Chapter Text
Iriam was prancing through the streets of the city’s old core, which looked the same as any other European city. If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. Though, some were prettier and bigger than the others.
She was a Whip to the Primogen of clan Brujah, and they had just wrapped up some business in the city. Bloody business at that.
The good thing was, they were quick, and efficient. Despite being her senior by many centuries, Primogen Julius liked to finish his work swiftly. He also didn’t like taking on too much work for one night. So it was safe to say that the night was still young when they finished. The moon shone high above, full and only slightly blinding to a creature of the night.
The streets weren’t empty by any means. Not in a city of a few million people. But to any onlooker, Iriam looked like a young woman returning from a club. Loose clothes, each piece unrelated to the other, some of them torn and ripped. A few chains dangled off her sleeveless shirt and leather pants and wrist bands. Bands that were inscribed with the symbols of her clan. And a few favorite bands. Vampires weren’t immune to some nice contemporary punk. Heavy black boots with short spikes on the outer sides resounded heavily with every step. If Iriam wanted them to.
From one of the large pockets on her pants, Iriam produced a smartphone, opening its front camera. It wasn’t too high quality, especially in a faintly lit street, but it did show her that her makeup was intact. The eye shadow, and a black lipstick. There was a streak of blood coming from the corner of her mouth, dry by now, easily confused for a lipstick application gone wrong. She rubbed it off as much as she could. She wanted to look pretty for the next person she was visiting.
After her Primogen released her from the service, she knew exactly what, or who, she wanted to visit. It required getting to the other side of the city. So she utilized some good old running across the roof. The metro couldn’t be trusted to be on time at this hour. The summer night air was still warm from the completely sunny day (her weather app informed her), but as she zapped from one building to the other, the breeze chilled her. Soon, she reached a small park with a fountain and a statue. Several teenagers drank on the benches, sprinkling each other with the water. Iriam licked her lips, moving on without catching their attention.
Sounds of the drunkenly and police sirens followed her around the city.
A couple more low buildings, then a bee-line around an unfortunately placed skyscraper, until she reached a familiar but not exactly home territory. Clan Toreador territory. From the rooftop, she slid into the shadows of the tight alleyways. Through one uncovered window she flew by, she noticed a couple in formal attire dancing to the tune of Bach played by another well dressed individual at the upright piano in the background, a crowd around them eagerly observing. They didn’t notice her either.
Without a sound, she reached a well-preserved, renovated, 19th-century building that spanned three stories. Each story had large wooden windows, some covered with heavy drapes, some completely open at the moment.
She typed in a five-digit code into the numpad next to the main entrance, and disappeared behind the double doors as quickly as she appeared. There was no elevator. She followed the sets of stairs to the very top of the building, each step more eager than the previous one. In the hallway leading to the heavy oak doors, situated in the center, her steps were muffled by a thick green carpet. The wall was decorated with an old flowery wallpaper and numerous original paintings of landscape, mostly sea and coast. Iriam cared little for those.
For a minute, she stood in front of the carved doors, stretching her jaw, then her fingers, then her neck. Then she rose on the tips of her toes, then she shifted all the weight on her heels.
Then, she knocked. Only twice. As instructed.
Her eyes opened wide as she heard steps. And then half-closed as the wrong person opened one wing of the doors. A Toreador Whip, Melvin. A sour boy somewhere her age in vampire years. They exchanged looks, almost spoke. Iriam stepped forward. He didn’t move. She frowned. He smirked.
"Is that Iriam?" came a woman’s voice from somewhere inside.
"Indeed, my Primogen," Melvin answered politely.
"Do let her in," the voice implored.
"As you wish," Melvin said, stepping away, rolling his eyes as Iriam entered and stuck out her tongue to him.
She practically danced towards inner rooms she was well familiar with, trying to locate the source of the voice. Quickly, as a final fix, she tucked her short white hair behind the pierced ears on one side, and ruffled it on the other. That other side had a magenta lock, sticking out from a white jumble of hairs.
The hallways and rooms decorated even more than the ones she just left finally led her to an atelier in which resided a sitting figure, a woman in her finest years, with long hair and loose dress hanging from her shoulders. She held a palette with fresh colors in one hand, and a long brush in the other. The painting she worked on depicted a lush vert landscape.
Since she was in the middle of applying brush strokes, she didn’t look in Iriam’s direction. It was no offense. Iriam almost glided over to the stool the woman sat on, kneeling next to it.
"Good evening, Laura," Iriam said.
