Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Calliope had not dressed for the mid-spring weather. The cold night drew a chill up the back of her jacket, the lace undergarment she'd worn baring most of her ass to the breeze. The lack of panties did her no favors, she was tired of spending good money she didn't have on replacements over teeth marks, so the cold was threatening to damn near crawl inside of her. It could wait its turn, she decided, she had clients to attend to first.

Coming to the den was not her first choice of how to spend the evening. It had only been two days since her last shift and she preferred to wait three, but the month was short and rent was coming due. The slumlord was a hard ass about paying on time and her side of the city didn't adhere to reasonable eviction notice laws, so it was either bend her three day recovery rule or be homeless again.

Calliope drew her jacket closer and stepped up to the red side door. Being homeless might have actually been a step up from the sublet room she occupied, but at least she had running water this way. She hated the over-packed shelters around the city and knew lower vampyrs haunted the walls outside to pick off victims without anyone to miss them. At least this way she guaranteed her life at evening's end. She'd seen first hand on multiple occasions what happened when a vampyr didn't stop, or fed too frequently. The shelters were all but a guarantee that would be her fate.

If she was going to be prey for these animals, she'd long ago decided, it might as well be on her terms.

The urban brick building was off the beaten path of the main roads, far from a neighborhood where a lone woman should be walking by herself. The front entrance was on a well-lit street, the nameless club simply referred to as The Den iwas nviting to any potential customers. They kept suited guards at the doors to vet the clientele and keep the rougher crowd outside if they couldn't pay the fees.

The back alley entrance she had to patron might as well have been in another world. No lights outside the glow of the neighboring buildings windows and a singular bare bulb above the door. She tapped twice on the metal and waited.

A grated viewport opened and two dark eyes met hers.

"Calliope," she offered before he could ask, "third floor."

The doorman looked over her attire, from her loose platinum curls to the short tan jacket with nothing underneath, and grunted. The viewport shut with a slam, the door opening inward to offer her reprieve from the cold.

She stepped inside the back entrance hallway, the black carpet and dim lighting taking her human eyes time to adjust. There was no point in knowing the names of the guards, so she'd never bothered to ask, but the thick ex-military look of this one had earned him the name Tank in her mind. He was human, probably getting paid far less than she was, and was there less to protect any of them than make sure any goods that walked through the doors were in acceptable condition.

"Third floor," he spoke into a walkie, latching the metal door and waving her on. She didn't wait for him, keeping a brisk pace in her blue heels down the hall to the elevator.

The Den was six stories tall, with each floor offering a different level of fare for the vampyrs that came here. She was far from the dazzling stars of the top level, the prey deemed high enough quality to potentially catch the eye of recruiters from different high-end clubs, the kind where a human could work for five years and retire on the money if you lived long enough. The second floor was for the lowest quantity fare, those as desperate as she and either hooked on venom or other substances. Most of the bodies they carted through the basement came from that level. Your shelf life wasn't long on the second floor.

She thanked her lucky stars she was pretty enough to be considered for the third. Most other feeder clubs were less diverse, catering to specific vampyrs of varying status, and if she weren't here she'd be someplace far worse.

The elevator room had a large old-fashioned iron-grated elevator on the back wall, decent enough lighting to walk through, and a solitary round desk in the middle. The carpet looked like it had been picked up from a hotel and repurposed; the dizzying pattern meant to hide blood stains. A thin, reedy woman in her forties sat in her usual space behind piles of neatly arranged paperwork, a laptop, and an old cradle phone.

"Ah," the woman peered over her large rimmed glasses at her, "it's the picky one. Not your usual night, eh?"

Calliope looked up at the camera overhead on habit, then back to her. "Rent's due," she said, hugging herself. "You know how it is."

The woman snorted dismissively. Calliope had tried to ask her name once and was told to mind her own damn business, so she simply called her The Bitch. Her sunny disposition was probably not her fault so much as a side effect of working at such a place for so long, but it never ceased to grate on her nerves.

"Everyone's rent is due. We've got a full house of food and not enough mouths wanting to eat."

Shit. "Is Victoria here?" She asked, shifting her weight. These shoes looked stellar and were fine to walk in, but were hell on her toes when she stood in place. "She usually comes in on Thursdays?"

"Not this Thursday," Desk Bitch tapped a few keys on her keyboard, "and before you ask, neither is Ronnie, Denise or Isabella."

Double shit. "There's got to be someone," she begged the universe, "I need to make money."

"You're welcome to go upstairs and entertain a few guests, see whose eye you catch," she waved towards the elevator behind her.

"You know I only take arranged clients," she frowned.

"Yes and aren't you special," Desk Bitch mocked. "You know, if you'd overlook your whole bullshit about only entertaining female clients that bare ass of yours could get you twice the money you're looking for tonight."

"No," she said, taking a breath. Fuck, she really did not want to end up homeless again. It wasn't that she didn't like men- she actually preferred them for the sex, but vampyr women tended to be easier to remain in control of. Not that she could fight any of them off if she tried, but they knew what they wanted, were up front and stuck to their word, more or less. She knew how the men could get around her. Territorial. Bull-headed.

The phone began to ring. Desk Bitch ignored it for a moment. "I suggest you either make yourself less of a stuck up brat or walk your happy ass back outside then, you're lucky we even allow you to keep regular clients working on the third floor! Decide before this call is done, I don't want you haunting my office any longer than necessary. Feeder Desk," she answered the phone, leaving Calliope to panic between her options.

She hated her shithole room, but it beat the streets. If she got kicked out she'd have to work every other day- fuck, no, perhaps daily- for almost two weeks to make up the cost of another down deposit, and that wasn't considering the fact she had no idea where she'd stay, let alone move to. It could be worse than where she was now.

Two weeks in a shelter was a death sentence. Working every day might kill her. If she didn't perform enough, The Den could even kick her down to the second floor, and she was still delusional enough to hope this job wouldn't get her sent to a crematorium anytime soon. That wouldn't hold up long if she were pushed out of the third floor. Clients who could barely pay were shuttled to the second, and The Den had no care for feeders of such low fare as we entertain them.

Desk Bitch sat a little straighter from whomever was on the other end of the line. Her narrow eyes turned back to Calliope, uncertain. "Forgive me for asking," she started, her voice unusually proper, "but are you sure?"

Calliope tuned back in and watched the woman wince at the response, then pinch the bridge of her nose. "My apologies, sir. I understand. Right away."

She set the phone back in the cradle, reaching under the desk into a bin and returning with a blue tagged key.

"Seems your decision was made for you," she said, holding it out for her. "You've got a request. 4th floor. You don't want to keep him waiting."

Calliope stared at the key in her hand. "I'm sorry?"

"He's a VIP," the woman pressed, shaking the key. "Fourth floor, the key attendant will point him out."

Him. "I said I don't take male clients," she started, but Desk Bitch hit the table in front of her.

"If you ever want to work in this building again," she hissed, pointing one manicured finger her way, "you'll take the damn key and do as you're told."

Calliope swallowed. Desk Bitch, in all the time she'd known her had always been... well, a bitch, but not like this. Whatever that phone call had been had put her on edge, a feeling they now shared.

Calliope swallowed. "I don't have a choice, do I?" She dared ask.

"No."

With a shaking breath, she took the key. "A word of advice?" Desk Bitch offered while she passed to the elevator, "don't go running off that smart ass mouth of yours. Just do your job and leave tonight."

"If you say so," she couldn't help herself, pushing open the iron gates and stepping inside.

"I mean it!" The woman's voice called out, "he's a top VIP, don't piss him off!"

Words of comfort if she'd ever heard them. Calliope looked to the row of keyholes on the wall, went to insert hers into the third slot out of habit, then moved it up to the fourth. It turned with ease, bringing the old elevator to life.

What am I walking into? She worried, shifting her weight in her heels again.

Calliope had never been on the fourth floor. The third floor was decorated in deep green and silver, with only a few private alcoves surrounding a long bar in the middle. It had more the vibe of a bar than a proper club, but was a step up from the open room of the second floor, from what she'd heard. That floor had conversation pits around the room that could fit parties with no privacy and easily cleaned floors. She knew what for.

The fourth was another world.

She pushed open the gate and couldn't help but stare. Everything was deep blue, from long drapes that sectioned off booths to the plush carpet runner she stepped out on. The floor outside of it was marble, a white and black style that gave everything a Persian taste. Servers in barely-there uniforms of both male and female variety moved about, their lingerie black, each with a matching black rose clipped to their hair. The middle of the room had dancing platforms and poles for entertainment, and the few vampyrs present sat around them, drinking liquor off the servers' trays and enjoying the show.

The platform nearest to her had a gorgeous dancer upon it, a woman with short-styled brown hair and snake tattoos all over her deeply tanned body. She was fully naked, leaving nothing to the imagination about where those tattoos went.

A male Vampyr stood behind her, his body pressed against hers, his hand coming around to play with her clit. The other held her head to the side, exposing her neck that he sank his fangs into while he slowly fucked her from behind. Blood ran between her breasts and dropped onto the floor.

Her eyes caught Calliope, the tell-tale faraway look in them showing how much she was enjoying the high off his venom. Her body rolled slowly against his, still dancing to the music even while she was being bled and fucked.

Calliope looked away, hating the jealous thrill that found her at the thought of that venom-induced bliss. The job had some perks, at least. An easy high to take away the pain, like a low dose of molly.

A male sat beside the elevator next to a short podium, his eyes glued to the dancer even as he addressed her. "You the third-floor girl?" he asked, holding out his hand.

"I am," she managed to keep her voice even, handing over the key. The only way to leave was with his permission, or by risking the front guest entrance, although any feeder stupid enough to try was lucky to be banned and not killed for their effort.

"Head to the back middle," he instructed, "you can't miss it."

Calliope nodded, not caring that he didn't see. Her heart beat dangerously fast in her chest for walking through a crowd of vampyrs, and she worked on slowing her breathing the whole way there. Just like her regular floor, the clients were not shy, lounge chairs scattered across the room filled with writing bodies, some simply feeding, but most, like the dancer, taking far more intrusion into their body.

Vampyrs liked to fuck when they fed. That's what The Den catered to, and Calliope was no stranger to it. It was still a safer option than working the streets. Marginally. The Den frowned upon killing too many feeders, but it was an occupational hazard they all signed on to.

The last alcove at the back of the rectangular room was sectioned off with a round curtain pulled aside and tied with a gold tasseled strap. She took one last steadying breath, raised her chin, and stepped through the opening.

The first thing she felt was overwhelmed by more grandeur. A large, rounded couch sat in the middle of the space, a marble table at its center. Actual plants decorated the shelf behind it in beautiful greenery, and a glassed-off waterfall was the backdrop. Changing colored lights gave it a fantasy element that was every modern designer's wet dream.

Sitting alone to one side of the couch was the male vampyr who had called her there. He was beautiful, as many were. She'd age him somewhere around thirty by looks, for whatever that was worth, and he took up space like he owned the place. His dark chestnut hair was styled in a wolf cut, framing piercing blue eyes that had looked her way long before she'd walked up to him. He appeared to be tall, wearing a grey silk suit with his tie loosened, his legs crossed while he scrolled on an expensive tablet.

He had two drinks set before him, one he'd been working on and a second as if he expected company. She supposed that was her.

His full lips widened into a smile. "You look absolutely lovely in person," the vampyr spoke first, his voice posh in that way only old money granted, "please, have a seat. I already ordered your drink."

"You didn't have to," she said stiffly, taking her place on the other end of the couch, close enough not to be rude but far enough that there was wanted space between them. "I prefer not to drink when I work."

She chastised herself immediately. You should just have said thank you, she figured, played the game and gotten this over with.

"Well, I was hoping for something different than your usual fare tonight," he said, picking up his own. "Can I take your coat?"

"In time," she managed to decline in character. She had no will to show him the slim thing she wore underneath. "What is it you had in mind?"

"A conversation," he said, surprising her. "I'll pay your usual fare, of course. I'm less interested in your blood than I am of you."

"Of... me?" She asked cautiously, not bothering to hide it. There was only one thing worse than a male vampyr in this club, and it was one who went off script. This was dangerously out of her element. Unpredictable.

"Mm," he confirmed, taking a long pull from the cocktail he'd ordered. It had little pieces of fruit in it, speared on a plastic sword. An odd choice. "You are the third-floor worker who entertains regular clients, frequently requested again, and only women that you've selected, are you not?"

Fuck, she might need that drink. She forgot how quickly gossip traveled around these circles. She picked it up and took a long pull herself, tasting only fruit, the scent of rum her only hint it was alcoholic.

"I am," she answered briskly.

"Your name, little one?" Asked the vampyr.

She swallowed her fear. "Calliope," she gave him the truth, not knowing if he could sense a lie. "You really only want a... conversation?"

"I find you curious is all," he answered.

"And you'll pay my regular fare?"

"Yes."

"To talk."

"If you're agreeable company," he gave her. Ah, so it was some kind of game, but a game that may let her keep her rules intact and still pay rent that night.

She settled back, crossing her legs at the ankles. "Then I hope you'll find me agreeable," she said, her words flat and unsure. The alcohol already hummed in her system, spurred on by her empty stomach.

He chuckled, a boyish sound. "You aren't doing a good job of hiding your fear from me, but I can understand. I promise you I do only mean to chat, and I keep my word."

That's what all men say. But what choice did she have than to believe him? At least for now.

"Have you a family name?" He asked, playing with the little sword in his drink.

"I haven't a family," she answered him quietly.

"Hmm," the Vampyr seemed to mull this over, accepting it. "No one in this world to care for? Children? A sick pet?"

"None," she resisted the urge to fidget her fingers in her jacket hem. "Not anymore."

"Then why come here?" He asked, his eyes giving her a long, steady sweep from the tips of her shoes to the top of her head. "Most of the feeders tend to fall into two categories: those with someone they'd do anything for, and those passively seeking death. You don't smell like the latter."

"Suicidal intent has a... scent?" That was a far from pleasant thought.

He chuckled, low and deep in his throat. "Many things do. It sings in one's blood. Lust, despair, rage, depression... they all have their physical tells on the body, painting a picture of the inner mind." He took a small sip from his drink, his eyes twisting to her through the glass.

"On you, I can smell a low course of adrenaline, tangy and sharp. Sweat gathers in your palms and clings to your neck, a salty, human odor. Your heart is pumping fast, giving off a heat on your skin. I'd bet money that you aren't wearing panties either, in case you were wondering if I could tell that as well. There's tears threatening in your eyes, my favorite taste." He chuckled again at her discomfort, thrilled at it. "And yet, there's no sour notes of despair, no copper flavor of those having given up. You have no collar, you are bound to no master, have no family to sell yourself for by your own admission, and I've watched you walk in here on your own every three days like clockwork."

"You've been watching me?" Her heart picked up, something he surely could hear.

"I always watch the curious things. During the day I have an eye for beauty; I make my money investing in rare oddities and artists and profiting off their work. At night, my tastes are far more... personal."

"I don't take male clients," she reminded him, hoping he would respect that and knowing she would be helpless to stop him if he didn't.

"Oh, so I've heard. I'm not here to change that, not tonight. What I want to know," he leaned forward, setting the glass down just a little harder than necessary, those large blue eyes darkening as his pupils expanded far wider than any human would, a cat staring down its next exciting chase. "Is why?"

Calliope's heart quickened. She tried not to let it, but she couldn't help it in the face of him, so close. Something in her blood screamed that this man was dangerous, and probably far older than he looked. The older vampires liked to play twisted games, chasing away the boring drone of existence, and right now, she felt every bit a mouse being batted around.

"Why what?"

"Why work in a place like this?" He asked, "Why have a rule to stick to only female clients, when it's clear you are into men as well? I saw how you looked me over when you arrived, don't deny it. I'm flattered." Asshole, she thought to herself. "More importantly, how do you get clients to play along while continuing to request you over and over again? Special requesting feeders on the third floor is unheard of. You're not specialized enough."

He'd thrown a lot at her all at once, those wide, excited eyes never blinking. His pupils had widened far more than a human's would, swallowing up the blue until only a thin ring remained. She downed half her drink just to give her time to process.

"To answer your second question," she skipped the first all together, "I find females to be more... agreeable. They play nicer, given the right motivation, and don't tend to fixate on their feeders to the point I worry for my life. As for your third," she answered, feeling a little more brazen from the alcohol in her system, "I've got good blood, a skilled tongue, and for all you vampyrs live in a constant struggle for domination and control, I believe you get a little thrill at bending a knee and playing by my rule, even if you won't admit it. It makes my clients feel like they've won a challenge. We both know how much you love a challenge."

He raised his eyebrows. "Has anyone told you that overtly?"

"They don't need to," she replied, "they just request me again. Sometimes I say no. When I do, I'll find them waiting first in line the next time I arrive. It makes my work far more predictable."

"Predictable," he laughed, as if she'd just said something truly hilarious. "You work in a place like this and have somehow carved out a routine."

"I'm selective," she defended.

"You're picky," he smiled.

"So I've been told."

"You still haven't answered my first question," he finished his drink, "why do this at all?"

That was a much larger and more complicated answer than she wanted to give. She chose the best way to deflect it. "I still have rent to pay. It's California, prices match. Not all of us can throw a few hundred dollars down for a conversation."

He snorted again, the most she'd ever seen a vampyr so casually laugh. "Very well, I walked into that one."

"Does that sate your curiosity?" She asked, itching to get away from whatever this was.

"Very much so, for now. Thank you for your company."

"I trust I've been an agreeable conversationalist?" She returned his words from earlier.

"A fascinating one, if nothing else." He waved her on. "I won't keep you, you've entertained my questions, and I gave you my word I would stick to conversation only tonight. Much more of your company, and I might not be so willing."

"Rare to find a vampyr that values his word," her thoughts slipped out before she could catch it. Damnit. Desk Bitch had warned her not to piss him off. It wasn't her fault she was so off kilter tonight.

He flashed his teeth, his fangs only partially extended. "Rarer still to find a human who would walk into a den and start making demands. I guess we're both oddities in that regard."

"If you say so," she stood, remembering her manners. "Thank you for the drink," she told him, "it was delicious."

He raised his empty glass to her. "How do you accept payment?"

"Cash," she answered quickly, hoping to escape from the strange vampyr before he changed his mind about keeping his promises.

"No virtual pay?"

"You know what they say," she covered for her lack of a phone or modern banking, "cash is king."

"Fair enough. How much does your normal rate go for?"

"Five hundred," she answered.

"So you make ...a thousand to fifteen hundred a week on average," he counted. He really had been noting her comings and goings. "Only one client a night?"

"I insist on it," she said. "You said it yourself, I'm not suicidal. I only have so much blood."

"Clients who play along with your requirements," he repeated. "Females only."

"Yes," she said.

He leaned forward on the couch, steepling his fingers. "I'll make this simple, then. An offer. If you ever decide to bend your rules and would like to play with me, I'll pay you three thousand for your services."

