Dressed in fuzzy brown pyjama trousers and her favourite blue hoodie, Cassandra joined Sylas upstairs. She towel-dried her hair and dropped herself to sit beside her sire with a content sigh. She felt so much better now she was clean and comfy. She allowed the towel to rest around her neck and over her shoulders. Her eyes widened with a smile as she saw Sylas sitting with a pint mug in each hand. She could smell the delicious coppery promise of blood in the air, and her fangs were out before her hands snapped over to accept the offered mug.

“Thank you.” She cradled the cup in both hands and smiled at the warmth she felt through the mug. “Warm.”

“Warmed to the perfect temperature for drinking.” Sylas half turned on the sofa with one leg bent and resting on the seat. His left arm draped over the back of the sofa, and his hand rested near the back of her neck. His other hand held his pint of blood, and he took another sip. Sylas hummed with approval and nodded towards her mug. “Not quite body temperature, but just under. I made up a pint of blood for us both this time.”

“Oh? Why?” She shuffled to mirror Sylas on the sofa and told herself to ignore his bare upper body. He was now wearing black sleeping shorts, but that was it. 

“Because only human blood gives us sustenance.” He lowered his mug to rest on his thigh and stared at his bride, like the rest of the world didn’t exist. “You are newly spawned, and although you’ve fed on two humans today, it’s best to top you up before we turn in for the morning.” Cassandra nodded, her damp hair already starting to become frizzier as it dried. “And you didn’t get to feed much today, because you helped me feed instead?”

“Well, yes.” He cocked his head to one side and his smile curled into a teasing grin. “I’m old enough that I don’t need to feed as often as you do. But as I’m preparing to let you have your fill of me, I’m making sure to top myself up for you.” He smirked and was pleased at the way Cassandra reacted to the reminder that she was allowed to feed on him, and what that would entail. Her pale cheeks flushed, her eyes turned red with hunger, she shifted in her seat and her gaze darted from his face to his neck. Like she was struggling not to look at his still jugular. If he was inside her mind, he would have seen her imagining crawling onto his lap and trying to devour his throat, safe in the knowledge that she couldn’t hurt him and his blood would make her feel really good. “But first? You should finish your meal.” 

“Meal?” She blinked, snapping sheepishly out of her bloody fantasy. “Oh, right.” Cassandra chuckled awkwardly and stared down into her pint of blood. She took a gulp and sighed with satisfaction. Damn this tastes good. Better than normal. “Man, this tastes amazing. Is this blood different?” She asked innocent, and Sylas seemed to be pleased with her question. He turned his head to look for his cell, picked it up from the arm of the sofa behind him, and made a quick note to purchase more of this blood type. 

“You’re a fan of A positive? Good to know.” 

“Wait, so different blood types taste different?” He nodded with a smile, and she ‘huh-ed’ to herself. “Do you have a favourite blood type?” 

“O positive.” He took another sip of his drink and resisted the urge to let his hand slip from the edge of the sofa to touch her cheek. Or her neck. Or play with a lock of her hair. There will be plenty of time for me to put my hands on her again, when she asks me to. “Every vampire has a favourite blood type, but drinking from the source always tastes better, regardless of blood type.” 

“Yeah.” She flustered, trying not to worry about how thinking about feeding on two living, breathing human beings earlier that evening made her so horny, she nearly came with her fangs in their necks. Cassandra composed herself as she drank more blood, and settled into the sofa. Her right shoulder leaned against the backrest, and she turned her head as she finally noticed how close Sylas’s hand was. His pale fingers twitched, but he kept his hand there. “So while we’re ‘topping up’?” She cleared her throat and focused on her sire’s charming smile. “I’d like to ask you some questions. So I can get to know you better.”

“Ask away.” 

“How long have you been a vampire?” He chuckled. That is always one of the first questions a spawn asks their sire. 

“Nearly 300 years.”

“And how old were you when you were turned?” 

“Hmm.” Sylas looked up as he tried to remember his mortal life. He still had a few memories of it, but the man in those memories was far different from the man he was now. “I think I was in my mid to late 20s when I was turned.” 

“You think?” She couldn’t imagine now knowing how old she was when she was murdered to become a vampire. Regardless of the ceasefire she’s called for now, it’s not something she’s going to ever forget. 

“It was the 1700s. I was a street orphan with no idea when my birthday was, and I couldn’t read or write.” Sylas shrugged, unphased, even as Cassandra frowned with sympathy. “Times were different then. I was one of hundreds of street kids in London in the same position.”

“Oh, so you’re British?”

“I suppose I was British when I was alive, but I’ve spent most of my unlife here in the US.” They both took a moment to drink more blood, and Sylas nipped the end of his tongue to restrain himself at the sight of Cassandra licking her lips. 

“And you used to sleep in the dirt during the day, and prowl the streets at night?”

“It was a necessity, and not nearly as romantic as films and books make it out to be. In truth, it was filthy, traumatic, and dangerous to be a vampire most of the time.” He chuckled, recalling how difficult life was in the first 200 or so years of being a vampire. 

“Dangerous how?” She couldn’t imagine Sylas being in danger. Now with how effortless it was for him to hypnotise humans to forget him and follow his commands. 

“For a long time, I wasn’t part of a nest.” Sylas finished his blood and put the mug down on the coffee table. “Humans can’t know about underfolk, and up until recent history, underfolk didn’t mix together either. Vampire nests meant safety in numbers, but it also risked drawing the attention of the Order of the Dawn. For a long time, I was too worried about being staked to death to risk being with my own kind.”

