End of Prologue

The pull towards kindred souls was stronger now that the Third Ascendant’s birth was near. The umbra forced them together — mentor to student. Poet could no longer ignore it. His anger grew stronger. Why was he being replaced?

Poet had no answer to his question. Vengeance was his only thought. He would end this child before his reign started.

Poet flew to Colorado. A witch told him the connection stirred strongest there.

The flight let time for thought. Il Cane had not requested her payment. She dealt in fear. Poet told himself he did not fear her. She was a slight slip of a girl — old, but not older than he was. He was there for the dawning of humanity; he brought fire to the humans to stave away the creatures of the night. He was their savior. And now another was replacing him. 

A bitter taste stirred in his mouth when he thought of it.

The air plane landed. The air was thin outside. 

Poet breathed deeply with each stride outside. 

The pull to the third was strong now that he was on land near the newborn child waiting for his rental car.

His destination drew into sight — a rigid hospital stood stark white against the mountain backdrop. Inside was as stark white as the outside. Mundane humans filled the halls, hurrying along their paths to their destinations. 

Poet ignored them all.

He followed the pull to the shadows outside the maternity ward. He found he was not the only one interested in the third ascendant. 

Another like himself stood in the shadows, watching as a dragon lady tried to kill the child with her magic. A bubble formed around the child. 

It wouldn’t be so easy to kill Order’s champion — even as a human child. A smirk spread across his lips before he remembered he was here to put an end to the child. He was not a source of pride. He has to be ended.

The pair spoke in the shadows. 

Poet listened. 

They both planned to kill him. 

That would be impossible. The magic would protect him. It had already. Poet stepped out of the shadows. “You cannot kill the child.”

The man looked back at him, and his frown turned into a smile. “Prometheus, it is good to see you.”

“I go by Poet now.” He said calmly. “You cannot kill the child. Order will not let you.”

“Children.” The woman said.

“What?” Poet asked.

“The touched birth resulted in twins.”

“No.” Poet said. “How will we know?”

The man chuckled. “If we cannot kill them. And we do not know which is the touched, we separate them.”

“And make their lives miserable.” Poet added.

The other man shrugged. “Whatever. But this is an opportunity. I will take one. You do whatever you wish with the other.”

“You cannot take the children from the hospital, the humans are not that stupid.” The woman expressed herself with her hands and raised her voice.

“That’s easy.” Poet smiled, “I am Ascendant.” 

“You cannot make everyone forget them.” She was adamant about this, stomping her food like an insubordinate child.

“I can.” Poet said. “I only need to touch the children.” Poet smirked with contempt. He slipped into the nursery. He sent waves of umbric magic towards the children. 

His smirk drifted to a sneer as he looked down on the babes in blue and pink blankets. He picked up the girl. A faint shiver ran over his spine, and he drew a rune on her forehead. “No human will remember you.” Poet cursed the girl in a language no one had heard in millennia.

The magic took hold, and the girl cried out when the rune sank into her skin. 

Poet reached down and drew another rune on the boy’s forehead. He screamed in pain as the rune sank into his body. “Only the phantom may break your curse.” The old words felt good on his tongue. The spark of magic still flowing from them tasted like red hot cinnamon candies.

Poet carried the girl to the man and woman and handed her to them. “Do whatever you want with her. I’m done with her.” 

Poet looked at the boy squalling in his cradle, the humans scrambling to his attention. “Your life is mine now, boy.”

The Call of the DRagon Prologue

The buzz of magic played along Poet’s tanned, bare arms. The warm, westerly breeze from early in the month plagued his thoughts. 

“Why are you replacing me?” He asked the aether. 

Poet sat at his favorite spot in Central Park. The sun made little rainbows on the concrete chess board through the crystal chess pieces, waiting to be played. The opaque obsidian casting their dark shadows in comparison. The two pieces reminding Poet of the eternal and never-ending war between order and chose. The fight for souls, the currency to be spent and a new player would be born soon.

“Why?”

The question hung in the air like a pig stuck in mud. This time the aether answered, prophecy.

Clouds formed above Poet’s head. They grew darker. The heavy clouds rumbled and large rain droplets fell from the sky, splattering on the chessboard, leaving darker pick marks. 

