Author's Note: Second edit pass complete! Check out my bio for details.
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~~Jack~~
It only took a small nod to the bouncer for Jack to get in. Just a week ago, he wouldn't have dared dream of it, but Invictus connections were endless -- larger than just Xnomina - so now here he was, stepping into throbbing music and pulsing lights. The air smelled of sweat, body's grinding against each other with the beat, and enough skin was exposed to make his heart race. Or at least, it would have if it still beat; the fact it didn't never stopped unsettling him.
Everything was an elegant mixture of sex and presentation. There were no tube tops or cut-short jean shorts, but instead open-back tops, fashionable blazers, silk shirts open at the neck, and stilettos. The rich and comfortable enjoying the night life, fancy cars and white lines included.
How many people were in here? The smell was on his nose, not offensive but defined. He could feel the animal inside him struggle against the inside of his ribs. He could hear more than just the music, or even the tap of feet against the floor and chatting of people in dark corners. He could hear flesh and blood.
"Julias does this all the time, Jack. The people here want to socialize, they want to get drunk and fuck and get high." He straightened the open collar of his white shirt. "You can do this."
Ahead of him was the bar, parallel to the run of the hall that lead into the more open area. Beyond the hall opened a large room, easily capable of fitting a hundred people. At least fifty were out on the floor, and streaks of white light exposed them in the otherwise drowning red dark. Each time a streak crossed a dancer's path, it was a quick flash that showed the person dancing for a single moment. The dance floor seemed like it was a TV show running too slow, a stark contrast to the ear-numbing repetitive bass-heavy so-called music.
Jack looked to his left and right. Stairways on the side, beneath the red lights, lead up to a second floor where a balcony went over the bar. All along the walls, both above and below him, white tables with black booths had people. Some were alone, some were with others, some were almost dry humping as if the dark red of the Bloodlust's lighting would hide them.
"Yeah... maybe I should ask a Mehket where they feed. This place is going to make me vomit." With a cringe, Jack moved past the bar and kept to the sidewall to find one of the staircases. He walked up the stairs while keeping his eyes off to the side and looking down at the people below. Some of them weren't just rubbing pants in the seats. Some were actually having sex.
At least they kept their clothes on.
It was when Jack reached the top that he looked out over the second floor. It was more of the same, except darker. There were fewer tables, fewer people, and the music wasn't as loud, but the people up here were mostly unchanged. In fact, he seemed to have come across the make-out spot of the club, as almost every booth had a couple in it. Some were drinking, most were kissing.
One booth though, at the far back and on a slightly raised platform, had a different arrangement. One woman, tall and with long hair was sitting alone , yet behind her stood two other women. They did not sit, but waited next to her, outside the booth, with their hands hooked behind their back and their eyes on Jack. He gulped.
Antoinette.
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. The animal inside him almost screeched. Run. Get the fuck out. You can't be here!
The Daeva raised one of her hands and pointed her finger at him before curling it toward herself.
Jack made a quiet groan. His hands were clenched hard enough to the railing to damage it, and he was almost shaking in his new shoes. Why hadn't he worn his new suit though? Casual black pants and white shirt weren't exactly meet-the-Prince material. Why was she here anyway? Bloodlust was in the Invictus domain, Viktor's domain. Then again, a Prince could go wherever she wanted probably. It was her city. And there were no other vamps here besides the two of them, so maybe other kindred avoided Bloodlust because of Antoinette?
She frowned.
He was stalling, and now she was angry. With a reluctant sigh, the tiny Ventrue walked over to her with his hands at his side, doing his best to not let her see they were shivering. At least the music wasn't as loud up here.
Daeva were always beautiful, but Antoinette was different. Her long, wavy white hair was clearly unnatural, as her sharp face looked no more than 30-years-old, and her red eyes were just as unusual and alluring. Her lips were dark, and the red lighting of the club hid whatever color lipstick she was wearing, but she had indeed taken the time to dress for her outing. Hopefully she was just out for a social visit to her club.
She was tall, as well. Well over six feet, and now that only a few feet separated them, he couldn't help but notice her glorious curves. Whoever had sired her in some ancient past had clearly picked his timing with purpose, as the woman was both lean with a fit physique, and yet endowed with exceptionally large breasts and wide hips. Julias had said who the Daeva sired was largely influenced by their appearance; Antoinette was a defining example.
Her dress was jaw-dropping, and it barely covered her body. An open-back black dress that tied around the neck and went down across the chest before wrapping the legs in a long, side-split skirt. The chest of it hugged Antoinette's breasts tightly, barely able to contain them as it exposed the sides of her large bosom. No bra in sight. She was leaning back in her booth with her arms up on the backs of the seat, legs crossed, and clearly enjoying how the sight of her was making Jack squirm with fear and dead man's arousal.
With a devious grin, the Prince pointed to the open space beside her in the booth.
Jack gulped almost audibly and sat down. His fingers ran over his buzzed hair with nervous habituation, and he tried to not look at the Daeva next to him. Where the hell to look though? The two women standing behind them were quite attractive as well, both of small height, one a blonde and the other a brunette. They had soft features and ballerina figures, and were dressed in uniform black jeans and black shirts that left the midriff exposed.
Ghouls? Must be. They weren't dead at least.
"I, uh... I didn't know... I-" Jack came to a stop when the Prince brought one of her fingers up to her own lips with a quiet shh. The small Ventrue's eyes followed the finger, now helpless to look away.
"You are Julias's new childe, yes? Jack... Terry." The French in her accent was subtle, but still there.
"Yes... your Excellency," Jack said. Oh god she remembers your name.
"My Prince, please." The goddess tapped her finger on the table to emphasize the title; it was important to her. "Julias is a good man. I see that he has chosen an... interesting childe." She liked to draw out her words, her sentences, and make every syllable dance on her lips with a playful articulation. "Most Ventrue prefer to sire those of... greater presence, with greater power or at least the ability to pretend such power. You though, you have none of this."
Words hurt.
"Yes, Prince."
