Page 73 of Feathers From the Sky

“I don’t exist, baby. Not legally, anyway.”

When our drinks come, hers a bright purple color with sugar on the rim, I pick them both up in one hand. “Come on,” I say, leading her to the back of the bar. Bypassing the restrooms, I lead her to the exclusive access staircase, appreciating the round curve of her ass as I usher her in front of me. At the top of the stairs, the bouncer, a younger vampire tasked with keeping unwitting humans away, nods at me and lets us both through.

“Back corner,” I tell her, pointing over her shoulder to the unmarked door at the far end of the room. I watch as her head whips around, taking in the moody ambiance and writhing bodies. The place looks exactly as you’d expect an illicit vampire bar to look. Dark red and black couches are low to the ground, littered with pillows and willing humans. Not a single one of them has been coerced to be here. In varying states of undress, they luxuriate in the attention of vampires willing to trade money and attention for a little blood. I watch the way Gwyn’s body goes taut as we walk past a particularly bloody scene. A human couple rubs their blood over each other’s bodies as a vampire I don’t recognize sits back and watches. His pants are tented, and I look at my watch. It’s not late enough for those kinds of activities but it’s only a matter of time.

Gwyn stops in her tracks to watch the human couple. They’re both in only their underwear, and she flinches as the man slices a cut down his palm and rubs it across the woman’s chest. Considering how much blood covers them both, I suspect she’s done the same to him. The vampire watching them must be doing some sort of delayed gratification thing, because all he does is lick his lips. When Gwyn takes a few staggering steps toward them, nostrils flaring, I wrap my arm around her waist and tug her close. “It’s rude to interrupt, baby.”

She snarls at me, her fangs lengthened as she tries to pull out of my grip. “Calm,” I command, and she goes slack in my arms. “Come on.” I nudge her along to the back room, typing in the code at the door. The private room is reserved for those willing to pay an exorbitant fee, and Margot reserved it the minute Gwyn’s Ascension began.

There’s a large sectional with deep cushions wrapping around three of the walls, black, and the dark wood paneling behind it gleams against the golden sconces lighting the space. Gwyn walks to a corner of the sectional and sits down, pulling a crimson pillow into her lap.

“That was…” she trails off, shaking her head. “Fuck.” When I hand her the ridiculous purple drink I carry, I set mine down on the dark coffee table in the center of the room before taking my jacket off. She stares at me, her little pink tongue visible as it rests on her lip. I haven’t even sat down, and she’s across the room, shoving me to sit and climbing into my lap. She rips my shirt open, the top button flying off, before she pulls the fabric away from my neck. My chuckle turns into a groan as her fangs pierce my skin. Her satisfied grunt is my favorite sound as she pulls my blood into that perfect little mouth. I cup her ass beneath her dress, her thong giving me plenty of access to her smooth skin.

Whenever anyone has sworn their vow to me, I’ve made them drink from my wrist. Gwyn is the only one who has ever drunk from my neck, and it’s far more intimate than I would have imagined. Every single time I hold her in my lap and she drinks from me this way, I allow my eyes to drift shut while I imagine a world in which this could continue. I measure the exact weight of her body on mine, the precise heat she radiates against me, the specific scent of her shampoo and the taste of her skin as I press my mouth to her shoulder. I squeeze her ass, and she sits up, flipping her hair out of her face. She’s glowing, cheeks pink and eyes bright. My blood blends in with her red lips, and she licks away whatever is left. When Gwyn smiles down at me, it stops my fucking heart.

I’ve seen vampires changed before, and most of us grow more cold—stoic, even. But Gwyn shines. She is full of life, breathless and almost joyful. I try not to wonder if it’s because she’s been craving her death, and I finally succeeded in giving it to her in a way. The tiniest part of me is worried that’s the case. But so what if it is? What if she finds freedom in it? As long as she’s actually here, smiling and laughing, does it matter why?

Yes, I decide. It matters.

It matters because the fear of losing her has not left me. That same urgency with which I turned her lives in my chest. It had been assuaged when she began her Ascension, but it never fully left. When she’d fought against me, fought against her despair, I had thought she’d fought the dark beast of depression off too. But it turns out that monster resides in her, and I worry it will overpower her. Knowing how long she’s carried a plan in her heart, one hand holding the grenade lever while the other plays with the pin, makes me feel ill. She is fragile, and I hate myself for my weakness. I should never have taken ownership of her melancholy by begging her to stay.

But I have, and I can’t regret it.

“What?” she asks, laughing playfully. “I was thirsty.”

When I say nothing, she leans down to kiss me. It relieves a bit of the ache beginning in my chest. I shouldn’t let her kiss me, should make it clear this is only to help her through her Ascension. But I squeeze her ass instead, sliding my thumbs over the silky skin of her hips. When I hear someone keying in a code, I tug her dress down, making sure she’s covered. My friends have seen enough of what doesn’t belong to them.

Although does she really belong to me either?

When Margot enters the room, I hear her swear and tell us to get a room. But I can’t take my eyes off Gwyn in my lap. She’s laughing at Margot, head tilted back and eyes closed. Her smile is perfection. Seeing her with fangs makes her even more attractive to me. When she touches the tip of her tongue to one, I feel my dick harden, and I’m disappointed when she clambers off me. She doesn’t go far though, sitting beside me with her hands in her lap. I adjust my pants, too tight in the crotch now thanks to her, and put one arm over the back of the couch.

“Do you have a preference for who she feeds from, Roman? The usuals are here,” Margot says.

“Hey, why does he get to decide?”

“Because he’s more likely to hurt someone than you are,” Nico answers, and Gwyn only squints at him in confusion. I should kill him.

I decide to ignore Nico instead and give Gwyn a choice. “Do you have a preference? Some vampires don’t want to drink from men because of the height difference—”

“Or other reasons,” Margot adds. “But don’t worry, the humans here don’t get handsy.”

“I was getting there,” I say, scowling at the two vampires hovering in the doorway. “It’s up to you, Gwyn. Whatever makes you most comfortable.” I don’t know if Gwyn does it on purpose, but she sidles closer to me. She’s nervous. “It’s not that bad,” I tell her, tilting her chin toward me. Those big brown eyes dart all over my face, and her pouty mouth begs to be kissed as she wears the slightest frown. I don’t let myself. “You just do what you’ve done with me, only more gently. And they won’t heal after, so you’ll need to lick the wounds you make.”

“Unless they don’t want you to heal them,” Nico says, reminding me once again of his presence. I regret bringing them both.

“What’s your one friend’s name, Margot? Petra? Bring her and whoever else you two want.”

Margot leaves, and Nico settles down on the couch across the room from us before he pulls out his phone. When the screen lights up, I can’t help but snort over a centuries old vampire playing Sudoku.

“Is Petra your favorite?” Gwyn asks.

“You jealous?”

“I never said that.”

“I don’t have a favorite.”

“Then why did you pick Petra?” She is definitely jealous, but is it her or the Ascension?

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