The clouds opened up and a dilute soak the ground around Poet, but the rain never touched his cool skin. 

Poet ignored the storming weather around him. His mind on the single word the aether returned. Prophecy. Which one? The Keeper of Secrets would know. But would she take his call?

Central park was empty except for those rushing to where ever they were heading. 

Poet pulled his brand new Nokia cell phone from his left prest pocket.

Those rushing past gave him a second glance. Few people had one — it showed his money. Poet dialed the saved number for the Keeper of Secrets in his phone’s phone book. 

The phone rang, and a chipper voice answered. “Il Cane Foundation, this is Alison. How can I help you?”

“The shadows speak volumes about the secrets of the world.”

There was a brief silence after the woman cleared her throat. “How can we help you sir?” Her voice changed from chipper receptionist to the confident voice of the Hound’s Personal Assistant and Letter — the latter a title only a few vampires gave to humans.

Poet tried not to growl as his thoughts roamed to the atypical behavior of the scariest vampire of them all — the Hound, Il Cane, Cari Giovanni. She went by many names, but they all struck fear into the heart of the all supernatural. Not only was she the Enforcer to the Embraced Vampire Council, but she was nearly daughter-in-law to his own leadership. Poet cleared his throat and the thoughts interrupting his dilemma. “I am Poet Rhemus.”

Ms. Alison Gray interrupted. “I know who you are, shouldn’t you be calling Donatello or Francesco or one of your own?”

“I don’t need protection. Only a favor.”

Alison scoffed, “A favor? What do you need? I doubt Cari will have time for you and your favor.”

“I need to speak with the Keeper of Secrets about prophecy.”

The phone clicked to static. 

Poet growled. He almost tossed his phone across the park, but caught himself before the fit of rage cost him more money. These things weren’t cheap.

The phone rang. 

Poet answered, “What?”

“Cari, is awake she will speak with you.” Ms. Gray passed the phone across the way, muffling and scratching inundated his ears.

“What does the Second Ascendant wake me in the middle of the day for?”

“The third is born.” Poet said simply, like she should know the prophecy of which he spoke.

“So?” she asked, with no emotion. Though Poet was certain, he annoyed her.

“I want the prophecy.”

When the nether-dragons survive, 
he shall escape deaths a plenty
to awaken like a phoenix. 
He shall heed the call of the dragon. 
Experience the betrayal of the phantom.
He will bear the bond of the son. 
And call the moon’s brothers to arms. 
Once to challenge, and twice challenged, 
victorious, he shall ascend. 

The Hound’s voice was empty. It was always empty. Poet sighed, but noted the words. “That’s not the one I want.”

“There is only one other.”

“What is it?” Poet asked. His voice strained with the attempt to not anger the Hound. He liked his head on his body.

The First will bring The Law. 
The Second will give Fire.
The Third will herald Darkness.

“Anything else?” 

Poet shook his head. “No, thank you, Keeper. I owe you.”

Il Cane chuckled. “You do.”

A shiver ran down his spine when the air went dead. Emotion from the Hound was scarier than her empty voice. Death was near if she laughed. But Poet’s thoughts were on other things now — he had to stop the Third Ascendant! 

Call of the Dragon Snippet

The mission was critical, Ilsa reminded herself as she walked through the hospital halls.

Her father’s words echoed in her head, “The Venatori must never have a strong nether born or they might wipe out the dragons and the rest of the supernatural beings.” 

It was her first mission as a member of the Purge. Ilsa took pride in her knowledge she protected the world from the Venatori. Unchecked, they would wipe everyone out. But doubt crept in — killing children seemed wrong.

The umbra connected all dragons and all dragon kin including nether born. The magic pulled at members of The Purge like a game of tug-a-war. This child’s connection radiated across the aether — even her father felt his birth. Only the Purge should feel his call, but power called to power and the strongest of them heeded the call. Isla would not be the only one to hunt this child. Other’s would come if they failed.

His heartbeat pulsed along the tether like a hypnotic drum. Each step forward pulled the cord tighter.

