The Merciless Alpha(erotica)

Sadie felt sadness and joy wrapped tightly around her heart. Joy because Vlad was free to hunt and be wild again, and sadness because she knew it unlikely now that she could ever experience him the way that she wanted. If he even wanted to be near her in a week . . . if she was even still alive. She had to tear away, because she didn’t want to now give him hope when none was warranted. She wouldn’t hurt him like Teresa had.

“Happy hunting,” she murmured, pushing away from him, obviously unhappy about it.

Vlad growled. He didn’t understand this at all. He knew how she felt, and he damn sure understood his own feelings and desires. Then he felt Melissa grab his arm as Sadie retreated to her sanctuary.

“Don’t give up the hunt,” the newly-made vampire said, glancing at the doorway, “because no other catch will be as rewarding. She’s messed up in the head right now. Is this even how you would really want her?” Melissa had suspected that Vlad had stronger feelings for Sadie than he had been letting on, but nothing compared to what she saw in his eyes now. She had freed the wolf, and it was powerful and it was hungry in more ways than one.

His shoulders trembled, but he nodded. “The wolves will patrol the area to make sure she is not harassed in the next week. Cops too, though technically they’re unbiased.”

“Gravestones cops?”

“Yep.”

Melissa smiled. There wasn’t a cop she knew of that would move against Vlad and Sadie. They loved their wacky Arbiter because she loved them. Then she got an idea.

“That biker friend of hers . . . Frankenstein?”

“Frank? What about him?”

“Call him. Sounds like he and his boys are a bit fond of Sadie and they don’t take kindly to authority –”

“Authority like Frost?”

“Like Frost.”

Vlad actually hugged Melissa. She didn’t remember him ever being that friendly with her in the past. He’d always been very respectful, but not huggie.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

“You’re a smart girl. Nice to know we won’t be losing you too. You coming into work this week?”

She nodded. I think that would be good. I want to find out how Frost knew what we were up to, though I’ve got a pretty damn good guess.”

Vlad looked at her and then snarled, “Bart?”

She nodded again. The demon had been bound to serve the police force for some “unspecified” crime and wasn’t able to physically hurt anyone, but there were many other ways to cause harm. If she could connect him back to Frost somehow and then showed that his actions, even indirectly, caused the death of Terrence, they could have his sentence revoked and simply banish him straight back to hell. And she had heard fearful whisperings about what happened to wayward demons who were finally brought back home.

“He’s been stalking me on and off since my first time with Sadie. And it sounds like something he would do.”

“If so, he won’t make it to trial.” Vlad was positively glowing with rage.

“Let him, and do it with a smile. The forces of hell are much more creative than we are, and they aren’t bound by any laws but their own.”

And THAT made Vlad smile. He went back to his car and Melissa gave Mary a long, deep kiss before following Sadie inside. Her mother needed her more than her lover that night.

————— ———————-

A week later . . .

————— ———————-

‘An hour to go,’ Sadie thought, her thoughts as cold as her blood. She had put an her “dress” for the evening, and had one more accessory before festivities began. She grabbed her bed and shoved it to one side, barely hearing it collide with the wall of her trailer. Directly underneath where the bed had been was a safe, complete with fingerprint ID scanner, retinal scan, and ten digit combination. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail so the retinal scan would go more smoothly, then placed her hand on the pad. So far, so good. She struggled to remember the combination, since she didn’t open the safe hardly at all. She did have her dark moments where she gazed into that tiny vault and remembered . . . oh the things she remembered. An unflattering smiled played across her heavenly face, and she wondered what Frost’s face would look like when he finally realized what he had wrought.

She punched the last digit and heard the bars retract. She pulled the door open and lifted a small sack from the dark recesses. It felt . . . wrong . . . in her hands, and that was just the feeling she got muffled through the harsh fabric.

“Well Dad, it’s time to finish this.”

————— ————————–

At the Halloween Festival . . .

————— ————————–

Melissa was getting more than a little bit nervous. The ceremony was supposed to begin in just a few minutes and she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Sadie. Apparently, new vampires were expected to be “presented” to the Court by their creators, something Melissa hadn’t known until she had arrived. Of course, she hadn’t gotten an official invitation until the day before, since a lot of vampires were unsure what to do about her. Over the course of the week, she had become more comfortable living under the stars, though she seemed to have inherited some of Sadie’s immunity to the sun after all. She could go about for several hours during broad daylight with no ill effects, but she couldn’t stay out indefinitely. It was fun, not needing help to open pickle jars or needing to catch a breath while jogging. Being undead had its perks.