The woman in question was Aspasia Lauris Diamandis, or just Laura, as she preferred. Primogen of the clan Toreador in this city. A woman Julius didn’t particularly like, especially after she undermined him a couple of times at the council with the Prince.
Unfortunately for Iriam, however, she found Laura irresistible.
"Good evening, my little Iriam," Laura responded in a silky voice. For a moment, Iriam’s brain turned to mush, then solidified itself back.
Laura was an old vampire, from what Iriam gathered so far. And she carried all those years like they were just feathers on her palm. Because things around her just seemed to… float. And they carried Iriam’s sanity away with every minute in Laura’s presence.
"Mistress…" Iriam replied.
"We haven’t seen each other in a while," Laura continued while still focused on her painting.
"That’s true. I was really glad to receive your letter. H-how come you reached out to me?"
"I decided I wanted to paint you. Or well, at least sketch you for now."
"Oh. Ah. Ohh… I don’t think I’ve ever been drawn before."
"Then I have the pleasure to be the first to do it."
Iriam blushed and lowered her head. She wasn’t sure why she allowed herself to enter such a vulnerable state. The other woman had a good idea what effect she had on Iriam. There was no hiding it.
"Just give me a few minutes to add a few final strokes to this piece."
"Ah, sure, no problem."
For another ten minutes, Iriam sat patiently next to the painter. During that, she spent equal amount of time staring at both the art piece and its author that she found unnaturally beautiful. It has been like that for almost a year.
A year ago, Iriam was on an errand for Julius near München, when she was ambushed by a werewolf. She still couldn't believe how it managed to sneak up on her. She wasn’t a newbie in the art of stealth back then, and she certainly made sure to hone the skill in the previous months.
She defended herself valiantly. In the end, she managed to wound it enough to stop it from following her as she ran away, and then she collapsed in the mess of dirt and blood and torn innards. Iriam knew that her own undeath was seeping from her very being. She tried licking at the werewolf blood clinging to her skin and there was not enough of it to accomplish any significant effect.
Just as she was saying farewell to her existence, she felt the sweet nectar spill over her dirty lips. It brought her back. Somebody's blood brought her back. Barely. When her eyes managed to focus, her savior was already leaving, but Iriam remembered the figure, the glimpse of the face. It was Laura.
As to why she had done that, Iriam never figured it out. What she did know was that the act of giving blood created a bond between them. The vampire who turned her, now deceased, explained it to her shortly after her turning a century and half ago. She had mocked Iriam, of course, who spent the first several years of her vampiric unlife essentially enslaved to the master. But the master forced Iriam to drink her blood regularly. Laura only saved her life. Once.
It hadn’t even been that much blood. The first time Iriam even noticed something was odd was during one of the meetings between a few Primogens that she attended with Julius. Suddenly, the vampire woman she had seen before occasionally, but never cared about much, was an angel to her. An Aphrodite reborn. Petrarca’s Laura. (Not that Iriam knew who Petrarca was.)
Iriam tried ignoring Laura at first. She never liked Toreadors too much anyway. They were too tame and too posh.
Ignoring Laura went well. Until the woman caught her one evening alone on the streets of Barcelona. And showed her that Toreador hands weren’t good for just sewing intricate attires or painting with oils. After a few more encounters, Iriam concluded she was in no danger from that pretty face and let herself be toyed with. The effect was going to wear off at some point anyway. And she wouldn’t want to be disrespectful towards someone who saved her. Julius was also none the wiser regarding these trysts.
Everyone was happy. Iriam decided not to stir that pot. She felt very smart about that decision.
"Come now, my little creature," Laura called out to Iriam as she herself got up. She grabbed a sketchbook and a few pencils with different lead types.
"Y-yes," the punk woman jumped eagerly.
She followed Laura to her master bedroom, a very familiar space. Melvin was nowhere to be seen, and Iriam was thankful for that. He teased too much, too far, and the only reason she never bashed his head into a wall was because he always hovered somewhere in Laura’s vicinity. Which meant Iriam mostly just wanted to look at her and nothing else.
Once they were in the bedroom, Laura sat in her arm chair covered in fabrics and pillows with floral designs on them. She gestured towards the four-poster bed from which hung heavy curtains, currently tied. And some chains.
"Undress for me, please. Slowly," Laura said with a smile.
"On it," Iriam said, moving towards bed, unbuttoning her sleeveless shirt.
