Page 31 of The Vampire's Lament
Now, I wasn’t one for pettiness. However, when backed into a corner, words sometimes fell from my mouth with intent to cause the most damage possible. Because no mortal would ever get the better of me.
“I can still taste him,” I said, licking my lips for effect.
His fair, golden face blanched. “What?”
“His blood, his cum, they are both heavenly,” I continued. “My lips are still humming from the kiss we shared. The elf really knows how to make a vampire feel good.”
It seemed like a small betrayal to speak of Paris in such a way. Sullied what we’d shared. But anything that broke this irritating chatter from the cowardly mage was a boon.
That got no response from Hal, and it felt like the world held its breath. But bloodthirst radiated in the Heart of All. My people were ready for violence as much as me now.
We had to fight. This palace would not fall to the likes of this cowardly mage and his ilk. We were resilient, we would survive.
“You’re lying,” Hal finally spoke.
A woman tried to intervene. “Sir, we?—”
“He’d never touch you,” he spouted, face full of fury.
I didn’t answer, using silence as a weapon.
He aimed his gun at my chest. “He’d. Never. Touch. You.” He enunciated each word like that would somehow make me agree.
Again, pettiness broke through. “In the shadow of abandonment, he sought comfort in my cock.”
Goodness, I would have to explain myself to my vampires for these revelations they were overhearing.
The mage quivered with confusion. Good. I was glad to see my goading land.
I licked my lips, my fangs bared. I wouldn’t kill him straight away, not until he spilled every detail of this operation. But I would taste him, and taste him well.
“Fuck you,” Hal growled, and fired his gun, a spray of bullets pelting my chest. They bounced off me as if meeting steel, the Heart of All retreating into the deepest, safest parts of me.
I didn’t die easily.
“Cunt!” Hal screamed, reloading. “You dirty, lying cunt! Fucking kill them!”
The mortals moved.
“Attack!” I roared, my vampires charging at my command.
The first of the executioners leaped into my path, twirling his stakeblade as the battled boomed around me. An elf, one of his pointed ears missing a chunk of its lobe.
I ducked his swing, grabbing him by the arm and twisting it, popping his bones. He wailed, and I snapped his neck, tossing his body into a different man firing a shotgun at Vaughn.
He made short work of him, snatching his weapon and blowing his head off, the blood spraying like a crimson firework.
Such a satisfying sight.
My friend nodded at me before tearing out the heart of another man.
The chaos rang harder, a throng of bodies tearing into each other, guns firing, swords cleaving. One of my people lost her head, which would grow back so long as her heart avoided the kiss of a stakeblade.
Zara. A relatively new vampire.
Her head bounced across my feet, coming to a stop nearby. She hissed at the executioner coming toward me.
The werewolf leapt through the air with terrific speed. I went to grab her, but she landed a kick to my face, sending me spinning to the ground.