She was in hostile territory, that much she knew for sure. The elite of Midian society was in attendance, as well as some honored guests, including senators, mayors (including the mayor of Midian), and many heads of business. There was a smattering of private security, but the West End Police Department was out in force. They were the best financed and most spoiled department in Midian, and they were definitely in the literal and proverbial pocket of Frost and the council. Melissa had drawn the eye of several attendees, and she felt like a single fish in a school of sharks. It was generally accepted that if a new vampire lost his or her creator, then they were taken under the wing of someone more experienced. Apparently, there were several people getting ahead of themselves and checking out the merchandise.

‘Screw them,’ she thought. ‘They want me, they can go through Mary to get me.’ She grinned. She doubted any of them were willing to tangle with the wraith for ownership.

Without even seeing her, Melissa felt Sadie’s presence, then felt a hand slip into her own.

“Thank goodness that –” Mel stopped. She stopped. Sadie was dressed in some simple, bizarre dress that looked like it had been pulled out of a history text, made of plain cloth with a belt made of old rope. A hood completely encompassed the older vampire’s head and she was keeping her face pointed towards the ground. And she had a sack of some kind tucked into the crook of her arm.

“What’s going –”

“Don’t say anything,” Sadie whispered. Her voice sounded like pure pressure, hissing at the edges and looking for release. “Just keep looking forward. Don’t blink. Don’t show fear.”

Melissa had just gotten ahold of her fear, but now it was Sadie scaring her. But her mother had demanded silence, and she realized it wasn’t the time to question her.

Frost took his place at the podium. “Welcome friends, family, and honored guests. Welcome to those who embrace the night and a better way of life for its denizens. This is going to be a memorable night for us, and for the world.” He paused for a round of applause. “Over the last several years, the number of vampires who walk under the night sky has diminished due to unfortunate accidents, as well as our continued persecution by the . . . other . . . races.”

Sadie clenched her hand. She knew what Frost had wanted to say instead of “other.” He’d wanted to say “lesser.”

“Tonight, we bring our numbers back up to what the were meant to be. We have found a crop of enlightened, educated, and talented entities that have shown sufficient merit to walk amongst us. One hundred new souls will belong to the vampire world tonight. One hundred people will be reborn.” His look soured. “We had one hundred-and-one planned, but we caught a defective model late in the design cycle,” he said, earning a chuckled from the crowd.

“But first,” Frost continued, his voice low and bordering on humble, “I feel it my honor, my duty, and my privilege to introduce our guest of honor for tonight. He has walked the earth for seven thousand years, has outlasted civilizations, defied time and nature, and survived the Betrayer. He has bled for all of us . . . his children . . . since human ‘civilization’ was in its infancy, and when the wolves still cowered in the woods and chased rabbits.” He stood, looking at a darkened pavililion that stood nearby. “Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to . . . Solomon, the Blood Saint!”

There was a feeling on manic awe that swept over the crowd as an enterouge emerged from the dark recesses of the canopy. There were a full circle of witches, all of whom glowed with power. These were Solomon’s Blood Rampart, and their job was to prevent Solomon from being targeted by magic. There were thirteen young men and women dressed in red robes, and those were the Well of the Saint, and the were there to provide a supply of blood for Solomon. Then there were six vampires of massive size and power. Just looking at them, Melissa had a feeling than non of them were less than fifteen-hundred years old. All of them were dressed in identical sets of riot armor, and all had cleanly shaven heads. You could never tell one from another, as their identities had been stripped away. They were the Blood Brood, and there entire reason to exist was to guard the body of Solomon, and they would defend him until the death.

But nothing could have prepared Melissa for the sight of Solomon himself. The Blood Saint was, well, the most beautiful man that she had ever seen. Men shouldn’t be beautiful. They should be strong, muscular, handsome, but he was so much more than any of those things. His rich brown hair flowed down past his shoulders until it reached his knees. His face was a picture of symmetry, and his skin was pale and perfect. His eyes were such a dark blue that they were almost purple, and his lips were pale but full. Everything was balanced exactly right, except . . . over his right eyebrow was a cut about an inch long that was oozing blood, leaving a crimson stream running over his eyebrow and down the side of his face. One of the members of the Well was constantly attending him, making sure that no drop of blood ever fell on his pristine white robes.