on the shoulder. "Good thinking, Tyler. I don't want my baby getting hurt. Just make sure you bring it with you tomorrow. You have tonight off. Enjoy yourself."

"Yes, sir. I will."

Smythe turned on his heel and headed to his office, showing he still had a bit of the military in him, even though he had left the service ages ago. Tyler turned and left, starting his car and heading back to the store, Beethoven playing all the way back. He pulled up outside the store and walked to the door. He looked through the window and saw Grace at the counter, Violet's phone sitting there next to her. He smiled and pulled out his cellphone, dialing Violet's number. He watched as Grace jumped and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Is Violet there?"

Grace smiled and looked at him through the window. "No, sorry. Some big hunk got to take her home. He probably showed her what a real man looked like, not like these wussy wannabe studs that keep calling this phone." She hung up and walked to the door, opening it and motioning Tyler to come inside.

"Wait," he said. "I thought I wasn't allowed inside."

"Only during business hours," she explained. "Besides, I'm the manager, so I say you can come in."

He ducked his head out of habit and stepped in, taking Violet's cellphone and putting in the inside pocket of his brown leather jacket. He folded his hands and simply waited. Grace turned to look at him.

"Is there something else you need," she asked.

"When I asked if the cellphone was the only thing I was picking up, you said that we would see. So, I'm waiting to see." He smiled at her, expecting her to toss him out. At least figuratively.

"I don't know yet, Ty. You haven't exactly charmed my pants off yet," she answered, writing figures down on a pad of paper.

"Apparently, I have," he answered, grinning when she looked up at him. "You're not wearing any pants."

Grace looked down and started laughing, as she was still wearing her skirt. "Fine," she said. "Let me finish up and you can take me out to dinner. How's that?"

Tyler agreed and wandered around in the store as he waited for her, looking at various pieces of lingerie. He was trying to imagine Violet in any of the things he saw and couldn't. It may have been because he didn't find her attractive. Sure, she had a nice body, but once he had gotten to know her, that didn't matter. She was demanding and whiny, not to mention vain and petulant when she didn't get what she wanted. That was not appealing. Grace, on the other hand, he could easily see in a few of these items, but that was probably wishful thinking on his part. He was looking at a set of lingerie that included a bra and panty set, black with small pink flowers on them, as well as a garter belt and garters. Matching stockings were also available. Grace walked up and touched his arm.

"One of our best sellers," she said, in her best sales person voice. "Generally retails for about one hundred and fifty dollars but this week, it's on sale for one fifteen. You, my friend, are very lucky."

"Why's that?"

She moved closer to him and whispered, "Because that's what I'm wearing and you may get a chance to see it later." Tyler blinked a couple of times and turned to look at her, but she was had walked behind the counter again, picking up the last of her things. "Come on, big guy. Let's get out of here."

Tyler led her out to his car and opened the door for her, purely out of habit. Grace stood and looked at the car for a moment before climbing in.

"It's a perk, courtesy of my boss," he explained, vaguely self-conscious. He turned the key and the ten-valve engine purred to life.

"Mmmm," she moaned softly. "I do so love something large purring between my legs."

Tyler smirked. "When I get between your legs, you'll be the one purring." Grace laughed loudly and Tyler pulled out of the lot and drove to the restaurant. They got there and were seated quickly, Tyler not even glancing at the menu. After drinks were delivered and their orders taken, they settled in to get to know each other.

Grace was born in the States to Chinese immigrant parents. Her first name was really Lai but her family had started calling her Grace so that she would have an 'American name.' She didn't tell Tyler how old she was; only that she was older than she looked. She had gone to school and graduated with a degree in business and now was the owner, as well as the manager, of A Kitten's Dream.

Tyler told her about his growing up, his parents divorce when he was seven, living in a small house in the city and his short-lived career football career. He talked about the parts of his job that weren't confidential up to the current one, Violet Smythe. He was twenty-six and lived in a small apartment in the city, near where his house used to be.

Dinner arrived, steak for Grace, more grilled chicken for Tyler, this time in honey mustard sauce with vegetables. They talked and joked, Tyler laughing at her dry humor, Grace reacting favorably to his subtle advances. He paid for the check when it arrived and then went back to his car.

"So, tell me about your family, Tyler. I like knowing how people were brought up."

Tyler blinked at her and shrugged. "Okay. I was born in Ohio and like I said, my parents got divorced when I was seven. Once I was old enough to understand it all, I basically broke ties with my dad's side of the family. I never met my mum's side, except one aunt and her husband. My mum died about five years ago in a car crash. Drunk driver. I have an older sister, but we don't talk that much. I'm single and have no kids. I moved out here six years ago and started working for the Smythe's two years ago.

"So," Tyler said, trying not to get his hopes up. "Should I take you back to get your car?"

"No, I want you to take me home," Grace said, her voice lowering to a husky whisper. "And once we're there, you can take me again." She gave him directions back to her house, Tyler driving very quickly. He pulled into the driveway and Grace hopped out and headed for the front door.

"What's the matter, slow poke? Are you coming or what," she called, pushing open the front door. Tyler crossed the distance easily, Grace having already disappeared inside. All of the lights were out and Grace was nowhere to be seen. He took a couple of tentative steps inside and saw something lying on the floor. Grace's red shirt lay there, looking like a pool of blood in the moonlight. To his right on the stairs, he saw her skirt, an inky blackness in the dark. He hung his coat onto the coat rack and followed the continuing trail of clothing up the stairs.

He passed her left shoe and then her right, finding the last piece, her nametag, in front of the bedroom door. He pushed the door open and saw her, still in her black lingerie, kneeling on the bed, waiting for him.

"You sure took your time," she said, her voice soft. Tyler grinned and stepped into the room, pulling his shirt off over his head and tossing it on the floor. He looked her up and down, her body looking even better than he would have thought. Her smallish breasts were still in her bra, being pushed up high on her chest. Her flat stomach led down to her garter belt and panties. He could just make out the smallest bit of her dark pubic hair sticking out of the sides of her panties. The garters flowed to her firm thighs, the stocking turning her caramel colored skin black. She looked delicious.


A Taste of Blood



The rain was misting the windows of the lonely hotel room tonight. I often used this hotel room for my meetings. I am an escort, but of a very special variety. Many of my clients see me several times a month, but I often do not remember their names. I know that something special occurs, but I am paid well for my services and never ask too many questions. It has been an hour since I received a call. Room 728, Montclair Hotel, 9:00pm sharp. I do not let a minute pass before I am out the door and in a cab headed to Midtown. 

I love the smell of Manhattan in the rain. It is refreshing. The hot pavement just starting to cool as the night takes it. Steam rising from grates and manhole covers. The rain brings a fresh scent, mixing with the acrid smell of gasoline fumes and making it almost sweet. It is the perfume of this city that I love. Some days I just stand on the little balcony of my apartment and let the rain wash away the all the tension from my day. 

By day, yes, that is the time when I'm myself the least. I work as a waiter in a fancy restaurant in the lower East Side. Some days I don't know which mask I wear when, if the person I become after dark is the real me, or just a mask I wear to hide the scars of a fucked up childhood. Or maybe it took all the cuts those scars made to release the person I was inside. Like some black clad butterfly, slipping the cocoon of button up shirts and khaki pants into the leather and t-shirts I am wearing right now. Either way, I've learned quickly in my 'other job' to always be the person my client wants me to be. You get better tips that way, and sometimes you have a little fun in the process. 

Tonight's client I know well. She is a regular, if someone I see every three months can be said to be regular. But like clockwork, every three months she calls up the service and arranges a meeting. It's been that way for five years now, ever since I started living the life of a professional escort. Though most of my clients seldom 'escort' me anywhere except the bedroom. Fancy words mean nothing to me, I like sex. I like the pleasure I give others. I love the pay I get for being a good lover. It's a win-win scenario, and I plan on riding this gravy train as far as it will go. 

I arrive at the hotel and pick up my key from the front desk. The guy working there is often around when I show up. His name is Carlos, and he seems to understand that this kind of thing goes on here. Sometimes he wants to talk about what it is like. I humor him with stories about the women I've known. I don't tell him that I take all comers, and sometimes I bat for teams his mind might not even want to fathom. He gives me a wry little smile and a nod as he hands me the key. I slip him a ten and bump his fist to show the masculine camaraderie that he so expects from me. It's an act, but one I play as well as any others. 

I head upstairs in an elevator filled with people. Middle class, upper crust... a whole melting pot right here in the Big Apple, rubbing shoulders. I smile at a little kid with his parents. He's sucking on a lollipop and holding a stuffed dog. His mother looks at me nervously but I give her that winning grin I'm so known for and she is putty in my hands. She returns my smile and gets off on the fifth floor. I continue on up to the floor where I was ready to ply my trade. 

The room smells like every other hotel room I've been in. A little too clean, a little too sanitary. All sparkle and no substance. New Yorkers love their glitzy views out of their big windows. I do not need anything to remind me that I'm in the City at night however. The sound of a million people moving by outside penetrates even the windows at this height, and I know that I'm home... one little blood cell in the seething veins and arteries of the city streets. I have a little time so I take a nice hot shower to freshen up after the rain and the cab ride. 

The hot, steamy water runs over my body. It is a bit thin, but muscular from all the work I do every day. I lather myself with a sandalwood scented soap, then rinse off in the hard rainfall simulated by this delicious shower head. I step out, begin to dry off and brush my teeth again. Some of my clients are very particular about what I wear, even down to what tooth paste I use. This one in particular loves the smell of sandalwood. She said it reminds her of her youth. I always aim to please. 

I have just enough time to slip back into the leather pants and my tight black shirt when I hear a knock at the door. I know it is her, just like I know what she is wearing. The knock never changes, neither does her appearance. Always dressed in conservative fashion, with her hair up in a tight bun. As I open the door, I'm greeted with the sight of her there, just as always, dressed in her gray dress. Not too long as to be formal nor too short as to be 'vulgar' as she might say in her work-a-day world. High heels at the end of perfect legs that look like they are chiseled from darkened marble. Lips a little too red, and eyes a little too green, hidden behind sunglasses. I've seen them before in a movie... something with Audrey Hepburn. They do nothing to block the intensity of her stare. Without a word, she places one hand between us, palm down, and awaits my invitation. Have I mentioned that most days I love this job?

I take her hand and invite her in. She loves this sort of thing. I've never seen her enter any room, even this same one we are in tonight and have been in several times before, without asking me to invite her in first. She believes that she seems more enchanting when someone desires her presence. I can't deny that it is a thrill to be wanted, to be desired, but honestly I can't see anyone ever not wanting to be in her presence. She always seems to just radiate this ... something. Like a halo or something. She shines, and leaves those around her in awe of her passing. She enters and I take her coat. 