Ilsa walked into the nursery. The tension shifted in her body, and Ilsa clenched her teeth to get through the pain.

The room was empty save for the babes in waiting. 

Ilsa starred down into the crib of the nether born. 

Twins. Lying swaddled in blankets designating their gender, the twins held hands. They pressed against each other in the confines of a crib meant for one. The boy and the girl slept soundly with small smiles across their lips.

Red colored her vision. The doubt flooded her core. 

She had a job to do, Ilsa reminded herself. “Save the world.” She muttered under her breath. Ilsa pushed her killing magic into the crib with a newfound resolve.

The moment her magic drew near, a flash and a loud pop pushed her away from the crib. A shimmering bubble wrapped around the twins. 

Ilsa looked around erratically.

No one watched. The room was empty save for the newborn babes swaddled in their blankets. All was silent, including the usual hum of magic. Something familiar niggled at Ilsa’s memory.

Ilsa stretched her fingers across the shimmering bubble. 

The bubble pulsed beneath her palm. 

She pushed against the delicate surface with her fingertips. Then her palm rested against the gossamer surface.

 A jolt of electricity jumped from the surface to her hand.

Ilsa jumped backwards. Her heart raced. How was this possible? Nether born weren’t this powerful! Ilsa’s thoughts raced through all the possibilities, but there was nothing in the ancestral knowledge of dragons. 

Ilsa looked again at the babes swaddled quietly in their crib.

The bubble of protection exploded into tiny little sparkles drifting on to the children. The magical remains disappeared into a puff of smoke upon touching the girl, but they lingered on the boy’s face and blanket in a soft glow until they faded into nothingness.

Ilsa looked around.

No one was present.

Ilsa took a single step towards the slumbering pair.

The bubble sprang into its thin veil of protection around the babes. It glowed a darker blue than before. More opaque too. It learned? 

Ilsa shook her head and retreated from the nursery. She needed time to think. She should call her father, but failure echoed in her mind. No, she couldn’t do that — not yet.

A voice whispered in the shadows, “What do dragons want with the touched?”

She stepped into the shadows where the voice emanated. “The touched? You saw me?” More questions sped through Isla’s mind as she contemplated the ramifications of a human catching magic in use.

The man took a foot above Ilsa when he drew out of the shadows. His outfit spoke of money — old money. Vampire!

Ilsa sneered, “What business is it of a vampire?”

He smirked, a single fang on display with the lopsided expression. “What business is it of dragons among the touched? The umbra has never touched a dragon before.”

Ilsa shook her head. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“The touched. The boy and girl carry raw umbra in their veins. Did you not feel it?” The man’s voice laughed at her.

Ilsa growled low in her throat. “One or both are nether born. The Purge comes to all Venatori children called by the magic.”

He nodded, “Nether born — born of dragons?”

Ilsa shook her head. “Venatori call them Magnus. The elemental magic is rare among them, but only the strongest pull the Purge toward them.”

The smirk faced into a frown. “This is a human hospital. No Venatori would birth a babe in one.”

Ilsa nodded. “She is human. Nothing special about her other than the smell of dog and her Venatori training.”

“Werewolf?”

“The intel says human raised by Venatori. Hunts like Venatori.”

He nodded his head, his fingers of his left hand caressing the beard at his chin in thought. “A carrier, a nether born, and touched.” 

“We can’t kill them.” Ilsa blurted out. “They are too special.”

The man nodded. “Indeed. A plan we must make.”

New Words

So AJ doesn’t know what to post for today. And we don’t have a list of drabbles we could write yet, so instead we’ll share with you over the next couple of weeks the Prologue to the Call of the Dragon.

Enjoy!


A warm, westerly wind tossed Brandon’s dark locks. A hint of magic and smoke where-no-fire-burned floated on the breeze, whispering, touched in the womb. 

Brandon growled and bolted out of his purple velvet couch on his penthouse balcony overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea. He grabbed the black iron railing. His knuckles white from the strain. Brandon stared out into the open water. Somewhere to the west He made another agent — a child yet to be born. “Sticking your fingers in the pie again. I will see to that,” he said in a heavy Italian accented English to the aether.

