60. Brody
Brody
Three thousand people registered in advance and so their profiles are available immediately for new members to search. By lunchtime another thousand have signed up and I can see evidence that messages are being exchanged, although obviously I can’t actually read what’s being said.
Ari hovers around me, a concerned look on her face.
“Sit down,” I tell her. “It’s all looking OK.” And it is. It really is.
“Who are they all?” she asks, chewing her lip.
I run some analytics on the results we’re getting from the initial questionnaire. “Well over seventy percent of users are human.”
“Seventy percent? That feels high. If there’s more humans than vampires then not everyone will match.”
“No. But some of these will be lookie-loos.”
“Lookie-loos?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Ivan was saying it the other night. I like it. Anyway,” I continue, “we always knew that some people would sign up just to have an explore of the site, dip their toes in the water as it were. And they’ve all paid upfront.”
“True. I just don’t want people to be disappointed.”
“They won’t be. We’ve done all the marketing to make sure we’ve reached out to a broad cross-section of people, more than enough so that plenty of serious daters have signed up. The lookie-loos won’t care if they don’t match with someone, that isn’t what they’re after anyway.”
“Are you just being overly positive?” she asks.
“No. I genuinely think this is working.” Of course it’s not strictly true.
I have no real idea if Only Fangs will actually take off.
All I know is that we’ve done everything we can to make it a success and everything else is now out of our control.
So I may as well put on a brave face and keep my fingers crossed.
Behind my back though, I don’t want Ari to see and suspect my cheerful facade is just that.
Matt and Ivan have been in charge of organising a launch party for us and to say I’m apprehensive of what this evening will entail is an understatement.
“Are you sure they haven’t told you anything?” Ari asks me as we start getting ready at 6 p.m.
“Absolutely nothing at all.” That in itself is concerning. Matt is terrible at keeping things secret and the fact that he’s been able to keep it under wraps makes me wonder if he’s forgotten.
“Hmmm. Do you think this is too dressy?” She holds up a sheath of black silk. “It’s vintage Stella McCartney.”
“I think you will be the most beautiful woman in the room.”
She rolls her eyes. “You always say that, even if I’m wearing joggers.”
“And I always mean it.”
I leave her to get dressed and go to check the numbers once more.
Only Fangs is now at almost six thousand users.
Holy shit, this could actually work. I rush back into the bedroom to tell Ari.
She has one foot raised to adjust the straps on a pair of stiletto shoes and the black silk dress clings to her curves like a second skin. Holy shit.
“Do I look OK?” she asks standing up and smoothing the dress over her hips.
I don’t answer her. Instead I go to her and take her in my arms, my lips kissing her neck.
“You’ll crease it,” she says and gently pushes me away. “But later…” She parts her lips and runs her tongue across her teeth.
So it turns out that Matt and Ivan have a real talent for planning launch parties and have hired the Castle Brasserie for the evening.
“This is where Ari and I had our first date,” I tell Matt as we arrive and he meets us outside the front of the restaurant.
“It wasn’t a real date,” Ari corrects me.
“A technicality,” I shoot back.
I notice Matt is wearing a name tag that has a combination of random letters on it. “V/Q/T?” I ask.
“My idea,” Ivan interjects. “V is for vampire. Q is for queer. T is for taken.” He grins at Matt and he returns the smile. They’re adorable.
Matt hands me my own name tag with H/S/T on it. We’re ushered us inside and met with a wall of applause. The place is rammed with a combination of humans and vampires, all of whom are sporting the same little name tags. Someone thrusts a glass of champagne in my hand and I down it gratefully.
The evening is delightfully chaotic, the perfect way for me and Ari to unwind after all the hours we’ve been working recently.
A number is being projected onto one of the walls, ticking up every few seconds.
“I linked it to the app data,” Matt tells me.
“So we can see all the new members joining in real time.”
I give him a thumbs up, but it takes all my restraint not to spend the entire evening staring at it. Everything rides on that number. Literally everything.
But my attention is snagged by a rather uncomfortable looking man in the corner. “Is that Danely?” I ask Matt. “From my old office?”
“Yeah. Apparently he got dumped a few weeks ago and Sharon felt sorry for him so invited him as her plus one.”
“They’re not,” I make a weird motion with my hand. I really hope that Sharon and Danely aren’t a couple. I think it would ruin the entire evening if I’m honest.
“Not if that’s anything to go by,” Ari says, leaning in close so I can hear her above the crowd.
She’s pointing at one of the booths where a very happy looking Sharon is chatting to a few other guests as she sits on someone’s lap.
The arm around her waist is encased in slightly battered tweed.
And is that a pair of brogues I can see under the table?
“Is he?” I ask.
“Atticus? Oh yeah, he’s a vampire. And apparently a total lothario.”
“Lucky Sharon.”
“Indeed. Every vampire I know has the hots for him.”
I give her the side eye. Is she including herself in that?
“I only have eyes for you, my love,” she tells me, but there’s a hint of laughter in her tone. I don’t buy into the whole possessive bullshit and she knows it; she’s free to find other people attractive, just so long as she comes home with me at the end of the night.
A few minutes after ten the entire room suddenly falls silent and I follow the gaze of everyone else. We’re all staring, transfixed as the counter on the wall starts to tick up faster and faster, so quickly it almost becomes a blur. “What the hell is going on?” Ari asks.
“I have no idea,” I say as the number passes ten thousand.
“There’s been a viral TikTok,” someone shouts.
The number passes eleven thousand.
When it hits twelve thousand we open more champagne.
By midnight we have over twenty thousand subscribers and we’ve all had far too much to drink.
“I think everyone needs to head home,” Ivan says.
“Spoilsport,” Clara tells him and I get a sense of deja vu from the night we spent in the Crimson Well, when we celebrated the fact we were going to Hele House to pitch to the High Council. How things have changed since then.
It takes a bit of persuading, but eventually all our guests agree to call it a night, everyone telling me what an amazing party it was and how they are so excited about Only Fangs.
My heart is full with all the well-wishes as Ari and I get into a taxi back to her flat.
We’ve barely closed the door behind us when she turns and kisses me, her tongue in my mouth as she pulls me towards the bedroom, kicking her shoes off as she goes.
“I want you so badly,” she says as she comes up for air, her hands unbuttoning my shirt with an infectious urgency. I’m almost naked as we get to the bedroom.
“Lie down on the bed,” she commands. And then she straddles me, the dress hitched up around her waist so I can just catch the merest glimpse of the burgundy lace of her underwear. “You’re absolutely sure this is what you want?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Promise?”
“Yes.” Less of a whisper and more of a groan this time. I’ve waited so long for this moment and now my fear and arousal are so intertwined I think I might self-combust.
She arches her back a little and slips her dress off the right shoulder and then the left.
With a shimmy the dress pools around her waist, and she smiles at me as she cups her breasts, pinching her nipples between her fingers.
She maintains eye contact as her hand disappears under the material of dress and I feel her stiffen as she touches herself.
I watch as she takes herself almost to the point of orgasm, tipping her head back.
And then she looks at me and her smile broadens, unsheathing her fangs.
She bears down on me.
I hold my breath.
There is no pain. Only a delicious sense of release, like I’ve been balancing on the edge of a cliff for far too long and finally I’m falling.
Falling into the abyss.
I close my eyes and give myself over to the sensation.