Page 62 of The Nephilim's Finesse

“Let’s be quick about it before he comes in.” I had no idea how much time I had, so I didn’t want to dilly-dally. John nodded and manoeuvred himself between my thighs.

“Oh no, today is my turn.” I grinned at him.

I gestured for him to lie down and positioned myself on top of him. Slowly, inch by inch, I let my body glide onto his. His arms clutched my waist as his body stiffened with an intake of breath. He wasn't as big as Raph, but it took some strokes until he fit into me. I took out the shirts I had positioned in my bed and smiled at him, stilling my movement.

“I wanted to do this for quite some time, but it’ll be so much more fun with you.”

John looked at me, a question in his green eyes, and grinned when I bound his wrist to the bedpost. I fastened them tight; I knew he was strong, but he would still need some time to get free. He thought that it was only a light restraint, but cotton held tight if you knew how to use it.

I resumed my motions, up and down, as John began to moan. I did, too, and when I felt he held back waiting for me to come, I faked my moaning, cascading until he believed I was climaxing. When I screamed his name, he started to tremble; only seconds now before he would come. I had never lied about being pleasured before and felt a little guilty for this charade. However, what I'd do next was even more dastardly.

I intertwined the fingers of my left hand with his, and when he came, I extended my razor-sharp fingernails on my right hand and slashed them over his right wrist, ripping away his hand from the appendage. My grip tightened around his severed digits, and I quickly laid his hand behind me before I brought my mouth to the open wound on his arm. Hot crimson blood flooded my tongue, filling me with strength as I sucked John dry, trying to stem the bleeding before he bled out. I sent the pleasure of sucking through him, and this added to his climax. Only when I let go of his stump did he realise what I had done. Blurry, he stared at me, then his stump, then back at me. His mouth opened and closed several times before he screamed, alarmed.

“What…what…?”

As I moved away from him, he slipped out of me. I took his hand, licked it clean, and placed it on the coffee table, staining it red as blood seeped onto it. Hurriedly, I gathered up my clothes and boots. I had to be fast. John was shocked and paralysed at the moment, but he'd soon start to try to free himself. By then, I had to be out of here.

I took the served hand in mine and turned at him one last time.

“I’m so sorry.”

I rushed to the door and placed his hand on the scanner. Behind me, I heard John tug on his binding and scream in frustration, but I didn’t turn when I entered the hallway to escape my prison. The door behind me closed, and I heard John pounding against it. That was a close call. I swallowed down my guilt and blinked my tears away. It had to be done; there was no other way. After the hallway with the turned-off UV light, I opened another door and saw the control room. A quick glance told me that John tried to open the door with his left hand, which didn’t work. I exhaled, relieved. I dressed quickly while watching the monitor. Over one chair hung a thick leather jacket, and I put it on. In it, I found a wool bonnet which smelt of John and put it on, stuffing my crimson hair under it. I exited the room, and another hallway led to a door where I had to put John's hand up for a scan before it opened to the world outside. Stuffing John’s hand into the jacket pocket, I made my way outdoors.

I breathed in deeply, sucking in the cool February air, tasting the scent of rain that would soon fall. I looked up at the unforgiving brightness of the sky; it was so dazzling that I had to close my eyes for a moment. It was cloudy and, therefore, perfect, as the sun wouldn't immediately burn my skin away. Inhaling all the smells that I had been cut off from for so long, I shuddered with relief. For four long months, I had been a prisoner, but now, nothing would stop me from getting away from here.

I turned away from the house and moved as fast as I could through the quiet neighbourhood without being suspicious. While I walked the streets, I felt John’s sperm leaving my core, soaking my knickers. I was truly sorry, but with Raph’s revelation, I had to get to my lair and claim it back. The Nephilim would never release me; I knew that now.

I think we all got a bit too comfortable with each other. Raph knew that he couldn’t let me go, but maybe he enjoyed being intimate with me so much that he prolonged our agreement.