A faster-than-human whirl and Brandon strut inside the modern penthouse he kept in Ostia. 

An old black 1920s-replica rotary phone sat on the nightstand. 

Brandon grabbed the perfectly polished handset and dialed 0. 

The soft hum of the dial ending with a voice, “How many I help you Mr. Holt?”

Brandon sat on the golden comforter of his four-poster canopy bed and kicked off his fluffy slippers. “I’d like to book a flight to The United States of America.”

“Where exactly, Mr. Holt?” the voice asked cautiously.

“Anywhere, whatever lands first. My opponent has a head start. The faster the better.” Brandon said, then slammed the handset on to the base.

The replica cracked down the middle, revealing the modern electronics where gears and older technology once hid. 

“Fuck!” 

Brandon sighed. “Harold,” Brandon bellowed.

A man wearing a black suit and cleanly pressed white shirt entered his bedroom with a stoic expression. “What can I do for you, master?”

“Three things.” Brandon held up the first finger. “Pack my bags, I’m leaving for the New World.” Brandon ticked up the second finger. “Inform Valence I’m leaving, and he is to remember the plan. I will send him the signal when it’s time to act.” The third finger ticked up and Brandon let loose an embarrassed, fanged smile. “I broke the phone. Replace it.”

“Again, master?” Harold chided with a smile.

Brandon raised an eyebrow.

Harold’s expression fell to his usual stoic expression. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes.” Brandon nodded to himself. “There is. I will need a bit to eat before I am among the other pigs in a flying death trap.”

Harold cleared the space between him and his master, unbuttoning the cuff of his left sleeve and pushing up his sleeve. “My master, it would be a pleasure.”

Brandon waved off his man-servant. “You have duties to attend to, send in a girl.”

Harold frowned, but he complied with his master’s wishes. His sleeve returned to its former state as he left the room in search of his master’s wishes.

Fifteen hours and a petite brown-haired girl later, Brandon stepped foot out of the Boston airport. The smell of human pigs rotted in his nose, and even the polluted air of the Americas did not wash it away. But with his feet firmly planted on the ground, the connection to the child was stronger. The stench of cinnamon permeated his nose. No one else could smell it, the joys of the mundane life. 

Brandon ground his teeth as he raised his hand to hail a taxi. He would not put himself through the torture of flying again, now that he could travel in luxury on land.

Brandon bought a luxurious Lexus convertible, the plush leather seats molded to his bottom as he sat behind the driver’s wheel. The seats had warmers, but the Spring day hardly required such amenities. The flashy yellow paint drew the eye immediately. Brandon was a man of style, of luxury.

The journey took Brandon to a hospital maternity ward in Boulder, Colorado. The nurses ignored him. The families of mothers didn’t see him.

Brandon stared through the nursery room window. Twins…

The magic of the umbra wafted from their shared cradle. 

Brandon sneered at the boy and girl swaddled in appropriately colored blankets. His fists clenched, the trimmed fingernails biting into the palm of his hand. “Which one?” Killing both would certainly be the easiest method. 

A woman with blonde hair and green eyes snuck into the nursery. Brandon watched curiously as she slipped in beside the sleeping twins.

“Curious.” Brandon waited — maybe she’d do the work for him? One could only hope.

Shower Curtain… (NSFW)

I wish I could give you smut here. There are some pretty epic shower scenes we’ve been in and you’ve not seen them.

It took a while to find: bottom of a very long story that never got finished


Three things I could hear, my breath was slowing, the shower was running in the bathroom, and I could hear my pulse in my ears returning to normal.

I was far from calm but with another deep breath I could smell Alex all around me. I could make out his unique musk and the cologne he wore – the soft citrus undertones I found so comforting. There was also a very faint lingering of coffee on the shirt. As I focused on the last the – one thing to taste the door opened and the only thing I wanted to do was taste Alex. I stood up quickly and before it was done opening I was there and when he opened it I grabbed his face with both hands and I pressed my lips to his and I kissed him hard and deep and with everything I had. I didn’t care if he was mad at me, I needed it.


