My Little Ventrue Pt. 08 Ch. 12

Kinda like? He rolled his eyes, but the heat in his throat settled. Well, that was better than using her to manipulate him and Antoinette. And, much as Jacob was fucking chaos incarnate, it was hard to dismiss the things he said. He wasn't a liar, not like that.

"And," Triss said as she stood beside Jack, "the Circle likes her. She's fun, and sweet, and a total hornball."

He shoved her away, and she laughed as she joined Jacob. The two of them were getting along, better than Jack figured they would. Either Jacob was rubbing off on her, or she was on him, and considering the big smile she had on, he guessed the former.

"I suppose I should just accept that Mom's taking my advice. Taking it in a direction I didn't predict or want, but, she is. And as long as she's happy, I'm happy."

Triss grinned and nodded. "It's not like we're not treating her with respect. But I do think we were all a little surprised at how, um... easily she got into the spirit of things."

"Obviously it's because I'm a smooth and sexy fucker," Jacob said, lifted his eye bandage high enough to expose one of the empty sockets, and winked at Triss. No eyelid, but the wink was obvious from the face muscles, and Triss groaned and pushed him away.

"Fucking gross, dude."

Jack watched the two, arms folded across his chest, and every bit of analytical skill he had running at one hundred percent. Was Jacob legit, or was all this a careful manipulation of Jack's expectations? Even the softer smile he'd had on for a split second, which told Jack he was legit, could have been faked. Any elder could act their way to an Oscar in their sleep. For now, it did seem like Jacob liked his mom.

"So... how's this going to work?" he said. "We doing this here, or--"

"Gimme a few weeks," Jacob said, "and sure, we could summon here. But it'll probably save us some time if we head to my altar in Three Kings Cemetery."

He frowned at that. "Why only now?"

"Say what?"

"I've been waiting a few days. Why'd it take so long for you to show up, if we're going to use that site?" He'd seen that site. Any witch or warlock would have been able to perform any crazy ritual there, considering how much shit was in there. The work had already been done, then.

"Oh, I had things to do," Jacob said. "And so did Black Blood."

"Uh huh. Or maybe you just like being a dick to me."

Jacob, chuckling, jumped off the stair and toward the door. "Yeah, that's it, Jack. My life choices are made to annoy you." On the way out of the mansion, he smacked Jack on the back of the shoulder. "Come on, dumbass."

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The crazy cave beneath Three Kings Cemetery was straight out of a horror film. The secret switch hidden in the mausoleum, the hidden stone stairs, the cave itself, the hanging warning sign, and the quiet, constant wailing in the background, it was all a lovely concoction of doom and gloom. Honestly, it was pretty badass and metal, and he could understand why Beatrice found herself drawn to it.

The problem was the badassery and metalness were only surface level. Once you got past that, the Circle of the Crone was fucked up, into some really nasty shit, and you had to have the stomach for it. He'd managed to stomach it, when it meant helping Triss so they could get revenge for Julias. Slitting the throats of a bunch of kine, like sheep, was not something he figured he could do regularly. Even if every kine they'd sacrificed had been a horrible killer, and he knew they weren't, doing shit like that regularly would fuck him up.

He grimaced as they stepped into the main room. The big bowl where Jacob had ripped out the throats of the kine Jack had dominated was right there, huge and rusty and gross, and held up by a bunch of skeletons. Chains dangled from the stone ceiling. Strange symbols were etched into the walls and floor. An unnatural dark fought against the single candle Triss carried, preventing any light from reaching too far, especially to the back wall. No one was in the room, no one spoke, but he could hear quiet banshee shrieks, as if someone had sealed their dying sounds in the walls, deep beneath the cemetery above them. Or maybe they were hearing the dead from the cemetery, angry at them for violating the sanctity of their resting place.

It was the sort of place he wouldn't be surprised to see Sabrina rise from up the bowl, and get revenge on him for killing Viktor.

Jacob walked up to the bowl, turned, and leaned against it, like the rust and blood meant nothing to him.

"We never did talk about payment," the bastard said.

"He's not paying us," Triss said. "He's already paid me, you fucker. And if I have to, I can summon Black Blood without you."

Jack folded his arms across his chest, tapped his foot on the stone, and glared at the elder. No need to say anything, or play stupid verbal jousting games with the asshole, not with Beatrice helping him.

