Blood is life.
Vampire’s contain a slice of demon that resides inside the soul and demands payment to keep him alive.
Human blood is paid. Immortality continues. To anyone other than a Vampire, blood is metallic tasting. The smell of iron permeates the air. A Vampire tastes so much more. Every creature has a different palate. Whether they be Fey, Werewolves, or Witches whose blood seems to pulse with energy depending on their elemental. They’re all different. Even humans, pathetic creatures so easily killed, have a difference to them. Bland, but still distinguished.
This human tasted of stale bread and crisp honey apples. Boring lunch he had to admit. They fed their human subjugates better. Of that he was sure of.
The points of Alexi’s fangs retracted from the delicate flesh at the sound of his father’s voice. Running his tongue along the two puncture wounds, he sealed them shut with a kiss. Sending the maid on her way, he thanked her for her service before turning his attention to his father, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with a crimson cloth napkin.
The King looked impassive, neither impressed or disgusted. It is the way with vampires to feed openly, nothing could change that.
Alexi took notice of his father’s apparel. He was dressed for riding. His black wool cloak with the family crest embroidered on the back, hung loosely around his neck. Underneath he had on a clean white tunic tucked in a pair of tanned riding breeches and boots. His long, blonde hair was pulled back. The top half plaited to keep from falling in his eyes.
“Are we riding somewhere, Father?” Alexi asked, eyebrows raised.
Alexi relaxed back against his arm chair, the soft woven material chafing against his skin. His eyes wandered down to the decorative embroidery on the cuffs of his coat. Periwinkle blue and silver threads stood out against the black coloring, stitched into decorative scrolls. Why it was necessary to dress up a simple tail coat was beyond him.
“I have news, Alexi. News you may not like, but nonetheless will head.”
The sound of his father's voice was heavily weighted, grave with news that was sure to upset him. Alexi lazily glanced up at the King. He stood stiff, as if he was already prepared for the anger sure to come his way.
“What is it?” Alexi asked, picking a piece of lint off his sleeve and flicking it in the air.
“Where is Genevieve?” the King asked, glancing around the room.
Alexi had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes at the King. Did he expect his paramour to appear out of thin air? Or maybe she was hiding behind the drapery.
“She’s gone to the Fey realm. Something about a dress,” Alexi shook his head. He’d been with his mistress for over a century and it still amazed him how much that woman loved clothes.
“Oh, that’s good.”
Alexi’s golden eyes were fixed on his father now. The King’s hands played with the ends of his sleeves. He was nervous about something, which only made Alexi more suspicious. The King was rarely anxious and even less likely to show it. His father had been alive for over four hundred years. Not much bothered the King.
“What’s going on?” Alexi asked him again.
“King Alexander, the coach is ready.”
Alexi squinted at the ancient man servant. The vampire had been serving their family since before his father was King. The fact that he mentioned the carriage made his anxiety rise even more. The passes through the mountains were narrow and rarely afforded the width to allow a carriage to pass. Besides, they travelled on horseback. The cold didn’t bother the Vampires that lived as far north as the royal castle Silencia. Carriages were rarely used unless they were in the company of humans.
Alexi stood up from the chair, slow and deliberate. His father watched him closely, like a cobra read to strike.
“What are you not telling me? Why do we need a carriage?” Alexi could hear the anger in his voice rising, but his father barely flinched. His face was completely indifferent.