Chapter 6
The next two weeks blurred together in familiar patterns.
Spence managed the flock as necessary, costumes and makeup for the feeding frenzies, and resolved the inevitable personality conflicts that arose when this many people lived in close quarters. He’d been doing this work for years, and it was almost meditative in its familiarity.
He also managed at least one or two vampire shows or demos a day, helped Zander with random issues as needed, and tried to keep Emmy fed throughout the day.
Evenings were feeding frenzies in the theater, and after years of doing this, most of the performances felt routine.
He loved it when Emmy could join them, but she was usually with a different vampire.
He’d figured Zander would put a stop to that by now, but he had not, so Spence didn’t bring it up.
You’re beautiful like this, Emmy told him one night, her mental voice warm with affection. She was bent over a table nearby, a vampire about to plunge into her asshole from behind, but she was watching Zander fuck Spence’s ass. I love watching you.
I love being watched by you, he replied honestly, and felt her pleasure spike through their connection.
The triangle worked even here, in the chaos of the frenzies. They were together even when not touching, when separated by stage, audience, and writhing bodies.
Late nights were his favorite. Tangled in bed alone with her. Or maybe their time in the Lupanar was. One happened nightly, the other weekly, so apples and oranges. Both were his favorite.
He loved being whatever they needed him to be, the base of the triangle, existing to support the two sides above him.
The foundation.
The morning of the Eyes Wide Shut ball, he had some time to help Emmy pack, and she told him, “I’m going to miss this place.”
Spence looked up from folding her workout gear. “Really?”
“I mean, I’m desperate for sunshine. Like, desperate . If I don’t see the sun soon, I might lose my mind.” She laughed, but there was an edge to it. “But yeah. I’ll miss the intensity of it. The way everything here is … amplified. Focused. Real life is going to feel weird after this.”
“Real life has sunshine,” Spence pointed out.
“I know.” She folded then rolled a sweater, tucked it into her bag. “I’m being ridiculous. Of course I want to go back. I just…” She trailed off.
“You’re afraid it’ll be different,” Spence finished for her.
Her eyes snapped to his. “Yes. Maybe.”
“I’m afraid of the same thing, but Zander told me something that helped.”
He recalled Zander saying it, so he could get it right. “The silo was the crucible. Anchorage will be the tempering. Different doesn’t mean broken.”
Emmy was quiet for a long moment, then stopped packing and pulled him into a hug. “He’s annoyingly wise sometimes.”
“He’s had a lot of practice.”
She laughed, the sound more genuine this time, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Yeah. I guess millennia will do that.”
They worked together in comfortable silence, and Spence let himself hope. If they could voice these fears, acknowledge them, support each other through them — that was foundation, too. Not just the sex and submission and spectacular scenes, but these quiet moments.
Perhaps Zander was right.
Maybe they just needed to trust what they’d built.
Emmy dropped into the splits and felt the satisfying burn in her inner thighs.
Rhea whistled appreciatively from the weight bench. “Show off.”
“Just keeping flexible.” Emmy pushed deeper into the stretch, breathing through the mild discomfort. “Flexibility is important for … various activities.”
Felix snorted from the pull-up bar. “Various activities. Is that what we’re calling getting folded like origami and railed by two men at once now?”
“Felix!” But Emmy was laughing despite herself.
“What? I’m just saying, we all know what you three get up to. The whole silo knows.” He dropped from the bar, landing lightly. “It’s like you’ve found a whole new outlet for your exhibitionism.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you’re right.” Emmy came out of the splits, moved into a different stretch. “And yes, for the record, flexibility is important when being double-teamed.”
“Yes, it is,” Rhea said with a chuckle. “And watching the three of you is refreshing. Most vampires are so obsessed with image and propriety. Zander just … owns it. You all do.”
Emmy felt warmth bloom in her chest. “Yeah. We do.”
They worked out in comfortable silence for a while — Emmy on flexibility before she hit the weights, Rhea on her martial arts forms, Felix alternating between weights and cardio. The gym was mostly empty this late in the afternoon, with only a few other flock members.
“So,” Rhea said eventually, moving to the mat beside Emmy to stretch. “ Eyes Wide Shut tonight. You excited?”
Emmy made a noncommittal sound. “I don’t know if excited is the right word. Curious, maybe?”