"Ha, not for me, stupid slut." He shrugged, and hopped up onto the edge of the huge bowl. It didn't budge. "I meant for Black Blood. He'll want something from Jack."

"Don't suppose I can give him an IOU?"

Jacob laughed. Triss laughed. Jack did not. It wasn't supposed to be funny.

The elder hopped down, rubbed his hands together, and held them up. "Black Blood, I summon thee."

Black Blood had to have the same sense of humor as Jacob, cause Jack figured it'd take a lot more than that single, short sentence, to summon a creature as insanely powerful and larger-than-life as Black Blood. Jacob said it'd take weeks to prepare his mansion, so maybe it was the hundreds of symbols? Maybe the symbols were exact things, and not just random gibberish? If Antoinette had to get crazy with weird mathematical symbols, crazy weird blue light that was most definitely not just blue light, some kinda hidden machine that made the room buzz, and a special lens to be able to see ephemera, then it made sense Jacob's ritual room was a lot more exact and designed than it initially seemed.

So, if Triss wanted to summon Black Blood, she'd have to use this room, or any others Jacob created. Or, maybe she knew how to create all the crazy symbols too?

And of course, Jacob's single sentence was enough. The wailing, always just below noticeable noise, increased until it was very much noticeable. A horrible cold filled the room, the sort of cold he felt when he visited his dead sister. Black ooze bubbled up from the stones around his feet, from the cracks in the walls, from the ceiling, hidden in shadow. He forced himself to stay where he was, but with each passing moment, it was clear Black Blood's presence was crossing over to join them.

The candle flickered, but didn't die. The ooze avoided it. Not even vampires could see in absolute blackness, and this deep underground, that's exactly what they'd get if it went out.

"My my, look what we got here." A deep, rumbling voice filled the room, layered with rasp, the sort of rasp he heard from his sister. And it had a Texan accent. The accent was pleasing, but the alien, gravely depth mixed with grating rasp, was very much not, and he winced as the words cut his ears.

"Black Blood," he said.

"Jack Terry. I understand Malachi has been bedding your mother?"

Oh fucking god. He threw up his hands, glared at Jacob, and glared at Triss too. They both chuckled.

"Black Blood, Beatrice told me you know a thing or two about the curse."

"Indeed I do," the darkness said. It came from all around him, no source, and Jack kept his eyes on the sacrifice bowl in front of him for lack of anything else to look at. The skeletons were crying black tears. "The Strix have got their claws into you, boy. Took them a bunch of generations, but they got them into you."

He forced himself to not shiver at the mention of Strix. "Tell me more."

The ooze laughed. "And why would I do that? No profit in that for me, boy."

He rolled his eyes and looked over to Triss. She shrugged. They all knew the conversation would go this way. Well, fuck that.

"You must think I'm an idiot, spirit," Jack said. "You think you can control me with a carrot on a stick? I'm not going to let you drag me along in a string of manipulative conversations. So how about you shut the fuck up, and I tell you how it's going to be."

The room went silent. Jacob said nothing, Triss said nothing, and Black Blood said nothing. The quiet wailing in the background softened, muffled, and the cold aura permeating everything settled. Good. If he'd managed to shock everyone, then maybe he could make some progress.

"I don't trust Jacob, but I don't trust or respect you, Black Blood. You might be big and powerful, but everything I've seen and heard about you shows me you're nothing but an opportunist. You've never done anything directly. You rescued me and my crew from Sándor's nightmare, and again, you helped Sándor in his nightmare, to put a stop to Jeremiah's ritual. But we both damn well know you did that shit for your own personal gain, for acquiring favors, and for learning." Jack tapped his temple once, and grinned. "Don't think I don't know you've been up to something, Black Blood, and have been for years."

"Ha. I think you might be overestimating me, Ventrue."

"Yeah right. You wouldn't drop information for Triss unless you knew she'd tell me, and you knew it'd trigger this conversation. So, this is how it's going to be. You tell me, for free, if you can do something to get rid of this curse, and the likelihood of success. And then you tell me what you want in exchange for helping me get rid of it. Don't think I don't have options, Black Blood."

Better to not tell the spirit what those options were. Damien finding some information about the binding ritual, and Elaine's experiments, could be a great step toward dealing with the curse. And even Antoinette might be able to help, if he asked her, told her to go nuts with her experiments, even put him on a table and cut him open.

