Just A Taste | BOOK 1 The Night Lords Series

3. Decoy

The Vampire

Blood splatters across my clothes, my arms, my face. I close my eyes, relishing her screams before finishing her off with a slight twist of the head. So breakable, humans. They were like little rabbits, brittle and soft, always looking for a place to hide. After emptying the woman's corpse of her sanguine fluids, I toss the body aside. Two servants come skittering into the room, heads bowed. Their white suits, the attire of slaves, are crisp. With practiced hands, they lift the lifeless human into their arms without sullying their clothes. I don't bother to watch them leave.

So bland. I drum my fingers on my knee, suddenly feeling regretful that I fed on that last woman. The Blood Master promised she would give me a good time but, alas, here I sit, unsatisfied and more irritated than I had been this morning. She was sold to me as a pleasure slave and I ended up using her to quench my thirst. It was getting worse. My need for my little green-eyed girl was especially strong today. It put me in a bad mood.

"That will be another fifty grand for the Blood Master. I'm sure he'll be displeased to hear you killed one of his best slaves for pleasure over a little tummy ache."

I grind my teeth, the sound of Jacques serpentine voice sending a streak of hot, murderous rage through my torso. My hand twitches, claws itching to come out, but I manage to keep them retracted.

I glance left. Leaning languidly against the wall beside the door to my office, the snowy-haired vampire flashes me a wicked grin.

"Get out." The underlying threat in my voice is obvious. You'd have to be stupid not to listen.

Jacques saunters further into my room.

"Any plans today?" he asks, sounding suspiciously innocent.

My upper lip peels back from my fangs. "Why would it matter to you?"

Jacques is beside the back wall. A massive bookshelf filled with hundreds of volumes covers most of it. He strokes the spines with one alabaster hand. His red lips crack into a smile. My eyes narrow.

"Why don't we go on a hunt? The blood slaves have been disappointing me lately and I'm just dying for something new." He chuckles, a tinkling sound that makes me think of bells. I don't join him. His poor attempt at humor was revolting. Just like his presence at the moment.

Leaning forward in my chair, I smirk, though it's not because I'm amused. "I have no interest in hunting with you. Besides, we have a meeting at noon." I sit back and turn my chair around to face my desk. Documents from the Reverend were scattered across my workspace. They'd given me the task of sorting through last week's productivity since they killed the actual man responsible for such a time grating job. A messenger informed me that a new sorter would be available come tomorrow evening. Until then, my hands were tied.

Hence the reason my purchase of a pleasure slave. Sorting blood production papers was a maddening process, at least for me. I haven't been able to visit my Emmy since last Sunday. Clearly, my frustration cannot be mitigated with sexual play.

A shadow suddenly falls over my shoulder and I tense as Jacques slides his slender hands around my chest. One hand slips beneath the silk of my dress shirt to glide along my skin. When cool lips press into the nape of my neck, a finger circling my left nipple, I let out a low growl. Catching his wrist, I'm up and pinning him to the wall with both wrists locked above his head, my fangs mere inches from his face.