As always, I take her coat and place it neatly on the rack near the door. Sometimes, with long time clients, this kind of thing becomes a ritual, but with her it just seems natural. It is like you are in the presence of royalty and you just want to bow and scrape. I normally don't really get off that much on being the servant, but let's be honest... servant is what I am in the most visceral sense of the word. I invite her to take a seat and I sit across from her. As a formality, I offer to fix her a drink but she declines, as I knew she would. She asks that I have a drink however, something strong and heady to make me ready for the night to come. I understand fully why she wants this, and mix a double bourbon, straight up and down it with one gulp. Better to get this in the system as quickly as possible. 

As I turn from the minibar, I see that she is already standing behind me. Her shoes are gone as well. Tonight must be one of those nights. You see, many nights she is gentle with me. She likes to be loved and held like a lady. Some nights she just wants to talk while I brush her hair. But other nights, when I see the flash in her eyes like I do right now, I know it's been a bad three months. Those nights, though just as pleasurable as the rest, have a harder edge to them. With a strength that defies her petite frame, she grasps my shoulders and kisses me back against the wall next to the bar. 

Her kiss is strong... strong enough to almost hurt. I feel her teeth digging into my lips a little, nipping me a little. I can tell from her pale skin and slightly sunken eyes, that tonight is one of those nights. Those nights when she is hungry. Sometimes those nights scare me, but sometimes fear is the best aphrodisiac around. I feel myself grow hard against the leather as her teeth, sharper now that she is losing a bit of control, nip harder against my lip. A small white-hot flash of pain and I taste my own blood mixed with the bourbon. I see she does as well, because she stops kissing and starts consuming my mouth in a deep, full bodied kiss reserved for young lovers. It shows more of lust than love tonight, however, as she tastes me deep inside with her tongue. 

I push her away slightly, never looking like I am in charge. I know she likes to be the one in charge. But I push away nonetheless and ask if she would rather I move to a more comfortable place for caresses. She mumbles something, French I think, before correcting herself. She hurries me back over to one of the large, soft chairs we were in before, and thrusts me down into it's cushioning embrace. Before I can say another word, more hungers than normal spring from her and she tears at the zipper of my pants, almost ripping the leather in her haste to free me from the shackles of my clothing. 

I sit there now, my pants around my ankles, fully exposed and throbbing in the cool air of the room. She looks into my eyes and holds my gaze for a moment as she slips her legs around mine and sits firmly on my lap. As she moves closer while doing this, I smell the scent that is so specifically her own. It's a musky scent, with hints of flowers and honey, permeating her clothing as her desire makes her wet and ready. I know that underneath, I can also smell a hint of something else... copper and alive. As I learned so long ago, nothing about her kind exists without the will of the blood to sustain it. As in tears, and saliva and cum, everything in her begins and ends with that most precious of life's fluids. 

Her skirt, so demure when she entered, rises up now across her thighs, finally showing that she too was fully prepared for this night. She is naked underneath, with a slight blush to her lips that tells me she is ready for all that is to come. I feel them , wet and ready, brush gently against the head, but she never lets my gaze waver from her eyes. I always feel myself falling into her when I look into them. I am good at what I do, I am good at providing love for sale to any and all comers. but she is something special. If I ever could have loved anyone, they would have paled in comparison to the feelings I felt when looking into her eyes. 

She lowers herself slowly for the first quarter inch, prepared for the dance we so often do of give and take, tease and tempt. But her hunger, all her hungers, will not let her complete this particular tango she loves so well. She slides full onto me, the muscles of her temple as tight and strong as the muscles in the rest of her body. It feels as if she is consuming me with her body there, just as her mouth had consumed me before. I see, behind her parted lips, that I am not the only person who is erect now, her pearly white eye teeth fully extended and exposed to her lover's sight. I know those teeth only too well, and I crave them as much or more than I crave her other tender caresses. 

I am fully sheathed in her, her muscles contracting and rolling. I have no idea how she does this, but it is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done to my cock. I cannot guess what kind of exercises would let a normal woman do this. I have never felt it from another like her either. I understand that after years, some grow bored with this fleshy ritual and just take their food like a beer out of a tap. My mysterious lady, however, has never been one to fail to savor every meal she is offered. She once told me, that the act is made more fulfilling for her by the care she takes in it. Tonight, she is not in the mood for an appetizer, but the main course.

I am so used to her being gentle, and loving me slowly, that this is almost too much to bear. She begins riding me. Riding me as if I'm the last horse she will ever see. I want to cry out from the shock of it. It almost hurts to feel her body so tight around mine, but I know this is just foreplay. For her kind, everything is foreplay, food is love and now, dinner is served. 

She whispers to me that she doesn't mean to be so rough, but she has been so hungry lately. She wants to assure me that I am still her one and only, that I am her favorite little 'pet' as she calls me. But I can hear her voice almost growling with hunger as she leans forward like a viper and sinks all of her fangs deep into my neck where the shoulder meets it. I feel flesh and muscle part as she seeks out the most tender, delicious and most juicy delicacies her palette can find. I find, when asked later, that I can never describe what this feels like. But now, in this moment, I know. 

I know how good it feels to fuck. I feel that often enough in my line of work. I also know that I'm not supposed to take as much pleasure in my job as I do. Some people will tell you that being an escort is like being a stripper, being exploited for money. I do not see it that way. I get to have pleasure every day, with beautiful people, and get paid as a bonus. This, this is not even pleasure. This is pleasure's white hot, sparking cousin, wrapped in sandpaper on my nerves and velvet around my cock. Her teeth make every sensation I'm feeling a thousand times more intense. I cry out a little when she does this... I think I've cried out a little every time, but tonight I can really feel the teeth digging into me. And it should hurt, but love is supposed to hurt too. 

She is riding me, fast and hard... deep and long. I can really smell her blood now, mixed with mine. I can tell from the way her body loosens ever so slightly that she is also feeling that double bourbon I'm still enjoying the glow of as well. I also know that she could go on like this for hours. Her kind, they don't really get off like we mere mortals do. The sex feels good, yeah, and they can even have an orgasm, but that does nothing to stop the physical symptoms of sex that are all over her right now. Only her mouth can satisfy those cravings, and she is biting and sucking deep now to get her fill. 

The pleasure builds within me as I struggle to hold onto some sort of self control. I think of anything I can not to cum right here and now. I want my clients to be happy, and a quick trigger kills very few things. I must have tensed slightly, because I feel her teeth slip out of my flesh. A warm, wet tongue slides over the holes in my neck and I can feel the skin begin to knit together... another neat trick that saves me from being a mass of scars with my chosen profession. Her wet lips slide up my neck until her sharp little teeth are nibbling at my ear. 

"Why do you hold yourself so tight, my pet? I think it is time we took you off your leash for the night. I have had my fill, and you are struggling so valiantly to please me. I think that should be rewarded."

With that sibilant whisper, she leans back ever so slightly, her body flexing my cock, and grinds down on me hard. There is no thought now that will save me from this release. All thoughts flood out of my mind totally now. But still, she does not let my gaze waver from hers. It is like her body craves my orgasms as much as it craves my blood. She stares into my eyes and gently, almost inaudibly, mouths one word. 

"Release."

With that simple command, backed by the force of her will and the strength of her body wrapped around mine, I cannot hold back any longer. I moan, I growl, I almost cry out but bite my lip to not disturb the neighbors. I see my vision turn red as I feel my body begin to buck up into her. I cannot describe to the average person what it feels like, when she has been with me. It is like a great river is held back by an exceedingly small dam. And she always manages to break on through my barriers and make me cum so hard that I almost pass out. I have never felt like this with anyone else. Lover or client, they all leave me wanting. Not her, not ever, especially not tonight. I already find I look forward to her next visit, even though I'm still buried and bucking inside her. 

I've heard stories, for years, about men who studied obscure Eastern practices that let them achieve orgasms that go on for minutes. I've never felt that myself, with anyone else. I do not know how long I sit, muscles aching from their contraction. I become aware again that she is kissing my lips and my mouth. Whispering sweet notes into my tongue and thanking me for a positively heavenly evening. I protest that she paid for a full night, but she looks at me with suddenly sad eyes. 

"I'm afraid tonight I'm going to have to cut our time short. But I promise to make it up to you when I return in the Fall. Duty calls, and I have many miles to go before I sleep."

With that, she gets off my body, leaving a slight sheen of blood on my still erect cock. She straightens her hair, then her clothes and slips her shoes back on. I try to stand but I'm still too unsteady on my feet. She pushes me back down with her firm, chilly hand and plants an almost motherly kiss on my forehead. 

"Do not get up, my precious. I can show myself out. Our payment, as usual, is already handled by my retainer. Please, use the extra to replace your pants. I fear I have left them in a sad state." 

With those final words, she turns and walks out the door, shutting it behind her. I do not know when I fall asleep, but I awake the next morning still sitting here. Bright sunshine is streaming through the shades, even when drawn tight. I begin the task of cleaning up and preparing to check out. I return to my everyday life of troubles and toils, hoping against hope that she will call again. 

She is my most special client, and without her I do not know what I would do.



A Taste of Blood



Grace, in turn, raked her eyes over him, taking in his massive frame. His muscles rippled as he moved, his broad shoulders leading down to thickly muscled arms and large powerful hands. His chest, naturally smooth, sat perfectly atop well toned abdominal muscles and a trim waist.

"Take of your pants," she ordered. "I want to see the rest of you." Without reservation, Tyler undid his pants, dropping them to the floor, leaving himself naked in front of her. Her eyes went to his groin, his penis perfect in it's hardness. It looked smooth and powerful, just like the rest of him. His pubic hair was short and sandy blonde, just like the hair on his head. His legs bulged with power, his thighs tapering to firm calves and large, wide feet. Scars covered his skin, reminders of a job that was violent at times. He looked perfect to her. Grace beckoned him to the bed and he obliged by climbing up next to her. She pushed on his chest and he lay back. She climbed onto him and sat on his stomach.

"You are mine," she began, her voice quiet as she leaned over and looked into his eyes. "Tonight, I was the hunter and you were my prey." She moved her mouth and bit his chest, digging her teeth into the skin. Tyler groaned and arched his back, trying to find a way to enter her while pushing his chest to her mouth.

She released his chest and grabbed his right hand, putting it against the brass bars of the headboard, followed by his left. She told him not to move and climbed over and reached into the drawer of her nightstand, producing two scarves. She mounted his chest; she was almost close enough for him to taste. She tied his hands in place, grinning down at him as she ground herself into his chest. Tyler could just feel her wetness through the fabric.

Grace leaned back up and traced a fingertip through her bite mark; each indentation feeling like it was on fire. She shifted her ass downward, brushing her covered pussy against his shaft, Tyler moaning softly. She nipped at this chest again, brushing her breasts against his stomach, smiling up at him as he thrust against her. Her hand slid between their bodies and stroked him gently, rubbing her thumb over the head, pulling her hand back up and licking the drop of his precum off of her thumb, looking into his eyes. She tucked a pillow under his head and winked at him, looking into his light brown eyes as she licked her way back down his stomach. She stuck out her tongue so he could see and he was reminded of Gene Simmons, the bassist for KISS. Her chin had to be four inches above his stomach and her tongue was still wetting his skin. His eyes bulged and he involuntarily thrust against her neck. She smirked at him and tilted her head and looking at his twitching cock.

