caramelmermaid's blog: "Blood On The Moon: A novel"

OK HERE'S HOW THIS WORK I WILL TELL YOU TEN THING'S ABOUT ME THEN I WILL PICK TEN PEOPLE TO DO THE SAME THING THIS IS A GOOD WAY FOR US ALL TO GET TO KNOW THE PEOPLE WE CHAT WITH AND CALL OUR FRIENDS I THINK IF YOUR MY FRIEND YOU'D LIKE TO KNOW ALL YOU CAN AS I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW ABOUT YOU SO IF I PICK YOU YA GOTTA PLAY DAMMIT LOL (copied from Bella :)) 1. I think that snakes are one of the most gorgeous creatures on this earth and I would maim/torture to get a pet black mamba. 2. I'm going out with a rugby player who is deathly afraid of cats stalking him at night. (trust me, you don't want to know.) 3. I will eat mostly anything and everything, except for spiders and rabbits. 4. My dad was in Vietnam during the war, as a sailor on a cargo ship. 5. My aim in life is to make pictures with soul. 6. If I couldn't write I'd wither away and dessicate. 7. My secret aim in life is to be a ballerina by day and assassin by night. 8. I don't believe in the lottery. 9. I think that everyone has a purpose on earth, even if it might be to annoy the hell out of everyone around them. 10. When I was 5, i got my head stuck in between the bars of my bed and my sister came in and told me the firemen would have to chop it off. Then I asked her if it would grow back. She said it might. I believed her. (I'm serious!! Ask bella)

The Master of the City looked vaguely amused. If I smoked one of his vampires in self-defense, would he be pissed off? Probably. Then again, he did have the hots for me. In a manner of speaking. And he had looked more annoyed than aroused when the psychotic bitch had been pawing him. I made up my mind. Showtime, then. “I said I’m not the one dressed like a streetwalker, offering up my cookies, and pawing some Joe’s balls in public, so I’m not the whore here. Bitch.” I added, smiling pleasantly. She snarled and reached for me. “I’ll rip out your throat!” she shrieked, livid. A sliver of wood detached itself from my bar stool and hovered at her heart, pressing slightly against her skin. I smiled widely at her, and she stopped mid-stance, going very still. “I’ve been doing this since I was twelve,” I said casually, “So there’s a fair chance this will go right through all that silicone and pierce your heart.” A vein started twitching in her forehead, but she stayed put. “Master-” “Be quiet, before I incinerate you myself, Darlene,” he said calmly. I glanced at him, surprised. Ah well. One less murderous vampire to worry about. I turned back to her. She would have killed me from where she stood, given the chance. “Apologize,” I said quietly. “Over my dead body,” she hissed, flashing fang. “That will be the case, Darlene, if you don’t apologize and get out of my sight now. She has done nothing to you, and I have cautioned you too many times already about your unwarranted hostility to humans.” She stubbornly kept silent, still quivering with rage. Joao stood up. “Apologize, and leave. Don’t test my patience.” “I will not apologize to this human whore!” she screamed. The other vampires had quietly filed out already. Greg the bartender had disappeared. Joao shook his head, and sat down. After a short pause, he sighed. “Stake the stupid woman. She’s flouted my rules too many times already.” I raised an eyebrow. “You’re the boss.” A little push. That was all it took. The wood hit home before she realized what had happened. I stepped away quickly as she withered and crumpled into a little pile of ash on the floor. He brushed off some stray ash with distaste. “Uh- I’m glad you haven’t- eaten me for killing her, but may I ask why?” He smiled. “She was very stubborn. When I took over, I made it clear that the old era of enmity between humans and vampires was over. No more unwilling feedings, no more unauthorized turnings, no more using their psychics as aphrodisiacs, and no more uninvited advances from my females. I wanted a good, clean public image, to help the vampire rights legislation along. But she insisted on the old ways. She truly hated humans. Just last week, I had to discipline her for feed from an underage, unwilling human. Disgusting.” “That’s very- enlightened of you.” “Thank you. Would you like a bite to eat?” The alarm must have shown on my face. He laughed. “I meant something to eat, for you.” “That sounds nice, but I should get back to my hotel. I have to sleep. Before dawn,” I added, a trifle unnecessarily. “Alegria, if I wanted you, for food or sex, or both, I cold have you, right now, on the bartop. However, rape has never been something I consider acceptable behaviour, so you and the bartop are safe for now.” Well. There was really nothing I could say to top that, so I just kept quiet. “I must also admit that I’m more than a little intrigued by you. I didn’t know you were telekinetic as well.” Hmnn. How did one turn down the Master of the City without endangering one’s life? “Look, I’m sure your motives are- honourable, but I really am tired. Perhaps another time?” I couldn’t believe myself. I was setting up a date with a master vampire. I’d never thought of myself as the suicidal type before. “Tomorrow