Her heart stopped. Three thousand for a single night of sex and bleeding. She hardly thought she was worth that much-she'd be working on at least this floor if she was, but with that kind of money...she could take a week and a half off and still have some left over. Money for books or furniture she desperately needed.

They say temptations arise from the devil, but she'd never imagined him to have a stylish wolf cut and wear silk suits. The pay was astronomical... but the cost of getting tangled up with this man might be way higher.

"Please send the payout approval to the feeding desk for tonight," she answered instead. "Your conversation was enough."

He shrugged, but his eyes piqued in interest. "Standing offer. You know where to find me."

"I'll keep it in mind," she lied, "goodnight."

"Goodnight," he watched her retreating form, shamelessly fixating on her ass. "Calliope."

He did not pursue her back across the den floor. She was halfway to the exit before she realised he'd never offered his name.

The girl on the pole was still there, a second vampyr dancing with her, sinking his fangs over the place the first had left. Her movements were slower, consumed by the venom in her body, and a few more crowded around her, rapt in their attention. That was fine by her, it allowed her to slip by mostly unnoticed. Unspecialized, he'd called her. Just as she'd hoped to remain.

The vampyr at the podium spared her a glance this time, his eyebrows raising in surprise. "Leaving so soon?" he asked, noting her jacket still in place and her body free of fresh bite marks.

"My key, please," she held out a hand, not willing to give him more.

Wordlessly, he handed it over, watching her retreating form the whole way down.

Great, she thought to herself, all I've managed to do tonight is make myself seem more interesting to the men on the fourth floor.

She'd take her usual three days off, she decided, walking out to collect her payment at the desk. Rest up a bit further and let things cool down. Give the strange VIP time to find something else to catch his interest. Vampires were always bouncing from one interesting thing to the next, she convinced herself. This would be fleeting.

At least, she hoped it would.

Desk Bitch looked positively sour to see her back so soon, and Calliope counted this as her win for the night.

"My payout?" she held out her hand.

Silent in voice but loud in glare Desk Bitch pulled a stack of cash from a drawer, handed her $500 in twenties as she usually requested, and slapped it in her hand.

"Thank you," she mocked sweetly. "I'll be back for my usual clients in three days. Let them know?"

"Get out of my office," Desk Bitch clipped.

Calliope was happy to do so, waving to Tank on her way out and beginning her short walk home.

Further back from the street The Den occupied was a neighborhood that had once seen better days. Sprawling ancient houses and brick apartment buildings crammed together to meet the needs of an overcrowded populace, with lawns barely a strip of grass if anything at all. Most people had gravel. She walked through the tightly packed cars to her corner of the world, a white monstrosity of a building subdivided twelve times over to maximise the owner's cash flow.

She checked over her shoulder that no one had followed her. The street was empty. All of her cash went directly into the landlord's box out front, her last installment for the month. He didn't ask for proof of identity nor ran any background checks, and for it she paid a hefty rent. It was worth it.

She had a door on the side of the house with a spray-painted 7 marking her unit. There was a rolled-up note taped to her mailbox she grabbed, unfurling to read as she entered the space.

Once this apartment had been some kind of mudroom on a fuller home, and now was a single tiny room with an attached bathroom that hadn't been updated since the sixties. It probably hadn't been maintained in as long, either. She had little furniture: a box spring on the floor and a second-hand mattress on top, a few wooden planks on cinder blocks she used like shelves for her books and clothes, and a plastic rolling drawer set she repurposed like a pantry next to her constantly dying mini fridge. She had no proper kitchen to speak of, but she made due. The lap of luxury, easy to pack up and move on a moment's notice.

Speaking of notices... she flipped on the single lamp for light and read the college-ruled paper in her landlord's writing once, and then again. Her blood began to boil.

"That bastard," she snarled, kicking the side of her pantry drawers. The top popped off a bit, and she threw the note away, furious at the man for raising her rent again, knowing she had little choice but to comply.

She tossed off her jacket in another direction, stomping into her bathroom and slamming the door. She didn't sell drugs like the rest of the occupants here. It was harder to up her income so quickly in her profession without putting her life on the damn line, not that he cared.

It's why she'd moved there. The landlord asked no questions, they paid their dues, and everyone moved about their day, minding their business. Those were the rules.

She needed this to work out, she didn't have anywhere else to go that wasn't worse.

Calliope grabbed the bottle of makeup cleaner off her sink and a clean washcloth then paused, catching her reflection. Most of her money went into clothes, upkeep and makeup for her work. Self-care was her one luxury, and it showed. She was still in the evening's face- mascara and smoky eyeshadow around her light brown eyes, her bangs styled out and the rest of her hair done in long platinum curls past her breasts. The lingerie slip she wore was a deep blue against her flesh, offering no support for her breasts but then she'd never needed it, gifted with a nice form. She was thin from constant dieting, her skin clear from all the care she put into it.

She was still broke, though, and in a bind. All she had tucked beneath her mattress was $74 to last three days, and even if she worked extra this month she'd have to give up something to make up for the rent increase. She hated this. Hated being pinned down and controlled by the greed of men.

It tightened her chest. Damnit, she'd had everything so perfectly balanced at last, months working at The Den finally in her favor. A routine. Predictability. Everything on her terms.

Tonight had shaken that all to the core.

If you ever decide to bend your rules and would like to play with me, the vampyr had said, I'll pay you three thousand for your services.

She'd never had an offer like that. The last time she'd held three thousand dollars at once was the day she'd arrived by bus to this city, it hadn't gotten her far. Included in her regular income, though, one evening a month at that rate might actually let her get ahead instead of scrambling day by day to keep from falling backwards.

No, she looked down at the makeup remover, waiting patiently for her to take off the evening's wear and settle into bed, you have rules for a reason.

Rules you established on one core value, her mind reminded her.

Always on your terms.

Calliope gripped the sides of her sink, at war with herself. She closed her eyes.

Always on my terms.

She wiped away her lipstick, then opened the medicine cabinet to grab her makeup bag. She fixed her foundation and reapplied a deep red over the more subtle tone she'd worn earlier in the evening. A plan was already working in her brain as she left for her bedroom, reaching to the bottom of a stack of newer clothing for a fresh black set she'd spent far too much money on and hadn't had the occasion to wear.

This is a terrible idea, she argued, slipping out of her blue dress and pulling up the dark panties. He'd never go for it.

But if he did, she knew, there was three grand waiting for her at the end of it.

She grabbed a short dress to put on over top, lacing the back in her bathroom mirror. She had plenty of shoes to choose from, and a deep red set with high heels seemed perfect for the occasion. Deadly.

On my terms, she settled on. Always on my terms.

Dressed up for her evening, Calliope grabbed her keys, turned off the light, and headed back for The Den.

Chapter Text

Catching Desk Bitch off guard for once was a welcome way to start her return. Her eyebrows raised so high at her return there was nearly three miles of blue eyeshadow beneath them.

Calliope marched up to the desk, shoulders back, head high, and pushed forward her open palm.

"Fourth floor," she demanded, waiting for the key.

Desk Bitch got over herself quickly to snort with derision. "One quick call and rejection by a VIP doesn't give you the right to the fourth floor forever, girl."

"He's expecting me," she lied, "he's still here, isn't he?"

Desk Bitch eyed her like she couldn't decide if she was getting played. Which she was, but she didn't need to know that.

"He wanted me in something more daring," she motioned to the black corset dress she now wore, leaving nothing to the imagination. "Something just for him. I obliged. I don't want to keep him waiting any further, so key. Fourth floor."

Desk Bitch glared at her. She glared back. Finally a blue tagged key was pressed sharply into her hand.

"Fourth floor," Desk Bitch announced, "don't make an embarrassment out of yourself."

God, she hoped she didn't. She felt the woman's critical eyes on her all the way to the elevator and through the grates until she was out of sight. Only then did she flip her off.

The blue-eyed vampyr was exactly where she'd left him an hour before. Not much had changed, just the company. He was lounging with a girl now under each arm, his drink topped off, his tablet forgotten. The feeders' outfits matched the decor: sheer blue dresses with gold around their wrists and ankles, leaving their necks bare. No blood coated any of them, so he hadn't fed off either yet.

It pleased her that she caught him off guard to the point he didn't look up when she arrived. He hadn't expected her to return that night.

On my terms, she reminded herself, walking in unnoticed until she climbed up on the marble table, rose to her feet and began to walk across it, one heel perfectly in front of the other.

Three sets of eyes snapped up to her, two annoyed and one barely masking his surprise. She got to the edge and held out her hand, as if expecting him to take it and help her. The vampyr, still caught off guard, did just that. Calliope stepped down as he stood, using him like a railing.

"I've thought about your offer," she said, her voice low and husky.

"And?" He raised his eyebrows.

In answer she pressed against him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissed him.

On my terms, she promised herself, always on my terms.

The vampyr tasted like blood and rum, a sickly sweet combination. He didn't react at first, freezing beneath her touch, but when her tongue traced over his lower lip asking for permission he melted into it, granting her access. She ran her tongue over his teeth, gently pricking herself on an elongated fang and letting him get a taste of her.

The reaction was immediate. His entire body shivered, a low, rumbling purr rolling through his chest. He pulled back, his pupils blown out so wide the blue had all but disappeared. He addressed the space around them, but his eyes never left her.

"Everyone else," he spoke in a low, dangerous tone, "get out."

"That's not fair," one of the girls tried to argue, but he turned his head to her and growled, baring his fangs.

"I do not ask twice," he said, and that was enough for the feeder to put the value of her life over the money she'd make with him that night. Both the girls fled in quick time, leaving her alone with him, the curtain drawn closed on their exit.

His hands came to her waist and she grabbed them, setting them on her body herself. The vampyr chuckled, the sound more of a deep click than the human sound from before.

"If you want to play," she said, her nerves emboldened after talking herself through it, "there are rules."

His smile grew on his full lips, slow and delicious. "I do love a game," he said.

"It will be a challenge for you," she raised her eyebrows. "I'm not sure you can handle it."

He fell for the bait, just as she'd hoped. Vampyrs hated to be called weak, and they loved a good challenge to dominate. "Don't be so sure," he clicked his tongue, "I'm a very talented man."

"But are you an obedient one?" She trailed a finger along his jaw, tracing his lower lip with her thumb. He shivered, and she could feel his fangs pull out even more beneath the skin. "You will do everything as I say it," she told him, pushing up his lips to stroke a fang. "Nothing further. I promise my orders to be very rewarding. But if you break our game's rules...there will not be a second one."

"Calliope," her name was a low purr, one she was surprised he remembered, "you name a very interesting game."

"Will you play with me?" She withdrew her hand, instead caressing his neck with the back of her fingertips.

"Yes," he said without hesitation.

"Good boy," she began, not missing the blink of surprise at the term of endearment, one normally reserved for dogs. "Unlace my dress."

This was new for her, but undeniably just as new for him, too. She didn't make a habit of ordering around vampyrkind—as he'd said she was not suicidal—but she'd always found her own ways of taking control of her life, as bleak as things were.

This time she was demanding full control, no less would do.

And so far, he was giving it.

His fingers made quick work of the back of her dress, undoing the corset lacing like he did this every day. He probably did, she realized, guessing the kind of places he frequented.

"Slip it off of me," came her next order. He pulled down the sleeves and followed the cloth with his hand down her body, tracing her curves as if to commit them to memory.

"Did you do all this for me?" He asked, admiring the black lace lingerie set she'd hidden beneath her dress. The cups of her bra were full, an underwire giving her extra shape she barely needed. The panties had two strings on her hips, giving her a daringly lined aesthetic. The lace was sheer, leaving little to his imagination.

"I'll answer that when we're finished," she told him, hopping out of the dress at her feet and stepping back against the table. "I haven't decided if you've earned it yet."

As she lay back on the marble surface, kicking off her shoes and placing one bare foot on the edge, he rose, prowling forward. It really was a shame you couldn't see the blue of his eyes anymore, she thought, they did look pretty on him.

His eyes were hungry. Ravenous. The significant bulge in his pants told her he was craving more than just her blood.

"Remove my underwear," she gave her next order, "and bring me to orgasm with your tongue. Achieve that and you may drink from my inner thigh."

A low purr escaped him, his mouth quirking up into a smile. "You have this all planned out, don't you, little dove?" He asked, kneeling before her. It was a rare and wild sight, seeing a predator on his knees. It gave her a thrill.

"I told you," she whispered, knowing he could still hear, "my orders would have rewards."

The Vampyr trailed two soft kisses up her leg to the line of her panties, his fangs fully extended in excitement. He ripped the lace with his teeth, granting him access and destroying the garment. She stifled a gasp at the sound, then lost control of a moan when his lips wrapped around her clit, drawing it between his front human teeth and rolling it there.

God, she prayed, arching her back the moment he circled her with his tongue, taking his time to get to know her body. His hands held her thighs at bay for the first few seconds, listening to her gasps and whimpers to gauge what she liked, and then he let them go, allowing her to tighten her thighs around his ears.

Her hands found their way into his hair, gripping hard where she didn't worry about hurting him. Vampyrs were sturdy, this she knew. He purred at that, another low clicking rumble rising in gratitude for the treat.

Credit where credit was due, he was good with his mouth. Calliope knew she wasn't going to last long if he kept things up as he was. He took no liberties, allowing her to move his head by the hair. She held the Vampyr just where she needed him and he obeyed, keeping a steady, teasing pace between his tongue and his teeth. The front of his fangs occasionally met her skin enough to remind them both they were there, but he kept them to himself, heeding her order to make her cum with his tongue.

"I'm–" she tried to say close, but it all came too soon. Her body tightened within itself, her hips arching with a cry and he did not let up, sucking her clit and flicking the most sensitive side with his tongue, building her up, and up, and up without letting go, not until she was crying for him, damn near begging him to let her come down.

Then he did, and her orgasm crashed through her like the waves of a storm, her clit pulsing against his lips, her insides tightening over and over again.

She was limp on the table, breathing through the afterglow when a low, pleased chuckle reached her ears.

"Did I earn my reward?" He asked, kissing the pulse just beneath her inner thigh.

"Bite me," she ordered, her voice a soft, breathy thing. "Feed."

She did not have to tell him twice. The Vampyr kissed her again, feeling her blood thrum beneath his lips, and then his mouth opened wide, sinking his fangs into the same spot others had bitten her before.

She jolted from the pain, hissing from it. He sank his teeth in further, drawing a deeper flow into his mouth and swallowing a large gulp before the delicious euphoric rush reached her brain. Vampyr venom was one hell of a high, her favorite part of the job.

The pain was numbed away when he released his fangs, licking the blood and adding it to the mess of her cum on his face. Large drops fell onto his shirt, staining the chest.

"P-put your fingers in me," she tried to order, but the pleasure rolled through her again and turned her words into a whimper. "Please."

"So polite," he murmured against her skin, and then his teeth were in her again, opening her up more at the same instant as two of his fingers slid into her to the last knuckle. He curled them up with experience, feeling around for only a moment until he reached her most sensitive spot.

Calliope moaned for him, riding his fingers while he drank from her, the touch amplified with lingering echoes from his venom. The room quivered with her pleasure and the high, a shimmery afterglow haloing the lights from the waterfall as they shifted tones.

"G-give me your name," she gasped around the rolling pleasure that came from his bite. God, but his venom was potent. She'd never experienced anything quite as strong as it before. It had been no small handful of vampyrs she'd let feed from her, so there must be merit in what they said about males carrying a stronger dosage...

He rose to lean over her, the blue of his eyes gone now. "Damocles," he answered, a mouthful of an ancient name she wasn't even sure how to spell. "You can call me Dae."

"Dae," she moaned, wrapping her legs around his waist, "fuck me until I forget my own name."

That deep sound that caught between a purr and a click rolled through him as he hovered above her, placing his hands on either side of her body. His muscular shoulders were apparent now through his shirt, he'd lost the jacket at some point, and he pressed the head of his cock through his trousers perfectly at her entrance.

"Little dove," he had a hard time forming the words coherently around his fangs and the blood that ran down his chin, "are you sure you want to give me that order?"

She reached forward to grab his shirt, bunching it beneath her fists. "Fuck me," she repeated, pulling him down. He let her, there was no way her own strength could rival his, "and do not be gentle. I am not delicate."

"So you've made clear," he pulled back just enough to undo his belt, discarding it aside without a second glance. The room glowed around her as if it was alive, the high of his venom taking her up, and up, desperate for anything to pull her back. Desperate for his cock to be in her.

She watched him undo his dark dress pants, pushing them down with his underwear beneath his ass in one fluid motion. He came free fully erect, larger than any man she'd been with before, ram-rod straight and dripping precum for her.

He'd not touched himself once during their game, waiting for her permission. "Such a good boy," she breathed, leaning her head back against the marble while he lined up at her entrance. Another purr reached her ears, Dae apparently warming up to the endearment.

Two fingers ran through the blood on her thigh, then pressed against her as if asking permission. She nodded. "Don't take too long," she said, "you have an order to obey."

"I'd like to make sure you're loosened up for me," he slid them in, followed quickly by a third. He fucked her on his fingers for a moment more, nodded to himself in satisfaction and withdrew them from her heat. The absence was terrible, but he replaced it with something far larger, lining up to enter her.

The head pushed in, stretching her in delicious, terrible ways. More, she wanted more, and he was there to give it to her.

She was wet enough for him from her first orgasm and the blood he'd finger-fucked into her, but Dae was not the kind of man to thrust fully inside in one go. No, he was a worse kind of demon, fucking himself in and out inch by inch so that every time she thought he was fully seated within her more was there, his length penetrating her deeper and deeper still.

He finally bottomed out against her hips to her cries, ones she did not bother to keep quiet.

Those black eyes stared at her undone. His hair was a mess, his styled look upset by her own hands. The edges of his bangs curled upwards, the sides sticking out. She'd never seen a Vampyr so unkept for her, and it drove her mad.

"More," she ordered, wiggling against the length fully inside her now, "do not be gentle."

"As you've ordered," he purred, grabbing her hips and leaning over her. Dae fucked her with strength that bordered on pain, slamming into her again and again until she cried his name.

She didn't care who heard. Hell, she wouldn't have cared at that moment if someone watched. She had a male Vampyr wrapped around her finger, giving her everything she so desperately needed.

And God, did it make her ascend.

The lights split behind his head and circled back together, every touch of his hot flesh on her–inside of her magnified tenfold. Pain muddled with pleasure, as her life had been full of for so long, but not like this. Never like this. Fingers could never hope to reach so deep, to stretch her so fully nor slam again and again into the sensitive spot just above her cervix.

She wrapped her legs around him, fisted her hands in his shirt until two of the buttons popped loose, and let him have his way.

This was as much his reward as hers. "Say my name," he growled in her ear, leaning over her more to push her legs into a deeper angle. She cried out when he slammed home again, even deeper than before. "Please, little dove. Say it for me."