Grace guessed him to be almost eight inches long and while not overly thick, he was going to be a handful. She grasped his rod and stood it straight up, rubbing it across one silky cheek, crossing her soft, wet lips and to the other cheek. She brought it back to her lips and licked the underside of the head, right in the sensitive little 'v' making him tremble. Grace surprised him by standing up and then bending over at the waist, her black hair dropping from her shapely back over her shoulder in it's ponytail, pulling his cock upright and pointing it at her mouth, opening wide and slowly taking all of his length into her mouth, Tyler groaning as he passed into her throat.

She pulled off of him and kneeled between his legs, looking up at him, her eyes tearing up ever so slightly. Her hand worked up and down his spit-covered shaft, her tongue snaking out and wrapping around his head, turning it this way and that. She moaned, licking up his sweet precum.

Tyler strained again the scarves, wanting to touch her. Grace chuckled and went back to sucking on his cockhead, taking in only an inch or so, bobbing on it slowly as she wrapped both hand around his shaft, one on top of the other and using them to stroke upwards as she bobbed down, pulling down on him as she sucked upwards. Her tongue worked him constantly as she moved, adding another sensation to her already expert technique.

When Tyler thought she couldn't do anything to make this any better, Grace started twisting her hands in opposite directions as she stroked him, feeling his breath catching in his throat and his eyes rolling backwards as she pleased him like no one ever had. Just then, she began turning her head side to side as she sucked. It was too much and he throbbed hard, feeling his insides spurting out of his cock as he unloaded into her mouth, Grace moaning as she swallowed a load he began to think would never end. But end it did, though Tyler felt like he had been in his orgasm for a solid hour. She licked him clean and crawled up, untying his hands from the bed frame.

Once his hands were free, she kissed him softly on the lips. Grace climbed off of the bed and unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the floor. She pulled down her panties and kicked them into a small pile with her bra, her garter belt and stockings remaining. Without a word, she climbed back onto the bed and lowered his arms to his sides and straddled his upper chest, her wetness only a couple of inches from his lips.

"Any last words," she asked, licking her lips. "Before I smother you with this delicious pussy?"

Tyler looked up from her bare pussy lips, past her thatch of pubic hair, up her body and finally to her brown eyes. He smiled up at her and answered. "Ride 'em, cowgirl."

Grace smirked and moved her pussy to his waiting mouth. Tyler gently brushed his tongue along the edge of her lips, making her sigh and shift, trying to get him to lick here or suck there. He shoved his tongue into her and licked her hard, bringing his hands up to cup her muscular behind.

Grace bucked on his tongue, grinding herself onto his chin and pushing her clit against his nose. She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, squirming on his face, wanting more of his tongue. He gave her all she craved and more, his hand moving around her to squeeze and play with her bud as his tongue touched her on all sides, as deep as he could go. Grace's hand went to her nipples, pinches and tugging them, groaning louder as every second passed, her juices coating his tongue. She rode his face, moving her hips forward and back over his tongue, her moans getting softer yet more frequent. Her thighs squeezed his head, the fabric of her garter pushing into his cheeks. Suddenly, her eyes flew open and she gasped, arching her back, and flowing onto his tongue and his face as she climaxed, her body rocking on his mouth.

She climbed off of his mouth, trailing her juices down his chest as she kissed him deeply and, much to his amusement, purred into his mouth. Her pussy found the head of his cock and she took him barely into her, working her hips back and forth to tease him. Tyler moaned softly. Her tunnel was tight, almost virginally tight. He recalled the first time he had had sex with a virgin. He had felt like a brutish beast; like some kind of monster. She had cried during their lovemaking, telling him not to stop but making Tyler feel bad the entire time. He felt so bad afterward that he had lain next to her, massaging her abused abdomen. She had never spoken to him again.

He forced his mind back to the now as Grace braced her hands against his chest and slowly pushed back against his cock. Tyler grabbed her wrists and held them until she reached the bottom. She took a deep breath and let it out, starting to rock back and forth on his large tool, barely moving on it. She growled deep in her throat and pushed away from his chest, sitting straight up on him. Tyler moved his hands to her hips, holding rather than guiding her as she moved her hips in small circles, cradling his length inside her and squeezing him with her muscles.

She growled again and leaned against his chest, bracing her hands against his broad shoulders. Her pace accelerated and she closed her eyes as she pulled almost off of his length before plunging back down to his pelvis. Tyler started pumping his hips against the bed, matching every stroke of hers with one of his own.

Time seemed to pass both slowly and faster than Tyler thought, his mind snapping back as they orgasmed together, Grace crying out and Tyler grunting as he flooded her pussy. She collapsed onto his chest, panting loudly.

"You're an animal," he remarked between his own short breaths.

"Hmm," she asked, looking up at him with a strange look in her eyes.

"Just being so dominant, I mean." He smiled down at her "Most women expect me to be domineering and overpowering because of my size. It's nice to meet a woman who takes what she wants."

Grace propped her head up on her arm, which lay across his chest. "I'm in charge so much," she explained, "That I'm like that in my personal life. As the saying goes: if you're not the lead wolf, the view never changes."

"Dog. It's 'unless you're the lead dog.'"

She shrugged. "I learned it differently, but it's the same thing. Would you like to take a shower?"

Tyler said he would and they adjourned to the bathroom. They climbed into the shower, Tyler's size making it a little more difficult to move around than usual. He contented himself with leaning against the wall and watching her as she cleaned herself up, taking his turn when she was finished. When Tyler came out of the bathroom, he found his clothes neatly folded on the bed with a note.

'Sorry. Emergency came up. I'll call you.'

He shrugged and hoped everything would be okay. He pulled on his clothes and grabbed his coat on the way out, hearing the door lock behind him. He approached his car and jumped as he spotted a large dog crossing the road a ways up. He shook his head and drove home. He collapsed into bed as soon as he got home, barely remembering to check the alarm before he was asleep.

*

Chapter Three

That night, his dreams were strange. He dreamt of Grace but she was different. Her eyes glowed as she took him, her body changing but he couldn't focus on anything but her eyes. He was aware of other people...no, things in the room. They wanted to hurt him. To kill him. Only Grace's will kept them from jumping him and ripping him limb from limb. Still, her eyes drilled into him, commanding his attention. She wanted something from him but he wasn't able to understand what. He could sense her disappointment and felt her recede from him, giving the others free rein. He woke when the first of them landed on his chest.

He sat bolt upright in bed, the alarm blaring today's weather. He looked around the room, trying to make sense of the dream. He gave up and went into the kitchen, grabbing a soda out of the refrigerator. He had a coffeemaker but almost never used it since he hated coffee. He only used it when he had company, which was almost never. A couple of slices of whole-wheat toast with peanut butter later, he hit the floor for his morning regimen or push-ups and crunches. After those, he hit the shower, dropping his boxers as he went. The cold water hit him in the face, making him shiver and bringing him closer to fully awake. He held his head under the water, slowly warming it. Suddenly, he had the feeling he wasn't alone. There was someone else in the apartment.

Tyler stepped out of the shower, leaving it running. Reaching between the toilet and the sink, he picked up the pipe wrench he used to tighten the leaking pipe under the sink. He silently cursed himself for not having his boxers with him, but he had been still partly asleep and there was nothing he could do about it now. He opened the door as quietly as possible, stepping into the hallway, naked and dripping water. He poked his head into the bedroom. Nothing. Inching his way down the hallway, keeping close to the wall, he used the wall mirror to check the living room. Nothing there either.

He gripped the pipe wrench tightly and sprang into the small kitchen. Nothing at all. He shook his head, thinking maybe his intuition had just been off. He dropped the wrench into the dining room chair and went back to finish his shower, feeling like a fool. The nearly invisible mist floated out through the slight opening of his kitchen window and into the slowly lighting air of the morning.

Tyler dressed quickly, grabbed his coat, checking to make sure Violet's cellphone was there, and headed to the car. He ignored the prickling at the back of his neck, the one that said someone was watching him, and dropped into the driver's seat and starting the car, pulling out and driving to the Smythe mansion. Violet ambushed him at the door, talking a mile a minute. Her hair was under a towel and she was wearing a robe, tightly belted. Tyler mostly ignored her and handed over her cellphone, wincing as she squealed and ran up the stairs. Isabella informed him that Mr. Smythe wanted to see him in the office that sat at the back of the house. Tyler thanked her and walked that way, still partly in a daze. Mr. Smythe had his head down over a piece of paper, looking up when Tyler entered.

"Tyler, sit down. We need to talk." Tyler sat immediately, his mind focusing. "This was delivered this morning. I wanted to get your opinion on it before I did anything." He handed over the piece of paper. In the handwriting of a first grader, it read:

'Give us five billion dollars or we shall take your daughter. You will never seen her alive again unless you comply. Be ready for our call.'

"Well," Tyler began, even though he was no detective. "The paper has no water mark or anything distinctive. The handwriting might be traceable but this looks like a five-year old did it. I'm sorry, sir, but I don't have any ideas."

"Neither did I. I'm seriously tempted to say it's a joke and ignore it," Smythe said, dropping the note onto his desk and running his hand through his hair.

"But."

"But I can't do that. She's my baby, Tyler. I can't let anything happen to her. You are to be on top guard at all times, get me?"

"Yes, sir," he replied. "As always."

"Good. Glad to hear it, Tyler. You're dismissed." Tyler nodded and left the office, Smythe already working on how to get five billion dollars available if necessary. Isabella met him in the foyer with a can of his favorite soda.

"Ah, mi bonita señorita. You are too good to me," he said as he opened the can and drank it straight down. She cuffed him on the shoulder and laughed, asking when they were going to pick out wedding rings. Tyler choked on the last swallow of his soda, his eyes watering, laughing as Isabella took the can and walked back into the kitchen.

Tyler walked outside and waited for Violet by the car, leaning against it with his arms folded across his chest. She appeared a few minutes later, dressed in a tight black lace-up bodice, black stockings and black thigh-high boots with five-inch heels, putting her at eye level with him. Her normally brown hair had been lightened and now had black highlights.

"Well," he said, looking her over. "A Goth princess now. Where to, your Highness?" He opened the door for her and helped her inside.

"Back to the lingerie store, Tyler. I need some more things. I think Dante is going to ask me out this weekend and I want to be ready."

