kameron price

"Are you new to the city? I don't recognize you." Not that she knew every vampire, but Isabelle certainly knew the important ones. This one seemed familiar somehow. His blood called to her, but she couldn't place why.

It took Kameron a moment to realize she was speaking of his new age. His head tilted curiously. The woman was obviously a vampire, and though he hadn't become truly acclimated to this new sector of life, the instinct within confirmed that she was much older than him. Much, much older. Strange how it worked like that, but despite her power, it did little to quell his insolence.

His eyes narrowed at the questioning. Surely she as just being nice. Vivian, his sire, was the same way, but he had grown as a human in bitter circumstances only to be born in the same way. He wanted to unroot his feet and leave, but she held a hold on him that was...familiar, for lack of a better word.

Finally, he replied with a curt, "No." He should've left it at that, but he remembered that Vivian told him that vampires did well when grouped together. He wondered if she would help him hunt, but for now, he kept that to himself. She didn't seem the type to let him rectify his fantasies.

"I'm new to being a vampire," he said bluntly, and then he ticked off the fingers on his hand. "It's Friday now, right? I died on Tuesday, I think. Or maybe it was Wednesday. I don't think age matters after you turn or whatever."

He turned his body towards the vampire stranger who had just been about to pounce on an unsuspecting drunk human, something which by the recent terms the Council and Artemis agreed upon meant only consensual feeding when it came to humans. This did not look consensual.

With the flick of his wrist, his saliva splattered the pavement, and it reminded him of blood striking a surface. He sneered, revealing a pair of sharp teeth as if confirming his answer. "I'm staaaarving," he whined. "And no one would've missed him or he wouldn't have been stumbling alone."

THERE WERE FEW PLACES IN THE CITY that Leila hadn’t frequented at one time or another. Galleries on Hope Island, The Tail End with her dog in Chissob Hills; each district held its own appeal. Klin was near the bottom of that list, only one business she returned to regularly: Liber. It was the only place in the region where she could find her favorite brand of apple ice wine.

Not far from the border, the bar wasn’t difficult to reach. Still, she knew better than to be off her guard in Klin at night. So, when she stepped out into the crisp evening air, leaving the lively atmosphere behind, she kept a clipped pace.

A rumble just to her left halted the steady click of her boots. She spun on her heel, eyes catching on a darkened silhouette just beyond the glow of the streetlights. Her jaw clenched as she swallowed. Quite frankly, her week was already going too crappily to deal with this. 

The faint reflection of two eyes in the night left little question about what he was. There was something familiar about him, though she couldn't quite place it. Out of the corner of her vision, she saw a drunk stumbling down the alley, her gaze flicking between the retreating form and the shadow. 

“I wouldn’t.” Leila’s voice carried easily down the pavement. She took a step into the streetlight, standing beneath it, head tilted slightly. “If you’re going to feed,” she said coolly, “try to be smart about it.”

Her gaze flicked toward the alley, then back to them. “Alcohol is a blood thinner.” It was simple biochemistry. “He’ll bleed out in under five minutes, you’ll make a mess and still find yourself hungry, and then someone will find you both five minutes after that.”

“There’s a blood bank not far from here.” Or the hospital should have some, she fought the urge to add. Garond District kept extra bags on hand after a vampire brought in their half-dead familiar, bloodlust making them a hazard to staff. Surely Crimson Vale’s extravagant facilities would offer the same. “They’ll help you.”

His nose twitched. The scent of her blood was effervescent, reminding him of popping champagne bottles on New Years Eve when he was still human. He couldn't help the acrid, copper-tinged saliva pooling on his tongue, and he licked his lips.

"I like when they bleed faster," he replied. His tone was matter-of-fact, as if they were speaking on a topic as droll as the weather. "Because I'm always, always hungry."

His body went rigid, but his gaze flickered back and forth over her face. "They can't help me. My sire has given me bags before. They taste horrible, and I can't drain one without gagging. It's better when it comes from someone."

Iqbal didn't pull away from the doorframe. Instead, he leaned against it, allowing some of his allure to tempt the vampire further. "Wait. Don't tell me. The hallway is far too public for such a confession. Would you maybe like to come in, fledging?"

That wasn't entirely true nor a lie. He had slunk away from her for a bit of independence, but it was dawning on him that the unblinking whimsy was a mistake.

At the offer, his body softened, and he scuffed the toe of his shoe on the floor. The sound ripped through as if it came from a loudspeaker, but that was merely the effect of his new senses. Finally, he blinked. "Fledging? Oh. Right."

He unfolded, shedding himself of the rigid statue. "I guess it might be safer," he muttered, though safety was a forethought he often ignored. He moved up to the other--too quickly to be human--but the pretense had already dropped between them.

Life for Arjun Iqbal had been..odd lately. His return to the art gallery from the divine realm had brought back memories; some fond, others decidedly less so. Other than that, the deity had taken to indulging in the simplest pleasures life could afford, a pursuit which had led him to book a room at the Nakshatra Hotel, in Hedon.

It wasn’t the same room he had been in once upon a time. He would have enjoyed the symmetry, but it would have been too small for what he'd planned. He had reserved the suite instead, with its sitting area, meagre kitchenette and king size bed. Lovely, if he might say so himself. As the evening drew to an end, Iqbal rose from it and walked his lovers to the threshold, holding his robe closed with idle fingers. As one left, he stopped the other at the door, his palm coming to rest against their cheek and leaned in to kiss them. "Thank you for tonight." his thumb grazing the hollow of their throat where the pulse fluttered, and he smiled. "Let's do this again?"

Nevertheless, he was happy to be here. Sounds permeated through every inch, melting together in a off-beat cacophony. In one room, the unmistakable sounds of sex. In another, snoring interrupting a tv talk show. Focusing on that helped divert himself away from the scents.

Oh, the scents. They weren't just smells. Each had a personality, and each he wanted to investigate.

He fumbled when a door abruptly opened, and he was blasted with thick sweetness. Sweat and blood, something fruity and virile. His pupils dilated, usurping the uncanny red of his irises. His body locked and rooted like a tree.

But his gaze trailed after the departing person. His nose twitched, and his stomach dropped. He wanted to...feed. A word that became synonymous with kill and power. But he didn't dare.

Instead, tight-lipped and roiling, he looked toward the figure in the doorway. There was a power there he couldn't understand. He had met older vampires and succumbed to their weight, but this one was not a vampire but equally powerful. After a taut moment, he muttered, almost pleading, "I lost my sire."