"Dae," she whimpered, moving her arms around his shoulders and clawing his back. "Dae!"

His mouth hovered open against her neck, his fangs touching her skin but not penetrating. She hadn't given him the order yet, after all, but she read his request loud and clear.

"Bite me again," she ordered, each word a labor to say, "when you finish inside of me."

The sound that came from his chest was inhuman, a deep, clicking growl that bordered on a purr. Oh, he'd heard her, and the way he sped up told her their final reward was coming soon.

He pulled out from her fully, thrusting back in again but...not as deep. Something obstructed the way, something large and thick preventing him from reaching her cervix again. He kept up his thrusts, the girth of it splitting her entrance but never enough to slide in, and her confusion snapped her sober when she realized what it was.

A knot.

Her heart tried to beat out of her chest. It wasn't until he opened his mouth wide and she saw the second row of smaller fangs protruding from behind the first, already dripping venom, that she knew just whose offer she'd accepted.

Damocles was a full blooded Vampyr.

He sank his teeth into the space between her shoulder and neck, thrusting the growing knot at the base of his cock into her at last. She screamed, unsure if it was from the pain of the bite, or the girth that now filled her, or the terror at the monster she'd let get this close.

Born vampyrs were a class in their own right. Older, deadlier, faster, stronger, and with a penchant for fixations that could last a human lifetime.

Or until they ran the object of their affection into the ground and moved on to the next thing.

He may have listened to all the orders of her game, but she'd been hunted long before he ever approached her. He'd started playing days before asking her name.

And she'd walked right into it.

Both sets of fangs sank deeply into her muscle, a sharp, stabbing agony that made her scream. His thrusts turned into a frenzied, desperate rut, his knot holding her in place, his body a cage above her.

And then, bliss.

Pleasure she'd never even dreamed of flowed into her veins from his second set of fangs, a potent aphrodisiac filled venom mingling with the high from his front fangs. The room went white with it at the same moment his cock began to pulse within her, filling her with pump after pump of his cum.

And it did not stop, not as a human would. The feel of it—the fullness of it all so much more than she'd ever experienced—mixed with the rising high and the fear and whatever other godless things he was doing to her and pushed her into another orgasm. One that took control of her entire body, seizing her muscles and strangling a cry from her throat.

Spots danced in her vision, threatening to blot it out. The orgasm rolled and rolled through her, a never ending chorus as his cum and her blood ran out of her and down her ass, gathering on the table and staining his pants.

She did not care. Could not care. Everything was sensations and pleasure, no pain or problems existed in her world. Only Damocles' knot and teeth inside of her, until she remembered how to breathe and sucked in the cool air of the den, breaking the spell.

She fell limp on the marble, his hand behind her head to catch her. Her hands twitched when she tried to move them, her legs numb and falling off the table. The sound of his sucking came to her again, a weakness from blood loss and whatever his second venom was doing to her leaving her helpless beneath his touch.

She wanted to hate that feeling. Helplessness. She knew she should. But even underneath a predator that was only a few steps from taking her life, if he chose, she felt peace.

Perhaps dying in this high would not be so bad. She'd never have to feel anything else again.

Then Dae was pulling his fangs from her, his pulsing cock slowing its release until it stopped. He hovered above her, his hand moving with care to set her head down. She turned just to the side, still enough that she could look up at him, his pupils receding to show the blue within once more, her blood smeared over his cheeks and down his neck.

"...Good boy," she tried to breathe, unsure if her voice even came out. It must have, because those full, beautiful lips of his broke out into a wide grin.

"There you are," he purred, petting her face, panting as if the exertion had mattered to him. His knot was still full inside of her with no sign of going down. He leaned forward to lick at her wounds, knitting them slowly shut.

She whimpered at the sensation, riding high still from his venom. That too lingered within her, leaving her empty and high. She closed her eyes to breathe and the spots beneath her eyes danced in hundreds of new colors.

She had the vague awareness that she was being picked up, still connected with him. It wasn't until the beating of his heart reached her ears that she realized he cradled her against him, holding her ass and head until he could step back and take a seat on the lounge again.

Her knees spread over the seat, shifting his erection still inside of her. She whimpered at the sensation, helpless to move away even if she wanted to.

Soft kisses peppered her temple, her pulse beating beneath his touch. "You," the Vampyr purred, "are a very interesting little thing, my dove. I enjoyed this game greatly."

She murmured something that didn't sound like words. He interpreted it correctly. "Ten minutes or so," he answered about his knot, petting her back in slow, welcoming circles. She made a soft mewling sound at the feel of it. No one had ever held her after a feeding. Then again, no one had ever knotted her before.

Time passed like an eon in her high. Calliope's world became a shifting view of her eyelids, then his shirt, spotted with her blood, before finding a particularly fascinating golden facet on the couch and beginning it all again. Her strength did not return to her, but her heart still beat in her chest, so that was something.

"You cannot stay here in this state," he said years later, grabbing her hips to pull her from his receding knot. She whimpered again at the emptiness and feeling of fluids leaking out of her—so much cum, his and her own—while he laid her gently on the seat beside him. The blue fabric was wonderful to touch, and she forced her fingers to draw slow lines in the nearest crease. "Tell me your address, I'll see you make it home."

"Mm mm," she denied him, rubbing her cheek on the velvet. Oh, how lovely this was. She could spend the rest of her life feeling this fabric, she had no desire for anything more. Her knee shifted to press into his side and she let out a giggle, smiling at the sensation of her bare skin touching him.

"Little Dove," the vampyr's voice came again, "I need to take you somewhere safe. If you stay here, you'll fall prey to any number of scavengers, and then we will not get to play again."

Couch, her brain commanded, and she buried her nose and cheek into the cloth.

Dae clicked his tongue at her in irritation. His weight left the seat, and the sounds of his pants zipping and the clinking of his belt reached her ear. She happily drew more lines into the velvet, fascinated by the dual tones of fluff this venture achieved.

Eventually she felt his hands under her legs and shoulders, and the couch grew far away. She let out a sound of displeasure, limply flailing in the air. A sigh reached her ears at her grumbling until something new and wonderful fell across her body, a soft fabric she welcomed.

"It's real silk," he said of the suit jacket he'd handed her, successfully distracting her from the void the couch had left in her happy, blissful state. Calliope pulled it to her face, cradling it between her fingers and his chest where he now held her.

"That's it, little dove," he kissed her temple again, letting the silk slide into her existence and hold her attention. "Much softer than the couch."

She let out a happy mmm of confirmation, lost in the cool touch of it. When the taste of clear night air reached her she was too far gone to panic on where her body was being taken, she was so far away from it.

She was clicked into a car, but the jacket did not leave her. Passing streetlights were beautiful, a lowered window giving her a nice breeze to curl against the silk and let her body rest, sleep coming to her with dreams of beauty and bliss.

Chapter Text

Dae sat in his favorite lounge chair, his legs crossed before him, work tablet in hand. He was meant to be going through emails about possible art requisitions—there were tight deadlines to consider, he knew—but how could he be expected to focus on work with something far more entertaining in his bed?

His eyes strayed to the human woman tucked beneath his sheets. It was late morning and she was dead to the world, long blonde hair spilling across his pillows in tangles from their game the evening before.

Calliope. No online presence to speak of—he'd checked, although there wasn't much to go on with only a first name that may very well be fake. He didn't believe she'd lied, though; it was something about the sincerity in her tone when he'd asked, combined with the strangeness of the name overall.

Working girls usually picked tantalizing names they were easy to say— he'd met his hair share of Cherrys, Champagnes, and, once, Venison.

Venison had been fun, but nothing like last night. Dae turned back to his tablet, scrolling through the gallery photos he'd been sent. He was pondering a particularly well crafted statue made of glass and driftwood in the shape of a woman supplicating herself to her God, her knees slightly parted, her hands raised high above her bowed head.

Well, that one warranted a reply. He'd just hit send when Calliope's breathing changed, accompanied by a soft moan that brought back delicious memories of the night before.

"Good morning," he spoke to her without looking up, alerting her to his presence. He texted one of his contacts to expect delays for the rest of the day as something very important would take his full attention. By the time he closed out of his apps and turned to her, Calliope was sitting upright in bed, the sheet held to her naked form in a death grip. Her eyes were on him like a deer staring down a hunter, which he very well might have been to her.

She wasn't wrong.

"Where am I?" She asked with no small amount of alarm in her voice.

"My home. My room, to be specific." He stretched out his aching muscles—he'd barely dared to breathe since he'd sat down, avoiding any sudden movements that would wake her.

"You kidnapped me and brought me to your house?" She accused him, anger overriding her fear.

"Well, it was either that or leave you half drained and high out of your mind at the mercy of anyone who found you there," he repeated his point from the night before, "and you were not forthcoming with your address."

"I don't make a habit of giving out my private information to vampyrs," she spat, "especially not full bloods."

Ah. So she was mad about that. Dae settled back in the chair, a distance away from his large king-sized bed. "You didn't ask," he shrugged.

"I shouldn't have had to," she snipped, clutching the silk sheets tighter. "And why am I naked?"

"Your outfit was less than suitable," he explained, "if you recall, I tore half of it with my teeth, and the rest was soaked in blood. You're welcome for letting you in my sheets before a shower at all, but it was the only way I could pry my jacket from you."

A blush tinted her cheeks, telling him that she did remember that at least. "You tend to favor silk, then?" She eyed his pajama set, cream colored pants in the same material and a black T-shirt. Slippers with little cat faces on the front, a joke gift from his next eldest brother that he wore with pride just to piss him off.

"Something we can now bond over," he quipped, although she didn't see the humor. "There's orange juice on the side table for you, and a few iron tablets. You're welcome to a shower before I order food."

"Food?" She asked as if she didn't hear him.

"I drank my fair share of your blood, and it's breakfast time. It's the least I could do, since I haven't paid you for your services yet. Consider it a tip."

He folded his hands in his lap, keeping his legs crossed in as casual of a position as he could. It was the least intimidating pose he could think to sit in. He'd taken great care in planning where he'd be when she awoke, hoping to smooth over her upset as much as possible.

"Do you make a habit of kidnapping women from the den, or am I something special?" She sent him a scathing look, moving to the edge of the bed and reaching for her glass.

"I've had quite a few new experiences with you," he hummed pleasantly. "Ones I would like to experience again, if you'll allow me the honor."

"I'm not in any position to be fed on," she warned, taking the two iron supplements he'd left in the blister packs. "And won't be for a while."

"Unfortunate, but I'm well aware. I am the one who fed on you." He shook his head. "Have I broken the rules of your game?"

She mulled this over, taking two long pulls of the juice to down the pills. "No," she allowed, "but bringing me to your house pisses me off."

"Your rules stated that I obey every demand," he said slowly, "which I did...including your desire not to give me your personal address. If you can point out another option you'd have preferred I'll keep it in mind for next time."

Calliope pursed her lips, unable to offer him an answer after long moments of thinking it over. "You are safe here," he promised, uncrossing and then recrossing his legs, remembering he'd meant to stay that way. "I have no intention of breaking your rules. I'm serious that I would very much like to play again."

Calliope studied him over the rim of her glass, emptying it and setting it aside. "On my terms?" She questioned him, meaning more than just their game.

"They are very agreeable terms."

Terms, it seemed, she planned to test. "Crawl to me," she ordered.

Damocles blinked in surprise, hesitating for only a moment. Then he stood from his chair as graceful as a cat, the long light of morning haloing him. As quickly as he'd stood he was on his knees, falling to the large persian rug at her command. His hands were next, and with obedience he crawled to her until he came to sit between her legs. His eyes never left hers, watching her expression the whole way.

Her own were wide, almost disbelieving. Shock was an understatement. Dangling blood and sex over him in a moment of passion was one hell of a motivator, but this? This he'd done simply because she'd told him to.

His hand came up to her outer thigh over the sheet, caressing the silk like it was her skin. His pupils were blown wide, some blue left around the rims. Excited, but not hungry.

He left a soft kiss on her knee. No fangs, neither the prominent front set nor the smaller set in back, the ones that packed the unworldly high she'd experienced only a few hours before.

"I've never crawled for anyone," he promised, his lips still brushing her skin. "Does that afford me leniency towards your ire?"

"A bit," she allowed him, putting her bare foot on his chest.

"Hmm," he purred, a soft rumbling reverberating at her touch. "Enough to consider a second offer?"

"Enough to listen to it."

"Stay," he breathed, kissing her leg again. "Let's continue our game, just us. You'll never need to work at The Den again, never worry where your next meal is coming from. You said obedience has its rewards... I'm offering mine."

She swallowed, her heart picking up. "You want me," she said carefully, "to live here? With you?"

"In as much words," he confirmed.

"As a pet."

"My personal pet," he breathed against the sheets, purring at the thought.

"Your personal whore, you mean?"

"No need to be vulgar about it," he looked up at her with those impossibly wide pupils, taking in every detail of her like an addict chasing a high. "We had so much fun last night. Why would you ever want anything else? Why would I?"

Calliope thought his offer over. It was... one hell of a deal. A lavish roof over her head, a cash flow she could barely fathom, a full-blooded Vampyr male at her beck and call. No more nights at The Den.

Until he grew bored of her and moved on to the next thing, leaving her with nothing. Or worse.

Her life may be shit, but...it was hers. What he offered was a fantasy, one with too many strings.

It would be his game then. Not hers.

Dae could tell the moment she made up her mind. He hefted a sigh, laying his head on her knee. "Or, my original offer still stands," he gave her, not bothering to hide his disappointment.

"A shower, you said? And breakfast?"

"Your choice. I'll order anything you desire."

"And after?" She asked, "you'll let me go?"

"What cat doesn't enjoy playing with his food?" He quirked his mouth up in a lopsided smile. "Catch and release is all part of the game."

"Without following me," she added, ignoring his words.

He chuckled. "You are a clever little dove, Calliope." He tilted his head, leaning back on his knees. "Is that what it will take to play again?"

She thought about his cock swelling inside of her, his venom an addictive high on her veins. He swallowed her nerves, a motion he did not miss. "Yes," she accepted, "if that is what you want."

"Desperately," he purred, kissing her knee again.

"A shower, then," she agreed. "Food. I like Chinese, anything with noodles and veggies. Crab rangoons are a must, don't skimp. I'll get cleaned up, eat, and leave right after."

"When can I meet you again?" He asked, desperate for her answer.

"When I don't feel the urge to pull your fangs out with pliers for hiding your status from me," she huffed, too pissed and freshly awake to mind her words.

He chuckled. "I would like to see you try."

"Bathroom?" She asked.

"Third door down the hall, on your left. The green bottles are mine," he said, "my robe is hanging on the back of the door."

Right. There was that little detail as well. "I'll need clothes," she pointed out.

"Your dress ran through the wash. I'll let you borrow a jacket to wear over it, if you promise to return it to me next we meet."

"Deal," she said, pushing his forehead back to stand. She let the sheet fall away, figuring he'd already seen her naked the night before. His eyes were on her instantly, drinking her in.

Insatiable, she shook her head, moving on a few wobbly steps before finding her balance. Men are insatiable, vampyrs worst of all.

If she'd thought his bedroom large, the bathroom was comically so. The room was bigger than her entire apartment.

A walk in shower the size of a closet was set along the middle wall, surrounded on three sides by floor to ceiling glass. It had dark subway tiles that carried around the border of the room at waist height, all the way to a long marble vanity holding two sinks. Even the toilet was outlandish, the seat rising automatically on a sensor when she approached.

So this is the porcelain throne of a man who can throw three thousand dollars away in a night on a feeder. She shook her head again, going about her business. I'm lucky if my toilet doesn't overflow or spit out a rat.

A shelf with perfectly rolled towels sat next to the sink, each annoyingly soft and oversized. She took one with her, putting it across a bar just outside the shower door. The pleasant feeling of the venom was wearing off and her body began to ache, not only from the bite areas that were now bruised but deep inside her as well.

My poor cervix, she bemoaned, looking for the shower knob before discovering an inlaid screen with water and temperature controls. Oh for fuck's sake that's just too much.

Too much it may be, but the water was heaven on her skin when she got it right. She melted from the heat, stepping in and letting the water wash away the events of last night, the temperature doing wonders for her tender spots.

God damn this is heaven.

She stood there for a good few minutes, not even bothering to wash herself off, just basking in the bliss. When she finally soaked her hair and turned to look for shampoo, she had to frown.

The inset shelf had quite a few bottles on it. Two were green, an expensive brand she'd seen in stores, and a quick sniff told her they belonged to Dae. There were others, though, different brands of shampoo, conditioner and body wash. All male.

Does he have roommates? She worried, not quite sure why else he'd have them there. Fuck I hope they aren't home.

Dae was fine enough, she supposed, but she had no desire to meet any other full bloods if she could help it. She'd promised Dae they would play again since he'd behaved thus far and she needed the money, but that was it. One was enough of a problem.

She washed herself off with the vampyr's soaps the best she could, knowing bits of her mascara would still cling to her until she could properly remove it at home. Her hair lost the styled curls in the shower, but that was fine. She just wanted to eat and get out of there as quickly as possible. The towel, she discovered upon exiting, was warm, as if the shelves had a built-in heater, and apparently so did the floor.

Luxury, she tutted, drying herself off and borrowing some mouthwash from the counter, another temptation from the devil.

Give her a cozy nook and a few good books any day. The rest was just excess.

No hairdryer in sight, typical of a male household. She toweled off the best she could. There was only one robe hanging on the back of the door, a dark silk thing that hung past her knees and forced her to wrap the tie twice to fit around her waist.

She'd lost weight since starting at The Den, she knew, but not an alarming amount. Yet. She still ate, took care of herself best she could, but her lifestyle had effects on her health she couldn't ignore forever.

She was halfway back down the hall on her way to Dae's room, her mind lost in the replay of the night before, when she met his roommate.

Violently.

She never saw him coming, one moment she was imagining herself laid bare on a marble table and the next she was aloft, her back slamming into the wall so hard it sent shockwaves through her, her arm in a vice grip above her head.

The air was filled with a low, dangerous clicking sound of displeasure. A male vampyr she'd never seen before leaned into her space, his blue eyes as cold as glaciers and his fangs already half out. "Who the fuck are you?" He snarled, tightening his grip.

She bit back a whimper of pain, her feet kicking uselessly in the air while she struggled to find an answer in her panic-scrambled brain. She didn't have to.

Within a second Dae was beside them, moving impossibly fast to grab the arm holding her high.

"Let go of her," Dae snarled, his fangs fully out, his pupils constricted to tiny pinpricks. The sweet, lackadaisical expression she'd come to know was gone, replaced with a horrifying rage that reminded her just what he was. "Rafael."

When Rafael didn't obey right away Dae's grip tightened far harder than a human's could, enough to snap a human's bones, but on another vampyr it only served to emphasize his point. Rafael bore his fangs back, but finally released her.

