Free Bite, My Love by Penelope Fletcher

worried gaze
finds the fang marks on my neck. “You know what’s he’s
done?”
    I hear
what she’s asking. “Yeah. He’s promised to explain.”
    Lee’s
eyes twinkle. “That’s the most succinct I’ve heard you.” She gives
an awkward hop on the spot. “Look at me keeping you standing
here.”
    She
motions us to follow, and walks deeper into Castle. Her small frame
is spry as she glides down the spacious corridor, footfalls
feather-light.
    This
woman is the leader of the Vampires. Since I last saw there has
been a distancing within. Her mind was elsewhere most of the time
we talked, but has been pulled back learning about the life in her
belly.
    Lee
guides us into a large living area.
    The
upholstery is lavish and plush, a vivid reminder of a bygone era. A
leather Chesterfield dominates the space. Its full grain leather
gleams in the orangey light pouring from the grandiose fireplace.
Beneath it is an aged, heavily woven rug. An oak cart table is
cluttered with books, empty glass bottles, and other capricious
knick-knacks. As if someone left the occasional thing until there
was no more space on its chunky surface. Flanking the three-seater
are tartan armchairs with high-winged backs, and cherry wood
beading. Old wood beams stretch ceiling to floor, and have darkened
with time. They break the room into squares. We stand with the main
furniture in the first square. In the second is a walnut chess
table with complementary stools. The last space is shadowed, but I
can see a pianoforte. The roaring fire keeps away the autumn chill,
and above the mantle is an oil painting of a feudal
lord.
    He shits
astride a black stallion in front of Castle. The broad-brush
strokes do nothing to dampen the mysterious expression visible on
his majestic visage. His lips are twisted in cynicism, and his eyes
distant and brooding.
    I squint
at it, trying to place the face that’s familiar and too
handsome.
    Avoiding
the sofa, I jump onto the oak sideboard behind it, shoving
candelabras, and miniature busts out the way to make room for my
ass. Under my nose there’s a small vase of cut roses that smell
fresh and sweet. “That’s Ben up there, right? He looks hot. If I
didn’t know better, I’d say he was a wolf.”
    “ Delightful.” Daniel reclines in his seat, one arm resting
along the top of the sofa, the other holding his ankle as he
crosses his legs. It doesn’t matter his clothes are dirty and torn
he looks masterful. “Crawl all the furniture like an animal why
don’t you?”
    “ Seriously?” I glower. “I mention Ben’s hotness and you react
like this?”
    He glares
at me over his shoulder, and pats the seat. Beckoning.
    “ I’m not a fucking dog.”
    Sighing –
witheringly – his gaze turns to the fire.
    Delicate
face whimsy, Lee pays us no attention. She stands by the fireplace
staring at the painting. Smiling faintly. “I remember when this was
done. Handsome, isn’t he? The artist captured him in a way that
enchants me. My own representations are darker, more intimate.” She
blushes. “Desire clouds how I see him, so it’s thrilling to see him
through different eyes. He’s Human here. Preparing to take over
from his wasting father. He was so sad. Terrified of what the
future would bring. His fiefdoms were under attack by vicious
wolves. When men entered the forest to hunt, they disappeared, and
his vassals were discontent with his lord father’s approach to
seeking out the blood devil plaguing the village maidens.” We share
a commiserating look for those people. “The night before
commissioning this painting he was visited by an ‘evil spirit’, and
told he’d been chosen to join the Great Bloodline.”
    My chin
rests in my palm as she speaks. “Huh? Evil spirit?”
    Daniel’s
long fingers drum on the thick leather of the sofa with staccato
beats. “It was the night I showed myself to him.” He smirks,
pleased the one he Sired was terrified enough to perceive him as an
evil apparition.
    I roll