She stood next to the bed as she first removed everything she had on her torso. The sleeveless black shirt with various pins on it was the first to fall on the floor with a subtle metal jingle. Then the fishnet shirt, torn in a few places, which she took off more slowly. Eye contact with Laura was almost constant. Her eyes seemed to become a brighter shade of red. Lastly, Iriam gripped the hem of her white shirt with random scribbled symbols, pulling it up. She made sure the cloth caught her small breasts as it moved upward, pulled them up, then let them bounce down as she dragged the rest of the shirt over her head, ruffling her own hair.
She sat on the bed to untie her heavy worn boots, briefly thinking how they’re not dirty enough. Socks were stuck into the boots, which were discarded away from the bed. Calculated, Iriam took her time to straighten her back, reconnecting with Laura’s gaze. The most beautiful woman on earth seemed to be pleased for now.
Iriam pressed her palms below her clavicles, dragging them down over her breasts, until thumbs caught at the belt holding her baggy pants in place. She tugged at it once. Leaning behind further, she laid on the bed now, undoing the belt. After the belt, she also lazily undid several buttons of the pants.
Her eyelids were half closed. She bit her lip. Laura's gaze urged her to continue.
Bringing her feet up to help her push the hips in the air against the bed, she grabbed the hem of the pants again and pulled at it. Nudge on one side, nudge on the other. Another nudge to pull it over her taut ass, along with the underwear. Remaining on her back, she straightened the legs, pushed the pants to the knees, bent them, and took the pants off to the floor.
Iriam stayed still on the bed, completely naked, looking at Laura sitting to her right a little away. When she finally moved to reach out for her, Laura spoke.
"Don’t move until I say so."
Iriam stopped and returned to the initial position. Laura opened her sketchbook.
At first, being sketched felt very flattering. Laura’s gaze became a bit different. She was observing her. Similar to how an animal might be eyeing its prey, but less threatening. Until fifteen minutes passed. A small hunger in Iriam grew and she wanted those eyes, that beautiful face, closer. Laura’s face remained focused on the sketch for too long, and Iriam moved.
"Can I see it?" she asked.
"Not yet. Stay on the bed," Laura instructed when she raised her gaze and realized Iriam went to get off the bed. Iriam just nodded, sitting on the bed, cross-legged.
Laura, on the other hand, did get up. She left the sketchbook on the arm rest, going towards one of her great drawer closets. Without much consideration, she pulled open one of the drawers and produced a pair of leather manacles connected by a chain. Iriam’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t let anyone bind her like that in a while. Until Laura politely asked if she could a few months ago. And Iriam said that she could. And in the end, Iriam didn’t mind. But only because Laura asked with the softest smile Iriam ever saw.
Before Laura was even standing in front of her, Iriam stretched out her arms, presenting her wrists. Laura didn’t tie the manacles, unfortunately. She just dropped them into Iriam’s hands, cupping her cheek.
"Put these on for me, then drag one of those chains down," she said, pointing to the poster bed ceiling. A few chains of varying length were wrapped around the wooden beams there.
Iriam did as she was told, mostly because the hand that touched her cold cheek seemed so pleasantly warm. Iriam had leaned into it before Laura moved it away to return to her sitting place.
Iriam tied both of her wrists with the help of fingers and teeth. Laura didn’t have a preference from what she could tell, but Iriam liked the leather tight on her skin. Then she got up to drag one of the chains from the bed ceiling beams. It had a spring hook at the end of it.
"Interlock the chain with the hook," Laura instructed further.
Iriam obliged.
It left her hanging. Sort of.
She could still sit on the bed, on her heels, with her legs bent politely beneath her, but her arms were suspended above, fully exposing her chest to the artist.
A single, unnecessary breath made the chest expand and contract. Laura seemed keen to capture both states in her sketches. Once again, her gaze flickered up and down as she transformed the figure from flesh to lines on paper.
Iriam enjoyed simply being in Laura's presence and remained still even as her arms started to tire. She considered complaining, but then one shoulder string of Laura's dress slid off, dulling Iriam's perception of pain.
When Laura was satisfied with the amount of sketches for the current pose, she got up, leaving the sketchbook on the chair again. This time, from one of the drawers, she produced a stylized dark red dildo with a base. Iriam's cheeks flushed. She kept looking at the toy as Laura lubricated it, bringing it over to her.
"Spread your legs now, I want you to sit on it," Laura said, pressing her fingers against Iriam's knee, nudging her into desired position.
This meant Iriam wouldn’t be able to sit on her heels anymore, which would certainly make her arms even more sore. It crossed her mind, but then Laura raised pleading eyebrows at her and Iriam's head was empty of logical thought once more.