She dropped her feet to the floor, rubbing the throbbing place where he'd grabbed her. She shuffled behind Dae, putting distance between her and the new threat. Dark bruises in the shape of his palm were already forming, but nothing felt broken, thank God.

Dae didn't release him, the two in an intense stare-off. It gave her time to look over the vampyr for the first time.

Rafael wore the same face as Dae, but that's where the similarities ended. Dae's wild yet stylish wolfcut looked positively unkept next to Rafael's, shorn style on the sides, kept long and gelled back on top. He had a short beard groomed just longer than five o'clock shadow that really pulled out the sharp jawline they both carried. Next to Dae's pajamas he was dressed for business in a grey suit jacket and a white t-shirt half tucked into dark jeans, a slender silver cross hanging down over his chest. The watch on his wrist, also silver, screamed money, and his shoes were polished to a reflective gloss. A portfolio bag was discarded a little further down the hall, leather and large enough for a laptop. He must have just gotten home.

His eyes were narrowed at her now, the pupils just as constricted as Dae's. Whomever this vampyr was, he was pissed to see her there.

But if they looked so similar...brothers, then. Possibly even twins. Rafael was another full-blooded, a realization that raised alarm bells in her head.

Heedless of the knowledge that he could hear her heart quicken in fear, or that she was still wet and only wearing his brother's robe, Calliope squared back her shoulders and stared him down. It was not in challenge, you never challenged a vampyr, but as if to announce I'm here, and the space I occupy is mine alone.

It was as close to "don't touch me" as she'd ever advertised to one before.

"I let her go," he said through gritted teeth to Dae, "so back off."

Dae listened, stepping back but not away from them, keeping her tucked just behind him. "She's a guest," he said, as if exasperated by how rude he was being, "she was only sleeping over. She'll be leaving soon."

"Then leave."

"No," she said.

Both their heads snapped to her. That low clicking sound came again. "Why?"

"I haven't gotten paid," she said, brushing back a stray bit of hair that had fallen in her eyes.

Rafael looked positively furious. Another set of low clicks. "Paid?"

"For my services last night. With Dae."

"With... Dae." He narrowed his eyes at her use of the nickname.

"Can you pull some from the cash fund?" Dae asked sweetly, ignoring the intense stare down between his brother and the very frail human girl beside him. "I'll transfer it to you from my account."

"How much?"

"Three grand."

His eyes left hers, snapping to Dae's in shock. "Three—what club did you drag her home from?"

"The Den," Dae looked down at his hands, a proud smile playing on his lips. "Third floor."

Rafael's voice raised with each word. "Three grand for a fucking third floor—Christ," he swore, "are you fucking insane?"

"For her services?" He ignored his brother's tone, "I should have offered more."

Calliope actually felt her face heat at the compliment. This did not please Rafael. She was beginning to wonder if anything could.

He sputtered, clicked some more, swore colorfully, then turned on his heel to a nearby room and disappeared inside. Dae looked back at her with an apologetic shrug, as if to say sorry, he's kind of a dick. Rubbing her darkening bruise she wanted to snap that was one hell of an understatement, but wisely kept her mouth shut.

When Rafael returned he held a stack of crisp hundreds, which he began counting thirty of.

"I prefer twenties," she said, mostly out of habit before she could think better.

"You're getting hundreds," he glared.

She crossed her arms, feeling bold as Dae still stood beside her. "I don't like looking like a drug dealer, and they're harder to break at shops."

"Go to a bank."

"You're telling me you don't have any in there?" She raised an eyebrow.

He ignored her, pulling a collection of bills from the rest and holding it out. Calliope made a show of taking them and counting each one with care, nodding once she reached thirty. Dae snorted beside her, an amused sound.

Rafael, however, was far from it. "Get out," he said, motioning to the stairs.

"In a robe?"

"You wear less for work."

"It's daytime," she argued, "and I was promised food."

"She was," Dae piped up. "Chinese, noodles with veggies and an extra order of crab rangoons. It just got delivered."

"She can take it with her," Raff decided.

"It's better fresh." She didn't know why anymore she was arguing to stay in a house she had earlier been so desperate to leave. Maybe it was because Rafael had bruised her arm and pissed her off. Or maybe it was the quiet thrill of having Dae stand up for her. That was another new experience for the books. She'd had enough to last a lifetime in the past twelve hours.

Rafael threw his hands in the air, a low clicking coming from his chest. "Then fucking eat and leave, I don't care. Just get her out of here in the next ten minutes," he snapped at his brother, before turning on his heel and stalking away. He grabbed up his bag, reached a door at the end of the hall and slammed it, shaking the house.

Dae glared after him before sighing. "My apologies," he said, putting a hand on her back. "You can dress and eat in my room, and I'll walk you out."

"Thank you," she sniffed, getting whiplash from how night and day the brothers were. She hoped he couldn't hear the speed her heart was racing from the encounter, nor smell her fear and frustration, but knew better. He at least had the grace not to point it out.

Dae had set up the takeout boxes on a table beside the chair he'd occupied earlier, along with a cold bottle of water. It smelled heavenly.

"Your brother is..." she started, then when she couldn't find anything nice to say plopped herself down in the seat and picked up her chopsticks. Dae pulled a chair from across the room to sit a respectful distance from her, picking up his tablet only to ignore it.

"He's a real charmer," he said flatly.

"Twins?" She guessed.

"Something of the sort, although I'm nothing like him."

"Clearly," she gave up conversation to dig into her meal, her stomach empty from the night before. Wherever he'd ordered this from, they knew their shit.

His hand hovered over the food. "Will you bite me if I take a crab rangoon?"

"Would you like me to?" She asked absently.

Dae shivered, a little purr escaping him. That's a yes, then.

He took the crab rangoon. She did not bite him, but made sure the rest were on her plate before he could steal another.

After food she dressed quickly, Dae helping her lace up the back he'd undone the night before. He disappeared into a walk-in closet and returned with a black suit jacket, laying it over her shoulders. Silk, no surprise there.

"I've called you a cab," he said, "I figured you wouldn't prefer I knew your address for a ride share."

"On that, you're right," she said, surprised again at how far he was going to appease her. She could get addicted to having a man obey her every command. If only more were willing than a single full blooded vampyr.

Rafael didn't leave his room as she was walked out, giving her time to stare at the certifiable mansion she'd slept in. The building was two stories full of tall rooms with lavish decor, professionally hung art with unimaginable price tags, and so many high end furniture pieces her head spun. They exited out a side door through a dining room and onto a small porch, a walk path leading to a waiting cab on the street.

"Until next time," Dae purred in her ear, "little dove."

She studied the vampyr and decided to reward his eagerness to her whims. Without asking she stood on her toes, planting a soft, delicate kiss on his lip, then nipping it between her teeth.

"For the crab rangoon," she said. "Until next time."

She left him purring on the porch, walking the short distance to enter the cab. The driver nodded to her, probably used to picking up evening girls from houses like these.

"Where to?" He asked, and she gave him a corner a few blocks from her apartment. One could never be too careful.

The cab pulled away from the curb, a large, expensive neighborhood in the hills passing by her window. She laid the back of her head against the seat and closed her eyes to the cab's roof, exhausted and overwhelmed.

What the fuck did I get myself into? 

Chapter Text

The person who said money can't buy happiness was a moron, because having her rent secured for the next month on the first day of it and a week off from work was as damn near close to happiness as Calliope had felt in years.

The first thing she'd done was tuck away the cash for rent. She wasn't about to hand it over to Groucho, actual name, so soon and have that rat bastard claim she'd never turned it in. She had a lock box she stashed under a fucked up floor board beneath her shelves, as safe as anywhere for someone who didn't have a bank account. The rest she'd put to use.

Food was obvious; she was running painfully low. She kept her mini fridge stocked with sandwich items and protein shakes, and the rest she bought from local places when she craved cooked meals. A quick trip to a local mini-mart took care of that. The local library had a pantry where she got toilet paper and a few other household essentials, so she hadn't bothered with those.

When you worked a job like hers, a lot of extra spending money went into upkeep. She stocked up on her hair care products, shaving supplies, and makeup. There was a Vietnamese place down the road where she often did her nails, it was a front for some kind of money laundering scheme, she was sure of it-complete with a back room that shady characters often came in and out of-but it was affordable and the women did a damn good work. A shop next door that definitely wasn't owned by the same people often trimmed her hair, and she splurged on a deep conditioning treatment. It beat the hell out of using coconut oil in her bathtub any day.

By day two after her night with Dae she felt great. So great, in fact, that she took a few extra days off. She couldn't stay away from The Den forever, but the more time she had to recover between feeding sessions, the better. She even budgeted in some new outfits to wear, keeping in mind what her regular clients liked.

One piece of lingerie in particular had caught her eye. It was the same brilliant blue of Dae's eyes, and they had a piece in her size. Calliope had stood in front of the mannequin modeling it for a long time, feeling the silken texture between her fingers.

Dae had said he'd wanted to play again. He'd gone to extra lengths to ensure they would. Buying something with him in mind, though, almost felt like letting him win. Like he'd secured a place on her regular list of clients after only one night.

Fuck, with how much he paid, and how much she didn't want to admit she'd enjoyed herself...maybe he could. In time. If he kept playing by the rules.

She'd bought it, trying not to balk at the price.

You get what you paid for, she reminded herself, handing over a full hundred knowing there'd be pennies for change. And I look damn good in blue.

The rest of her time was spent in blissful quiet. She had no friends to speak of in this city, or anywhere else for that matter, so she'd done what she always did in her free time-read. Libraries are free, after all. A few fantasy books, but mostly she stuck to nonfiction. Memoirs in particular were her favorite.

She was on day seven of her vacation, lounging on her mattress halfway through one such book when her happiness came crashing down.

As did her front door.

A particularly loud-fisted knock did the trick. The wood around the metal door was half rotted, and two pounds from an inhuman fist made splinters of it. She hadn't even thought to stand up before Rafael was pushing his way in, his eyes scanning the room until they found her.

"You seriously live like this?" Were the first five words out of the vampyr's mouth. He was in a T-shirt and jeans today, no jacket, but he'd still put on dress shoes.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" She sat up, book all but forgotten. "How the fuck did you find me?"

He moved inside, not bothering to close the door, until she could see he had a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. "I got your address from Felicia."

"Who the fuck is Felicia?" She gaped at him, suddenly glad she'd put on a T-shirt and running shorts instead of lounging around nude like usual.

He gave her an are you stupid look. "My employee at the feeder desk? You've known her for months. You had to fill out an address when you started working there."

Calliope stared, a cocktail of fear and rage making it hard to process everything at once. "You mean Desk Bitch?" Her muddied brain finally churned out.

His disdainful look at her only intensified. "You seriously call her Desk Bitch?"

He pulled the duffel bag from his shoulder and unzipped it. It was empty inside. "How did you get my information from her?" Her face turned red with anger. Oh, if that crusty old bitch had handed her info out to a client...

"I asked," he said, looking around the room and spotting her bathroom door. "You haven't been there all week."

"She can't just give you that!" She fisted her hands. She knew she should be terrified of the full blooded vampyr in her home, but that hadn't hit yet. He just got under her skin so easily.

"Why not? I own the place."

Calliope's brain whited out. Rafael owned the Den? Certainly he had the money, but what the actual fuck was the owner of The Den doing in her place?

He turned for her bathroom, seeming to dismiss her. She bristled in indignation.

"What are you doing?" She demanded, standing from her bed.

"Bringing you back," he snapped, stepping into the dismal little green bathroom and damn near knocking his knees into the corner of her sink, it was so small. He began opening drawers and throwing everything he could find into the bag, all her makeup, essentials, even her toothbrush.

"Like hell I'm going anywhere with you," she marched to the bathroom and closed the empty drawer on him, struggling where the warped wood stuck. "Get out of my house."

"You call this a house?" He sneered. "The cockroaches are as big as dogs."

"They pay their rent," she snipped back, "as do I. So yes, I do call this my house, and you're not invited."

"That little trick doesn't actually work on us," he ignored her, grabbing her shampoo bottles and tossing them in. "I can come and go wherever I please."

"Not here you can't," she was forced to move as he squeezed past her, heading for the pile of clothes she kept neatly folded on a wooden slab that would have been a shelf if it weren't lying on the floor. He picked up a set of lingerie between two fingers and sneered at it, tossing it aside and packing a different set. "Are you even listening?" She challenged.

"I don't listen to gnats.'

She began looking around her room for anything that could constitute a weapon. Maybe if she threw the mini fridge at him. "Don't even think about it," he pointed behind him at her. "I'm not in the fucking mood."

"Oh really? Because from what I've met of you, insufferable douchebag seems to be your default!" She walked over and grabbed the duffel bag, making to tear it away from him. It was a useless gesture, but it got his attention. "Why the fuck would I ever agree to go back to the house you kicked me out of after you've broken into mine and are apparently stealing all my shit?"

"You think I care about your feelings?" Rafael snarled, baring his fangs. She couldn't help the step back she took on instinct, only to scowl back at him. "I'm not here for you because I want to be, I'm here because of Dae."

Panic that the vampyr may be going back on their game rose within her, then quickly disappeared as she heard something in Rafael's voice. Concern.

"What about him?" She asked, now a little more than worried.

Rafael went back to shoving her clothes in the bag. "He hasn't fed in a week," he snapped, "locked himself away in his study. He gets these manic fucking episodes and it's nearly impossible to snap him out of it. Fucking artists," he swore, "and he's in the middle of one. Won't open the door for me, but I can take one guess as to who got him all fucking worked up, so he better damn well open it for you."

Oh no. Oh, no no no. No.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she stood her ground, crossing her arms over her chest.

Rafael finished tossing in the last of her clothes before slowly, very slowly, turning his head to look at her. "Oh yes you are," he rose to his feet, a horrible, graceful motion. His pupils were constricted to pinpricks, making them seem very icy and blue. "You don't have a choice."

She opened her mouth to argue more but then his hand was around her wrist, dragging her with the force of a fucking train out her front door, down her shitty concrete stoop and towards the street. A car far too nice for the neighborhood was waiting there, idling. No one was stupid enough around here to steal from a vampyr.

He threw open the back door despite her protests and tried to toss her in. In a brief stroke of genius she threw her bare feet out, catching the sides of the door and pushing back with all her might. A low growl of frustration escaped his throat.

"I am not being kidnapped by you!" she shouted, knowing the neighbors would pretend they couldn't hear.

"You don't have a choice in the matter. Dae needs-"

"Oh fuck off," she snarled, looking over her shoulder at him. "You want me to come get your brother out of his office? Fine. But I'm not going against my fucking will."

"Then get in the God damned car!" He shouted at her.

"Not until I get a fucking apology!"

That seemed to fizzle something out in his brain, and he let her go. She landed painfully on her ass along the curb, the wind knocking out of her.

"What?" He asked, the word a deep rumble permeated by clicks that were getting closer and closer together the more she pissed him off.

Calliope stood, turning to him and tilting her chin upwards.

"If you expect me to play along with this," she continued, stronger, "then there's an apology that is owed to me. From you."

Rafael looked at her as if she'd grown a second head. Perhaps she had, or maybe a pair of balls for standing up to the man. "I'm not asking you to crawl to me," she continued, "to get on your knees and beg forgiveness, but I am telling you that I won't work with you unless I get what I'm owed, and if you think me incapable and try to take it from me, you're going to have hell to pay when you explain to Dae that you broke the rules of our game and he pays the consequences."

Rafael let loose a single, solitary click of displeasure. "You wouldn't," he called her out.

"Oh yes I fucking would," she snapped back, "my one rule is that he follows my instructions and that I maintain control. If you take that from me, I have no reason to believe him capable of protecting that promise any further, and Dae doesn't seem the forgiving type." She crossed her arms, as much out of fear as defiance. "Luckily for you, I am. With proper motivation."

"An apology," he flat-toned. His chest let out another click.

"That I'm owed."

"You are an insufferable, annoying little thing to crawl into my life and make demands of me," he sneered.

"I didn't crawl, I was carried. By Dae," she reminded him, "who is now apparently locked up in his study, not replying to emails, doing God-knows-what up there that's concerning enough for you to come to me and demand my action to help. You want help? Earn it. Apologize."

Another click. His scowl deepened as he mulled over his options and stared daggers into her eyes. She stood there like an impassive statue, waiting.

"I'm sorry," he said at last.

"For?"

"Harming you," he guessed, gritting his teeth.

"For harming me without my permission."

"Yes," he gave her, as if it was an effort.

"Twice now."

"Twice." The clicking returned.

Calliope mulled this over, then nodded. "Good enough. I accept. Thank you."

"Now will you get in the car?" He demanded.

"I will," she said, side-stepping the open back door to reach for the passenger's side, "but I'm not sitting in the back like a child."

Raphael swore colorfully under his breath, the words indiscernible around the irritated clicking that permeated them.

This is a terrible idea, she knew, fastening her seatbelt. Rafael slammed the back door and walked to the driver's side, not bothering to put on his. But what choice do I really have?

A low thrill at pressuring the vampyr into that apology settled in her blood, and she hoped however his senses would pick it up that he would, and he'd know that she'd won this little encounter. From the way he drove just a little too fast and took his turns just a little too hard, he must have.

She turned her attention out the window, watching the neighborhoods change. What exactly am I walking into?

Rafael pulled them up to the very same side door she'd left from a week before, ensuring no one would see her sneaking back into the manor.

"You're really rolling out the red carpet here," she muttered, getting out of the car himself.

He unlocked the entrance and held it open, glaring at her. "Get changed," he ordered, "you look like a bum."

"Better than a jackoff wannabe businessman," she snipped, doubting he'd hurt her again while Dae needed her.

I'll probably pay for that one later, she knew. But it felt good in the moment to have the upper hand.

"Bathroom," he pointed, shoving the duffel bag against her chest a little harder than necessary. "Be quick."

"Beauty takes time," she breezed past him, walking for the door he'd pointed out. "And he's already been in there a week. He can wait ten more minutes."

The clicking returned, quicker than before, and she figured it best to shut up and listen for once.

Within about fifteen minutes she'd fixed her hair the best she could, stripped off her cozy t-shirt, and pulled out the new outfit she'd bought with Dae in mind. Guess this will see use after all, she thought, thankful as she slipped it on that she'd shaven the night before.

Rafael was waiting across the hall for her when she stepped out, leaving the bag behind. His arms were crossed while he angrily scrolled on his phone, killing time.

"Worth the wait?" she couldn't help but ask, doing a mocking circle in place like she was on a runway.

Raphael looked her over with impassive eyes. "Good enough," he gave her, reaching for her arm again before dropping it with a show of effort. "This way," he growled through his teeth, his fangs extended.

Prick, she swore at him internally.

He led them back to the large stairwell and up to the second floor, then over to a door about midway down the hall towards Dae's room. It wasn't any different from the others, no markers or notation it was an office, but Rafael stopped there and glared hard enough she figured it was their stop.