“It’s intense,” Felix offered. “I’ve done it three times now. The anonymity thing is … weird. In a good way, but weird.”
“I hate looking at myself shaved,” Rhea said. “But once all the makeup is on, it makes sense. Also, Felix isn’t wrong about the objectification of it. Being just one of many identical vassals, or whatever.”
“Speaking of which.” Felix came over to join them on the mat. “Are you going to shift when we get back to Anchorage? You haven’t changed in months.”
Emmy shrugged, moving into a quad stretch. “I don’t really need to, like two-natured shifters, but yeah, I might spend part of a day in Faerie, once we’re back and near a portal.”
The conversation drifted to other topics — Rhea’s plans for when they returned to Anchorage, Felix’s carefully maintained hope that Vexare would move to Alaska within the year.
And then Felix asked, “Will you still be beside my room? Or are you moving to the underground?”
“I have no idea. I guess we’ll figure that out when we get back. Even if I move downstairs, I’ll still eat with everyone, and I’ll be upstairs a lot during the day. Fuck , I need sunshine.”
Felix studied her with those too-knowing eyes. “You’re worried things might change when the three of you leave here.”
“Maybe a little,” Emmy admitted.
“It’ll change things,” Rhea said bluntly, then softened it: “But that’s not necessarily bad. You can’t live at the intensity of the silo forever. It would burn you out. Anchorage will give you room to breathe, to build something sustainable.”
“Plus, sunshine,” Felix added. “Never underestimate the power of actual sunlight on your mental health.”
The conversation shifted to lighter topics, and Emmy didn’t let her mind circle back to her worries again.
It was going to work out. Probably.
Maybe.
Later that evening, Emmy stood staring at two sets of fancy hooded robes, and two ornate face masks.
Black silk so fine it seemed to drink light, long robes that would sweep the floor. Gold masks — real gold, not paint — each one a work of art covering everything except the mouth.
One set was clearly sized for Zander. The other…
“He doesn’t want you to be ‘one of many,’” Spence said from behind her, his voice quiet. “He wants you on his arm as his equal.”
Emmy touched the smaller mask, feeling the cool metal under her fingers. “I’ll be the only daywalker dressed as a vampire.”
“Yes.” Spence moved closer and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. “Because you’re not flock tonight. You’re his partner. His equal dominant.”
Something warm and fierce bloomed in Emmy’s chest. She turned in Spence’s arms, cupped his face. “And you? How do you feel about being anonymous?”
His smile was genuine, if a little rueful.
“Honestly? There’s freedom in it. No expectations, no personality, just …
being used. It works for me.” He kissed her palm.
“Plus, I’m always different — the Master’s pet, and I know that’s how outsiders see me, which is fine.
I can never be truly anonymous, carrying his power inside me. ”
He shrugged. “It’s fun to pretend, though.”
Yes, like her discovery about the faux-rape thing. It’s fun to pretend.
Emmy pulled him down for a deep, claiming kiss before stepping back. “Go get ready. I’ll meet you in the holding area. Don’t go in without one of us.”
He left, and Emmy turned back to the robes.
Equal. Partner. Not flock.
She fixed her hair like the picture showed, in a low bun at the back of her head. She applied her foundation, then held the mask to her face to see how much of her eyes would show, then went to work on her eye makeup.
Eventually, she was looking in the mirror at … someone else.
The silk barely whispered against her skin, and it turned out, the robe was tea length and didn’t reach the floor.
The mask and robe completely hid her identity. It wasn’t just the submissives who were one of many, tonight.
But this costume was about power in anonymity, while the shaved, nude flock had their power stripped from them along with their identity.
She headed for the theater to collect Spence.
Someone had lined the flock up from shortest to tallest — all with shaved heads and identical makeup that rendered them anonymous.
They were in two lines, predators and prey. Prey were all holding blindfolds, predators were not.
Emmy found Spence by scent more than sight.
And when she walked up to him, she telepathed, Mine.
Yours, he agreed, and she felt his submission pulse warm through their connection.
She went to her knees, locked a ring around his cock and balls, and then attached a leash to the ring.
He followed a step behind her when she stepped away, and no one argued with her taking what was hers. Costumes don’t hide people when shifters can tell who is who by scent.
One floor up, The Grande Sanguination Theatre had been transformed into a super-creepy ritual space.