He closed the door and sighed. 'Dante' was Dante Whitaker, son of Joseph Whitaker, the head of Whitaker Finance, one of the largest private banking firms in the world. In other words, just another rich little punk getting by on daddy's dime. At least Violet had used her talents to make money for her father, as opposed to Dante, who's only claim to fame so far was appearing on the internet in one of those 'stolen home movies.' He was caught getting it on with one of the snotty rich girls. Tyler, out of curiosity, had downloaded it. He wasn't impressed. There had been a reason it was only six minutes long, though Dante had claimed alcohol was involved. His 'date' had said otherwise.

A date this weekend may mean more work for Tyler as well. Protecting the 'elite' was a full-time job. He would have to talk to Mr. Smythe about that. He slid into the driver's seat and took off, turning on music before Violet could start talking, and pulling onto the freeway. As much as he hated going to the store, at least he would get to see Grace again.

Traffic was light, so they arrived at the lingerie store faster than usual. Tyler took up his post outside the door and watched Violet disappear inside. He peeked in and saw that Grace was helping a customer, a thirty something woman with blonde hair, look over the lingerie sets. When she saw Violet, Grace perked up and looked at the door, flashing Tyler a smile. He smiled back and sat on the bench outside, making sure he could hear inside the store if needed.

A moment later, the blonde headed woman walked out, a bag in each hand. She smiled politely at Tyler, who smiled back and then turned his head as the door opened, Grace stepping outside and walking over to him.

"Hey there, big fella," she said, smiling, tucking a stocking-clad leg underneath her and running a hand through her loose hair. "Sorry about last night."

"No problem," he answered, turning in his seat to look at her. "What happened? Is everything okay?"

"Family stuff. Things got pretty hairy for a while, but everything is good now."

"Good." That was all he could think to say, even though there was plenty he wanted to say to her.

"So, Ty," she began, touching a finger to his leg. "I have thirteen more minutes left on my break and there's this little alley behind the store if you're, you know, interested."

He was, there was no doubt about it, thinking that a quickie with her would be amazing. Something didn't seem quite right, though. "I'm sorry, Grace, but I can't. I'm on the job. Technically, I'm not even supposed to be talking to you. Mr. Smythe wants me to be on full alert. You could be a distraction," he said with a chuckle.

As if on cue, Violet screamed from inside. Tyler bolted to his feet and reached for the door in a single step. He jerked the door open and saw three figures carrying Violet out through the back door. He took two steps in and a security guard, a large black woman, moving in front of him, a nightstick in her hand. She swung the stick and Tyler ducked, grabbing her wrist with his left hand and pulling the stick away from her with his right. He whipped it back in her surprised face, connecting solidly with her nose and already moving forward as she dropped, screaming, with blood pouring out of her ruined nose.

Tyler heard the back door shut and was in mid-stride when something large and heavy hit the back of his knees, sending him tumbling to the floor. There was a last glimpse of Grace and then a large hairy form was crouched on the floor, growling at him angrily. Tyler, more pissed off than anything, started to sit up when the beast sprang, a closed fist connecting with his temple. He felt consciousness slipping away and as it left completely, he felt sharp stabbing pains in his shoulder, but he lacked the strength to fight back. The stabbing went away and he passed out.

*

Chapter Four

Tyler woke up to the sterile smell of a hospital. He opened his eyes and it felt like someone was stabbing him in the eyeballs, so he clamped them shut again. His head throbbed, especially his temple. Memories came swimming back slowly. The last thing he remembered was Grace. Then she had turned into...something. An answer tried formed in his head but it kept moving away.

He tried to sit up but felt something restraining him. He opened his eyes again, blinking in the bright light. His chest, arms, legs and stomach were strapped to the bed. By his right hand, he saw the control for the room and the nurse call button. He dimmed the lights and then called for the nurse. She arrived a moment later. She was in her mid-forties with dark hair that was going gray in the front and wore plain green scrubs.




A Taste of Blood



"Yes, Mr. Mangum? What can I do for you?"

"Water," he croaked.

She nodded and walked to the bathroom and brought back a glass of water and held it to his lips, telling him to drink it slowly. Tyler nodded and took small sips. As he leaned his head back, he felt an ache in his shoulder. First things first, though. 

"Why am I strapped down?"

"Orders from your employer, Mr. Smythe. He said that they were a good precaution.

"Smythe? He's here?"

"Yes, sir. He's down the hall, speaking with someone on the phone. Would you like me to get him?"

Tyler nodded and the nurse left, leaving Tyler to try to fight off the headache and try to decide what happened at the lingerie store. He decided to leave out talking to Grace, but then changed his mind. Mr. Smythe had been a good employer and deserved the truth. Smythe chose that moment to walk in.

"Tyler! My God. What happened?" Smythe was understandably in a state of panic. He started pacing, trying to figure out what to do. His hand automatically went to his hair.

"Mr. Smythe," Tyler said quietly, getting his attention. "Please sit down and I'll tell you what happened, though some of it you may not believe." Smythe sat down and waited for Tyler to start, and start he did. Not leaving out a single detail, except for what happened the night before with Grace, though it seemed fairly obvious, he explained everything. Mr. Smythe was quiet the entire time, even through Tyler's description of Grace's change. At the end, during the silence, he asked Mr. Smythe what had happened to him. Smythe explained that it was a slight concussion and what looked like an animal bite on his shoulder.

"The straps were my idea," Smythe said with an embarrassed smile. "I figured you would try to get up and take care of everything." Tyler smiled back and closed his eyes, a wave of nausea rushing over him, probably from the concussion.

"Tyler, I'm going to have to released into my care and custody. There is more to this than a simple kidnapping and ransom. Hang tight and I'll be back soon."

Tyler nodded and slept, all of the energy draining out of him. His dreams were a mishmash of images, none of them making any sense. When he woke back up, Smythe and a doctor were having a discussion in the corner. He heard the doctor say 'It's an infection that we don't understand yet,' to which Smythe replied, 'Doctor, you will never understand it. I'm taking him home.'

The matter was settled apparently, because shortly thereafter, Tyler was presented with his release papers as well as the doctor's statement that Tyler was being released against the better judgment of the doctor and the hospital. Tyler walked out under his own power to Mr. Smythe's limo. The driver, Edward, opened the door and told Tyler that it was good to see him again. Tyler nodded and climbed into the back seat with a sigh. He sat across from Smythe, who looked both angry and scared at the same time. When he spoke, his voice was soft but showed that it would brook no interruption.

"Tyler, don't apologize for what happened. I don't blame you. No one I could have sent in there with my daughter could have kept her safe." Tyler started to speak by Smythe glared at him, Tyler closer his mouth. "Let me finish. What we are up against here is something that most people think is a legend or a fairy tale or a myth. But you have seen them with your own eyes. I wouldn't believe it if I were in your shoes, Ty." That was the first time in two years of service that his employer had called him Ty.

"Sir," he said as his boss went quiet. "I'm not sure what I saw. What was she?"

Smythe looked into his eyes as if he were judging Tyler's mental state and ability to believe, which was exactly what he was doing. He stared for a long moment before speaking.

"Tyler, this is going to be hard to believe, but I want you to know it's the truth." He waited for Tyler to nod before continuing. "They were werewolves, Tyler."

Tyler looked at his employer before shaking his head. "Sorry, boss. It must be the concussion. It sounded like you said werewolves."

"That's exactly what I said. Werewolves."

"Mr. Smythe," Tyler said, his brows furrowing. "No disrespect, but are you out of your mind?"

"No, Tyler, I'm not. There are things in this world that most people are not privy to, Tyler. You don't see them unless you know where to look or they come looking for you. Have you ever wondered what happened to Mrs. Smythe?"

"I have, sir, but it didn't seem my place to ask."

"Werewolves. They took her. They have something against my family, something from the old days. They've taken my daughter, Tyler. I want her back and I want this curse ended."

"I understand," Tyler said. "But where do I come in?"

"You are going to be the warrior we have against the Wolves. You will become our fighting machine. I know what you're going to say. You're not strong enough or fast enough. We can remedy that. I just need your full cooperation."

"Of course, Mr. Smythe. Just say the word."

Smythe chuckled, an unpleasant sound. "Before you jump in, you should wait until you hear the bargain. In order to give you what you need, you'll have to give up something very important."

"Give up? Like what?" Suddenly, he didn't like the sound of this offer.

"I'll explain everything when we get back to the house." He put his chin in his hand and stared out the window. That was the end of all discussion.

*

Chapter Five

Edward pulled up in front of the house and cut the engine. He got out and walked around, opening the door for Mr. Smythe. Tyler, hating that kind of thing, opened his own door and got out, still moving slowly. They walked up the steps and into the foyer. Tyler immediately saw a tall, thin man standing in Smythe's office, his back to the open doors.

"Tyler, wait here while I speak to my guest." Tyler nodded and simply stood there, another wave of nausea hitting him. Isabella appeared next to him with a cup of steaming tea.

"Muchas gracias, Isabella" he said, not having the energy for their usual game.

"De nada, Señor Tyler. Now drink. It's a bark, that when ground up and boiled, is good against the bite of el hombre lobo."

Tyler blinked; he had not realized until then that the pain in his shoulder was from a werewolf bite. Maybe it wasn't the concussion causing the nausea after all. He drank the tea quickly.

"Who is that in the office?"

Isabella lowered her voice. "Primo. The first of el vampiro." The first vampire? He was looking at Dracula. He swallowed the rest of his tea and handed the cup back to Isabella, who gave him a smile and walked back to the kitchen.

He turned back to the office and saw Smythe's guest regarding him. Tyler adopted his usual pose of patient waiting. He felt something brush his mind and the pain eased, his eyes unfocusing for a second and then snapping back, seeing Smythe motion to him to come into the office. Tyler walked in, the nausea receding already.

"Tyler, have a seat. I assume Isabella told you who my guest was?" Tyler nodded but said nothing.

"You have guessed wrong, Mr. Mangum." The first vampire turned to face him and Tyler saw that he was looking at a woman, not a man like he thought at first. She was tall and thin, though power rolled off of her in waves. She stood over six feet tall, but Tyler guessed she wasn't quite as tall as he was. Her face was narrow and her nose pointed. Her accent was hard to place, though she looked Mediterranean. Her hair was jet black and pulled up into a bun. Her clothes were black as well, a peasant shirt and a loose dress that barely covered her black shoes. "Good," she continued. "You do not try to cover your mistakes with a lot of male bluster. My name is Lilith."

She held out her hand to him. Her fingers were long and thin, just like a master pianist. Her fingernails were long and sharp like five small daggers. Tyler reached out and took her hand, greatly impressed by the strength he felt in the hand. She smiled at him, knowing he had questions to ask. She had two small fangs that touched her bottom lip from the second incisor, instead of the canines like in the movies. "Ask," she said, her smile heard in her voice.

Tyler released her hand and looked down, not sure where to start. "Lilith," he began. "The Lilith that was Adam's first wife? She was cast out of Eden for..." Suddenly, his memory deserted him.