God he better open the door, she thought, stepping up. I do not want to be locked in an empty hallways with a pissed off vampyr any longer than I need to be.

She placed an open palm on the wood, steadying herself with a breath. "Dae," she called out, knowing he could hear, "do you want to play again?"

At first, there was silence. Then a familiar voice, softened by the wooden barrier, reached her ears. "Little Dove?"

"Yes," she promised, running a finger down the door. "You said you'd want to play again. I'm here to continue our game."

More silence, and then the sound of a heavy lock undoing itself. Taking a breath to steady her nerves, Calliope looked up to greet the face of Damocles as he opened the door to her.

Chapter Text

Before Calliope could move, two strong arms pulled her close, the scent of oil paint overwhelming her.

Dae burrowed his face into her hair, pressing his lips to her skin and inhaling deeply. "Calliope," he breathed, a low, pleased purr rumbling through his chest.

She fisted her hands into his shirt where they were pinned between them. "Hello Dae," she said, swallowing her alarm at suddenly being in his arms. The purring turned up in response to his name, like a cat. "Did you miss me?"

"Every day," he spoke against her skin, his eyes snapping up to lock onto Rafael's. His body went rigid, his arms tightening around Calliope as his purr turned into one single, solitary click.

Rafael put his hands up, remaining against the far wall. "She's all yours," he said, his voice having an edge in it.

Calliope kissed the soft spot under his chin, tilting her head to do so. "Don't worry about him," she cooed, her heart quickening. "He's just my ride. Did you still want to play?"

"Very," his voice came out as a growl, his eyes still turned on his brother.

"Then none of that," she ran her hands through his hair, tugging it the way he liked. A low rumble of pleasure replaced the clicking. "Stop giving that asshole the time of day, show me your office?"

Hearing the order in her voice he pulled back at last, returning his full attention to her. His hair was mussed even before she'd pulled on it, sticking up at odd angles. His cheek had a smear of dried blue paint that matched his eyes.

Matched the outfit she now wore, which his eyes roamed over hungrily.

"Yes ma'am," he smiled, pulling her inside, the perfect image of a gentleman. Rafael held his position against the wall for a few long moments before loosing a breath and slipping in after them.

Only one click, he thanked God quietly, maybe there's something to this third floor feeder after all.

Calliope surveyed the space, her lips parting with surprise. Office wasn't really the right word to describe it. It was more like someone had mashed together a living room and an art studio, then crammed a desk into the corner as an afterthought.

The desk was a beautiful dark wood that matched the floors, the kind lawyers or politicians had. It was covered in notebooks, loose papers, the tablet she'd seen him use the other day—plugged in to charge, and a laptop with band stickers on the cover. An assortment of empty coffee mugs and various tiny ceramic statues covered the part that touched the wall.

It was an organized kind of chaos, the sort employed by madmen or great minds with little room between. She didn't know Dae well enough to guess which he was. A large safe was inset into the wall beside it, currently shut. The only rug in the room was beneath his office chair, the rest bare hardwood.

It wasn't hard to see why.

Her eyes skimmed past the two couches in the middle of the space to look at the far side of the room. "Dae," she managed, words failing her for a moment, "are these...yours?"

The walls were lined with huge wooden easels, each occupied by an equally large canvas. A small table on wheels stood next to them, covered in crumpled tubes of paint, bottles of solvent and oil, and some well loved brushes. Some of the paintings had general figures across them, most of them feminine, none of them specific.

And then there was the largest one.

"I've been lonely," he mumbled, brushing the hair from her neck to kiss her there again. "Stuck in my head."

Her mind flashed back to Rafael's words about him being in some sort of manic episode, and then her own warnings she'd grown up with about born vampyrs and their susceptibility to obsession. The middle canvas in particular was a big red sign.

The style of painting wasn't so refined as to be realistic, and years of not using any art knowledge known in school barely pushed forward a word. Impressionist. The central figure was composed of large, energetic brush strokes, painted in deep blues, faded tan tones, and long swaths of deep red.

She recognized the model immediately. She saw her in the mirror every day.

Calliope swallowed, taking in the image of her prone on a marble table—the underwear she'd worn torn apart, her hair askew, long rivulets of blood running from her thigh and neck. Then there was the look of ecstasy on her face.

"Is that...me?" She asked, knowing the answer.

A hand brushed her skin, tracing the daring line of her underwear up high over her hip. "What I remember," he answered, "from our first game."

She bit her lip, unable to take her eyes away. "I didn't know you painted," she said.

"I told you, Little Dove," his hand came to settle on the small of her back, his face leaning around into her line of sight. "I have an eye for beautiful things."

"And," Rafael griped, settling into the office chair by the desk, "a knack for getting paint all over the floor."

"It'll come out," Dae huffed, then paused, tilting his head. "...maybe."

Rafael shrugged. "You know the rules, you deal with the consequences."

"You're still here?" Calliope glared at the older brother. "I'm adding voyeur right next to your title of kidnapper." Dae hadn't stopped touching her since she'd walked in the room, afterall. And he wasn't exactly being PG about it.

Rafael clicked his tongue at her in annoyance. "I'm not interested in you. I'm here to make sure Dae is... okay."

"Oh, I'm more than okay," Dae said absently, nipping at the skin along her throat without truly biting. His hands roamed over her exposed stomach, leaving little smears of paint behind. Blue, like the image of her.

"Hear that?" She asked in a sing-song voice, "he's fine."

"Yeah, you don't know him like I do," Rafael growled out. "Paint on the floor is bad enough. I don't need a dead body added to broken house rules."

Dead body. Suddenly the touches Dae had been brushing along her felt less innocent and more like a shark circling its prey, testing where best to attack. How often do full bloods need to go without feeding? She didn't know. One of her regulars, a turned, had said for her going more than a week felt like skipping a whole day of meals, uncomfortable enough she didn't like to go beyond it.

Did that rule apply to the born? Calliope hadn't grown up in a city with a dense vampyr population; she'd inherited that problem when she moved here. So her knowledge on the intricacies was limited at best.

Well, no matter what, she wasn't planning on dying today.

"Oh, I think I've got things handled," she said with more confidence than she felt, reaching up to grasp Dae's chin between her fingers. "Dae here is a good boy, isn't he?"

"Anything for you," he purred, his pupils swallowing all of the blue in his eyes.

"See?" She said, looking back at Rafael. "We're good."

Rafael crossed his arms over his T-shirt, the little cross he wore slipping beneath his collar. "I'm not leaving you two alone," he said with finality.

Irritation irked her. "So you want a show, then?" She laughed, a bitter sound. "Fine, you can watch. But keep your ass in that chair and don't move. Make a single step towards me and you'll regret it."

He remembered her earlier threat of ending her agreement with Dae and narrowed his eyes, clicking at her.

"Turn away," she made a little circle with her fingers. Rafael's eyes stared at her with open hatred until he caught the look Dae gave him from behind her, a single click radiating out of his chest.

Final warning.

With a huff Rafael rotated his body away from them, as if trying to convince her he couldn't care less.

Calliope sighed, turning her attention back to Dae.

"Is he always like this?" She asked, standing on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his neck.

Dae chuckled into her ear. "Pretty much, don't mind him. Not like it would be the first time he's watched me take a woman," he added, licking down her neck. "We've even shared before."

"I'm only here for you, Dae," she promised, hearing him purr again. "Do you want to earn a kiss?" She asked, smiling all sweetly.

"Desperately."

"Then carry me to the couch," she ordered, pressing against him further, "and take a seat on the opposite one. You remember that my orders have rewards, don't you?" She could feel his heart pick up at that.

"Of course," he said, grabbing her by the hips and pulling her up to wrap her legs around him. His hands held up her ass the entire time he carried her, feeling the exposed skin in his palms. The hardness pressing against her spoke volumes to how much he'd missed her.

Wanted her.

Fixated on her.

He set her down with a gentleness she didn't expect a vampyr to have. Before he stepped away she took his face in her hands, pulling him down for a rough, motivating kiss. His lips parted for her, letting her trace her tongue over his first set of fangs and explore deeper. He kept his hands to himself, only pulling back when she tugged on his hair.

Memories of their first night came back to her, of the pleasure. The feeling of his body pressing down on her, the unforgettable things he'd done with that tongue.

"How long has it been since you've fed?" She demanded of him.

Dae's eyes were dark, the blackness of his pupils all encompassing. "Not since you," he replied, his voice gruff.

"How often do you need to feed?" She asked.

"Every three days," he ran his tongue over his fangs, fully extended. "Four, if I'm distracted."

It's been a week, she knew, more than twice that.

Calliope kissed him again, biding time while she thought. Rafael was a prick— the understatement of the century, honestly— but he wasn't wrong about the possibility of her ending up a corpse. She'd seen what happened when a vampyr fed too much... when they didn't stop.

The basement of The Den was the final stop for many feeders on the second floor, and her time in the shelters had seen her more.

"Dae," she pulled away, keeping his face in her hands. He had a slightly intoxicated look about him, and a small pout that she had stopped the kiss. "I'm going to let you feed off of me, but you need to earn it first."

A sound not unlike a whine escaped him. "Calliope–" he started, but she put a finger over his lips.

"Go sit on your couch," she said, "and follow me every instruction. Prove to me you can follow the rules when you're this starved, and I'll let you feed from me anywhere you want."

A low shiver ran over his entire body. "Anywhere?"

"Anywhere," she promised, "couch, don't make me say it again."

Dae chuckled, taking three reluctant steps backwards. When his knees hit the deep green cushions he dropped into them, spreading out like he had at The Den.

Always so comfortable anywhere he goes, she noted, moving to cross her legs and brush back her hair. His eyes tracked the movement. Behind him at the desk Rafael had his elbow propped up, a scowl on his face while he looked anywhere but at them. Might as well have a little fun.

She looked over the vampyr directly before her, noting his outfit for the first time. Dae was in athletic shorts and an oversized T-shirt, both cotton. She raised her eyebrows at him. "No silk today?"

He chuckled, remembering her fondness of it while high on his venom. One hand casually motioned to himself. "I don't like getting paint on it," he said, the various smears of color in multiple layers speaking for themselves.

"So messy," she clucked, "I'm not a fan. Take it off."

With a grin he obeyed, stripping first out of his shirt with one hand and throwing it away, letting it land in a far pile of equally stained clothing. His shorts came next, his full erection on display, but he kicked them to the side.

She looked him over again. Dae had a surprising amount of scars on him, his body lean and muscular. He clearly worked out, and seemed like he'd survived more than one fight in his lifetime. Just how old is he? She wondered, then dismissed the question just as quickly. You know what? I don't wanna know.

She ran a hand over her breasts and down her stomach, letting him enjoy the motion. "Do you like my outfit?" She asked, eliciting another purr.

"Very." Came his response.

"I picked it out just for you," she told him, hoping to endear the half starved vampyr to her like a kidnapping victim does their captor. "It reminded me of your eye color."

Those very same eyes narrowed in approval. "It looks good on you."

"Real silk," she continued, dancing her fingers lower, to the top of her panties. "It wasn't cheap, you know. So you're not allowed to rip it this time."

He clicked his tongue. A quirk, she was learning, that must run in the family. "I can buy you another," he bargained., "Anything you want."

"Money can't solve all your problems," she smiled, letting her fingers slip into the band. "But it can buy me."

"Yeah?" he asked, watching that hand with intensity.

"Absolutely," she circled her clit, gasping for him. His muscles twitched, like he wanted to move to her, but she held up her other fingers. "Not yet," she ordered, "stay right where you are."

Another whine escaped him, louder this time. She saw Rafael's eyes turn while his head did not, frowning at them both. She was in full view of him, but she didn't care. "I want to renegotiate our arrangement," she said, biting her lip for Dae.

"Yeah?" He asked again, reaching down to touch his aching cock.

"Not yet," she ordered sharply, "hands on the back of the couch. Control, remember? Every order has a reward."

He huffed in annoyance, but obeyed. God I'm never going to get tired of that, she realized, letting her fingers play with her clit more. The control.

"Good boy," she praised him, earning an eye roll from Rafael that she ignored. "Focus on me again, your offer. The second one, the morning I woke up here. Do you remember it?"

"Yeah," he said, licking his lips,. "tTo stay."

"I think I could be persuaded," she smiled at him, letting some of her hair fall into her face. His eyes were still trained on her panties while she worked to warm herself up. "If the terms are agreeable."

He whimpered again when she slipped her fingers down more, pressing two of them into herself. Her knuckles brushed the blue silk of the fabric, so cool to the touchrich despite the heat she found there. A small moan escaped her, enough to reach his heightened hearing.

"Anything," he promised her, breathless. "God, anything."

Rafael's eyes were on his brother now, his eyebrows creasing in surprise. Good, she thought, just where I need Dae to be. Pliable. Wanting. Obedient.

Calliope was not going to die today. Nor was she going to walk away from this without coming out on top.

In more ways than one.

"I stay," she pulled her fingers out of herself, back to working on her clit. Having his eyes so intensely on her was...intoxicating. She could work with this. "You pay me the same rate we agreed for the first time each round, cash only, twenties preferred," that was a jab at Rafael she shouldn't resist, "and in exchange you don't get to lock yourself up for a week on end again. Feeding every three days, sex whenever you ask and I allow it, and you cover room, board, and food. So," she said, pulling her fingers out fully, letting him see how wet she was for him. "Do we have a deal?"

"Anything," he repeated, watching her trace those fingers in the air.

"Say yes, Dae," she pushed, waiting.

"Yes."

She smiled. "Good boy." Then she stood, walking the distance to him, her heels clicking on the floor. He watched her progression with ravenous eyes. She came to stand before him, her legs between his, and put her fingers to his lips.

"Clean me off," she ordered, "no biting. It's time for your first reward."

Dae maintained eye contact as he pulled her fingers past his lips, his tongue wrapping around her in the same ways it had serviced her a week before. True to her order he kept his fangs to himself, pulling back and kissing her hand.

"Last time," she started, reaching down to undo the bra clasp between her breasts, "you pinned me to a table, do you remember?"

He chuckled, a smile quirking up the corners of his mouth. "Vividly."

"Are you stuck on one word answers for me?" She teased, letting the bra slip over her shoulders and down to the floor. His eyes were on her, drinking in her large breasts with desire written in his every feature.

"This time," she continued, bending over to step out of her panties with a practiced wiggle of her hips, "I'm going to ride you. Do you want your rules?"

He nodded, down to zero word answers now. She noted the way he gripped the back of the couch, forcing his hands to stay in place.

"You keep your hands just where they are," she pushed his knees together, straddling him with her thighs around his, "you bite me when I say you can, you drink until I tell you to stop," she pressed her clit to the head of his dick, sending a small jolt of pleasure through her, pulling another low moan from him, "and when I tell you to stop, you stop, understood?"

"Yes," he breathed, his eyes on hers.

"Yes what?"

"Yes ma'am."

She leaned forward and kissed him, earning another deep purr. "Good boy," she whispered into his lips, then grabbed the base of his length and guided him to her entrance, sliding down him with ease.

Dae moaned when she bottomed out, putting her hands on the back of the couch on either side of his head. She pressed their bare chests together, tightening her muscles around him. He made a startled sound, his eyes looking at her quizzically.

Calliope smiled. "You did me so right last time," she explained, releasing her clenched muscles only to pull herself off until just the head remained in her, "this time, I return the favor. I'm good at what I do, Damocles. Let me do all the work for you."

Another purr vibrated his chest, his lower lip getting sucked beneath his teeth. His forward fangs glistened. "Please," he begged, barely a whimper.

"So polite," she repeated his words from their first time together, right before slamming her hips down and tightening around him at the same time.

Dae's head went back, his hands shaking with how tight he gripped the couch. "Fuck," he swore when she rolled her hips, grinding him against her cervix. She could tell from how hard he was that this wasn't going to be a long session, but that was just fine by her. It wasn't going to stop her from torturing him a little bit.

She kept moving against him, rising up and down his length and alternating times she tightened her core muscles, leaving him guessing. The vampyr was a mess beneath her, his lips parted in pleasure, desperate to touch her.

Only when she settled her hips down and felt his knot begin to swell did she give him permission to do so.

"So good for me," she purred, tightening around him until he swore again. "Do you want toyou touch me?"

"Yes," he whimpered, his eyes pleading with her for more contact.

She grabbed his hair, pulling his head back with a sharp yank until she was lording over him. "Beg," she demanded, catching Rafael's eyes wandering back over.

He'd never turned his body towards them, never made any indication from his face that he was anything but bored. But he watched her from the corner of his eyes, paying attention to everything she did with rapt curiosity.

Enjoying the free show? She wanted to ask, but two could play this game of feigned disinterest.

"Please," Dae whimpered, his voice tight from the angle she held his throat back in. "Please...ma'am," he remembered.

Calliope kissed his neck, letting her teeth graze his skin. His entire body shuddered, a small gasp escaping him. "You can touch me," she purred, and no sooner had the words left her lips did his hands move, coming around to grab her ass while he pulled her up for a kiss. She returned it, closing her eyes and riding him up and down.

"Bite me," she ordered, pulling away, "anywhere you want, but don't use your back fangs this time. I want to remain lucid."

"My knot will hurt without it," he warned her.

"I don't mind pain," she looked directly at Raphael as she said it, her next words for him. "So long as I'm giving permission."

Dae purred in her ear, another shiver of pleasure racing down his form. His hands came down to play with her clit at that, and she welcomed the sensation. It was so pleasantly distracting for what was to come.

Dae didn't need to be told twice. The next time she came up he grabbed her hips, holding her in place while he lowered her lips to her breast, taking it into his mouth and sinking his fangs into her.

She yelped. Christ that one hurt, all the sensitive nerves screaming with pain, until, true to her order, the lesser venom from his first fangs settled into her, overriding the worst of it with a pleasant, drunken feeling.

He held her hips still, his own coming up to thrust into her while he drank. She felt the girth of that knot hitting her over and over, demanding to be let in. With ragged breaths she forced herself to relax as much as she could, feeling it press into her, until with two more thrusts it connected home.

He was right. Without the higher venom it was painful, but a good kind of pain. She felt full, and stretched far more than she thought she could go, but within a few beats of her heart it settled right where it belonged. She could feel her blood rolling down her chest, feel the way he ground against her cervix, pushing it back with the length of him.

She cried out again, pleasure building inside of her, not holding back. "Fill me," she breathed, barely an order at all, "c-cum with me,"

Dae growled against her skin, his fingers digging into her hips before sliding one down to press into her clit again, the final push she needed.

Calliope rode out her orgasm vocally, feeling his cock pulse a moment later as he came too, pumping her with his seed over and over again. Heat ran out from inside of her, overflowing and racing down their thighs.

His teeth sunk deeper, drawing more blood. Pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain... god was there ever going to be a time with Dae that wasn't better than the last?

