Chapter 21 #2
I chuckled and guided Warren through the gates, passing between the maze of tombs. “It is a joke among the supernatural. Who would look for the living dead amongst the bodies of the forever dead?”
Warren shrugged. “You make a good point.”
“I do that sometimes.” We laughed as I took his hand in mine, reaching the large white tomb towards the back of the cemetery.
Once we were inside, the smell of dust and decaying flowers hung in the air.
I pushed the large stone coffin aside to reveal a set of stairs leading beneath the ground. “Are you ready?”
He swept a strand of his hair behind his ear as he nodded, trying to rein in his excitement. “Hurry up, Levy.”
I cackled and went in first, holding my hand out to guide him down the steps, even though I knew that his new sight would not allow him to trip or fall.
The bottom of the stairway opened up into a large room, decorated in the various styles of time gone by.
It was an overload of the senses, clashing colors and designs everywhere.
But it somehow fitted, a time capsule of all that had been endured.
Like everyone who visited added a new part of the collection, creating an everlasting legacy to the supernatural world.
Warren’s eyes lit up as he took it all in.
The exposed bricks, the curtains hanging from floor to ceiling, the candelabras in every corner creating flickering shadows across the entire room.
He licked his lips, his fangs descending with ease, as he caught sight of the blood bar.
Rows and rows of crystal decanters were filled with different blood types, some even labeled as rare witch blood or from infamous faces of history.
Donated and stolen alike, the blood collection was like no other.
Singers were placed on a stage at the back of the room, not unlike the one at the bayou, creating an upbeat tempo behind the sound of talking.
Witches were busy sitting at their tables, their shawls draped loosely over their shoulders as they threw bones down and read from their tarot collections.
The other vampires were scattered around, drinking their blood from old chalices or feeding on humans they had brought with them.
“What do you think, mon cher?” I whispered to Warren.
“I have no words,” he replied, squeezing my hand.
We made our way over to the bar, and I could feel Warren’s gaze traveling everywhere, his eyes locking on one of the humans in the corner as they danced with their vampire.
I hoped that one day, when he was more comfortable with himself, we would be able to come and feed there, in the open, so he could truly experience it.
He sighed happily when the glass of blood was slid to him across the bar, humming when it hit his tongue.
“Dance with me?” I asked, holding my hand out to him once he was finished drinking. I was surprised that he obliged, sliding his fingers across mine and following me onto the open dancefloor.
We spun around to the music and I pressed him closer to me, keeping my lips pressed against his ear. “I have been desperate to bring you here since we first met.”
I felt Warren smile against my cheek, his arm sliding around my neck. “Is it always like this?”
“Here? Yes, nothing much has changed. Life moves on around us, but the living dead take comfort in the same. We embrace the changes of life while allowing ourselves places like this to rest in our history. To embrace what we are with others like us.” I spun him out and pulled him back, this time having his back pressed against my chest so we could watch together.
“Witches and vampires hate each other, but see how everyone coexists peacefully in this one place? It is a sacred place, a neutral territory of sorts.”
“Tombeau des morts-vivants,” a familiar, though unwanted, voice said behind us. “They call it the Tomb of the Living Dead. A little on the nose, if you ask me.”
I spun around, hissing slightly at the sight of the old bitch I could not seem to escape. Though her blonde hair was now tightly pulled into a bun, her makeup subtle and far lighter than the last time I had seen her, she looked exactly the same. An immortal beauty, but a forever bitch.
“Maggie, a displeasure to see you here. Such a surprise nobody has staked you yet,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her.
The outwardly-young woman grinned, her perfect teeth baring as she did so. She curtsied low, the stiff bustle of her cream embroidered skirts keeping her restrained. “Levette, darling. I find it difficult to believe you are still alive. That mouth has not yet gotten you burned?”
I turned my attention to Warren, seeing his eyes flick between us in a quiet panic. “Warren, mon amour, allow me to introduce you to Magdalena Vulpe, or as I love to call her, Maggie. She is one of the oldest vampires you will ever meet.”
She shot me a glare before shaking Warren’s hand, sniffing the air, before her eyes roamed between us. “Call me Lena, my little vampy. You’re a fresh one, aren’t you?”