But, all of those options would be slow to produce results at best, and outright torturous at worst. If Black Blood had a direct solution, he wanted to know.

The darkness chuckled again, and Jack folded his arms across his chest as he tapped his foot. Negotiating mode. Black Blood was basically like every corporation Jack had dealt with the past few years, evil and greedy. It'd be in his best interest to treat the fucker like one.

"Tell me, boy, what do you know about diablerie?"

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~~Natasha~~

"Uh, Natasha, that's a pretty dark story," Art said.

She nodded and looked down, not able to keep eye contact. "I know, b-but it's... it's only a fantasy. The kind you could read about, but seeing it on video might be a... b-b-bit crazy."

Matt nodded, and ran his hands along her hair. She closed her eyes, and switched from kissing Art's length, to Matt's. At this point, she was a total sucker for hands through the hair, and she beamed up at Matt as she set a suckling kiss on the head of his girth. The hot water fell over them, and she wiped some off her eyes so she could see Matt stare down at her with hunger.

One hand around the base of Matt's girth, and another around Art's. They were supposed to be cleaning up after sex in her apartment, but as usual, the boys had joined her as she showered, despite her protests; at this point, they knew which of her protests were serious and which weren't. And, as usual, the boys had quickly bounced back from their orgasms, and were ready for thirds.

Down on her knees, she shivered in secret delight as she looked up at the two big men watching her work. Something about the way they looked at her, like she was theirs to be used whenever they wanted, was so dirty and wrong, and it sent tingles through her like crazy. It wasn't like she didn't know women had fantasies like this, she just never really thought she'd be one of them.

Now that she had the movie director bug, worming its way through her brain all night every night, demanding she plot and prepare and obsess over it, stories ran through her mind. Erotic plots, full of naughty, erotic stuff.

"I'm all for playing a villain," Matt said, voice wavering a little as Natasha's growing skill sent obvious jolts of pleasure up through him. "I mean, as long as people know it's a movie, I say we really indulge some taboo fantasies."

Tash grinned. Matt got it. They were just fantasies, and they could get really naughty with them. Really naughty! She was just one woman, a small one, and they were two huge guys with big muscles who could be pretty damn scary if they wanted to be. And, more important, she was a rich woman with a skill for tech. Setting up high budget film setups, and then doing some quality editing? She was excited to sink hundreds of hours into the project, and on the next, and the next.

Matthew came first. She gave him doe eyes as she suckled and kissed the fat glans of his cock, and when waves of his cum poured into her mouth, a gentle push of her tongue against his cock caused it to flow down from her lips, and down her body. And seconds later, she did the same for Arturo, hot water flowing down over their bodies as she worked her hand on his girth while her lips wrapped the whole of his glans, and milked him.

Work done, she stood up, and flicked some water at their faces.

"There. D-Done?" she said. Matt nodded, and after a moment of exaggerated contemplation, so did Art. "Good. You're b-both addicts."

Arturo grinned down at her, and plucked the soap off the shower wall. "Yeah well, you can blame Dolareido for that. In fact, scratch that, you can blame you for that."

She yanked the soap from him, and lathered up her loofa. "How so?"

"Matt and I have been in sexual relationships before, like we told you. But even in the most active relationships, we didn't have sex this much."

"That's... n-not my fault!" She frowned at him, but it didn't last. "Is it?"

Matthew came up behind her, and set his hands on her hips. Then up her hips to her breasts, where he massaged and caressed. She wasn't Blushing Life anymore, but that didn't stop the man from entertaining himself with the softness of her small boobs. And, after having it done to her hundreds of times now, she kinda liked it, standing there and letting the man touch her. It was relaxing, in a weird sort of way. If she'd been Blushing, it'd have worked some heat through her, but without it, it was pleasant, and she sighed contentment as she rested her back against his abs.

"It is," the big guy said.

Art nodded. "Mhmm. You're too damn hot, Natasha."

She rolled her eyes, and ran the loofa up Art's abs. Abs everywhere. Abs she could make really pop on the screen with some lotion and high contrast lighting.

"I'm n-not... not super hot."

"The fuck?" Art said.

"I'm not like, you know, the other girls." Girls they'd all seen topless now. "They'd all... look b-better in the movies I want to make."