I tried my best not to slam the door behind me. I heard the gentle click and thought about locking it, but I didn’t. In all of that conversation, a conversation that I hadn’t expected over a shirt a few things rang again and again as Nox spoke his piece. He didn’t want to own me, didn’t want to take claim of me. He only wanted to protect me.

And then it was all oh I’ll leave. Fuck! We went around and around the same fucking things.

But I didn’t get to finish my thought as the bathroom door opened and closed. I should have said something, but I didn’t know what to say. Join me? Get out? Hell I didn’t know what I wanted right then.

Nox broke the silence going on about Jace. And he was right that probably was the only solution I had nothing else to offer. But I wasn’t about to tell him to ditch his best friend for me. Mostly because I knew he’d do it. And then I’d feel guilty and I didn’t even want to think about the ramifications of that choice. So I kept quiet – said nothing as Nox continued.

I heard the words. And then the only sound was the water falling from the shower. I let out a breathe I hadn’t realized I’d held and wondered who the fuck he thought he was to say something like that and then just leave. He didn’t even wait for a response.

I had thought similar things, but I didn’t know if I felt them. We’d only been together for a few days, every time before was us ignoring our feelings. Fighting against what our bodies had wanted – it was nothing more than lust, right?

Who the fuck says I love you then walks away? Shit! He said he loved me. And then he walked away…

I really don’t know what reason I had for stepping out of the shower and toweling off so the floor wasn’t a kill zone as i walked across it dripping. I opened the door and I was about to say something when Nox’s hands were on my face and he was pressing his lips against mine. His tongue parted my lips and the kiss deepened.

All manner of thought dissipated as my fingers found the hem of his shirt and I tugged it over his head. And then he prompt devoured my mouth. His tongue and lips were hard and sweet and I wanted to lose myself in him.

I pulled Nox close and his hands worked his shorts and boxers off while I backed up towards the water streaming down. Our hands and mouths were everywhere, sex came easy. The rest was hard.

How we managed to get into the shower without tripping over each other was something to contemplate later. I pushed him up against the cold tile and he hissed at the contact but his mouth and hands never left my body as he pulled me against him.

His lips and tongue darted across my neck and I groaned at the contact but wanted more. “Harder.” I said but Nox continued with the tender nips, not enough pressure for much of anything.

Enough with the teasing I thought, “Harder” was all I could manage to spit out as his hands and mouth traversed my body. Our hips ground painfully into each other, our cocks hard and leaking and we both needed more but his tender touch was driving me insane. “Harder.” I begged.

It was like a switch had flipped in one moment Nox was tenderly nipping my skin, and then the next I was pressed face first against the cold tile wall and Nox was behind me biting my neck like I’d wanted him to before. His cock was pressed against my ass and I could feel the heat and my cock twitched. I gasped as Nox sucked and worried at my neck. “Fuck Nox.”

His hand slid around my waist and grabbed my cock and stroked it a few times as he pressed into my backside, his mouth moved to my ear and he took my earlobe in his mouth and sucked and bit it. His voice was low and filled with desire, “I’m going to fuck you.”

I groaned and pressed my hands to the wall. “It’s about fucking time pretty boy,” I said as my head dropped forward and I waited for his next move.

His hand worked slowly along my cock but the momentum of everything changed. He still bit my neck harder than before, his teeth trailing along the back of my neck sent sparks up my spine. The pressure against my back was gone as that hand moved down my back and squeezed a cheek before he drove it lower and pressed his finger against my hole.

There was a moment of hesitation before I felt him slide the digit inside. It’s been awhile since I’d done this so I expected the slight burn of no lube but was surprised when he slid inside with ease. My hips bucked into his fist and I pressed back against him. I didn’t want that I wanted him. “Come on pretty boy just do it.”

He buried his face into my neck and his hand stilled as he readjusted himself. His finger left me empty and I pushed back against him. He groaned into my neck and bit hard as he pushed his cock inside me. I matched his groan as he pressed deeper inside me. I let out a breathe I’d been holding and Nox whispered against my neck, “Breathe.”

I was pretty sure he was speaking mostly to himself but I took a gasping breath as he sank fully into me. He pressed his free hand to the wall next to my head and the other pulled me close to him while he stroked my cock. He’d stopped biting my neck and was kissing, his teeth grazing my skin with each thrust inside me.