Pulling at the chain, she moved her hips up, allowing Laura to put the toy beneath her, right below her entrance that yearned for Laura's fingers, but was going to be satisfied with the toy as well.
Laura wiped her fingers on Iriam's hips, then started gently pushing them down.
"Come on now," Laura coaxed, her lips hovering very close to Iriam's. She could feel the air of Laura’s words on her lips.
"Mhm," Iriam followed the direction of the pressure from the soft hands. It wasn't just Laura's face that could mold Iriam’s body to move according to the elder vampire's desires.
So she inched her hips to align her entrance with the slick tip of the toy. Laura helped her with that.
As the toy slowly slid into her, Iriam imagined it was Laura's fingers, moaning just a little and closing her eyes. She took the toy in almost the whole way, but the chain and her arms could only extend so far. She hoped that Laura would push the rest of it in later.
The elder vampire caressed her thighs as a praise, spread them even further, then returned to her sketchbook.
The sketching took some time again. The observing gaze turned into mental tickles. Iriam tried remaining calm, but her vagina inevitably started twitching around the toy inside her. She could contain it at first, but it started showing when she'd angle her hips to help the itch. When she looked down at her white pubes, she also noticed how perky her nipples became. She wanted Laura to take them between her lips.
"Will you be done soon?" Iriam had to ask.
Laura was focused on the sketch now, adding some finishing strokes. She smiled at Iriam's question.
"You know I don't like impatience."
"I dooo… but I really want to kiss you. I know you didn't call me just to draw me."
Laura bit her lower lip.
"You are right in that regard."
Iriam pushed her chest out, as if inviting. She lowered her gaze and puckered her lips. Finally, Laura looked at her, wearing an impish smile, and got up. Sketchbook was discarded on the chair.
Laura sat at the edge of the bed, in front of propped Iriam, who tried leaning towards her with thirst in her eyes, but was stopped by the limits of her arms and chains.
"Shh," Laura calmed her, then leaned in herself.
Laura gave Iriam the sweet deep kiss that the punk craved. Long fingers held Iriam's chin in place. Iriam first let the playful tongue slide into her mouth, welcoming it with her own flesh. Laura made sure she remained the one to lead the game, letting Iriam know how far her own tongue could go. At one point, she dragged her tongue over Iriam's fangs and Iriam froze in place. She wouldn't want Laura to cut herself on them, not even a nick. But she didn’t. Ever.
Sneakily, Laura's other hand appeared on Iriam's neck, near the two old puncture wounds over which Iriam had been drawing reverse crosses with waterproof sharpies for decades. Those fingers tapped and scraped their way into Iriam's hair, scratching the scalp, making Iriam groan into the kiss. And then they grabbed the short hair, pulling it down, away from the kiss. The pull hurt her neck, her arms, and forced her further down onto the toy. She squealed.
Laura kept her in that position as her gaze broke away and started looking down at tender nipples. Fingers let the chin go and traced a path down to them. Iriam twitched when a sharp nail scratched over one of them. Her head was now pulled back at a slightly less painful angle, mouth open agape.
"Yes, please," she breathed out.
And the next moment Laura's lips consumed one of her nipples with searing wetness. She twitched again.
Everything Laura did to it, nibbling, sucking, licking, made Iriam moan with renewed vigor. The fingers just pinched the other nipple hard and weren't letting go. The arousing torture went on for minutes Iriam didn't even notice passed around them.
Then, to alleviate the pain inflicted upon one of the nipples by her fingers, Laura switched her lips to it, giving it much the same treatment until Iriam shivered.
"Have you ever considered getting them pierced?" Laura asked as she moved away and let go of Iriam's hair.
"N-no, not really. Seemed inconvenient," Iriam replied as she moved her head back up to stare at the irresistible woman.
"Aren't those in your ears and nose and brow also a possible inconvenience? Especially when you're hunting?"
"A bit… but it hurts less if they get pulled out than… any of these lower places would."
"Would you consider it? For me?" Laura asked, flashing her sweetest smile. Iriam blushed.
"S-sure…"
"Thank you," Laura said and massaged Iriam's breasts, returning to more kissing.
Before reaching the lips again, she kissed Iriam's neck, jaw, and cheeks.
All the while, Iriam's entrance was getting wetter and slicker with both lube and her own fluids. Her hips would buck out of their own volition by now. Laura noticed that and moved away from the kiss while still holding her breasts in place.