Slowly her orgasm waned and the throbbing inside of her came slower, but his teeth were still digging into her breast, bleeding her out with a sharp stab.

"Dae," she said through a moment of dazed afterglow, feeling herself get light headed.

He ignored her, taking more of her blood. His fangs readjusted, biting her again at a new angle.

"Dae," she remembered her voice, not bothering to hide the demand in her tone, "let go."

There was a moment when panic nearly set in, where he didn't let go, didn't let off of her, his grip tightening in strength, trapping her beneath his hands and his fangs and his knot.

It was like a marble statue had been wrapped around her, impossibly strong and immovable. Her nails dug into his shoulder, her panic turning sharp.

"That was an order," she snapped at him, letting the words reverberate through their chests.

And then she was free, his teeth pulling out of her, his tongue swiping the open wounds with obedience to close them. The hands that had been stone a moment before released her, gently encompassing her waist with care. He held her against him, sitting back onto the couch and putting his chin on her shoulder, his breaths loud in her ear.

Her blood ran down from his mouth, dripping onto her back. Little smears of paint had appeared on her from his hands, not quite dry when they'd begin their game.

But he'd listened.

He'd let go.

With one shaking hand, she raised up her middle finger to Rafael, a small, tense smile on her lips.

Fuck you, she thought, hoping her could read the words in her eyes, I won.

And she had. She'd been yanked from her home, forced to come back to this place in spite of her wishes against it, thrown into a room with a fixated, born vampyr, who had painted a life-sized portrait of her, while he starved himself for a week, and in spite of it all she'd managed to maintain full control over him and negotiate a more than agreeable arrangement for herself until he grew bored of her.

And pissed off his brother in the process, which was just the delicious red cherry on top.

Rafael gave her a glare that could melt steel beams before rising from his seat and stalking out of the room. She heard him make his way down the hall and slam his bedroom door just off the stairs.

She snuggled Dae closer to her, kissing the top of his head. "Come on," she hummed through the bliss of his bite, "once your knot recedes, we're taking a shower. You're still covered in paint."

The vampyr let out a pleasant hum. "Together?"

She couldn't help but smile. "Yeah," she said, "together."

Chapter Text

A rough, warm hand ran through Calliope's hair, waking her from pleasant dreams on her third day in the manor.

"Good morning, Little Dove," Dae mumbled in her ear, kissing her exposed neck along the multiple bite scars. His other hand drew warm circles into her lower back, exposed where the silk sheets had slipped away.

"Hmmmmm..." she mumbled, nuzzling further into the pillow. It smelled like him, the same shampoo she'd used her first morning there. She'd grown used to the scent, and having to share a bed with him.

The first night had been an adjustment. Rafael had suggested they use one of the guest rooms on the first floor to "tuck her away in," only to have Dae scoop her up and carry her up to his room with effortless strength. Point made, older brother scorned, and suddenly she was a house pet with a very lavish room and bed.

It had already been two days, but Rafael hadn't really adjusted to her presence any better. She was greeted with scowls whenever their paths crossed, but he hadn't laid a hand on her again. The look of open disdain he reserved for her made it apparent he was waiting for the moment Dae let his guard down or grew tired of her, whichever happened first, and then there would be...words between them.

That was fine by her. Calliope had already won her first challenge in this house, and she planned to win her second, now that she'd settled in.

Rafael.

She hadn't missed the way he'd watched her in the office with Dae. She knew it well. She'd received that look from men and vampyr alike many times over the years.

Rafael was not happy with his attraction to her, so pushing it on him at every opportunity felt like a game. His endless ability to be pissed at her for it was her reward.

Dae had given Calliope the formal tour her first morning in the manor, marking which rooms were off limits upstairs, exploring the expansive first floor clearly meant for impressing guests, and made sure to note the sunroom with a built in pool. She didn't own a swimsuit, and when she pointed that out he'd only grinned like an idiot.

The entire tour Rafael had been a room or two behind, looking busy on his phone but clearly keeping watch. She couldn't tell if he thought his brother's obsession with her was beneath their status— he'd often brought up her previous role as a third floor feeder at every opportunity—or if he just simply hated that she'd made the most of her situation against his wishes.

Regardless, when she wasn't holed up in Dae's room or office, Rafael was always nearby, reminding her that she was only there because of Dae's insistence. When he wasn't looking at her ass, of course.

So, she'd made tantalizing him her daily routine. It was probably asking for trouble, but she was already in deep shit regardless of how this played out. Rafael wasn't an idiot—he caught every one of her salacious smiles, the infuriating winks when she caught him openly staring at her, and noted every time she flipped her hair for Dae and made eye contact with him, instead. He knew the game they were playing, but so far he hadn't made a move.

Yet.

So, Rafael was the next conquest on the path to gain control of her life again. The one loose thread. Her situation may not have been anything she planned for herself, but that didn't stop her from settling in on her own terms, using the tools she was familiar with.

Sex appeal and a willingness to use it could get you anywhere in life. Right now, it had landed her between silken sheets with a very cuddly vampyr.

Calliope stretched out, letting Dae's hands roam on her more. He was constantly touching her, enraptured by her presence.

That first night after they'd showered he'd been quick to assault her with a barrage of questions: he'd wanted to know all the foods she liked, hobbies she enjoyed in her spare time, even what clothing she'd brought and what she'd need. It was...a lot all at once, honestly.

She'd half expected him to take her to the nearest pet store and let her pick out a squeaky toy like a new pet. In a way, that's what she was to him. Something shiny and fascinating, a novelty that was dropped in his life, a curiosity he couldn't stop thinking about.

This level of constant attention was new to her. Calliope had never really dated before. Sex for her had started as an escape, and once she'd figured out how much she'd liked it she'd turned it into a lucrative cash business.

Sex work had, in a roundabout way, bought her ticket out here and kept her afloat while she got her feet back under her. It wasn't always glamorous, but no job ever was, and it was one she didn't plan on leaving any time soon.

The point was that her work never really gave her room to be doted on. It was transactional—in, out, get paid, go buy groceries and a new book. If you were good enough they'd come back again and again.

Dae, however, doted on her. He let her sleep in, held her while she did, respected all her boundaries and begged at her feet for attention when he needed more.

It was strange. She wasn't complaining, though. A girl could get used to being spoiled.

The vampyr in question kissed the top of her head, smoothing back the strands that got in his way. "I have work," he told her, "will you be okay on your own for a few hours?"

Most of his work was online, but whenever he needed to take calls about things he always excused himself into another room. It was one of the rare times he wasn't clinging to her like a shadow.

"I'll survive," she breathed.

"It's day three," he murmured, a low purr rumbling through his chest.

She yawned, turning to face him. "Better be on your best behavior, then."

His pupils dilated in pleasure. "Yes, ma'am."

She leaned up to kiss him, knowing how much he loved it. The purring got louder, so much so that she couldn't help but smile.

It was a wonder vampyrs could stay on the top of the food chain when half the time they sounded like house cats.

"Good," she ran her fingers along his jaw, "because I have plans for you tonight. It would be a shame to let them go to waste."

She felt him shiver under her touch. "I can't wait," he kissed her one last time, then stood up and stretched out fully. "I'll be in my office, doors unlocked if you need me."

"I think I'm going to take a swim," she decided, sitting up and reaching for a silk robe half hanging off the side of the bed.

"Rafael is home," he warned her.

"I know."

Dae flashed a devilish grin. "Don't torture him too much today," he warned, wandering off towards the door. "Poor man wouldn't know what to even do with you if he actually got his hands on you."

She laughed, more to herself than him. "Oh, don't I know it."

"Happy hunting," he said, "there's some new books for you on the side table."

She eyed the stack of true crime and court novels. It's nice to have the attention of a man who can both support my hobbies and make me orgasm. I could really get used to this.

Rafael was going to lose his God damned mind. It had only been two days since Calliope's first night back in the manor, and the woman was driving him absolutely fucking insane.

It was bad enough that the whole house smelled like her now. It was worse upstairs where she spent most of her time, her human scent clinging to the hallway and even their shared bathroom with her towels and makeup and shampoo. Feeders weren't generally permitted for longer stays, and he'd never lived with a human before. It was like having your favorite food sitting on the counter at all times next to a big sign that said do not touch.

As if that wasn't maddening enough, Dae was also driving him up the walls. He'd never seen his younger brother act so...infatuated by anything. Manic? Yes. Countless times. The man had always been obsessive, but this was a whole other level. He'd even gone into one of the offices upstairs and taken books. Books. From the shelves they weren't allowed to touch. God help them both when that came crashing down on them.

He ordered in new foods for the human. Bought clothes for her like a doll. Had the housekeeper use their laundry soap to clean her things. Dae also hadn't left the house in days, leaving Rafael with zero time alone. Neither of them had.

Then there was the constant sexual bullshit she kept throwing at him.

He grabbed an orange juice from the fridge, slamming the carton down harder than he'd meant to. His glass was already halfway full of his favorite vodka, something to take the edge off. The bottle was getting low, a testament to how the last few days were going.

He was halfway through his screwdriver when he picked up the sound of her footsteps coming down the main stairs. He stilled even his breathing, tracking her movements into the main living room.

She walked with confidence now, like she owned the place. She'd grown familiar with the layout the day before, stopped doubling back after a wrong turn or pausing to consider directions when she wasn't upstairs. From the sounds of it, Dae wasn't with her.

Rafael felt his fangs extend, a kind of predatory reflex to having a human about when he hadn't eaten in two days.

I'm going to have to take care of that soon, he thought, listening to see if her steps would carry her through the main dining room and into the kitchen. To him.

But instead, she crossed the main living room and turned down the hall, passing the master bedroom and heading for the sunroom.

He tilted his head for a better listen, his mouth slipping into a frown, not sure what she was doing until he heard the tell-tale sound of water parting for her.

The pool, then. He stood back up fully, grabbing his drink. At least it would be easy enough to avoid her when she was on the far end of the house.

He headed through the dining room to the stairs, planning on going back up to his office and sorting through reports for a few hours, but his body had other ideas. Suddenly he was passing the master bedroom himself, his hand absently brushing the door to the empty room out of habit as he walked past.

The sun room was one of his favorite places in the manor. He liked to go sit by the small pool at night sometimes, the moon coming down through the curved glass ceiling. It was comfortable, familiar.

Of course she had to ruin it with her presence.

One of the glass tables by the door had a towel folded on it, a robe draped across the chair. It smelled like her, that warm almond and vanilla scent she preferred for everything. She was in the middle of the pool, floating on her back, her eyes closed to the midday sun that rippled in the water around her. Floating there, she looked at peace, her arms and legs dangling down.

Apparently there hadn't been a swimsuit in the bag he'd packed for her, because she wasn't wearing one. She wasn't wearing anything.

He'd seen her naked that day in Dae's office, of course, but with the couch in the way he hadn't really gotten a full view. She was thin in that way feeders often were, her shoulders and thighs riddled with bite scars. Her right breast had four new teeth marks all healed over, the first there from her last time with Dae.

Those marks were the excuse he gave himself to study those breasts. They were shapely and full, firm enough to hold themselves up in the way most women dreamed about and most men desired. Her hips were wider than her chest, her legs long and freshly shaved. She was shaved everywhere, actually. Not his preferred taste but nothing he hated.

Rafael scowled, catching himself with the thought. What did he care whether he preferred anything about her? He wasn't going to touch her. He refused to give her the satisfaction.

Plus, it didn't matter who it was, Rafael did not take orders. Especially not from humans.

Dae was out of his fucking mind.

His eyes trailed up to her face to find hers open and staring at him. Watching him watch her. He hid behind his glass, downing half of it.

Calliope slipped under the water and came up on the side of the pool nearest him, pushing herself up enough he could see her chest out of the water.

"Enjoying the view?" She asked, tilting her head.

"Not particularly," he lied.

She pushed a loose strand of wet hair across her cheek, those big eyes staring up at him. It struck him that this was the first time he'd ever seen her without makeup. "You don't have many redeeming qualities, do you?"

Rafael's nose wrinkled. "Excuse me?"

"Well, for one, your attitude is piss-poor," she began, counting off each grievance on her manicured fingers, "you're violent, short-tempered, a kidnapper, and clearly a voyeur, although I don't really mind that last one much."

His eyes stayed glued to her face and not her perfect breasts laying on the edge of the pool. He hated how difficult it was to manage that. "You're not so great yourself—argumentative, bossy, no sense of self-preservation, clearly an exhibitionist," he mocked back.

She made a long, drawn-out hmm sound with her lips pressed tightly together. "You don't seem to mind that last one much, either."

"I do," he growled, "would it kill you to keep your damn clothes on for five minutes?"

"Dae doesn't seem to mind," she teased, a small smile crossing her lips.

"Dae's not here."

"Then why are you?"

To that... fuck, to that Rafael didn't have a good answer. Not one he wanted to admit to, anyway.

"You're a house pet," he said instead, "not a guest. You shouldn't even be here to begin with."

"And whose fault is that?" She tilted her head, her smile growing. Oh she loves to torment me.

"Yours, for seducing your way into staying with Dae," he sneered.

"No, I believe it's yours, for bringing me back here."

"I didn't have a choice," a low set of clicks reverberated through his chest.

Calliope pushed herself up on her hands, lifting out of the pool until she was only waist-deep in the water, droplets splashing at his feet. Her eyes burned up into his like a wildfire.

"You didn't give me much of one, either," she growled out, her voice tense. "You yanked me out of my house, threw me into a room with a full blooded vampyr that hadn't eaten in a week and left me to handle it. Well, guess what? I handled it."

Despite his height advantage Rafael was finding it hard to glare at her with any amount of weight she didn't crush under that stare. Even naked she did not fear him.

And it pissed him off.

"You can't keep hiding behind Dae forever," he snarled, more clicks emanating from deep in his core. "He'll grow bored of you someday."

"Do you think your restraint will hold out that long?" Her eyes trailed down him slowly, then back to his face. "He's offered to share."

"I'm not interested." Another lie, but one he refused to accept.

"Then stop staring at me like I'm your next dinner and let me swim in peace," she snipped, settling back into the water. Her arms waded the surface, keeping her afloat. "And for the record, I'm not hiding behind Dae. Last I recall I fucked him right in front of you, and had the decency not to charge. You're welcome for the free show, Rafael."

He clicked at her again. She, maddeningly, dismissed it, swimming back to the middle of the water. "When you're ready, you know my rates," she called over her shoulder. "Until then? Enjoy your brooding elsewhere. I'm trying to even out some tan lines."

"What tan lines?" he accused her.

Calliope flashed him a winning grin, teeth and all. "So you were looking."

Rafael barely resisted the urge to throw his empty glass at her for the remark and stormed back out of the pool area. Her chiming laugh chased him away, threatening his control further.

If she keeps this up, he snarled to himself, I'm going to snap her pretty fucking neck.

Rafael tried to drown himself in work that day, but he ended up not having much to do. The weekly reports he received were already gone though, no fires at any of his clubs to put out, no decisions to be made for upcoming advertisement or hiring that needed his attention.

It was only a few hours later that he found himself ahead of work for once and sitting alone in his office, staring at the wall.

I should get out of the house for a bit, he thought, rubbing a hand over his face in irritation. I can't sit around playing babysitter for Dae all fucking week. At this point if he goes too far and she ends up a corpse it's just trading one hassle for another.

He'd just grabbed his wallet and jacket, his hand on the door to his office, when he caught the sound of a laugh from the next room over. Dae's office.

Rafael froze again, those predator instincts kicking in unbidden. He tilted his head, closing his eyes and focusing on the sound.

He could just barely make out her words through the wall, her voice dropped low like she always did when she was performing for his brother.

"Thank you for the book," she purred, the next words from Dae coming through a smile.

"Did you like it?" He asked.

A low, contemplative hmm. "I did," she gave him, a smile on her voice, too.

"How much?"

Rafael resisted the urge to roll his eyes until he heard the soft sound of her knees hitting the floor. His cock throbbed in his jeans, again against his will.

"Shall I show you?"

The next sounds were familiar to him, the low, drawn out moan Dae emitted when she put her mouth on him.

Rafael could imagine her lips wrapped around that cock, her cheeks hollowed out, those sharp green eyes looking up through her lashes, looking up at him–

He slammed the front door on his way out hard enough to rattle the house.

Le Restaurant was one of the higher end feeding clubs Rafael owned in the city, and easily one of his favorites.

It was themed, catering only to the clientele who were willing to pay high tabs for top-shelf feeders, both in blood and body. Rafael used The Den's fourth floor to recruit feeders for his other clubs, and only the best of the best got an offer to come work at Le Restaurant. He kept them on staff for a four-year contract, then they had the choice of switching back to their original club or retiring.

The club occupied the space of a previous historic hotel and bar, one that had once run as a speakeasy a few decades before his time. He'd converted the basement for private events and the rooms into enclosed feeding spaces on the second through fourth floors, and the top floor into office and changing room space.

It easily brought him the most money of any club, and was his preferred haunt to feed.

Perks of being the owner.

A hostess stood at a mahogany stand right when he entered, bowing her head. She was a vampyr, turned not born, and had worked on his staff at a few of his businesses throughout the years. Long enough to recognize him and know he didn't prefer attention.

"Good evening sir," she raised her head again, offering him a pleasant smile. "Will the gentleman be dining in or ordering takeout tonight?"

"Dining in, please."

"Will you have more joining your party?"

"Just me, tonight."

She nodded, handing him a slim tablet from beneath the stand. "Please have a seat and peruse our menu for this evening. A server will be with you shortly to take your order and escort you to your table."

"Thank you, Samantha," she smiled wider when he remembered her name.

"Enjoy your meal, sir.'

Rafael took the tablet and walked over to one of the black leather couches arranged in the space. A few other vampyrs mingled about, drinking from trays carried by servers in suits and waiting for their call back to the tables.

He sat away from them, skimming through the pages of feeders present. Each had a picture beside them, a brief synopsis of the important parts down to the blood type, and their working names to order by. No prices, Le Restaurant was not the kind of establishment you could frequent if you cared about cost.

Nothing seemed to stand out to him. Not at first. It wasn't until his second scrolling of the same list that he realized it was because none of the feeders on tonight had long blonde hair and control issues, what his fangs really craved.

Fuck me, he wiped his face in annoyance. I must be going out of my damn mind.

A young male Vampyr approached him, his favorite drink on his tray. "For you, sir," he said, hiding his nerves as best he could. Rafael looked him over. He was tall and thin, freshly turned within the last year, if he had to guess. Clearly the bartender had just told him who he'd be serving a drink that night and how to behave. "Are you ready to order?"

Rafael held up a silver coin between two fingers, the club's logo impressed into it.

"Venison, please," he ordered off the menu. "And a martini for her, sent to my booth."

"Of course," the server managed not to stammer, "I'll be right back after I place your order at the bar."

"Thank you, Johnathan," he said, pulling the name from memory thanks to an employee roster he'd looked over the week before.