“Who are the Order of the Dawn?” 

“They call themselves monster hunters.” Sylas sneered and she saw a flash of fang. “But they are humans who hunt down and murder underfolk, regardless if they haven’t harmed a single human. Most underfolk species have never fed on or harmed a human, who didn’t push them into a corner first. Vampires, however?” He ran his right hand back through his raven curtains. “We have always been high up on their hit list. We do feed on humans, and we reproduce by turning humans into vampires.”

“Like me.” Cassandra avoided his eyeline and hoped he couldn’t see her mixed feelings. Feeding felt great. Blood tastes amazing. Sylas is actually very sweet, and as much as his nest scared me when I first met them? Well. I think they might just be powerful bonkers vampires that I could… She raised a brow and wondered how to finish that thought. …not ‘like’, per se, but I could get used to their brand of crazy. Nessa and her sire Davon seem cool. 

Her moment of reflection tormented Sylas. He wanted to know what she was thinking so intently, and could know if he so wished, but he wouldn’t cross that line. She asked me to stay out of her head. So I will. It’s as simple as that. “Sylas?”

“Yes?” He leaned closer to her, and his left hand itched to touch her. 

“What was it like being a vampire in the 1700s? And the 1800s?” She imagined ruffled silk shirts, sneaking into the bedroom of fair maidens, and sneaking away with blood drops in his wake. 

“Horrible.” He chuckled at the look of surprise on her face. “It was a lot harder to hide my true nature, since humans never saw me during the day. I had to feed, try not to leave behind a body trail, hide the evidence when I had to kill someone who learnt my identity, and hide from the sun.” He shuddered at one of many memories of clawing at grave dirt to burry himself and having to rest with the fear he would be dug up in daylight and staked. “Honestly? Vampires really benefitted from the modern age, and the multicultural community of underfolk forming under the council. Vampires can now live in light-tight homes with windows that block all UV rays, make use of portals thanks to the assistance of the witches and other magical underfolk, and of course, take advantage of blood donor supplies.” He nodded to the mug she had in her hands. “It’s important that you know how to feed, and when to stop feeding on a human, so you are never caught without a means to feed and make a mistake. But I can keep the fridge stocked, so you don’t have to feed off humans if you don’t want to.”

“Oh.” She sheepishly looked down into her nearly empty mug. “But…if I do what you told me to do, I can feed from people, right? Safely, I mean?” 

“Of course.” Something filthy and wanton slithered through his voice in those two words. She lifted her eyes and his were just as crimson as hers. He dug his fingers into the back of the sofa to keep his hand off Cassandra. “I will take you out to feed every night, if you wish.” And he would take great pleasure in sharing blood with her, straight from the source, and from her lips. “I must warn you though?” He tried to be subtle as he adjusted his sleeping pants. “If I take you hunting, you will feel the same arousal burning within you when you feed directly from a human, and if you ask me to fuck you again, I will. Most ardently.” 

Cassandra bit her lips together as her mind stalled into that very intense, very sexy threat. Oh. Wow. Fuck me, if my pussy could talk, it would be purring right now. She was even less subtle about the way she shifted, pent up and getting hornier by second. She fumbled to chug the rest of her blood and put her cup on the coffee table with a haphazard clink. “Do you have any more questions for me, my bride?” His voice was deep and taunting her libido in all sorts of wicked ways. “Or would you like to slake your other hunger?” Sylas moved to sit with his back against the sofa and slid his arm from the back of it. He tapped the left of his neck and smirked at the way she was captivated by his throat. Her pupils dilated, her fangs peered out from behind her upper lip, and she was already leaning towards him before he finished tapping his neck. “I would love to feed you, Cassandra. If you want me, I am yours.” The thin elastic of her self-control frayed, and she crawled in a hurry over to sit on his lap. “Be warned.” Sylas panted, and hissed with desire at the weight of Cassandra sitting on his lap. She took hold of his shoulders and slid her backside up his thighs, so she could sit on his crotch. There was no hiding how much he wanted her, with his cock hard and pressing against her. “If you ask me to-”

“Sylas?” She cut him off and pulled her hoodie over her head to reveal the brown vest beneath. “I really want to bite you.” He smirked and his hands moved to press firmly to the seat cushion on either side of his legs. “And I want you to bite me too.” He hissed through his fangs and his body seemed to tense with the battle not to launch himself at her. “Let’s save us all some time, and let me make my permission, crystal clear.” She kissed him and her hands pawed at his shoulders, the side of his neck, and back again. “I give you full consent to fuck my brains out, and if at any point I change my mind or don’t want something, I’ll tell you so. Like, I’ll shout out something-”

“Sunlight.” Sylas nodded vigorously and tugged at the hem of her vest. “If you shout sunlight, I’ll stop. No matter what.” Yes yes yes, my bride, I can have her. She wants me to have her. 

“Same for you, okay?” Cassandra kissed him again, and helped Sylas drag her vest over her head. “Say sunlight, and I’ll stop whatever I’m doing to you too.” 

“…” Sylas leaned back and looked up at her with something other in his eyes. Something she didn’t recognise. For a moment, it almost looked like his eyes would start welling up with tears, but he smiled with such adoration, it captivated her. “Thank you.” Those two words held weight, but Sylas didn’t let her try to decipher why. He gave her a deeply passionate kiss, almost bruising with how he fisted the back of her frizzy hair to stop her from escaping the kiss. Then he dragged her head to bring her mouth to his throat. “Bite me. Please. I’m yours. Ca-aaah!”