I felt him shift and with the next thrust I was seeing stars. I groaned and felt him smirking against my neck as he pulled me harder against him, my cock in his hand and he muttered how much he wanted me into my skin.

His lips pressed against my ear as he whispered, “I’m going to come Alex, I’m sorry.” And I felt his body spasm behind me with the pleasure he’d taken from my body. I spilled over his hand and he thrust a few more times riding the orgasm out.

Nox hummed against my skin and then he regretfully pulled away. I turned around to find him standing just far enough away I had space to turn around but it wouldn’t have mattered he was pressing a kissed to my lips before I could make a smart ass comment about being in the right place this time for a proper clean up.

We kissed and said nothing for the next few moments before Nox was backing up into the cascade of warm water. There was always something about watching water run down a body that made a person all hot and bothered. That’s why all the waterfall scenes, and the kissing in the rain and car wash scenes were all the rage. He was oblivious to my eyes wandering his body. His body was his temple and I could worship it. In clothes the scars were mostly hidden, you’d never know his left leg was a massive burn. I ran my fingers across the three slash marks on his chest and he intoned, “Werebear,” without even having to ask what had done it. He never even bothered to look at me as my fingers caressed his chest, but a grin splayed across his lips.

I took his chin in my fingers and the water ran in rivulets down his face as he looked at me. I traced the scar on his cheek and he grinned as he closed his eyes and stepped back into the rain of water letting me drench myself in the warmth. His voice was soft. “A silver knife wielded by a girl possessed by a murdered boy bent on revenge.” I looked through the veil of water at him and he chuckled, “A ghost who sought revenge.”

I asked as I watched him wash his hair, the color marking his skin as it ran down his body. I watched the orange fade into clear before I asked, “Did you have to kill her?”

“Yes.” His voice was sad but he didn’t elaborate, maybe some other time I thought.

“What about the one on your leg?”

Nox laughed, “Dragon.” He moved around me in the shower and I heard the shampoo bottle splurt a last dollop before Nox’s fingers were kneading my head. A tiny moan slipped out as he started to soap my hair and his fingers made me weak. His voice was low in my ear. “A human shaped dragon that could still breathe fire. I watched him open his mouth and a jet of fire sprang forth and if I had been anyone but me, I’d be dead.” He didn’t sound like he was bragging, if I hadn’t heard his ego talking before I’d probably have thought the same thing, he was stating a fact.

I asked, “Cause you can do what you do?”

“Yeah. If I hadn’t been able to smother the fire, I’d have burnt to a crisp in a matter of seconds. Dragon’s fire is like napalm, once you get it on you, it’s hell getting it off. I nearly suffocated myself in the process sucking the air out of everything and I smothered it with earth and water and I was covered in a sticky muddy mess by time it was out. But with the last few breaths I had left I chopped the man’s head off as he tried to lunge for me. I’ve only killed four marks in my time as a hunter, each one leaving a scar. Each time I had to defend myself.”

He sighed as his fingers ran through my hair. I turned around and let the water rinse the suds away and I could feel his eyes on me. He continued, “Granted none of the others survived capture. Their trials lead to their deaths.” I opened my eyes and he smiled at me, “That’s why I started working with Ant, and the local packs. At least if their own kind get them, they have a chance at a mostly normal life. If the Venatori get them they will die and there will be very few questions asked.”

I smirked, “Such serious talk for after sex.”

He grinned, “You asked.”

I turned off the water and shook my head, “Actually I didn’t. All I did was touch your scar.”

He handed me a towel. “That’s as good as asking.”

It made me wonder what he might have told me if he wasn’t being honest with me, “So what lie do you tell the girls?”

He laughed and walked out of the bathroom drying his hair. Our impromptu shower left him without clean clothes. I grabbed mine and followed him out and locked the bedroom door before a certain five year old walked in on us butt naked. Though it could have been worse.

Nox was inside the closet, his voice was strained as he spoke, “I would make up some lie. Fell into a fire drunk, an ex girlfriend was knife happy.”

