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“None of my partners ever got old.”
Will felt a chill run through him. “You mean you killed them.”
“No. The kind of men who make my lusts rise are not the kind who live long lives. Rough men. Violent men. Men who need to be tamed. Men like you, William.” Maddox smiled. “I once fucked Robin of Locksley. Do you know who that is?”
“Robin Hood? He’s fake.”
“No. He wasn’t. He was very real, and he liked to be spanked.”
“He did not,” Will laughed.
“Oh, yes he did. With a birch lash. It would make him orgasm within a dozen strokes when he was truly in need.”
“You’re fucking with me,” Will said, shaking his head.
“I am absolutely not fucking with you. He was a very brave, very idealistic young man when I knew him.”
“So you’ve fucked your way through all the hot guys in history, is that it?”
“Not all the hot guys. Just the ones with edge, and style. The ones who knew how to use their viciousness for good, or who needed some help in seeing that they could.”
"And that's what you’re doing with me?”
“That's what I am hoping to do with you.”
7 THE KINGS OF NYC
Satisfied after his tryst with the lovely Will, Maddox did what he had done so many times before. He endeavored to clean up Lorien’s mess. While Will was sleeping safely secured in his locked room, window barred to ensure no more nocturnal flights, he went out to seek audience with the twin vampire kings of New York.
Bertram and Ernesto had run New York since its founding. Their real names were lost to history. They had chosen new ones sometime around the Renaissance. There were those who said it would not be what it was without them, and perhaps they were correct. They were the Romulus and Remus of the Big Apple, and they acted with all the Greek aplomb that moniker might have been imagined to convey.
Their restaurant in Manhattan, on the banks of the Hudson, was one of the most exclusive eateries in all the city. If the diners knew where the veal and pork came from, they might have dined elsewhere. Or, given the perverted and craven tastes of the rich and powerful, they might not have.
Maddox swept past the diners in the lower levels of the restaurant. They were blissfully unaware that they were being used as human shields by the undead masters who occupied the upper levels.
He had come alone, as a show of strength and fearlessness. This nest of vampires numbered in the many dozens and grew ever more crowded over time. It was said Bertram had a breeding fetish.
“Maddox! To what do we owe this incredible honor?”
They were very striking in appearance. Olive skin, big dark eyes, thick, curling dark hair cut close to their heads. Two statues come to life, a little too beautiful to be truly natural. They were lucky they were gorgeous. They’d been turned at the age of twenty-five over seven thousand years ago. They had annoyed Christ while he was on the cross, they had talked with the Buddha, they had allegedly helped Alexander the decent become Alexander the Great. They were the undisputed masters of their domain. Nobody questioned them, let alone crossed them.
They were also the only two vampires in the country older than Maddox. But he alone knew something others could never have suspected: they were bored. Lorien crossing them had provided some meager entertainment. They’d possibly not considered the ramifications of attacking him. Or perhaps they had.
They greeted him warmly not because they liked him, but because age came with a certain fellowship and respect.
“What brings you here?” Ernesto clarified the question, in case Bertram had not been clear enough.
“Lorien.”
“Who?” They looked at one another and shook their heads before spreading their hands in twin gestures of confusion.
“The fledgling who was viciously attacked at the Library.”
“Oh. The mouth,” Bertie said.
“He does have a mouth,” Maddox agreed.
“He’s fortunate he’s been allowed to keep his neck,” Ernie replied.