night, perhaps? I will pick you up from your hotel.” The way he said it made it clear that it wasn’t a request. “Right. I’m staying at the Four Seasons.” He chuckled. “Not exactly the starving college student, are we?” “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you some other time.” Some other time? Had I lost my mind? “Tomorrow.” I sighed inwardly. “What time?” “I will pick you up at 8.” “P.M., I presume?” He stared at me blankly. “Okay, fine, it was a bad joke.” He stepped closer. Oh, shit. “I thought you weren’t hungry,” I said, smiling nervously. “I never said I didn’t want t taste those delectable lips.” He was close enough now that I could hear him breathe. “When you say taste, you don’t mean that literally, do you?” He shook his head and reached out for my hair, tucking it behind my ear. “Don’t you realize how beautiful you are?” he murmured, tracing my jaw lightly. God help me, his touch was sex itself, starting a fire low in my belly. I was horrified, afraid, and very, very turned on, all at once. “Please,” I whispered. “Don’t.” “Haven’t you wondered what a kiss, just one kiss would be like?” I kept quiet, heart thumping as he traced a finger down my throat. “I’m not donating.” “I’m not asking you to.” His lips were full and lush, perfectly offsetting his masculine jaw and high cheekbones. Damn, but he was fine. He traced a finger over my lips. I trembled, and it wasn’t from fear. I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to look at him. I might do something stupid if kept on staring at that beautiful face. I felt his lips brush against my forehead. Oh boy, I thought. Here we go. He tilted my chin up, sliding his hand to the small of my back, and kissed me. Gently first, then hungrily; sexual tension arced through our mouths as he deepened the kiss, being oh so careful not to nick me. I placed my hands on his chest, which was warm and solid. I could feel his heartbeat pounding away madly. After what seemed like an eternity, we broke apart. His eyes were wild and frantic, pupils dilated. “Shit,” I whispered. “You do not know your own power, little one,” he said softly. “One kiss, and you have me undone. I dread to think what more of you would do to me.” I pulled myself together, shaking off the endorphins buzzing around my system, making it difficult for me to concentrate. “Hey, I ain’t that kind of girl, mister. A kiss is a kiss is a kiss. No-one except my bed linen gets to see me undressed tonight. And uh- in the future.” He only smiled smugly in response to this. “May I walk you back to your hotel?” “I am not sleeping with you.” “After what just happened, how can you be so sure?” “Because I don’t sleep with people I don’t love, and while our chemistry may be off the charts, I certainly don’t love you.” “Could you?” “Could I what?” “Love a vampire.” I shrugged noncommittally. “Maybe, maybe not. A little hard to, when revenants killed my parents three years ago.” ©Samantha De Silva 2006

The moment I walked into the bar, I knew something was up. I couldn’t sense anything. No fear, no lust, no jealousy, no rage- in short, none of the usual emotions that hit me, (or any other clairsentient worth their salt) once I enter a bar. These people- were they zombies? My eye fell on a woman sitting near the entrance. She smiled at a joke her partner was making, showing off canines that were very sharp, very pointy, and very, very un-human. Shiiit, I thought earnestly. Shit shit shit. Of all the bars in LA, I had to walk into a damned vampire bar. The patrons had fallen silent. Many, many pairs of unnaturally beautiful eyes of all hues were on me now. Shit. I walked very slowly up to the bar. The smart thing to do would not be to bolt. Like wolves, vampires are predators. You run, they chase. It’s a sign of weakness, and one does not go showing signs of weakness in a roomful of killing machines that can rip your heart out without even breaking a sweat. Besides, the vampires in LA were supposed to be quite civilized, according to what I’d heard. Well- about as civilized as a lion can be to a gazelle, when not actually eating it. I reached the bar and sat down, casually tossing a smile at the bartender. Okay. It was no big deal. I’d just order a drink, act dumb, and avoid all eye contact. Piece of cake. I motioned the bartender. “Could I have a margarita, please?” “Straight?” Don’t appear retarded. Don’t appear retarded. “What- ah- types do you have?” ”Straight or frozen, apple, lime, grape, cherry-”he hesitated, “and plasma. Distilled.” Plasma. Ok, definitely not that one. Cherry…red. Red bad. “Grape, please. Frozen.” He nodded. “Fifteen bucks,” he said, almost as an afterthought. Hoe looked very bartenderish. Paunch, balding, gruff, mustachioed, and complete with a dishcloth slung over one shoulder. It was a small comfort to know some things stayed the same, even when you were dead. Or undead, more accurately. He slapped a coaster on the bar. I almost jumped, cursing colourfully in my head. He grinned at me knowingly. Okay, so the bartender knew I was human. I reached for my purse and laid the money on the shiny mahogany bar top. “Keep the change,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant and totally unconcerned about being dinner. A male voice cut in. “Put it on my tab, Greg.” The bartender nodded. “Yes, sir.” I spun around, looking for the source of the voice. When I found the source, I almost shut my eyes. Here was trouble. He was tall, about 6 feet, and built solid, with well-cut muscles on his shoulders and arms. He had skin the colour of toasted almonds, and a mass of shoulder length curls, glossy chestnut streaked with honey. His hair kind of looked better than mine. On another man, it might have looked too feminine, but the way he was built, it just looked even more masculine. He extended an arm, complete with a tracing of veins, and thick, strong fingers. Shiit. He smiled, without flashing any canines. “I am Joao, Master of the City. Welcome to Los Angeles, pretty stranger.” Double shit. I shook his hand firmly. Bad idea. ©Samantha De Silva 2006

A barrage of images flooded my mind. A field of bodies, soldiers kicking a boy with unruly chestnut curls. A little girl with the same hair, but longer, lying glassy-eyed in her bed, gaping puncture wounds in her throat, body ravaged, face tear-stained. A head rolling. Blood, so much blood; the smell of it coated the inside of my head, inducing a wave of nausea. I snatched my hand away, willing myself not to scream aloud. He stared at me evenly. “I am sorry, madam. I did not know you were an empath.” “Clairsentient,” I said curtly. “And my name is Alegria.” He was still looking at me oddly, with those lovely eyes; jade green in the centre of each iris, fanning out to caramel at the edges, flecked with light amber. I forced myself to look away from those eyes. The bartender set my drink down, quietly. It was very quiet, in fact. No-one in the bar was talking any more. Joao looked around at the patrons intently. After a few seconds, the customers looked away and continued their conversation. I nudged the drink away. “Your offer is very generous, but I’m afraid I must decline,” I said, as frostily as self-preservation would allow. “No, no, please, Alegria. I insist. I distressed you just now. It’s the least I can do. Consider it on the house.” “You own this place?” He nodded. “Do you often stroll into bars like this?” “Vampire bars?” I instantly regretted it. Why, why didn’t the words go through my brain first, and not straight to my big fat mouth? He laughed, and the rest of the bar jumped visibly. Good, I wasn’t the only one feeling nervy. “If you didn’t realize what we are when you walked in, you would be a poor clairsentient indeed.” I relaxed. A little. “Thanks- I think.” “Do you live here?” “No. My folks are from Brazil. Lived in Thailand for a while.” I didn’t mention the forests of Borneo. That was strictly need-to-know. “Ah. What brings you here?” “I’m enrolling in college.” Then it occurred to me. Perhaps he could help. “Say, you haven’t er- seen any vampires that look like me? Pretty brown eyes, long straight hair, fair-skinned?” “If I had, I would surely have remembered,” he purred. Oh, how embarrassing. He was flirting with me. Unless this was dinner game foreplay. “You have seen nothing yet,” he said quietly. I froze. He had read my thoughts? Now, that was not on. “Sir, I am aware of your considerable status and power, but I must ask you not to infringe on my privacy like that. It’s really very rude.” Again, the tide of conversation in he bar came to a grinding halt. I was entertaining the hell out of the undead tonight. He became deadly still, and moved close to me before I could blink, so close I could smell his aftershave. Hmnn. Vampires shaved? Weird. He leaned in close to my throat, tickling my skin with his breath. I froze, like a little bunny rabbit on a road with a pair of headlights advancing very quickly. “If I knew your thoughts, it was because your desire made them very, very clear to me. Not because I was, as you say, infringing on your privacy.” He leaned back and motioned the bartender. “Greg, distilled clear, on ice.” The bartender bustled off, glasses clinking. “Sorry,” I muttered. He grinned, making me nervous again. “You don’t have to be so- edgy, you know. I won’t bite. Not here, anyway.” I was trying to think of a snappy comeback when we were interrupted by a female vampire. She had an ample bust, barely held in by her corset top. Her denim mini just about covered her ass. I felt like a nun in my white sundress. “Master,” she said, tracing a perfectly manicured hand up his thigh, “Don’t waste your time with this human whore. She is weak, only useful for food. Let’s take her back to my place and pop a vein or two. You know what a wonderful aphrodisiac human psychic blood is.” My eyes almost popped out of my head. She was blatantly caressing his crotch now. My blood was a vampire aphrodisiac? Great, just great. I should have never left my damn hotel room. And what was that whore thing about anyway? I wasn’t the one dressed like a hooker. Bitch. “Bitch,” I said out loud. Oops. She turned to look at me, very slowly. “What did you say, human?” I couldn’t take it back. And I certainly couldn’t just let her stand there and insult me. Well, I could, but I wasn’t going to. ©Samantha De Silva 2006