Warren nodded, pulling his hand away from her. “Yes.”
“Finally convinced someone to be your companion?” Maggie asked me, rolling her eyes. “Who did you kill to make that happen?”
Warren winced, and I shot Maggie a murderous gaze. She loved to meddle, her old years making her grow bored so easily. She got her enjoyment out of making other vampires uncomfortable, knowing she was practically untouchable.
“Oh, wonderful!” she said, clapping her hands together. “Something saucy happened, did it? Who did you butcher, Levette?”
“I did not—”
“That is none of your business,” Warren interceded, taking my hand in his. “What happened is between us. If you would please leave, we were having an enjoyable evening. It was nice to meet you.”
He pulled me towards the bar as I looked over my shoulder at Maggie, smirking at her. She stuck out her tongue—so unladylike that I almost laughed—and turned her attention back to whatever entourage she had brought with her.
I had met Maggie more than a handful of times over my life as a vampire.
She was sadistic and twisted, taking pleasure in the turmoil of her counterparts.
There was something undeniably alluring about her, and though she got under my skin like no other, I admired her fierceness.
Magdalena had a history she rarely shared, but a presence about her that made people think twice before crossing her.
If she were less annoying, I would have been tempted to join her coven.
“You defended me,” I said, surprised, as the vampire behind the bar served us another glass of blood. I noticed the way his eyes remained on Warren for a beat too long, his fingers skimming the glass in the hopes of touching him.
It made me want to rip out his throat.
“Our business is ours,” Warren replied, offering a polite smile in thanks to the bartender. “Nobody gets to meddle in that. And nobody is allowed to judge you for it but me.”
I smiled into my glass, taking a long gulp as I let my eyes roam over Warren. “I like you like this. Powerful, free—bold.”
He said nothing, but I could see the way his lips twitched, itching to smile. We stood there for a while, drinking and watching the evening play out.
As time passed, he seemed calmer. I knew that one evening had not fixed everything within him, but I hoped it gave him a glimpse into what it could be like if he stopped torturing himself.
I enjoyed seeing him laugh, drinking blood without fear, and standing close to me without panic behind his eyes.
I spun him around the dance floor as much as he would allow, our bodies pressed tightly together. The exposed skin of his shirt was driving me wild, and I longed to take him home and ravage him completely.
“The bartender keeps watching you,” I whispered into his ear as he lay his head back against me, our bodies swaying to the music.
I ran my hands across his front, traveling across his chest and gripping his throat.
He let out a low moan as my thumb caressed the skin softly before I replaced it with my lips. “He is jealous of me.”
“I am sure I am the one he is jealous of,” Warren muttered halfheartedly, reaching up to tangle his fingers in my hair.
I laughed and licked my way up the column of his neck, keeping my eyes locked on the server’s. “Non, mon cher, it is not me he wants. Look up, see how he watches you, how his jealousy of me right now is eating him up.”
Warren tutted, tightening his fingers in my hair, pushing me further into his neck. “Well, he cannot have me.”
A devilish idea formed in my head and I let my fangs descend, slowly scraping over his skin. “I am a selfish creature, cher, but I would not wish to hold you back. Do you want him? You have only ever known me. Perhaps you would like to explore with others, now that you have nothing to fear.”
He groaned quietly, trying to tilt his neck to force me to bite him. “I have no interest in another.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, my free hand toying with the waistband of his pants teasingly. “You do not wish to know what another feels like? How he might make you moan?”
I was baiting him deliberately, but I could not stop myself. It gave me a sick pleasure to turn him on, knowing what I would do if he said yes to another. I would not allow it, even if he wanted that. He was mine, and I was his—another would never touch him.
Warren lifted his lips to mine, kissing me slowly and seductively. “I want no other. Show him that even when I hate you entirely, I am yours.”
His words were the answer to a silent prayer and I did not hesitate to sink my fangs into the soft of his neck, drawing an elicit sound from the back of his throat. I kept my eyes on the bartender, satisfied when he huffed and turned his back to us, leaving me to bewitch Warren all the more.