"I am she and I was cast out of Eden for wanting to be on top but Adam was such a whiny, insecure 'man' that he whined to God when I wanted pleasure instead of five minutes of some bull grunting on top of me before he was finished and wanted to sleep. So, God kicked me out and created Eve to be Adam's 'perfect woman.' That worked out well, didn't it?"

Tyler had to smile. He would have expected bitter hatred or all consuming sadness for being told you had to leave Eden. I guess two or three millennia gave you time to reflect. "Now, obviously I was wrong, but I thought Dracula was the first vampire." 

Lilith smiled sadly. "He was a prodigy of mine. Then, his Elizabeta threw herself off of a building and killed herself. He cursed God, rightly so, and God took away his soul, turning him into the monster that Bram Stoker described."

"So, the book was true. Dracula came to England, seduced Lucy Westenra and Mina Murray and was killed at his castle in Transylvania."

Lilith chuckled. "Not exactly as described in the book, but essentially correct."

Tyler felt the world he knew slip away from him. Vampires. Werewolves. All real. He took a deep breath and felt a stabbing pain shoot through his left shoulder. He grimaced but stayed upright. Lilith smiled again.

"I like him, Thomas. He is smart and obviously strong. Just the combination we need." Smythe smiled in return. "I assume you told him about the Pact." She looked at Smythe and anger flashed across her face when he made no reply. He tried to back away and fell back into his chair. Lilith was the only person Tyler had ever seen Smythe back down from. He liked her even more now.

"What is the Pact," Tyler asked, trying to fight off the pain. Lilith turned her gaze back to him, the anger vanishing as quickly as it came.

"The Pact," she began, a trace of irritation in her voice, "Is the agreement you and I make to make you more than human. To make you a vampire."

Tyler blinked. And then blinked again. Smythe had said he would have to give up something important and he hadn't been kidding. He took a deep breath and ignored a new burst of pain. "So, I'm going to be a vampire." He looked at Smythe, who made apologetic waves of his hands.

"Only if you agree, Tyler," Lilith said. "If you do not agree, it will not work and you will die. I cannot force you to do it."

Tyler took that in. "I get to think about it, right? I can't make a decision like that so fast."

Both Smythe and Lilith nodded. "You have twelve hours to decide," Smythe said. "I wish we could give you more time, but time is the one thing we don't have. Isabella has made up a room for you."

Tyler nodded and bid them both goodnights. "Tyler," Lilith said, stopping him. "There is a book in your room that will give you the information you need. Read it." Tyler nodded and headed upstairs. He passed Violet's room and felt the anger rise in him that he hadn't had a chance to feel before.

He stepped into her room and looked around, the large bed dominating the room. His knees buckled and he fell to the floor, letting out his rage, along with his guilt. He pounded his fists on the floor until they bled and tears mixed with the thick red fluid. He only stopped when Isabella's strong motherly hands gripped his shoulders and held him, letting him cry. Eventually, she had him to his bedroom and laid him on the bed, brushing his hair out of his eyes until he slept.

Downstairs, Lilith and Thomas looked at the ceiling, listening to Tyler vent his emotions. Quietly, Lilith said, "I think he has already decided, Thomas." Smythe could only nod.

*

Chapter Six

Tyler slept fitfully that night. The things, which he now knew to be werewolves, surrounded him, but a force of will that dwarfed them all put together held them back. Grace appeared and her fangs dripped with Violet's blood. He didn't know how he knew it was Violet's; he just knew. Grace started to laugh and the will surrounding him expanded, pushing them out of his mind.

The dream changed, showing him a castle. He was seeing it from above, similar to TV or movie shots of the Grand Canyon. He started moving closer to the castle, passing through the gray wall and landing in a bedroom. The walls and floor were all made of the same rough-hewn gray stone. A wooden door stood open at the far side of the room. A large wooden bed with four posts topped by a red canopy was next to him. The blanket on the bed was white as were the pillows that lay there.

Tyler felt a presence and turned back to the doorway and saw a woman standing there. He knew this was Lilith, though she was somehow different. She seemed younger, though he couldn't tell by how much. She was in a black dress that held the length of her, showing Tyler the curves of her body. He felt himself react, his penis start to harden and he realized that he was naked. She walked toward him, smiling and her hips swaying. She took his lengthening shaft in her hand and he moaned as her hand felt warm where he had expected cold.

"Tyler," she said quietly. "The time for guilt is over. Now is the time for lust. Please me, Tyler."

She pulled his head down and placed her mouth over his, tickling his lips with he tongue. He moved against his against hers, noting the odd sensation of her fangs against his tongue. He moaned softly as he grew to full hardness in her hand. She separated her mouth from his and he picked her up and laid her on the bed. Lifting her dress above her waist, he leaned down to lick her, but she pulled him up by his hair.

"No," she said, pulling his face toward her by the hair. "I don't like it like that. Which is good, because Adam wouldn't do it anyway. 'It's not natural,' he said."

Tyler smiled and kissed her again, pulling her dress off and tossing it on the floor. Lilith spread her legs and wrapped them around his waist, moaning into his kiss as he slowly pushed himself into her. She smiled into his lips, his bottom lip hitting her fangs, feeling a slight prick as the pierced the skin, her tongue licking his lips and the blood disappearing into her mouth, making her moan again. Tyler began his thrusting, his pace slow and steady, Lilith pulling him in deep with her legs. He arched his back and drove as deep as he could into her, Lilith accepting him easily.

Their lovemaking was unhurried. Lilith took and gave pleasure in equal measure. It was unlike anything he had ever felt, like one continuous orgasm that flowed from one to the other. As he finally climaxed, the scene faded from his mind, Lilith smiling up at him from the bed.

"You have chosen well, my warrior."

*

Chapter Seven

Tyler woke up to find Isabella setting down a tray of whole wheat toast with peanut butter and two cans of his favorite soda on the bedside table. "Ah," she said smiling. "Mi hombre grande is awake. It is good to see you feeling better, Señor Tyler."

Tyler smiled back and stretched. "Mi bonita señorita, I feel much better. Muchos gracias. Yo tengo hambre mucho." He slid out from under the covers to start to eat when Isabella gasped. He looked down and realized he wasn't wearing any clothes. He had his morning erection and was very embarrassed. "Isabella, I'm sorry! I..."

"Señor Tyler! Not until we are married!" She smiled and smacked him on his good shoulder. She left the room and Tyler noticed she took one last peek as she pulled the door shut. Tyler smiled and climbed out of bed and stretched again. He found the bathroom on his first try and relieved himself. When he came back out, he spotted a duffle bag on the reading table. He grabbed a piece of toast and popped open a can of soda and went to the duffel bag. He recognized it as the bag he left at the house in case of emergencies. He figured this qualified. Inside, he found two pairs of his blue jeans, two black pocket t-shirts, two pair of black boxer briefs and two pairs of socks. He nodded and laid out a set of clothes and went to take his first shower in two days. He showered quickly, his shoulder still aching.

Once clean and dried, he dressed and finished his breakfast. He grabbed his last piece of toast and ate it on the way downstairs. Isabella, blushing as her gaze brushed his crotch, met him at the bottom of the stairs with a cup of her bark tea. "They are waiting for you in the office, mi hombre grande," she said, a smirk on her face as well as in her voice.

"Gracias, me esposa futura." He leaned down and kissed her cheek, making her blush even more. She took the can as he finished and went back to the kitchen, her cheeks still red. As he walked to his employer's office, he felt the pain in his shoulder recede. He knocked on the door and heard Mr. Smythe tell him to enter.

Smythe looked like he hadn't slept, which was possible. He was rubbing his eyes and running his hand through his hair. Lilith was there as well, looking at Smythe's garden through the window.

"Excuse me," Tyler said, a question popping into his head. "But..."

Lilith turned toward him with a wry smile. "You didn't read the book, so I'll answer your question. Vampires can walk around perfectly well in the daytime. When we do, though, we are all but powerless." Tyler nodded and sat down, trying to put everything together in his head and failing. Over the next hour, Lilith proceeded to fill him in on all of the information he should have read.

Vampires are made, not born. Werewolves can be both. Lilith was the first vampire and Adam's son Cain was the first werewolf, having been case into the darkness and cursed for killing Abel. Both are sensitive to silver, though it makes werewolves revert to their natural form for a brief period. For vampires, it just makes them weak, like sunlight. Born werewolves, like Grace, can change form whenever they want, but created werewolves can only shape-shift during the full moon or when their creator makes them. They are extremely strong and amazingly fast. To kill a werewolf, they need to be shot with silver bullets, stabbed with silver weapons or decapitated.

Vampires are extremely strong and fast as well. They can turn into mist when needed, but only for a short period of time. Lilith is the only born vampire while the few that exist are made and only made by her. They heal fast and are mostly invulnerable. They can walk during the day while the whole native earth thing was a crock. Crosses and holy water did nothing and mirrors were ineffective.

"And the blood thirst," Tyler asked, rubbing his eyes.

"It's not a thirst so much as an ache," Lilith said. "Right here." She was pointing at her heart. "I don't know how or why I pass that on. Probably God's idea of a joke. He always had a bad sense of humor."

"Can vampires be killed?"

"Yes," she answered matter-of-factly. "Massive blood loss, such as caused by a stake through the heart. Cutting their heads off works, too. Drinking blood helps heal wounds as well as making you stronger. Your senses will be better and your reactions faster. When I chose to," she said with a grin, "I can move faster than mortal eyes can follow." As a demonstration, she disappeared and then reappeared by the office door in less than the span of an eye blink.

Tyler looked at her, knowing he was going to go through with it but he had one more question. "Why me? Surely, there are other people out there who are better suited for this job than I am. Soldiers. Mercenaries..."

"Get paid to do their job," Lilith finished for him. "Their loyalty can be bought. Soldiers have families; loved ones that can be tortured. You, sadly, have no one and your display of emotion last night tells me that your allegiance cannot be swayed with money. Your desire to get Violet back is fueled by emotions that will not be compromised by the enemy. I know this because the Wolves would rather die than enter into a treaty with us. We are mortal enemies. They have Violet and we must get her back."




A Taste of Blood



Tyler lowered his head and nodded. "If you don't mind me asking, what's so special about Violet?"

"She is of my direct bloodline," Lilith answered. "When I left Eden, I went to the Red Sea area, which was 'an abode of demons.' There were plenty of 'sins of the flesh' and shortly thereafter, I found myself with child. I returned to the populated world and gave her to a barren family to raise as their own. She grew and had children of her own and they had children and so on, leading up to Violet. The Wolves have been after the first-born daughter of each generation from my bloodline for millennia. Each time, I was able to stop them, but this time, I need help."

"Why this time?"

"Cain has returned to lead the Wolves. He has been missing for millennia, but now he's back. Under his command, they are stronger than ever. I have gathered what resources I can but I need someone who has the will and the strength to fight for what is ours."

"Ours?"

"Yes, Tyler. You too are of my bloodline, but you are nephew to me ten thousand times removed, just as Violet is my daughter descended that many times. That is why I need you, Tyler. You are of my blood. Of her blood. She needs you. Do you agree to join the Pact?