Matt chuckled, and with her head back against his sternum, the warm vibrations flowed through her. "I admit, they all have big, beautiful boobs."

She frowned up at him, but as she did, the mean leaned down over her, and his hands slid down her body.

Art mirrored his friend's chuckle. "Yeah, they do. Can't say I wasn't imagining what motorboating those would be like."

She outright glared at her boyfriends, but again, they both chuckled at her, and Matt set a kiss on her head.

"And yet, all I think about every day and night, is getting inside this tiny, little body," the giant said.

"Yeah," Art said, and he squatted down in front of Natasha so he could grin up at her. "I don't go to sleep, thinking about putting my dick between a couple big tits."

"Giant t-tits."

He laughed, and traced a finger up and down her stomach. "I go to sleep thinking about getting my dick inside this tight, tiny little pussy." His finger ran down to her mons, and he caressed the soft skin. "You have no idea, Tash, no idea how hot it is to see you penetrated by Matt and me, to see your stomach stretch around our dicks. No idea how great it feels, how your little body--"

She frowned at him harder, and folded her arms across her chest. "P-Pedophile."

Both men laughed, and Art leaned in, and kissed her. "You look nothing like a kid, more like, one of those tall, skinny models they sometimes use for fashion shows. Just, miniaturized."

She tried to keep frowning, but she couldn't. This conversation was dumb, and fun, a conversation they'd had before. Both men had assured her they were attracted to her, intensely so, and considering how easily they grew aroused around her, she believed it. Still, after everyone had their boobs out, she couldn't help but feel a little envy, and jealousy when her boys had given them looks.

Sometimes a girl just needs to hear that her man, or men, are attracted to her, right? Ugh, so girly. Antoinette would probably berate her for the lack of self confidence.

She hugged Art, and kissed him. And Kissed him, just a little. And that was dumb, cause then they spent another twenty minutes fucking in the shower. Ah well, at least they were already clean when they were done.

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Dressed in her suit, she sat at her kitchen counter and popped open her laptop, careful to not open any apps she couldn't let the boys see; all of them were password locked, too. The boys wandered around in her kitchen and dug through her fridge. They were hungry, especially after she'd taken a small sip of both of them, and they ate food to get energy back. Her fridge used to have only bottles of blood, but now it had raw steaks, too.

If any kine ever looked in her fridge, she'd have a lot of explaining to do. She'd need to get a Ventrue to wipe their mind.

She smiled as she watched them. Both wore jeans and only jeans, and there was something intensely appealing about men wearing nothing but jeans, walking around in a kitchen, preparing food. She supposed vice versa was true, too. Unfortunately just looking at raw steak was enough to gross her out, vampire after all, and she grimaced each time she glanced at it.

"Hey, we don't judge your food!" Art said.

"N-Not the same. I don't think spaghetti is disgusting to look at."

Both boys grimaced at the mention of spaghetti.

"No thanks," Matt said. "If it didn't run or fly or gallop before it hit the plate, I don't want none of it."

"Um, b-beer and wine didn't do that."

Art laughed, nodding. "True, we made an exception for alcohol. But if we stopped drinking it for a while, or spent a lot of time in the Hisil, we'd probably lose a taste for it."

"David can't drink it," Matt said. "Poor guy. Doesn't eat meat much anymore, either. He'll go on hunts in the Hisil and eat a spirit, and that's pretty much the only way he can get nourishment these days."

"Why?" she asked.

They looked at each other, contemplating. Answering her was probably giving her information Avery would consider secret. But before she could say it was alright, Art shrugged and sat beside her at the counter.

"Werewolves can get closer and closer to our spirit halves, or further. Getting closer changes more than just our tastes, though. It changes how easily we transform into our wolf halves, and changes how easily we get nourishment from different types of food. I could eat a sandwich, if I really had to. David would just puke it up. His body wouldn't accept it."

Ah, that made sense, sorta. "And you and Matt are... b-balanced?"

Matt shrugged and nodded. "I like to think so. The further we are from our spirit halves, the harder it is to get into wolf form. But then it's easier to get along with humans. Eat a sandwich and stuff, you know? Less chance for instinct to kick in if, say, you hear a gunshot."

"But if something does trigger your instincts, they can be harder to control," Art said. "Vampires have similar issues with their Beast, right?"