I’d grown lazy, too. Forgetting for weeks that I had to escape. I was savouring the feeling of two beautiful men wanting to please me. While for Raph, I was a means to an end, I had established a connection that ran much deeper—I’d developed feelings for him, that much was sure—I missed him already. I mourned our time together; I'd never be in his arms again, or take in his delicious smell of a warm summer evening and lavender. Should I turn around?

Shaking myself, I scolded myself. Nothing was more important than my freedom, nothing. Not even Raph. Before my capture by him, I'd have laughed out loud if someone had suggested that I would get soft because of a man, right before I'd have sliced that someone into tiny little pieces.

My plan was clear: kill Thorne, get the vampires back under my control, execute my plan. This brief chapter of my life—the capture, the highly pleasurable time in the arms of a man I cared for—was over.

I knew that the house in Croydon wouldn’t be where Thorne resided. It had been Eldred’s favourite house and was known as the headquarters of the London vampires. Most likely, Eldred had held the humans there, and the house would be marred. That left only one other option: my house in Essex. I acquired it shortly after getting the inheritance from Lady Greenwood. Back in the day, it had been a residence three hours from London, northeast of Southend-on-Sea. Now, it was one hour by train. While I sat between some dumb girls who discussed their hook-ups of the previous week, I stared out of the window and planned my next steps. I was free again. I knew Eldred was dead, and the house in Croydon was unavailable. Many vampires, subjects, and even some friends were slain. I had to determine which. Who stood on Thorne's side from the ones that were still there? I didn’t count the newly sired vampires; they were young and green, and they'd be loyal to every stronger vampire if they were smart. But the older ones, I had to see if I'd find allies in some of them or if I had to fight against all of them. The best way forward was to deceive and crawl before Thorne, learn of his plans, and then attack and take over what was rightfully mine.

I exited the train and walked to the outskirts of town. A drizzle came down, but it was better than the sun. When I was sure that no one was around, I ran. I was fast. A human would only see a blur along the stone walls and high bushes that framed the narrow streets. I passed small farms with sheep grazing on them until I finally stood before my estate. Facing the sea, the house stood proud against the battling winds. It was a Victorian-style manor made of red brick with decorative corbels and turrets. The large windows were covered with thick curtains to keep the sun out. Adjacent to the house was a formal garden and a rose garden, surrounded by eight thousand acres of land, where I had spent so many nights taking strolls.

When I climbed the steps to the grand porch with columns and ornate railings, I put the bonnet in the other pocket of John’s leather jacket and shook out my hair. Taking a deep breath, I could feel the vampires and some humans inside. I entered my house, and the unique smell of Harison's Yellow, sweet and spicy with hints of citrus and honey, crawled up my nose. If I had any doubt if Thorne was here, now it was erased. I walked along the entrance hall, where darkened oil paintings of Eldred, Thorne and myself hung along the wall, and passed several newly sired vampires. Their yellow aura was thin, showing how weak they were. When they saw me, their eyes went wide, and they retreated a few steps. Even if they didn’t know me—which I doubted—my reputation preceded me. They saw my thick yellow aura and knew not to mess with me. Valentino, almost as old as I was, turned and hurried deeper into the house, presumably to inform Thorne. I walked into the former drawing room, now simply referred to as a living room. On the commode stood a huge bouquet of yellow roses. As I passed them, I let my fingers glide over their cool petals, reminding me of Thorne doing this a thousand times before over the centuries. The flower had a double bloom with ruffled petals, which overlapped in their somewhat irregular arrangement, making it unique.

I opened the door to our house in Southend-on-Sea. I had news concerning the warlocks that I wanted to share with my sire. He had sent me on another errand to uncover any warlock or witch in the area.

Thorne stood in the middle of the room, his index finger barely touching the ruffled petals of the rose. The bouquet was beautiful; the colours varied from a rich, warm yellow to a golden or even slightly apricot shade. Over the years, those flowers had graced every house in the summertime, but I had never asked why.

“Why are these flowers here?”

Thorne never even looked up. “Because I like them.”

“No. I mean, why are exactly those flowers here?”

“Because they were her favourite.”

I waited for more. When nothing came, I asked, “Who’s she?”

“My wife.”

“She's been dead for over two hundred years.”

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