Tyler looked to Smythe for guidance, slowly putting together that the man behind the desk was family of a sort, though greatly diluted. Smythe, however, had fallen asleep sometime during the explanation, his head resting against the back of his leather chair. Tyler could imagine what he'd say if he were awake, which gave Tyler the guidance he needed. He looked up at Lilith and nodded, staying silent.

"Good," she said with a genuine smile on her face. "Go get something to eat; you'll need it. When you're done, meet me in the basement." Tyler nodded and went to the kitchen, finding Isabella there. She looked at him when he entered, tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong, mi señorita?"

"You're joining her, aren't you?" Tyler nodded. "I don't want to see you destroyed, Señor Tyler." He was surprised when she ran over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Tyler put his arms around her shoulder and gave her a long hug.

"No one will destroy me, Isabella. I have you to come back to, don't I?" She laughed and wiped away her tears. They sat together in the kitchen, Tyler eating until he was full. He washed his dishes and put them away. He took Isabella's hand and squeezed it, giving her a smile.

"Via con Dios, Tyler. Go with God." Tyler smiled again, thanked her and left the kitchen. As he stood outside the kitchen door, he looked up the stair and he could see Violet's room. Rage entered his again and his jaw and fists clenched.

"The Wolves better hope that God is going with them."

*

Chapter Eight

Tyler went down the stairs slowly, trying to get control of himself. He met Lilith and Smythe at the bottom of the steps. The basement looked like an entertainment room, complete with a big screen TV, a home theater system and two gaming tables. Along two walls were full bookshelves; Lilith led him to one of these. She pulled out a large leather-bound copy of 'Dracula' with a grin. "Thomas's idea of a joke." Tyler wasn't surprised when one of the bookcases slid away from him and showed him a secret room. He stepped in without invitation or hesitation and was strong by the strong smell of incense. He covered his nose and coughed, although he quickly became used to the smell. There was only a low table with the burning incense on it, though the room throbbed with unseen energy. Tyler took another deep breath, trying to quiet the rage that boiled within him.

"Don't fight it, Tyler," Lilith said. "Let the anger flow through you. Let it be the source of your power. Look at the wall, Tyler." She stood next to him and put her hand on his shoulder, Smythe standing in a corner, running his hand over his head.

Tyler did as he was instructed, turning his gaze to the simple stone blocks, blocks he instinctively knew were from the castle in his vision. Slowly, the stone at eye level shimmered and it was replaced with the view of a dirty room that was clearly underground. A small cage sat at one end and Tyler could see a small hand grasping the bars. A face appeared at the bars and it took him a moment to recognize it as Violet. Her normally perfect brown hair was dirty and matted and her makeup streaked from tears. A bruise was forming on her cheek and her bottom lip was swollen. All of the hope had left her eyes and had been replaced by terror.

"Violet! No!" The rage returned and crashed over Tyler, his body dumping adrenaline into his system by the gallon. He shook and his jaw clenched, the spears of pain from his jaw moving to his head, which only added fuel to the fire. Tyler threw his head back and roared his fury to the ceiling, his cry cutting off as he felt two small piercings at his neck. Upstairs, Isabella crossed herself and offered a prayer to Santa Maria. Then all went quiet.

Tyler awoke to find himself on the floor staring up at the ceiling. He sat up and groaned, his shoulder aching, but not as painful as before. He looked around the room and found himself alone. The incense had been put out, a small smoky haze clinging to the ceiling. He could still smell it, though, and it seemed more powerful than before.

He finally stood and stretched, his body feeling different, but he couldn't tell how. It was almost as if he felt lighter, but not quite. He walked to the door and turned the brass handle, finding the entertainment room quiet and dark. The stairs were easy to navigate, even in the dark. Things seem clearer to him than before. He opened the door at the top of the stairs and stepped out into the hallway, turning toward the office. He could see the windows in the office and saw that it was dark outside. Lilith was waiting for him. He walked in and had a seat. Lilith smiled as he took in her scent, an unknown spice and fruits.

"Welcome, Tyler. How do you feel?"

"Odd," he replied. "Like I'm different."

Lilith smiled. "That's because you are different. You are vampiri now." She had switched to an eastern European accent on the word 'vampiri,' sounding like the Count himself. Tyler nodded, knowing she was right. He took a breath and even the air in his lungs felt different. Always one to get right down to business, Tyler looked Lilith in the eye.

"So, what's our plan?"

Lilith nodded. "We know where Violet is. We'll get you in close. You go in, get her out and bring her back to us."

"How many are there?"

"Approximately two dozen, most of them Made. However, there are a couple of Born as well."

Tyler felt the anger rise again, but managed to control it. "What about weapons? I can't go in there with my bare hands."

"That's where I come in." Tyler turned and saw Thomas Smythe standing in the office doorway, looking like he just woke up. "Come with me." 

Tyler stood up and both he and Lilith followed Smythe to a section of the house Tyler had never been to before. It sat behind the kitchen against the outside wall of the house. Smythe punched a sequence of numbers into a small silver code box and a section of wall slid away.

To Tyler, it was a scene out of an action movie. There were weapons everywhere; guns, ammunition, knives, swords, and clubs. Smythe stepped out of the way, motioning for Tyler to enter. "Take whatever you need, son. We can get more." Smythe had the smell of old leather, though Tyler thought he could smell the desperation on the man.

Tyler nodded absently, looking over everything, trying to decide what to take. He realized everything was made of silver. He picked up a silver mace; it's leather handle creaking in his hand. He hooked that onto his belt and picked up several silver spikes in a holster, wrapping the nylon holder over his left thigh. Lilith was suddenly behind him.

"Take this, Tyler. It will be useful." She handed him a small silver sphere with a red button on the top. "Push this button and five seconds later, colloidal silver fills the air. It disperses in about fifteen seconds, but don't breathe it yourself. It's not fatal to you, but you'll lose all of your new abilities."

Tyler nodded and took the sphere, dropping it in a pocket of the tactical vest he grabbed from a hook on the wall. He added a silver knife to his arsenal and turned to look at his employee and his mentor. "I'm ready."

Smythe looked at him apprehensively. "No guns?"

Tyler smiled. "I don't like guns, boss. Besides, I'm just getting Violet out, not starting a war. I thought we wanted this quiet."

"We do," Lilith said, interrupting Smythe's response. "Now, come. Time is short; we need to go."

Tyler, Smythe and Lilith walked outside into the cool night air. The darkness seemed to energize Tyler; he felt energy running through himself and through everything else. The clear, crisp smell of the air filled his lungs. He looked around and could make out every detail, even in the dark. They led Tyler to his car, Lilith climbing into the passenger seat. Tyler went to the driver's side and looked at Smythe, who was standing on the steps leading up to the door of the house. "Coming, boss?"

Smythe shook his head. "No. There still a lot that needs to be done before we can start this war. Plus, there are some," he said, his eyes twitching toward Lilith, "that think my emotions might get in the way out in the field." He came down the steps and walked to Tyler, putting his hand on Tyler's shoulder. "Tyler, you're no longer an employee of mine; you're family. No more contract. My house is now your house. Anything you need, you just ask and it's yours. Just bring my baby back."

Tyler nodded and settled into the driver's seat. He looked to Lilith, who nodded, and then faced forward. He started the car and pulled out of the circular driveway and onto the road. Lilith gave directions as needed, but said no more than necessary. After driving for about twenty minutes, Lilith had Tyler pull the car onto a small gravel road and park under a tree. They got out and he followed her for about a hundred yards, staying close to the ground, like they do in the movies. They came to a small rise and Lilith knelt on top of it, Tyler following her lead. He thought the aroma of the trees was going to overwhelm him.

"There," she said. "Through the trees. Do you see it?" Tyler followed her pointed finger and his vision shifted. He could make out an old two-story farmhouse and a dilapidated barn. He nodded, confident Lilith could see him.

"How could they hold her down there," he asked. "Both the house and the barn are falling apart. She could pretty much just walk out."

Lilith smiled, her teeth bright in the darkness. "The owner of the house was scared of nuclear fallout, so he built a bomb shelter under the barn and a tunnel leading back to the house. Violet is under the barn."

"Then let's go," Tyler said, starting to rise, held down by Lilith's strong hand on his shoulder.

"You have to go in through the house. There's no entrance in the barn. Most of the Wolves will be under the barn, though there will be a few in the house. Be careful, Tyler. I'm not going with you. If they kill me, and I can be killed, then we all die. Violet. Thomas. You. Even Isabella and Edward. You must do this on your own."

Tyler shook his head. "Fine. One last thing: what about blood? Where do I get it if I need it?"

Lilith smiled sadly. "Violet is the only true human down there. If you need it, take it from her, but I pray you don't need to."

Tyler nodded. "Why do you hope I don't need to?"

"I'll explain later. Now go, my son. Be my hand of vengeance."

*

Chapter Nine

Tyler moved quickly and quietly through the trees, making almost no sound. He stopped thirty yards from the house, but he spotted no guards or even any movement inside the house. That didn't make any sense to him. The Wolves had to know that a rescue attempt would be made and that he would have to come in through the house. 'Maybe they're all waiting under the barn,' he thought. 'Concentrating their forces instead of spreading them out.'

He ran toward the house, his feet making almost no noise, despite his bulk. When he was ten feet from the house, he jumped. Power like he had never felt easily propelled him to the second story, where he alighted on the small roof that hung over the ground floor porch. He paused and the roof held. A glance in the nearest window showed him that the room was empty. He slid the window open slowly, trying to avoid any squeaks. Once the window was up, he climbed inside.

He crouched down close to the floor and listened; he heard voices on this floor, one male and one female. He moved to the doorway and looked both directions. There were five other rooms on this floor, two to his left and three to his right past the stairway. Only one room was occupied and it was the source of the voices. Judging by the sounds he could hear, they weren't doing much talking, other than a few cries and the occasional 'No!' Tyler crept to the door and quietly opened it, the scent of something unclean striking his nose.

He saw a woman with her hands tied to the bed frame and a werewolf trying to maneuver himself between her legs. It was large, probably close to seven feet tall and its hair was light brown. Its snout was long and Tyler could see many sharp, pointy teeth that looked like small daggers. The woman fought back, kicking at the beast, but it seemed to have no effect. Tyler unhooked the mace from his belt and, staying low to the floor, crept up behind the werewolf. He rose to his full height and swung the mace, connecting with the side of the Wolf's head with all of his might. He felt bone splinter under his blow and the Wolf, now turning back to human form, slumped on the floor where he landed, the side of his head caved in. Tyler watch to make sure he wasn't moving before turning to the woman on the bed, who made a small noise and was still tugging at her hands.