Jonathan's face turned a deep red as he hurried away, his heart rate speeding up. Ah, so it was like that. Unfortunately for Jonathan, Rafael didn't like to get involved with the social mess drinking from other vampyrs came with, although he'd partaken in the past.

It had also been about twenty years since he'd fed from a male for any reason other than a fight. The silver cross pendant he wore around his neck weighed heavy, a gift he never could part with. Instead he'd stuck to women these last two decades, finding them easier to not get too far entangled with.

Until her.

Rafael had to resist the urge to click in annoyance at the thought. That's why he was here, though—to get this whole thing out of his system. Just a little longer and whatever madness had him craving a woman like Calliope would be done with.

Johnathan returned, his face less pink. "Please follow me to your table, sir," he said, bowing his head and motioning for Rafael to follow. He did, leaving his tablet menu on the couch behind him.

On either side of the long room was a large opening blocked by velvet curtains. Johnathan led him to the one on the left and up a set of curving marble stairs, taking him to the third floor. A long hallway carried forward with rooms on one side, a window overlooking the historic downtown riverfront on the other.

"Enjoy your meal," Johnathan said, pulling one of the sliding wooden doors aside.

He nodded, slipping him a hundred for his time. Beyond the door stood a small room with a polished mirror floor, another on the ceiling. The lighting was low, the walls covered in black velvet drapes around a circular booth unset to the floor with dark leather seating.

A real gold chandelier hung in the middle of the room, the mirrors casting countless reflected bulbs above and below him.

In the middle of the seat, directly facing him, Venison was waiting.

"Hello V," he greeted, tugging off his jacket. He threw it onto the floor and stepped down into the alcove, coming to sit beside her.

"Rafael," she said, pushing some of her wild red curls away from her face. A frown was there on her painted lips, her brown eyes looking behind him. "Is Damocles not with you tonight?"

"He's preoccupied with a new toy," Rafael grumbled. Venison tutted, putting her hand on her hips. God, he loved her hips. Sitting down you couldn't notice as well but she was as tall as him, with barely existent breasts and hips that were already to die for before she'd ever started seriously working out. She was a lot of woman covered in thick muscles and a black leotard that had so many cutouts it may as well have been string.

"That's a real shame, we all had so much fun playing together last time."

"You know how he can get when he fixates on something."

Venison hummed sympathetically. "How long was he in his office this time?"

"A week."

"You didn't break the door down this time, did you?"

"No," her rubbed his facial hair with one hand, "learned my lesson last year."

"So you told me." She leaned into him, putting one hand on his knee. "I'm glad you stopped by, though. I've been meaning to talk to you."

"Your four years," he guessed.

She nodded. "Next month. Time sure flies when you're high out of your mind on vampyr venom, doesn't it?"

He took a sip of his previously untouched drink. It went down like fire, just the way he liked it. "Will you be retiring?"

Venison nodded. "Believe it or not, I have a man outside these walls who wants to marry me and start a family. He even knows what I do for work. I told him I couldn't commit until I was done here. Well, my contract anniversary is next month and we've saved up plenty for a house and to start a family. I can have an official notice emailed to you?"

"No need," he said, reaching out to caress her cheek. "And congratulations."

Venison smiled. "This is why you're my favorite brother."

"Not Damocles?" He raised his eyebrows.

She laughed, a perfectly wonderful sound. "No, he's a rough soul. You, on the other hand? You're a rough man, but you care." She trailed a finger down his chest, tracing his muscles beneath the fabric. "In your own ways."

Rafael snorted, remembering what Calliope had said of him in the pool. "Glad someone appreciates me around here."

"Now," she changed the subject, looking up into his eyes. "Are we having another long chat night, or did you come here for something different?"

Yes? No? Both? "On your knees," he chose, and a wide smile flashed across her face.

"Yes sir," she purred, slipping off the couch and coming to kneel between his spread legs.

This was why Venison was one of his favorite feeders: she was a good conversationalist, great for taking your mind off of things, and wasn't afraid of her role in the club.

Thrived on it, really.

She undid the belt on his jeans, maintaining eye contact while she worked by muscle memory alone. By the time she was unbuttoning his pants and pulling down the zipper those bright green eyes had him uncomfortably hard. Fuck, he thought, putting his hands in her hair, this is what I needed.

She tugged down the cloth and pulled out his length, working her hand slowly up and down the shaft until he was fully erect. "Thank you for the appetizer," she purred, then slipped her pretty red lips over the head of his cock.

Rafael leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes while she worked. He didn't always prefer the foreplay with his feeders, but he knew this was Venison's favorite part—and who was he to deny the woman her thrill? Being fed on by a born vampire would knock her out of work for the rest of the day. He didn't see the harm in letting them both enjoy this.

Plus, God was she good at it.

She worked on the tip for a while, teasing him with that pierced tongue of hers, stroking the underside of his shaft with the extra point of pleasure. She minded his own jewelry, knowing what he liked.

A low hum of approval escaped him, as close to a moan as he'd allow. Soon enough she was slipping her lips down further and further, pressing him into the back of her throat, then further still, swallowing as she went.

Fuck, he swore internally, fisting her hair in the way she liked until a soft yelp escaped her. Everything in his mind melted away, consumed by the darkness behind his eyelids, the feel of her lips and throat around him, her piercing—

A flash of blonde hair entered his mind, styled curls mussed by his hand, tears slipping out of her eyes as she gagged on his length—

Venison came all the way up, pressed that piercing on the underside of his head in warning, then swallowed him all the way back down again.

Her lipstick, this orange tinted coral red she always wore, smeared along his skin, as bright as fresh blood, matching the bite that would drop from her neck, staining one of those godless fucking outfits she never ran out of, dying her blonde hair the same deep red as Venison's–

His eyes flew open, dispelling the image of Calliope under his hand, his reflection in the ceiling taking her place. A low, deep set of frustrated clicks sounded in his chest and Venison came slowly off of him, making a loud pop when she did.

"Not you," he half growled, reassuring the feeder that his ire wasn't turned her way.

She made a long hmmm sound, and he looked down to find her lips pursed, her green eyes on his. She laid a hand on his knee and rested her cheek against it. "Work?' she asked quietly.

"Personal."

She let out another contemplative hmm sound, drawing a circle on his thigh. "A woman?"

The involuntary clicks he emitted told her everything she needed to know. Venison chuckled, rising to her feet and slipping her thighs over his, hovering above him, her knees digging into the cushions on either side.

"Oh, Raff," she smoothed her hair back, "I haven't seen you this wound up in years. Tell me," she asked, flipping her hair over one shoulder and lowering herself enough that he could feel where the leotard had a slit for easy access, "Am I her replacement, or your distraction today?"

Rafael leaned forward, grazing his fangs along her skin and feeling her shudder with pleasure beneath his touch. "Can you be both?" He mumbled quietly, pissed with himself for admitting it.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, letting her hair fall over them like a curtain. "I can be anything you need, Raff," she breathed, pushing the head of his cock just inside her entrance, surrounding him with heat. "And you know I won't tell a soul."

Rafael pushed himself fully inside her twice over, bottoming out in her with his hips and digging both sets of fangs into the soft space beside her neck. She cried out in sheer pleasure, already rolling against him. Warm blood filled his mouth, sending his pulse to race in excitement, the euphoria of being buried inside her and taking her blood as overwhelming to him as his venom to her.

It was a high like no other. He'd tried other drugs throughout his years, to varying effects, but this, this... this was what he chased. The unholy sin of taking all from another, pleasure and pain and at times, life itself.

It's why he owned all the feeder clubs he could reasonably manage. This was the rapture he promised and sold to vampyr's, the feeling of complete control over another. Sex and blood and ownership.

He sunk his fangs in further, her moans a symphony to his ears. She was a familiar flavor to him, as sweet as any wine, and tight, so tight around him...

Calliope, he moaned in his mind, biting deeper with both sets of fangs. Her smart little mouth, her body, so well cared for and tantalizing, the smell of her blood lingering in the air, chasing him through the walls of his home, her face as she'd ridden Dae, euphoric in pleasure and pain, her eyes on him...

This time he didn't push the thoughts away, dove into them and let them drive him, let him use Venison's body in place of her, drowning himself in it.

It wasn't the first time he'd imagined himself in place of his brother that day in his office, it was just the first time he'd done it awake. Calliope riding him, taking all of him, screaming for him–

He pulled his fangs out of Venison with a gasp, realizing how much blood he'd taken, his knot fully inside her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders while he filled her with cum, closing his eyes and getting lost on the fantasy of it all.

The orgasm had him seeing stars, far more intense than any he'd had in a long, long time.

Blood dropped onto his shirt, he'd forgotten to close her wound. As soon as he could remember how to breathe he tilted her neck and licked up the four marks there, sealing them shut. She shivered, still clutching him.

"Sorry, V," he mumbled, holding her while they were connected. "Got lost in it for a minute there."

"Whomever she is," she said through her high, her voice a happy slur, "she's one lucky woman to be wrapped around your finger."

Rafael was silent, his head tilted back, his eyes meeting his own again in the ceiling. He looked tired.

"...I'm afraid it might be the other way around," he admitted in confidence.

Venison laughed then, truly laughed. Her words came slow, like she couldn't remember how to form them. "Well damn, you're fucked then, aren't you?"

Rafael breathed out, closing his eyes again.

"Yeah," he clicked his tongue, "yeah, I might be."

Twenty minutes later, after ensuring she was safely returned to the top floor, Rafael got back into his car, and turned the engine on.

The high of sex and feeding was beginning to wear off, and now he stood solidly in his infuriating reality again. He forewent the seatbelt. It had been a while since he'd gone through a windshield, a feat with his driving style. Maybe today he would get lucky.

As he pulled away from Le Restaurant and into the late afternoon traffic, though, everyone around him seemed to suddenly remember how to drive on their best behavior. He sighed, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel

No such luck, then.

The car rolled to a stop at the turn that would take him back to his home. Left would lead him onto a direct shot there. But right...

Right was something worse. Right was admitting that Calliope Whatever-the-hell-her-last-name-was had gotten under his skin and won. That he'd become an unwilling player in her game.

That those green eyes and sharp wit haunted him. That her scent clung to the manor and drove him mad.

That he'd fucked another woman and thought about her the entire time, and he couldn't live with only the fantasy anymore.

The light turned green.

"Fuuuuck!" He yelled into the empty car, hitting the steering wheel with a flat palm and tearing to the right without a turn signal, heading for a familiar shop that would send his company the bill.

The windows shook in their frames when Calliope heard the downstairs door slam. She sat up in bed, looking over at Dae on instinct.

For being a top tier predator, the vampyr didn't so much as stir at the sound. He was sprawled out on his stomach, his arms folded under his pillow and his hair spilling over the top. She liked the way his lips were parted, his fangs retracted in sleep. The lamp on the bedside table cast her silhouette over him, the book in her hand stretching across his waist.

Some guard dog, she thought, letting loose a small, quiet sigh.

Rafael must be home. The high from their earlier play date had worn off a few short hours ago, Dae having let her lay across his lap while he worked on his tablet for the better part of the day.

She missed the feeling of his fingers gently stroking her hair, the soft silk of his pants pressing into her cheek.

The venom had always been a great perk of this line of work. Before she moved to the city she had started sex work with humans, men and women alike, and had enjoyed what she did. But she hadn't really messed with drugs, not wanting to get mixed up on that life more than she should help it.

Calliope hadn't ever understood people who thought their mind and soul was separate from their body. She was her body, and with it she could bring pleasure to others and experience pleasure from them.

Sharing her blood had seemed like the next best place to take her craft. What was one more fluid exchanged? Her first time at The Den she'd been blindsided by the high in the best of ways, letting a woman drink from her inner thigh the first time. Calliope had been the one to suggest it, just as she had with Dae that first night, and it had become one of her favorite places to be bitten. She thought she'd touched the ceiling of heaven, the vampyr's fingers curling inside of her, a high unlike anything she'd ever experienced coursing directly into her.

But turned vampyrs were nothing compared to the real thing. She now saw it as a strong drink, whereas Dae's bite was like swallowing molly every time. A sensory experience unlike anything else, her body open to the world around her on all levels for sometimes hours after.

Being held after her job was done was new for her, too. She'd come to enjoy it not just for the feeling of his silk clothes, but the almost intimacy of it. The aftercare she was beginning to suspect he needed as much as she did.

She never really felt like a pet to him like Rafael often sneered. Honestly, the worst she'd felt from Dae was the constant attention, like she was a new and wonderful reaction in a science experiment he'd run a hundred times before. The way he pined after her and obeyed her every command, it was almost like she'd picked up a pet herself.

A pet with many, many perks. Including a habit of fetching odd trinkets for her, such as any book off the countless shelves in this house she might enjoy. She never asked where they came from, only knew that they didn't come from his measly collection nor from Rafael's room, which he didn't let either of them near. Something about the scent of her already lingering in the rest of the house. It pleased her to know she lived rent-free not only in his home, but his head.

I wonder who reads true crime stories in this house? She tilted her book to read the cover again, a modern look at a cold case from the 1960's. I don't think this man has picked up a book in his life. Not enough pictures.

Right now the object of her attention was dead to the world, oblivious to her thoughts and to the dark cloud that had just stormed in downstairs. It wasn't really late yet, but longer than Rafael was usually out. Maybe he left for work?

Calliope didn't really care. It had been peaceful when he was gone, quiet beneath Dae's exploring fingers and silent work.

She heard him come up the stairs at the far end of the hall, and paused her page turn to wait for him to enter his room. It was habit. They'd drawn a reluctant kind of truce since the day he'd watched her with Dae, him for helping his brother out, and her because she wasn't ready to see how far the line was to push him before Dae's protection couldn't save her. The vampyr got under her skin, but she didn't have a death wish.

Even if she had really pushed it in the pool that morning.

Instead of the far door opening, though, the footsteps turned and came down the hall. She held her breath and counted them as they approached the bathroom and didn't turn, continuing right for them.

Calliope's hand hovered over Dae's sleeping form, ready to wake him in a moment's notice until she saw the shadow of the elder brother's feet stop just beyond the door. Then more light was obscured, like he'd set something in the way, and his shadow left.

Unmoving she counted his steps until he reached the far end of the hall again, slamming his bedroom door. Dae still didn't stir, blissfully twitching from some dream beside her. Probably chasing rabbits.

The shadow was still in the hall. The house settled again around her. Closing her book around the ribbon bookmark she set it aside, looking at Dae again while she slipped out of his bed. No response.

She crossed the room on quiet feet, her toes sinking into the carpet. The door opened as quietly as she could, peeking out into the hall. The only light was from the antique wall sconces along the wood paneling, no Rafael in sight. She looked down at the floor outside their door, her brows knitting together and her mouth drawing in a taught frown.

On the floor just beyond was two wooden gift boxes, stacked nicely on top of one another. There was a note slipped beneath the slip of black velvet that tied them together.

Calliope kneeled down to pull the folded card out, flipping it over and seeing her name in rushed masculine scrawl.

Calliope.

It better not be a bomb, she thought, then diagnosed it as irrational. Not only did Rafael seem the type to finish things personally, but she was in his own damn house. A very expensive house at that.

So instead she opened the card and peeked inside.

For Dae, for being a bitch, and for you.

Well, that answered nothing. Weighing the merits of leaving it out in the hall she let loose a quiet sigh, picked up the boxes, and slipped back into Dae's room.

Closing the door behind her she knelt at the foot of the bed, obscuring herself from the sleeping vampyr's form. She wasn't sure why, yet, just that... well, it did have her name on it. And she was curious.

The ribbon came untied easily, revealing metal clasps that held the boxes shut. She opened the smaller one on top, about as wide as both her palms side by side.

Seeing what laid in the velvet lined box she covered her mouth with the back of her hand, holding back a snort of amusement.

Well, she thought, swallowing the urge to giggle, this one must be for Dae.

She closed the lid and set it aside, her mind already turning with ways to use it. Oh, she was going to have fun with that. Lots of fun.

The second box was longer, and significantly thicker than the first. She flipped the small metal latch and lifted it up, her heart nearly stopping at the sight of the objects within.

A slow, satisfied smile crept on to her face as she eyed the prizes inside. No wonder Rafael had been in such a piss poor mood when he'd stormed into the house.

She'd won.

Chapter Text

Rafael found that Dae had let his new pet sleep in the next morning. It was just the two of them at the dining room table, Dae switching between his cell and tablet to bid on some statue he would not stop mumbling about at an auction halfway across the world. His waffle stack was growing cold, the syrup untouched beside it.

Rafael sat across from him, propping one elbow on the table and resting his face in his palm, the other hand shoveling bite after slow bite into his mouth. He'd stayed up late diving into his own work, trying to keep his mind off the gifts he'd heard the pet receive the night before.

For his efforts he'd gotten almost no sleep, woken up early by a call from Roman. One simply did not miss a call from Roman, even if it only turned out to be a notice of his next destination and expected return to town a few days late.

That was fine by him. The longer he was away the longer he had to sort through the mess his life had become. It was, however, not fine that it woke him up and he couldn't get back to sleep, but fine again that he'd have more time to hope Dae got over his new little obsession and kicked her back out of the house.

Even if he didn't.

Sometime after the call he'd given up on sleep, messaging their morning housekeeper, Emily, to request breakfast and stumbling through a shower. Dae had beaten him to the table by a few minutes, already working with his auction mediaries.

"Where's the pet?" He sneered.

"Sleeping," Dae had muttered after a prolonged silence, his fingers tapping away. "She stayed up late to read."

"She can read?" He asked.

"Watch it," Dae growled, "you are within butter-knife-to-the-eye distance."

"Grumpy," he'd ended the conversation, pulling up a chair and stacking his own plate.

A while later bare feet padded down the stairs, entering the room behind him. He ignored her, scrolling through his phone at various text conversations he'd started the night before, touching base with his managers. It wasn't until the footsteps continued around to his side and a heavy, warm weight plopped down in his lap that he looked up.

Calliope was wearing one of Dae's silk nightshirts, a pair of underwear, and nothing else. The curls had fallen out of her hair, still damp from a shower, and she smelled like soap and toothpaste.

He froze in place, his mind completely shutting down. Calliope took advantage of his stasis to reach over and grab an empty plate, helping herself to a waffle from the stack.

"Good morning," said the woman on his lap to the room.

On his lap.

On his lap.

"What. The fuck. Are you doing?" he punctuated each word with a click.

Calliope showed no sign of fear nor care, spooning some strawberries and syrup on top of her waffle. "Eating breakfast."

"You're sitting on me," he snarled.

"So I am."

"Get the fuck off??" His bewilderment at this infuriating little thing entered his voice, raising in volume.

She looked at his half finished screwdriver, picked it up between her fingers, sniffed it, then tossed it back. She set the empty glass down then turned to look at him at last. "Hmm...no, I don't think I will."

