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Castor could feel Ianora's presence long before he saw her. He kept his eyes trained on the empty goblet in front of him, quelling the anticipation of tasting her and yearning to feed from her. He was a man possessed by want, driven insane by his desire for this one woman.
And yet, when she finally entered the room and met his gaze, she was clearly enjoying his frustration over her latest tricks and by keeping him waiting.
Her lips were painted a deep crimson red, her dress clinging to her curves like a second skin.
Castor's eyes traced the contours of her body hungrily, drinking in her beauty and savoring the sight of Ianora as she sauntered towards him.
"Well, well, look who decided to come after all." Castor leaned forward, steepling his fingers to get a better look at her. "I was beginning to think you'd go the night without feeding."
The amusement in her eyes narrowed into a glare. Her eyes glinted like flint, and the set of her mouth was cold. "It is disgusting that you would dare deny your queen a meal. After locking me in that coffin for days, you would do this to me again?"
He smirked. "I denied my queen nothing. I merely encouraged her to grace me with her company."
"And here I am." She placed her long, white fingers on the edge of the large oaken chair on the other side of the long table. "Are you happy?"
Castor looked her up and down again. Her entire ensemble was armor and cloth, a perfect, radiant, "queen's" camouflage. The gown had no sleeves and only a black bodice garment underneath, tight against her skin, that revealed the dips and curves of her breasts, a hint of cleavage. This outer layer of clothing itself was crisscrossed and pinned in place by a corset of black steel, threaded with silver. A black leather belt pinned the tight skirt of the dress in place.
"I am very happy, indeed," he said. He snapped his fingers, and a hidden door opened on the side slid open, where a servant came out with a cart of pitchers. "What will you drink tonight?"
The servant came to Castor first, the young human man pouring him his usual virgin's blood. He seldom drank anything besides that anymore, as it was the sweetest of the blood available. Virgin's blood was by no means rare or special, but he only drank the blood of noblewomen whisked away from other realms, of which Castor had collected a large stock over many years.
Ianora didn't look away from him when she said, "I will drink the blood of the Crone."
Castor's nose and lips scrunched, but he said nothing. He found the blood of older women far less appetizing, and he figured that was the common assessment. However, he also suspected that Ianora was trying to get a rise out of him.
The servant finished pouring Castor's goblet, and he took a tentative sip of the sweet liquid while the young man moved to the other side of the table. The blood was hot and heavy on his tongue, and he sighed and smacked his lips after enjoying his first taste.
The servant grabbed the goblet at Ianora's side of the table, but when he went to withdraw, Ianora moved quicker. She grabbed the servant's wrist, and without looking away from Castor, she sank her fangs into the servant's neck.
His eyes rolled back, and he moaned when Ianora drank from him. Something dark and needy twisted inside Castor, too, as she stared at him, a challenge clear in her eyes. He contained the beast inside of him, but Castor rose to his feet. Admittedly to get a better look at the display before him.
"What are you doing drinking from our servants?" he demanded, his voice sharp with more anger than he actually felt. "Let the poor man go."
"Like you care." Ianora licked the man's neck where she'd bitten him, and Castor's neck tingled as though she'd bitten him instead. "I could drain him dry, and you'd laugh, wouldn't you?"
Castor raised an eyebrow at her, as he couldn't refute that claim. But he didn't truly believe she would do it. Ianora was many things, but she had yet to grow into a cold-blooded killer. She bit down on the servant again, her eyes rolling back. The man squirmed in a mix of pleasure and pain beneath her grasp, but he didn't attempt to writhe away.
That was how it worked with their victims—most enjoyed being drank from because of the pheromones released during the process. It triggered arousal in both parties that was nearly as insatiable as the vampire's bloodlust.
Castor slowly drained the last drops of blood from his goblet. He savored the rich taste on his tongue, a potent blend of sweetness and bitterness all at once.
Then Ianora pulled away from the servant, dropping his neck before she killed him. A drizzle of blood leaked down her chin and lips, and she licked it all away. The young man collected himself, looking up at her with a daze, and then he did what no blood bag should ever do: he kissed Ianora.
Even she was caught by surprise as the man's lips met hers. Her eyes widened, and she froze as if unsure of what to do.
Castor, however, acted beforeheknew what he was doing. He blinked with lightning speed across the room, grabbing the young servant by the back of his scalp.
He groaned in pain when Castor yanked him back. "That's mywifeyou're touching," Castor hissed. "Do you not know your place?"
Then before the man could make another sound, his razor-sharp claws drew against the man's throat, gouging out his jugular. Blood spurted everywhere, drenching both Castor and Ianora both. Panting, they stared at each other, her pupils dilated and lost in the same rapturous haze as he was—lost to the intoxicating scent of blood.
Like wild beasts, they attacked the servant's remains at once. Ianora latched onto one side of this throat, and Castor the other. He moaned in ecstasy as the sweet nectar coursed through his veins, a hot rush of fire that set his whole body alight. He drank greedily, savoring every drop of the precious fluid, until the flow finally ebbed.
Castor and Ianora both looked up again. Blood drenched her lips, and now a teasing smile played at her mouth. The scent of blood and desire filled his nostrils as she leaned in close, only inches away from his eager mouth.
It was all the invitation he needed. His mouth pressed eagerly to hers, his tongue flicking out to lick at the blood that stained her lips. And then he bit—hard enough to draw blood. Hard enough to mark her as his, the first of many he planned to lay upon her.
She responded by biting his back, hard enough to send a jolt of pleasure through him. It was all he could do to keep from throwing her down on the ground and taking her right then and there. Ianora eagerly reciprocated, and their kiss turned ravenous, hungry enough that they forgot all about the servant's corpse at their feet.