Tyler drew his knife and knelt on the bed next to her. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said quietly. "I'm going to cut you lose. When I free you, I'll take you downstairs and then I want you to run. Do you understand?" He waited until she nodded and then cut the ropes holding her wrists to the bed frame. She rubbed them where the rope has burned her skin raw. Tyler went to the closet and found a large shirt for the small nude woman. She said a quiet 'thank you' and pulled it on, the hem coming down to her knees.

Once she was dressed, Tyler led her down the stairs, something seeming slightly off to him, but he wasn't able to put his finger on it. It was only when he reached the bottom of the stairs did he get it: she hadn't been screaming and she wasn't trying to run now that she had the opportunity. She was in on it. As he turned, a large hairy fist hit him square in the chest, knocking the air out of him. He smashed into the front door and through it, landing on it as it fell, the glass from the small window shattering under him. She had grown for her five and a half foot height up to almost Tyler's six and a half feet, her fur the color the of rust. She snarled and saliva dripped from her mouth. Tyler felt like the roar she unleashed would deafen him. She did it probably to intimidate him as well as warn the others. Tyler, though, wasn't intimidated. He was pissed.

He stood up and casually brushed himself off. The wolf woman tilted her head and looked at him in surprise, his chest should be caved in. Then, Tyler smiled, showing his fangs. She let out a whimper and tried to back up, tripping on the steps. Tyler started moving forward and she, reacting on instinct, pushed away from the stairs and started swinging. She swung a deadly right hand, claws extended. Tyler jammed his left elbow between the two bones of her forearm and hit her on the side of the muzzle with a large right of his own. She stumbled back, blood dripping from her mouth. She attacked again, arcing both arms toward him. Tyler ducked and shoved a silver stake into her stomach, causing her to revert instantly. Her howl turned into a human scream as she dropped to her knees.

"Mercy," she said, her face bloody and tears streaming down her cheeks.

Tyler walked around behind her. "Were you going to show mercy to the girl in the basement?" He grabbed her hair and pulled her onto her back, kneeling on her chest. He pulled out the stake and returned it to its holder. Tyler then grabbed the side of her head and pulled, making her scream again. Exerting all of his strength, he managed to tear her head completely off, leaving her body lying there, twitching on the floor. After a quick step outside to retrieve his mace, he quickly walked to the door that led to the basement. Even through the door, Tyler could smell the Wolves down there, the smell a mix of wet dog and old, musty air.

He opened the door about a foot and saw a man standing at the bottom of a dozen steps. "Lucille," he asked, fear tingeing his voice. Tyler tossed Lucille's head down the stairs, the skull thumping on every third wooden step. It came to a rest facing the man at the bottom. He took one look at it and started to run, but Tyler was already halfway down the stairs, catching the man easily. He grasped the man's shoulder and spun him around, holding up the mace. When his captive started to change, Tyler gave him a quick blow to the temple to stop him.

"Tell your boss that I want to talk. Alone. Now." He released his panic-stricken prisoner and watched as he ran down the long hallway to the barn area. While he waited, Tyler found a spot against the wall that would keep his face in shadow. He was going to need all of the advantages he could get.

The leader of the Wolves, Tyler guessed, stepped out of the darkness, already in werewolf form. "What do you want, human?" In it's current form, speech was obviously difficult. The word 'human' came out more like 'hoo-mahn.' The Wolf stood about six feet tall, it's fir dark, almost black. It has a small stoop, though it was from form, not weakness.

"You know why I'm here, so cut the crap. Give me the girl." Tyler moved forward, still keeping his face in shadow. The Wolf made a noise Tyler took to be laughter, sounding like the soft brushing of sandpaper against wood.

"Or what," it asked. "You are in no position to make threats. Now leave or we shall gut you and eat your insides."

"One last chance," Tyler said calmly. "Let me have her or I will kill you all."

"Fool. You are carrying silver, so you know what we are, but you cannot kill us. You could not kill all of us before we had mauled you. You are not strong enough. Now leave!"

Tyler stepped into the light and grinning, his new fangs reflecting in the dimness. "I'm not?"

The Wolf leader froze for a second before regaining composure. "You have joined them. More is the pity." It let out a howl and pounced on Tyler, knocking him backwards but not down, though he lost his grip on the mace, hearing it clatter to the ground. Tyler knew he had to finish this quickly before the other Wolves arrived. He wrapped the leader in a bear hug and squeezed, putting all of his newfound strength into it, ignoring the scratches and bites he was receiving. The other arrived as he heard bones popping, so he tossed the injured lycanthrope to the floor and reclaimed his mace, turning to face half a dozen more Wolves.

What happened next was a blur, even to Tyler. Fists, knees, elbows and claws flashed through the air, groans and cries following them. Soon, Tyler found himself surrounded by fallen bodies of Wolves, some in human form, only a couple still moaning. He turned to the leader, only to find it slowly disappearing around the doorframe at the top of the stairs. He took a step in that direction, only to remember that catching the leader wasn't his job right now. Right now, he had to find Violet.




A Taste of Blood



He ran down the long hallway, moving as fast as he could manage. Apparently, one of the Wolves had bitten his leg during the fight, giving him a limp, he just hadn't noticed. He came to a bend in the tunnel, sticking close to the wall as he looked around the corner. There had to be a dozen of them down there, his improved night vision allowing him to see past them to the small cage that held Violet. He could make out Violet's scent among the others. It was the soft sweet smell of lilies after a rainstorm. Tyler looked down at the floor, guilt shaking him, since it was his fault that she was in there. He fingered the silver sphere and was getting ready to use it when Violet screamed.

He looked up and could see Violet trying to scoot back further into her cramped cage as a Wolf reached for her. Tyler growled and stood, pushing the glowing red button. "Hey, asshole! Get your paws off of her, you damn dirty Wolf!"

As the gathered crowd turned, the silver sphere arced through the air, the spray filling the air with its cargo. Wolves stood silent and blinked as they changed back to their human form almost instantly. Tyler roared as he stepped amongst them, his mace swinging in vicious curves, breaking bones and silver spikes ending lives. When there were no more enemies to crush, Tyler dropped to his knees, feeling the ebb of adrenaline. Soon, his body would start screaming for food like it always did after a fight.

He was knocked backwards by a body being thrown against his, sending another surge of adrenaline through him. It took him a moment to realize it was Violet and she was crying and mumbling incoherently. He wrapped his arms around her and held her for several minutes, not saying anything.

Once Violet had gotten control of herself, Tyler let her go and was stunned when she kissed him, whispering her thanks. She slid off of him and it was only then that Tyler realized that she didn't have any clothes on. He blinked and then offered her his coat, which hung low on her since he was so much bigger than she was. He smiled at her and rolled the cuffs on the coat so he could take her hand and lead her through the mess of bodies and blood that littered the floor.

As they reached the first floor, Tyler sagged against the kitchen counter, blood loss and hunger starting to overwhelm him. "Tyler, get up," Violet urged quietly. "They might come back! Come on! We need to go!"

"Can't," he mumbled. "Too weak. Need...need..." His voice trailed off.

"What? What do you need? Food? Water? What? Tyler! Tell me what you need!"

Tyler started to sway as he fell to his knees, the world starting to rock. "Blood," he whispered. "Need blood."

"Blood? Jesus! What are you, some kind of freak?" Violet pulled on his arm, but didn't move away.

Tyler shook his head. "Vampire. Need blood."

"Oh my God! Oh my God!" Don't kill me, Tyler! I know I've been a pain in the ass, but I wasn't that bad!"

"Violet," he said almost too quietly for her to hear. "Help. Need your blood or we both die."

Violet bit her bottom lip, not sure what she should do. Tyler collapsed face first onto the floor, the old tiles cracking under his weight. "Tyler! Tyler!" She pushed him, but he didn't move. It took everything she had, but she got him rolled onto his back. He was barely breathing, his mouth hanging open. She could see his small fangs in his mouth. She pulled up the coat sleeve further and moved her wrist to his mouth and he instinctively bit it, his teeth breaking the skin, making Violet shudder and moan instead of scream like he thought she would. He pulled his fangs away from her arm and felt the tangy red liquid fill his mouth, sending a charge of energy through him as he swallowed it. His tongue snaked out and licked the wounds, sealing them somehow. He felt stronger and he could feel his various wounds healing over. He opened his eyes to see Violet kneeling over him, her eyes glazed over.

"Wow," she said softly. "That was amazing. I hope sex is that good." Tyler's nose detected the faint scent of arousal coming off of her and realized that he was aroused as well. This, however, was neither the time, not the place. He stood, pulling Violet to her feet.

"Come on, princess. Let's get out of here and go home." He took her hand again and moving much more steadily, led her to the front door. Lucille's body was still lying in front of the stairs. Violet gagged at the sight of the headless corpse, but she didn't vomit. She went up a notch in Tyler's estimation. Given what she had been through and had given him her blood, she was up about six or seven notches so far.

They made their way back to Tyler's car, Violet starting to shake as the events of the last twenty-four hours caught up with her. Tyler put her in the back seat and got a blanket from the trunk. She curled into the fetal position and sobbed most of the way back to the house, stopping only when she cried herself to sleep. Tyler called Mr. Smythe to tell him they were on their way back and to have Isabella get a hot bath ready for Violet. Once he had hung up, he heard a soft 'thank you' from the backseat. He looked in the mirror and saw Violet with a smile on her face, even though she was mostly asleep.

Tyler sat impatiently as he waited for the gates to open, his fingers gripping the steering while, turning his knuckles white. Once they opened, he drove to the front of the house, Smythe, Lilith and Isabella waiting for them. He got out and opened the back door, gently lifting the still sleeping Violet into his arms and walking toward the house.

"My God," Smythe exclaimed. "Tyler! Is she...is she okay?"

"She's fine, boss, just exhausted and asleep. Now, if you'll excuse me. Isabella? You have a bath waiting?"

"Si, Señor Tyler. This way." Tyler followed her, leaving Smythe with his mouth hanging open and Lilith with a small smile on her face.

*

Chapter Ten

"No, Señor, I will not allow it," Isabella said, responding to Tyler's statement that he was staying with Violet during her bath. "The girl must have her dignity," she said, staring up at Tyler, refusing to back down.

"Isabella," he said gently. "Mi señorita pequeño, I have seen her with out her clothes. I'm the one who rescued her. That's my jacket she's wearing. Now, if you want me to leave, you're going to have to make me." He hulked over her, crossing his arms. Isabelle, though, was undaunted. Before she could say anything, Violet spoke up, her voice startling both of them with its hollow, haunted quality.

"Isabella, let him stay."

Isabelle reluctantly nodded, but pointed Tyler to a chair across the spacious bathroom. "Sit over there. I don't want the bath water mixing with your drool."

Tyler looked at Violet, who smiled. He smiled back and walked to the other side of the bathroom, sitting in the indicated chair. He sat quietly as Isabella handed him his jacket and proceeded to bathe Violet, who almost fell asleep in the bathtub. Once she was clean, Violet told Isabella she could go, thanking her for the bath. Isabella turned to Tyler.