He came out in boxers and had a change of clothes he tossed on the bed. I was already mostly dressed, “What do you tell the guys, they dig scars too?”

He laughed. “I don’t usually take my shirt off when I hook up with a guy.” The serious look he gave me made a chill run down my back, “The type of guy I hooked up with think one of two things when they see my back – I either really like pain, or I was weak and he could do anything he wanted with me regardless of what I wanted. While the latter is mostly true I dislike when a guy thinks I’m weak and pounds me harder than he would have if he thought I might fight him back.”

“So when you say I’m not your type…” I wasn’t sure exactly what I was asking, “but D and Max are?”

The door knob wiggled then there was a knock at the door and Cass shouted through it, “Daddy we are going to be late if you don’t hurry up and make me breakfast like now.”

A shiver ran through Nox’s body and his voice was tight, “I’ll be out in a minute, get the eggs and bread out, we have to be quick.”

His liquid brown eyes saw right through me as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “You are not my physical type. I didn’t hook up with men my size or smaller. Both Drew and Max out weigh me, they can break me in half if they wanted to. But they are not the kinda guy I would have picked up, neither are you. Trolling for sex with a girl was about happy fun moments. Trolling for a guy meant I felt like shit and I wanted someone to treat me like that. Bigger, stronger, always on the bottom, Alex. You don’t want me to think of you as my type. I like you being you and so very far from my normal type of guy.” He smiled, “You took me by surprise when I wasn’t looking. I don’t want you to be my type.” He stood up and another shiver ran over his body as he pulled his grey zip up hoodie over his shoulders. “I have to get Cass to school and get to work. If you want we can talk more, but she can’t be late.”

On Hallowed Ground

Today’s prompt inspires a repost of a snippet on Faith in a Vampire. Vin’s specifically as he attempts to walk on hallowed ground with a beleif that his god will strike him down dead.


Lost in the lives of others I hadn’t noticed when we’d gotten to our destination. The cathedral was beautiful and was a place I never went I wasn’t religious – no Venatori truly was.

“We can’t go in guns blazing.”

“Some of us can’t go in at all.”

I looked at Vin and frowned, “You were a good catholic boy growing up?”

He nodded. “Then let me be the first one to tell you, it’s is your human beliefs that burn you from the inside out. God, as you know him, doesn’t care if you are vampire – undead. Your soul stayed with you. You are not a mindless killing machine. He created vampire with man and demon and angel. He created dragon and aeternus. He created all life on the planet and you think he cares if you step foot in his place of worship. Humans tell you lies in the guise of religion.”

“But it is still my belief.”

I nodded. “You can wait outside.”

Vin growled. “If I burn to death it’s your fucking fault.”

I turned to the vampire body guard. He’d been with me since I woke now. “Do you trust me?”

He blinked at me as if he couldn’t believe I was asking him. I stepped on to the sacred ground crossed the threshold that kept vampire at bay. That invisible line from scared to unholy and held out my hand. “Trust me Vincent.”

Everyone else stepped across, though Ant hesitated a moment.

Vin laughed, “See even the big bad son of Il Cane is afraid of scared ground.”

“Afraid, but I believe.”

“In what?” Vin asked Ant.

“In Nox. I know it’s a truth but like you was raised with the belief. The fear was there – my mother believed but she walks the line all the time too. But there is always fear. What if I don’t believe enough this time. So this time I place my faith in Nox’s hands. He is not my god. He is not my king. He is my friend. And I know as long as I don’t violate his trust he will always find me – save me. Ryan’s believed for so long, I finally understand.”

Vin laughed. “Trust in the boy.” He took my hand. “They said.” He took a step across the line tentatively like he’d burst into flames at the thought of it. And then another. “You won’t burn they said.”

“You aren’t.”

Vin only nodded. “Nox.”

“Yeah Vin?”

“I swore this oath to an unworthy man once upon a time. I swear it to you know. I swear that I shall faithfully execute all that you command, that I shall never desert the service, and that I shall not seek to avoid death.”

And in that moment I knew Vin’s past – he’d been a Knight of some King in some age long forgotten before he’d been embraced. I nodded, “Formality wasn’t necessary Vin.”

He smiled, “I know.“