"Keep it in a little bit longer, won't you?" Laura said while reaching to unlock the spring hook and finally free Iriam's arms. And then she promptly pushed her onto her back. She fell soundlessly onto soft sheets. Her legs still spread, Laura used the chance to push the toy deeper in. That did make Iriam moan.
"Press your legs together," Laura commanded to make sure the toy stayed in.
Iriam didn't register her at first. She only focused on the fact that Laura's fingers hovered infuriatingly close to her folds and clitoris. She tried pushing her hips into the touch, but only ended up jamming the toy deep into her cervix.
"Iriam, press your legs together, I won't ask again," Laura warned.
"Oh, yes, sorry," Iriam mumbled.
She obliged then watched as Laura climbed onto her. Her wrists were still bound, resting on her stomach. Carefully, eagerly, Iriam watched as Laura's hips moved over her, until they hovered above her face. The silky cloth of her red dress tickled Iriam's naked skin of arms and chest. With glee, she realized that the woman wore no underwear when she brought the dress up a bit.
Her smile was wide and Laura's as well.
"Dig in," she told Iriam.
"Yes!" Iriam chirped. She started raising her head impatiently, but Laura carefully lowered herself, meeting the enamored vampire halfway, and then kept pushing her down as her face got buried in a dark mess of pubes, folds, and fluids.
Iriam yielded, resting her head on the bed, reeling in the smells and taste of the most gorgeous woman in the world. She hadn't tasted Laura's blood for almost a year, and she didn't want to, but licking at the sweet fluids from her folds felt very close to the red liquid that saved her life.
Iriam didn't hurry the game. She would lick carefully, and nibbled at the folds with lips drawn over the teeth. When she found the clitoris, she licked at it too, bringing it close enough to her lips to suck it. She started hearing the sounds from Laura. Each gasp and moan just provided further impetus.
The clitoris, sucked in, would be teased by the tip of the tongue. When Laura had enough of that, she would shift her hips, and despite having Iriam's bound palms on her back, Iriam couldn't do anything to stop or control it. Fortunately, Laura would simply move forward so that her entrance now covered Iriam's mouth. Greedily, Iriam sucked the fluids and stuck her tongue as deep into the woman on her as she could. Which wasn't too far, but it was delicious.
Iriam would wiggle and curve her tongue, relentlessly. She felt it hurt, felt her jaw become stiff, but didn't want to stop. Occasionally, Laura would give her a pause by sitting fully on her face so she couldn't do anything except meekly take in the dizzying smells. The dress covered her head. Iriam wished it didn't. She wanted to stare at Laura's sculpted face, deep eyes, playful locks of blonde hair.
But then the woman bid her to continue the oral services by slightly raising her hips again. Iriam must've been under there for at least twenty minutes before Laura moved further away, sitting on her chest, and leaning back. She was done. For now.
One of Laura's hands tapped the tips of the fingers down Iriam’s stomach, into the white bush, between the folds. Iriam twitched and giggled. It was time for her.
"You're a very good girl-"
"Woman."
"- very good woman, Iriam. You like the taste of me?" Laura teased. With both her fingers and her words. The fingers have found clitoris by now. Iriam couldn't help but spread her legs slightly, feeling the toy start to slip out slowly.
"I do, a lot!" Iriam admitted, blushing.
"I'm happy to hear that," Laura pressed into the clitoris and mixed Iriam's giggle with a moan.
Eventually, she grabbed the toy before Iriam's vagina could push it out, and pressed it back in. She took a hold of the base and started penetrating Iriam with a rhythm. Even when Iriam tried bucking her hips into pushes, she hardly had space for that under Laura's full weight. But she enjoyed herself nonetheless.
Lost in pleasure, Iriam noticed little more than that. Her mind spiraled into unbridled bliss.
Until a smell hit her nose. And something wet hit her chest. She opened her eyes slowly, drunkenly.
Laura was still perched over her, fingers still between wet folds. Yet her other hand… hovered near Laura's own mouth. A small trail of blood extended from the corner of her lips. And her palm was bleeding.
Iriam's heart skipped a beat. Then another.
"W-what?" she whispered.
Wordlessly, Laura lowered her bleeding palm nearer to Iriam's face. The divine smell of blood hit her like a hammer to the temple. Her fangs extended, her pupils contracted, and her whole body tensed. She opened her mouth, but closed it shut a second later, unable to move away. The more she squirmed, the harder Laura pressed the toy into her.
"Come on, now. You said you liked the taste of me," Laura insisted.
"I didn't… I don't want to, Laura," Iriam growled, revealing panic.