"You heard her, mister! Time to go! Up! Up!"

"Isabella, Tyler can stay. I need to talk to him." Isabella looked at Violet like the girl was out of her mind, but said nothing. She gave Tyler a warning glare that said 'no funny stuff.' Tyler held up his hands in surrender and she left.

Once she was gone, Violet spoke quietly. "Tyler, what happened back there? Why did they take me? What were they? What are...you?" This last question she asked fearfully, looking like a scared little girl.

Tyler steepled his fingers, trying to figure out where to start explaining. "Do you know who Lilith is?"

Violet frowned at the name. "I've seen her. She's creepy. Daddy introduced her as his 'business partner.' I don't know what she is, but she scares me."

Tyler chuckled softly. "She's your mother, removed a whole bunch of times. She apparently related to me too, though in some really distant way. She's also the first vampire."

Over the next twenty minutes or so, Tyler retold Lilith's tale, paraphrasing where he could, leading up to, and including, the Pact and Violet's subsequent rescue from the farm. Violet, shocked by it all, stayed quiet until he finished.

"So," she said quietly, "You're a...um...a..."

"I'm a vampire, " he finished for her.

"Right," she followed quickly. "A vampire. You suck blood and turn into a bat. Things like that."

Tyler laughed again. "I drink blood, like I did at the farmhouse. I can't turn into a bat, thought. At least, I don't think I can. I haven't gotten the whole thing figured out yet." He smiled when she laughed and kept laughing, releasing all of the pent up fear and stress, her laughter mingling with tears and sobs as her emotions fought. Tyler picked up his chair and sat next to the bathtub, keeping his eyes away from Violet's body and holding her hand.

"Thank you," she whispered between tortured breaths.

"For what?"

"Everything. I know I haven't always been the most pleasant person to keep an eye on. I'm sorry and I want to say thank you for everything you've done for me."

"Well, we're even then, princess. You saved my life at the farmhouse when you gave me some of your blood."

Violet smiled, tears still running down her face. "I'm not sure I can repay you enough, Tyler. But I'll try."

Tyler sat there and looked into Violet's eyes. This was not the same girl he had taken to A Kitten's Dream the day before. She had seen the other side, just like he had, and it had changed them both, albeit in very different ways. They were bonded now. Forever.

*

Chapter Eleven

Tyler waited outside the bathroom while Violet dried off and got dressed. She stepped out in a thick terry cloth bathrobe that was as black as the clothing he had seen her in last. He followed her to her bedroom, neither saying a word. He sat and watched as she dropped her robe and began putting on clothes, Violet obviously at ease with his presence. His eyes roamed the curves of her body, especially her narrow waist and heart-shaped behind, and his groin reacted. He shook his head to clear it and told her of her father's declaration that made him family and not an employee. Violet looked at him for a moment and then went to her dresser. She opened her walled and pulled out a few green bills, folding them in her hand and walking back to him.

"In that case, I want to hire you, Tyler. As my personal bodyguard."

Tyler looked at her with a look of confusion. "But I'm already your bodyguard, Violet. Why would you need to hire me?"

She looked at the floor, her cheeks turning pink. "I want you to protect me, Tyler. From daddy and Lilith. With everything that's happened, I don't know what's going on anymore. I don't know whom to trust. Except you. So, take this money, Tyler. Watch over me. Please."

He looked into her eyes and saw the fear in them, couple with hope and trust. He reached out and took the money, stuffing it into his pocket. Violet crawled into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. His arms instinctively went around her waist and he held her as she cried softly against his shoulder. The smell of lilies filled his nose and he closed his eyes, taking it in. Soon, there was a soft knock at the door and Isabella stepped in and saw Tyler comforting Violet. Her instincts warred between helping the child and scolding the man. Instead, she waited quietly until Violet had gotten a hold of herself and then informed them that Mr. Smythe and Lilith would like to speak to them downstairs in the office. Tyler nodded and said they would be down shortly. Isabella nodded once and left.

"Tyler, remember that you said you'd protect me," Violet said as she climbed out of his lap and stood next to the chair, like a child waiting for a parent. Tyler stood and looked down at her, nodding his head.

"I am at your command, princess," he said with a grin.

"I'm going to remember that the next time I'm horny," Violet answered with a small smile. They left her room and walked downstairs, turning to the right, and heading to the office, her father and Lilith waiting for them.

"Thomas," they overheard Lilith saying, "They are bonded. Tyler took some of her blood at the farm. They are connected in a way you cannot understand. They are..." She stopped talking when Thomas looked over her shoulder as they entered.

"Baby," Thomas cried out, coming around the desk to hug his daughter. She hugged her father back, holding him close. They separated after a moment, Violet sitting in the chair across from her father. Lilith stood by the side of the desk while Tyler stood behind Violet's chair, his hands behind his back.

"Tyler," Smythe began, "Thank you for bringing my little girl home. I can't thank you enough." Tyler nodded and Thomas continued. "Baby, you remember Lilith, right?" Violet nodded and her eyes brushed over Lilith before returning to her father. "Well, she's not my business partner. She's..." Violet cut him off.

"Tyler explained everything. I'm descended from the first vampire by a direct bloodline and that the werewolves are after me." Both her father and Lilith looked surprised by her grip on the situation, as well as how calmly she seemed to be taking everything, considering the circumstances. "Daddy, what are you doing about it?"

"Baby, there's a war brewing. A war between the vampires and the Wolves. We're doing everything we can to keep you safe, but we don't have the numbers or the resources that the Wolves have. We need to ask you some questions, baby. They may help us."

"Daddy," she replied, "I can't. Don't make me go through it again." She curled up in her chair as if she were trying to get away from a dangerous animal. Lilith started to move toward her.

"Child, we need this information. It may be critical." She was only a couple of feet away from Violet when Tyler stepped between them, simply looking down at Lilith. She looked up at him and Tyler could feel her gathering mystical energy. Smythe cut them off before anything happened.

"Tyler! What are you doing? You don't have to protect her in her own home! Your own home!"

"Actually, boss, I do," he said, not taking his eyes off of Lilith. "When you released me from my contract, Violet hired me. She's my client now and as I told you when you hired me, the client comes first. So, Lilith, I'm going to ask you very nicely, once, to back off."

She snarled at him. "Insolent child! Do you not know I could destroy you in an instant?"

Tyler nodded. "You could, but you won't. You need me; you said so yourself. Now. Back off."

Lilith looked as if she was going to tear his head off, but she stepped back, resuming her post beside the desk. Tyler could feel the anger rolling off of her in waves. He held up a hand where she and Smythe could see, asking them to give him a minute. Lilith nodded slowly. Tyler smiled and turned back to Violet, crouching in front of her.

"Violet, listen to me. I know this is going to be hard, but we...I...need you to be strong. You need to do this so that I can take care of you. I need you to do for this for me. Can you?"

Violet looked into his eyes, a small tear forming in the corner of her eye. She wiped it away and sniffed quietly, nodding her head. Tyler smiled and she smiled back. He held her hand for just a second and then stood, turning to face the other two with a nod. Over the next two hours, prompted by questions, Violet retold the story or her kidnapping, the taping of her wrists and ankles, their arrival at the farmhouse, where they took her clothes and threw her in that tiny cage. During this part of the telling, she took Tyler's hand, which made Thomas's face turn harden and he ran his fingers through his hair. She finished with Tyler's rescue, which she called 'heroic' and tightened her grip on his hand and looked up at him. Smythe looked angry enough to chew rocks, only Lilith's presence preventing him from exploding. Once the telling was over, Lilith dismissed them with her thanks. Violet and Tyler turned to leave, but Smythe stopped Tyler, asking to speak to him for another moment. With Violet's nod, Tyler remained behind as she went upstairs.

"Tyler," he began, looking down at his desk. "I don't know what is going on between you two, but I will not let you break my daughter's heart. Am I clear on this?"

Tyler looked at him for half a minute before answering. "Sir, there is nothing going on between Violet and myself. I rescued her from what was obviously a terrifying situation. I'm her hero. And now, I'm her employee. Rule number two: do not get involved with the client. This isn't Hollywood, sir. I'm not Kevin Costner and she's not Whitney Houston, thank God. My job is to protect, not to date her. Am I clear on that...sir?"

Tyler started to leave, turning back in the doorway. "And honestly, My Smythe, I resent that you would even make such an accusation. I have worked for you for two years, keeping your daughter safe and sound and that's what I intend to keep doing."

He marched out and climbed the stairs, going to Violet's room. She was lying on the bed, curled around a large teddy bear. She looked at him when he walked in.

"I heard what daddy said to you, Ty. I'm sorry if he thinks we're sleeping together or something."

Tyler dropped himself into the same chair as before, letting out a sigh. "No problem, princess. It just upsets me that he would think that of me now, given all of the time I've worked for him over the past two years."

"Maybe," she said quietly, "It's because you're different now. You're not the same Ty you were two months ago or even two days ago."

Tyler stared at her for a long moment before smiling, realizing she was absolutely right.

*

Chapter Twelve

Tyler stayed with Violet the whole night, sitting in a chair next to her bed and watching her sleep. He fell into a kind of slumber that was not quite sleep. He was still aware of everything, but his normally active mind felt like it had down shifted. He realized that he hadn't had blood since the farmhouse and that had been a necessity. Now, it was the normal hunger growing inside him. His eyes opened and went to Violet and he could see the soft pulse of her heartbeat in her throat, making his mouth water. His urge for blood warring with his intellect; he had promised to protect her, not have her for a midnight snack. He stood and walked to the door, trying to take himself away from the temptation. Before he did anything he'd regret, he stepped out of the bedroom and into the cool hallway.

He walked down the stairs to the kitchen, the scent of fairly fresh blood drawing him in. He found it in a clear glass measuring cup next to the sink. They had had steak earlier, so the cook must have forgotten to throw out the blood. It smelled absolutely disgusting and so delicious at the same time, the scent of thick, tangy blood assaulting his nose. Just as he was about to take a drink, a voice stopped him.

"We do have a supply of human blood, if you would rather that. It has a much better taste than animal blood, though, you can subsist on animal blood if necessary." Lilith stood leaning against the doorway, a small smirk on her face.

Tyler, feeling his face flush red from embarrassment, put the cup back down and followed her to a cooler at the rear of the kitchen. She pulled it open and Tyler felt the cool air brush his skin and was surprised when he saw rows upon rows of bags of blood there. Lilith reached in and drew out a bag, handing it to him.

It was a standard blood collection bag, about eight inches high and four inches wide. It was clear, showing off the dark red fluid inside. The only difference was that at the top, there was a collapsible straw. He opened it and took a long drink, feeling the hunger recede. He turned as he finished the bag and saw that he was alone, Lilith vanishing into the night. Tyler shook his head and moved quickly and quietly back up to Violet's room, hearing her soft snores and sitting down in his chair, watching her as she slept.