"You have been spending too much time with him. He isn\'t even warm. You must find something to distract yourself. This isn\'t like you."
Nadia knew enough not to embarrass her in front of her guests at that party, speaking lowly in old Italian - older than anyone there that night. The Queen said nothing in response and did not look at her daughter who she would never admit was right. She allowed her eyes to drift among her guests and those that accompanied them. Most were old, rich immortals, laughing lightly in their pompous conversation, touching each other lightly on the shoulder, warm plump humans at their elbows, casually kissing the backs of their hands. Speaking of nothing, absolutely fucking nothing.
"Odessa,"
That party was two weeks ago. Out of all the humans that attended that party, whether they were blood sheep or pets, only one spoke Italian. It was enough to make conversation interesting, though she found herself wishing that she were speaking with someone else. Whoever that was didn\'t matter.
Her house had been empty for two weeks, her veins cold for about three. It was tonight that she had decided to phone that blushing sheep that had so humbly insisted she take his number. If she had been any more distracted, the ancient would have been flattered. The scrap of paper sat on the glossy piano for a long time, beside the ash tray with a smoldering filter. An hour after sunset she had the boy picked up by one of her Escalades with the tinted glass, and within an hour after that he was in her home.
Alone.
The Queen greeted him kindly, giving him a smile like one throws a treat to a dog who has done something amusing. She allowed him to kiss the back of her hand, bowed slightly and looking into her face to see if her smile would reach her eyes. It did not. He said something witty and light, shyly placing his hands into his pockets, his face full of blood. He had dressed nicely, as if she would be impressed by anything besides his steady heartbeat. Charming, maybe.
Despite her eloquent tongue, the sole thing on the Queen\'s mind was the way his blood perfumed her walls, teasing her nostrils and tongue. Precisely how she had intended it to.
They chatted for about an hour, casually, in Italian, pausing every so often for the meaning of a word that the woman was far too old to understand. She could smell his cock filling with blood and feel the heat move in his body at the slightest touch or the way she moved. Child\'s play. It was all unconscious, unintentional, laced within everything she did.
Disconnected,
She sat him by the piano, for that was the nature of the visit. He played when he was a boy, back in Italy when his parents cared about keeping him occupied. He hadn\'t touched a piano since coming over seas, couldn\'t remember the way his fingers should move. The woman insisted that he would remember the instant his fingers touched the smooth, milky white. As with everything, she was right. The room filled with clumsy, hesitant notes, virgin fingers who knew the body but had never felt passion. Her smile did not touch her eyes.
Sonya could feel his blood as though her veins were already filled with him. He was rushing with excited heartbeat when she leaned over him, casually moving her fingers with instruction. "No, not that, do it like this. Yes, more like that", mindless words, old mindless Italian words. She had every intention of feeding from him, but not until he was filled with feeling - something with more vibrancy. More adrenaline. Something so alive it was distracting. The heartbeat, filling her ears, her fangs.
There was a car down the road.
The ancient moved away for a moment, looking to the door as if someone had stepped in. The Italian boy asked her if something was the matter and she gently told him to continue playing. A text message was sent out, a commend to open the gate to the Camero that would be arriving at the edge of her properly in five minutes.
The bitterness stopped her habitual breathing.
"No, no no no. Do this, not that. Play it more like this. Pretend the piano is a woman, pretend you are making love to her, coax the moans from her depths." The blood rushing around in the human\'s body would surely be like a beacon to any immortal in the vicinity. The thought amused the woman, and her smile was icy as she leaned over the boy. In five minutes, the boy asked if someone had opened her door. The immortal laughed musically, drawing a quizzical expression from the human. "Just play," Her eyes did not leave the keys, the black and white.
Two weeks. Fucking amusing.
She turned to Nikolai, who had purposely made noise for the benefit of the mortal, who jumped regardless and shifted to hide his erection. The music ceased.
"No, of course not." She touched the shoulder of the boy, indicating that he stay silent, and took a step away from the piano. She smiled with the same smile she used at her parties when she didn\'t give a fuck about the person who was talking.
"Is there something you want?" All politeness from the Queen.