But Laura's hand descended further until it was dangerously close. The smell was irresistible. Scenes of that one night from a year ago started flashing in Iriam's head. She forced her body into action, she had to run away…
"Iriam, look at me," Laura's stern voice reached her ears.
Blinking once, twice, Iriam's gaze focused on the blonde sitting on her, holding her in place.
"Please, don't, I'll keep coming over, you don't have to…" Iriam nervously eyed the palm within reach of her fangs. She was shaking. Her fingers desperately fumbled to undo the manacles.
She wanted to throw Toreador Primogen off of her, but she wasn't sure if she could even physically do it. She certainly had no mental strength for it. Not when Laura's soft expression looked down on her so lovingly.
Gentle fingers caressed her cheek, her short locks, even tickled her ear for a bit. She inhaled, opening her mouth slightly. Bloody tears welled in the corners of her eyes.
"You'll be safe in my care, little Iriam," Laura soothed her.
"You promise?" Iriam's voice trembled.
They stared deep into each other's red eyes.
"I promise," Laura said.
And Iriam bit into her palm, sobbing.
The blood reinvigorated her like fresh cold water once used to. Even just a few drops were enough to fill her, and anything more was pure bliss that nothing else could imitate. She drank as much as she wanted, and Laura let her.
And Laura fucked her.
The toy returned to the penetration, more forceful now than before. It allowed Iriam to quickly reach the brink of the orgasm as her vagina involuntarily contracted around the toy, begging for a new push with every pull.
When Iriam finally let go of Laura's bloody hand, it was to cry out into the oncoming orgasm. There was blood, tears, and her own cum. Her bound hands gripped at Laura's dress, dragging it to her hips, revealing the pleasantly shaped breasts and stomach. Iriam cried as Laura started looking even more irresistible than she had been before. As her hair gained a new level of sheen.
It was one of the best and worst orgasms Iriam ever had. It shook her whole being with pleasure exploding from the pelvis. It turned her into more of a slave than she was at the beginning of the night.
She wanted to run crying back to Julius. And she wanted to stay with Laura forever.
In the seconds following the orgasm as Iriam unleashed all the arousal, beginning to calm down, Laura cupped her cheek with the bloody palm on which the wound was closing up.
They stared at each other again.
They kept staring as Laura pulled the toy out of the sobbing vampire beneath her. Iriam gasped. Her face was a bloody mess. But Laura didn't mind. She liked seeing her like that. It would look terrible on herself or Melvin, but little rebellious Iriam was just perfect when she looked like she finished a very violent meal.
Laura got off Iriam, kneeling next to her. She took the manacles and undid them, revealing sore skin. She had wanted to send Iriam off, but before she had the chance, the younger woman sat up, still absolutely focused on her. Slowly, Iriam inched towards Laura's lap, licking her lips hungrily.
"No dear, we're done for tonight," Laura warned, noticing Iriam's fangs were still long, eyes still wild.
Iriam barely paused.
Laura grabbed her jaw, dug nails into her cheeks. She bared her own fangs.
"I said, we're done!" Laura hissed.
Iriam backed off as if suddenly burned. She seemed sad but said nothing.
"Get dressed and go home," Laura added further instructions. It seemed like the disheveled punk needed it. "And clean your face."
Distraught, Iriam got off the bed and absentmindedly gathered her clothes, putting them on one by one as she picked them up from the floor. As she buckled the belt, she felt for the phone in one of the pockets, checking it without thinking. Two unanswered calls from Julius. Not ideal.
Once she felt dressed, and saw no other clothing items on the floor, she turned to Laura who still sat on the bed, still observing Iriam's every move.
Iriam made a step towards her but the elder vampire shot her a warning look. It took all she had at that moment, which wasn't much anyway, to back off and leave the room. Leave those chambers. The fancy old building. Iriam walked, noticing little of her surroundings. The only thing she saw was Laura. Laura smiling at her. Laura embracing her.
"Shit," Iriam hissed as she jumped from one building to the other, leaving the Toreador territory.
"Shit fucking shit."
She ruffled her hair and slapped the cheeks for a good measure. It sobered her up a little, just enough to remember that she had to clean up her face. There was a park nearby, devoid of teenagers at that point. When she got to it, beside the little fountain, she also saw the first signs of the dawn. She had to hurry.
Ten minutes later, she was sure she got rid of all traces of Laura's blood on her face. And those few drops on her chest. The blood inside her, however, would stay for a while.
She stared at the water — that did not reflect her — for a few more minutes. She could see it now. She had underestimated Laura.
She had to talk to Julius.