Rafael nearly saw red, his hands hovering at her side, two seconds from dropping her on the floor like an unwanted cat. "Get the fuck off of me or so help me God I will–"

Click.

His eyes snapped to the sound, meeting the cold glare of his brother. Worse, meeting the cold, daring glare of Damocles, his fingers no longer flying over his tablet, a single butterknife pinched between two of them.

Click.

Oh, he'd seen that look before. Seen what his brother was capable of when he locked in on someone like that. Those two clicks were a warning. He would not get a third.

Rafael put his palms up slowly, leaning as far in his chair as he could from her. Damocles tracked the movement, his body still with the promise of violence.

Calliope, oblivious to the look on her lover's face, was tapping powdered sugar over her breakfast. "Thank you, Dae," she said, using her fork to take a bite. "Oh my God, this is heavenly."

Rafael did not move, frustration building within him. Dae, seemingly satisfied that he'd gotten the warning loud and clear, slipped the knife into the sleeve of his thin sweater and turned most of his attention back to the tablet. The table returned to breakfast, Calliope sitting side saddle across his lap like a snug, self-satisfied cat.

She'd opened the gifts, then. Realized why he'd given them to her.

If he'd known she'd react with a display like this, he never would have bought the damn things. His regret was immediate. He put one palm flat on the table, the other arm thrown across the high back of the chair, trying to avoid touching her as much as possible.

Calliope, for her part, did not push things any further, only eating her breakfast and drinking more of his alcohol once Emily came over to refill it. She'd even smiled at the woman and offered her a sincere thank you, earning a welcome smile back from the turned vampyr.

When she finished she set her utensils down, stretched her legs out and her hands high in the air with a soft mm! of pleasure, then hopped off his lap.

"Auction day?" She asked Dae.

"Mm." Came his distracted response.

"I'll be upstairs reading, then," she said.

"Mm."

Before she turned to leave the room she licked a stray bit of syrup off of two of her fingers, locking eyes with Rafael as she did so. She took her time on them, pulling them fully into her mouth before removing them in an agonizingly slow way, fully clean.

"Thank you for breakfast," she grinned, her eyes lit up with a blazing fire. Then she turned and strode out of the room and back the way she'd come.

That wicked vile thing, he sneered quietly after her, only to find a butterknife suddenly buried in his chair back, the flat edge of it so close to his neck it pressed against the skin.

"Threaten her again," Damocles warned, his voice a low growl, "and you'll forever be known as the brother with the eyepatch."

"She started it!" He defended himself.

Dae showed his fangs, already out.

"Fuck off," Rafael stood, grabbing his plate and retreating a safe distance away from his younger brother, not taking his eyes away from behind him until his office door was safely shut between them.

He was halfway through his approval of Venison's retirement paperwork, as well as ordering a substantial parting gift, when the door opened an hour later. No knock preceded it, just the sudden intrusion of that damned woman into his space.

"I'm coming in," she announced. Not a question for permission. A statement. Rafael set his laptop aside on his desk, looking up at her with his best scowl already in place.

Calliope was wearing a dress that was no more than a slip, white lace framing the hemline of blood red silk. It matched the lipstick she wore today, a deeper color than her usual coral tone. She was still barefoot, a pair of red heels sitting atop a familiar wooden box in her arms, unworn.

"Get out," he demanded of her, turning his eyes back to his laptop.

Her manicured hand came forward to close it, giving him little time to pull his fingers away.

"No." She said simply.

Rafael glared up at her, unable to stop the clicking deep in his chest. She ignored it just as she always did. "You're pushing your luck," he warned, letting his fangs extend just a bit for show.

"Wow, your office is small," she looked around the space, his desk taking up nearly the full length in the middle of the room. "Did you guys draw straws for them?"

"I don't need much space for my work. Just quiet and solitude," he emphasized each word in an effort to show she wasn't welcome. To no one's surprise, she ignored it.

"I require your assistance," she set the box down on the corner of his desk, hopping up to sit on it with one hip tilted inwards, facing him. Her legs brushed his chair.

"You can walk out and knock for that."

"Someone's pretty testy today," she said, opening the box's clasps and revealing the gift set he'd purchased for her inside. "Especially after you went out of your way to give me such a lovely peace offering."

He knew what was inside, but his eyes trailed down to the box's contents anyway. Nestled in velvet was a set of beautiful hand crafted anal plugs, five in gradually increasing sizes of girth, and a violet bottle of lubricant from one of the most renowned companies in the world. It was laced with a powerful aphrodisiac, a synthetic version of some of the same compounds as the venom in his first set of fangs. One he knew her body was intimately familiar with.

"It wasn't a gesture of peace," he clarified.

"No? Then what would you like to call it?"

"Tools to pave the way for a possible offer," he leaned back in his chair. "One Dae proposed but I'm still considering."

He left the implication that he could step away from it at any moment between them. She shrugged, picking up the thinnest plug to examine it between her fingers. The base was capped in a beautiful red glass that reflected through the clear body.

"To share?" She guessed, a smile on her lips.

"If that's how you take it," his posture was still defensive, even if that was a thinly veiled yes. Calliope laughed, her curls bouncing with the motion. It was the same chiming sound he'd heard her use against Dae the afternoon before.

"So you're asking me to take both of you at the same time," she surmised with no small amount of amusement. "I've never done that before, but once I work up to it, I'm open to the offer. Tell me, which size do I need to reach?"

"We're twins," he said, "identical."

"I could guess as much," she looked him over, "but I would hardly call you identical. Not in personality, I know that much."

"Why are you here?" He asked for the first time.

She tapped the end of the unused glass toy against her lips, as if contemplating his question. "I want your help preparing. I've never used anal plugs before, especially not to these sizes," she motioned to the larger ones still in the box.

"You expect me to put it in you?" He asked with no small amount of surprise.

"Unless you plan on me using these with Dae only," she clicked her tongue, mimicking the tick Rafael often used when he was frustrated. He liked the way her lips parted to make the sound. "If that's the case, we have nothing further to discuss, and I've got plans to use your other gift today, so I'll stop wasting your time."

Calliope set the piece back in its place for emphasis, closing the box on the proposed deal. "Final offer," she said, hopping off the desk and turning as if going for the door.

Rafael reached out faster than any human could and grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

"You talk a big game," he said, rising to lord over her, putting one hand on the desk to capture her between it and him, "but I can hear your pulse racing, I can smell your adrenaline spiking in fear."

"Maybe you're mistaking excitement for fear," she breathed, keeping her voice just between them. "It could also be satisfaction. I've won our little game, after all."

"Like hell you have," he sneered. He felt his pupils dilate, saw her details pull into stark clarity as his vision improved. The small flecks of brown in her eyes, the dusting of eyeshadow around them, the swipe of mascara on her lashes, the glossy shine on her lips, every stray hair that floated away from her face.

Calliope, against all instincts of self preservation, leaned forward and up, her face dangerously close to his.

"Then play the game," she challenged him, "you took your move, now work with mine. You want me? You get me on my terms, Rafael. Help me use the toys, or I'm going to go play with someone who will."

Rafael let loose a solitary click. She didn't care. "Last chance," she warned, "and I'm charging you double the day you end up inside of me."

Rafael picked her up before she could blink, pushing her ass back onto his desk. Her legs parted for him, letting him stand over her, the box yanked out of her grasp and set open next to his discarded laptop.

"You are infuriating," he snarled.

"It must be like looking into a mirror," she said, one leg coming up to brush his side.

"Are you always like this?" He demanded, grabbing the glass bottle of lube from the box.

"Splayed out on a desk beneath a male vampyr?" She guessed innocently, the hem of her dress slipping high enough up he confirmed she wasn't wearing anything underneath. "It's a more recent development."

"I should throw you out of this house and back into The Den where you belong," he threatened, pouring a large amount of lube onto his fingers.

"Why bother? You'd still come find me."

"I wouldn't."

"If you insist."

For her obnoxious little shrug he pressed a finger to her ass, earning a gasp with how cold the lube was. He could smell her arousal, knew that if he slipped a finger into her other entrance she'd be soaking wet for him.

But that wasn't the game they were playing. And—God help him—he was going along with her rules.

He'd give Dae and his proclivities one thing—it made her a hell of a lot more interesting.

A keening sound escaped her as he worked his way in to the first knuckle. "Relax," he ordered, "or this will hurt."

"I told you before; I don't mind a little pain, as long as it's on my terms," she said in defiance, but he felt her do as he asked, allowing her time to adjust before pulling out and slipping it in deeper. He grabbed one of her legs with his free hand, pushing it back far enough she hissed.

Good. A little pain is the least she deserves for the hell she's put me through.

His eyes were on hers, drinking in every expression that crossed her face while he worked, clicking at her every time she tightened up around him. And fuck, was she tight. She hadn't lied about not using this hole much before.

His cock swelled against his jeans at the thought, imagining what it would be like to be inside of her, feeling that tight heat just for him.

"You're a right bastard," she breathed, egging him on, "you know that?"

"I've been called worse."

He had one finger in all the way in now, fucking her slowly with it to get her ready for another. This was far from the first time he'd prepared a partner anally, although admittedly it had been a bit. Not since the last time he'd shared a feeder with Dae. Had that been Venison as well?

"I'll think of something better then," she promised, another soft sound escaping her. Not all women enjoyed pleasure from anal play, but Calliope was clearly on the list. Even if it was just her getting off on the thrill of winning.

He clicked again at the thought, pulling his finger out of her. She whined at the empty feeling, only to tense when she felt a second finger join the first, pressing into her barely up to the first knuckle and starting the process again.

"Why so tense?" He teased, a self-satisfied grin transforming his features. His fangs had begun to extend a while back, and he let her see them. "Not even able to handle two fingers? Give up on your game already?"

"Never," she purred, "I'm a woman of my word."

"So am I."

"A woman?"

He growled. "You know what I meant."

He pushed both fingers in a little harder than he meant to, earning a small cry of pain from her. But she didn't ask him to stop. He did back off just a little, giving her time to adjust before returning to that depth again.

"Fuck you," she spat.

"Oh, Calliope. I'm working on it."

He pushed his fingers in all the way, spreading them just to prove his point. Calliope hissed at the sensation, but, again, didn't tell him to stop. Points for resilience, he thought.

He worked on her until she relaxed again, then withdrew both entirely.

"I'm loose enough for the first size," she panted, her brows creasing. "Stop teasing me."

"I'm not Dae," he replied, his fingers trailing along the glass toys. "I don't take orders from you."

He grabbed the second plug from the right, sized a bit more than two of his fingers at the thickest. Her eyes widened the barest fraction, hardly enough to matter, but with his sight in hunting mode he saw every tiny move in high definition. Her breasts rose and fell quicker beneath her dress, her nipples pressed into the fabric, a spike of adrenaline turning her scent sharp.

Fear or excitement?

This woman was going to drive him mad, if she hadn't already. It had been years since any human had gotten so thoroughly under his skin and lived long enough to tell the tale, mostly because he didn't make a habit out of fucking people who stressed him out.

If it would have been half as fun as this, though, maybe he'd been missing out. He'd always preferred his partners agreeable, finding a fight to be exhausting and not worth his time.

Calliope, though, spread out beneath him on his desk, had his full attention. And he didn't plan to rush this, for more than practical purposes.

Another thing he'd never admit.

"The smallest size is reserved for those who knock instead of barging into my office," he said plainly, pouring lube down the tip of the plug.

"That's not very nice of you at all," she watched him work the lube down the sides with his fingers.

"I'm not a nice person," he said, pressing the tip to her entrance. She braced herself, tensing. "Loosen up," he warned.

"I don't take orders from you," she grinned back, repeating his earlier words back to him.

"Smartass."

"Jackass."

"Now there's something I haven't been called before," he announced while slipping the glass toy in, slowly, so slowly.

Calliope moaned, gripping the desk, feeling it stretch her bit by bit.

"Guess you can learn." he added.

"So can you," she was now looking up at him with dangerous bedroom eyes. Fuck me, he groaned internally, keeping his throbbing cock in check. I could take her now.

Instead he pushed up to the apex of the toy, the widest part. She whimpered, pain and pleasure mixing while she tried to relax.

"Push against it," he commanded, and she listened. It slipped in easily, the base of the toy coming to rest against her skin. She gasped at the sensation, feeling fuller than ever before.

Rafael leaned over her, his fingers still keeping pressure on the end of the toy, slowly fucking it in and out of her.

"You take this so good, Calliope," he purred, a deep rumble in his chest without his signature clicks of displeasure. "Like it was made for you."

Her eyes stayed on his, the intensity of her stare hardening his cock even further. It pressed painfully against his jeans, forcing him to reach down with his free hand to adjust himself. She tracked the motion, biting her lip at the outline of his erection, his hand barely covering half the length.

"You and Dae really are twins," she said, "in spite of your shit personality. Same size and all."

"With some modifications, yeah," he smirked, watching her confused expression.

"What.... kind of modifications?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

He reared back and slapped her ass hard, leaving a handprint and a smug feeling of satisfaction when she yelped.

"Now," he said, leaning close enough he could have kissed her, his tented cock pressing against her sweet pussy enough to drive him mad, the scent of her on his fingers, his clothes, God he wanted her so bad."Get the fuck out of my office."

Calliope smiled sweetly, as if she could read the desire coursing through him, arching up to tease them both with the friction. The movement left a wet stain of lube and her cum on his pants. "Try not to listen in this time, you voyeur."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said in his normal voice, a true effort, pushing himself back and falling into his chair. Calliope sat up, her brows knitting as she felt the toy shift within her. She closed the box and latched it shut, scooting off the desk and falling to her feet.

The light from his blinds left lines across her, tracing along every delicious curve of her body. He could feel his dick throb in time with her heartbeat, struggling to keep his fangs in check and his hands to himself.

"Thank you," she bowed slightly to mock him, "and I'll think about knocking next time."

"You will knock next time."

"Thank you for confirming there will be a next time," she grinned, basking in yet another win against him. Rafael wouldn't admit with words that she had. The tightness in his pants was evidence enough.

"Enjoy your time with Dae," he dismissed her, waving her on.

Her chiming laugh chased him through the door when she closed it behind her, leaving him alone with the problem of his aching cock, twitching for release with no sign of going down on its own.

He waited for her footsteps to recede to the far bedroom and the sound of the door closing behind her before pulling it out, stroking it in his hand.

Vixen.

Dae was in the middle of a phone call when she found her way into his office a few minutes later, the other wooden box in hand.

"I understand your needs," he said, his voice stern and colder than she'd heard it go before, "but the rules of my agreements are very clear. You will wait the three weeks from the time the art is acquired, then you are free to purchase it, including the additional fee. I'm not budging on the lead time."

Walking over to the couch she'd ridden him on her first day there Calliope settled in, crossing her legs and waiting. Dae was pacing the back of the room next to his growing collection of canvases. He was so engrossed in his work he didn't even notice her arrival.

"Because that's an acceptable lead time to legitimize the purchase, that's why. Then within a week you'll see my answering transfer. You're going to get your service, but if you keep pissing me off and blowing up my phone, I might reconsider that as well." He stopped pacing, tilting his head at the reply. "I welcome you to find anyone else as reliable as I am. The problem you're having has nothing to do with me. Maybe learn to run your business better, and leave me to mine. Three weeks. You have sixteen days left of that. Don't bother me until then."

His finger tapped the end button harder than necessary. She watched his head fall back, a groaning sigh escaping his lips.

"Long day?" She asked, causing him to start. He turned, his pupils restricted to pinpricks. A smile graced her lips at the sight.

"Calliope," he breathed, putting his hand to his chest. "Fuck, sorry, I didn't hear you come in. Did you catch any of that?"

"Nothing I was paying attention to," she answered wisely. She'd had a growing suspicion that his business of acquiring and selling fine art had more going on beneath the surface, but she'd not gotten this far in life by sticking her nose into other people's business. Especially when that business brought in hundreds of thousands of dollars each transaction, if not more.

Dae watched her like he could smell the lie, but accepted it with a small nod.

"Come here," she patted the couch next to her, "I've brought you something."

His head tilted to the side again, this time in interest. "You brought me something?" He made his way to sit beside her, laying down to rest his head in her lap.

"A gift," she confirmed, running a hand over the box she had tucked under her arm.

"This dress is gift enough," he chuckled, tracing a finger along the silk covering her breast.

"You're the one who ordered it," she smiled. She'd been finding it easier to smile around him recently. The longer she was in close proximity with Dae, the more she realized she was growing fond of the man. Because of their arrangement, he'd never once stepped out of line with her, but she was beginning to suspect that even without it he would still treat her with a similar level of care. Rafael was fond of throwing around his strength, but Dae was far more reserved. She wondered what it was like when he actually used it, but had no desire to witness it herself.

"Seeing it on you, though, is a different matter entirely." He kissed her stomach, the closest he could reach.

"Dae?" She asked in a tone that made him look up at her, "What is the rule about my orders?"

"That they always come with rewards," he ran his tongue over his upper lip, no doubt thinking of any number of times she'd proven that true.

Lazily her free hand came out to pet his hair, earning a soft purr from his chest. "Will you let me try something that is new to you but you will come with a very great reward?"

"I've done plenty in my life," he snorted. "I doubt anything you can do will surprise me."

"I promise this will," she explained. "But if you're a good boy for me and play along, I'll give you something extra sweet."

"Yeah?" He asked, sitting up. "What's that?"

She guided his hand between her legs, past the wetness already coating her thighs to the glass toy Rafael had inserted. His pupils widened with interest, his eyes studying her face.

"My hunting has been going well," she smiled, "I can only imagine how tight I'll be for you with this in."

Dae purred again, his mind already going through the possibility. Calliope to the box and set it in her lap, giving him back his hand.

"Close your eyes," she instructed, and without question he obeyed. She opened the clasp on the box, pushing the lid away to see the beautiful black leather collar Rafael had also purchased her, one not meant for a dog.

"Trust me," she promised him, undoing the buckle and wrapping it around his throat. "You're going to enjoy every second of this."

Author's note:  My apologies for the split chapter, lovelies.  My editor had a week-long family reunion this week and between their availability and how long this chapter was getting, I've decided to split this into two parts. 

There IS a chance that I also may need to take the next weekend off, thanks to my own sudden family events, which is a crying shame because I want to race through these next two chapters and get to, ahem, introduce someone very special >.> I have almost nothing of this next chapter written, and then a BUNCH already drafted out after that.

That said... petplaypetplaypetplaypetplay

If you're on threads, come be friends with me AuthorVelvetVNightengale (it's linked on my wattpad profile) 

I love talking to everyone on there! Come be a little smut reading gremlin with me, I don't bite (unless you ask very nicely~) 

I started this project for fun not really expecting anyone to hop on it, and I am blown away by all the readers who tune in weekly and enjoy this so much. Y'all rock <3

Rafael has absolutely become a fan favorite these last few chapters, and my editor is drooling (barking, crying, screaming into a pillow) over him, too. Who's your favorite brother so far?