CALYPSO
"What attracted you to this human?" asks Katrina. Her eyes are glazed from the narcotic's effect and she cradles the crystal glass of crimson blood in her hand like it's the finest wine.
While he contemplates his answer, Calypso admires the way the early morning sun illuminates her dark curls, reflecting the red highlights natural woven into her thick hair. Meanwhile, Marianne and Daisy watch from their perches on the loveseat and chaise lounge. Daisy's delicate features are pensive yet again at the mention of the human girl.
"Her smell," he admits. "I've never smelled anything so sweet and divine. It bewitched me and led me across the human village. I couldn't resist, truly."
"She's a witch then," Daisy hisses, curling a strand of her auburn locks between her fingers. "An enchantress."
Katrina lifts a brow at her fellow concubine. "Doubtful. Daddy would smell out a witch."
"That's true, princess," he says in agreement. "She's a mere human, through and through. I tasted her blood. She's no witch. Her taste was pure."
"Have you bed her yet?" asks Katrina.
Calypso glances between his girls. "No. She is unaware of my advances."
While Daisy sucks a sharp breath between her teeth, Marianne visibly winces.
"Does she even know what you are?" Daisy asks.
"I have only just met her," he growls a bit defensively.
"I don't mean to upset you, Daddy," says Katrina, "but you made yourself known to me in a matter of hours and initiated my own transition by the end of the night."
He sighs and leans back in the high-backed leather thrown, his gaze turning to flames dancing along on the fireplace hearth. "You were near death, Katrina. I would have lost you forever had I not." His eyes have a cutting edge as they turn back to his concubines. "What do you expect me to do? I thought you would be happy that I had not yet revealed myself."
Marianne clears her throat and looks at him with earnestness in her dark eyes.
"Go on, Annie," he ushers her. "Speak your mind."
"Well . . ." She folds her head to stare down at her hands. "I am most concerned about you, master. You are enthralled by a human who does not even know what you are. How could you convince her to be with us? You know how humans are. They don't understand."
Calypso studies her carefully but refrains from going to collect her into his arms as he desires to. "Yes, this is true. I don't yet know how I will captivate her. I just know I feel a hunger for her that goes well beyond the temptation of her blood and flesh. She is human but she is not simple. I'm intrigued by her, my darlings. Just as I am intrigued by each of you." He touches the cleft in his chest under which his ancient heart throbs. "Already she is a part of me."
"I'm sorry, Cal," Daisy says. "I can't fathom this. You have known us for years—you've known me for fifty! I don't believe you can feel for her, some girl you have known a day, what you feel for us! It's preposterous. You are letting your blood lust get the best of your head."
Her words slice at Calypso. He's distraught at having upset his red haired beauty. She never speaks to him this way. As he broods over her words, he feels hot anger overcome his affection for her.
'She's forgotten who is Master here,' he thinks. 'My affections have gone to her head. I must not tolerate this any longer.'
Deciding then, Calypso abruptly stands from his leather throne. "I hear only envy and a desperation to control me in your voice, Daisy, and I will not tolerate it. You have forgotten your place as my concubine and though it pains me to punish you after so many years of trust, you must be put back into place. I will not allow you to manipulate me. I have lived longer than you ever will and I know what is good for my family and what is not. If I proclaim affection for this human, you will bear it with grace or face the consequences."
The blue in her eyes dilutes with tears. She glares at him, her porcelain skin drawn into a hurt look. Katrina and Marianne remain silent. Releasing a heavy breath, Calypso smoothes his hands over the robe he donned after showering.
"I am going to dress and return to town," he states coolly. "When I return, I anticipate a change in attitude or I will gladly dole out punishments." He looks between his concubines. "Come, now, and kiss me goodbye."
Katrina sighs as she stands and Marianne follows on her heels. After brushing her lips across his cheek, Katrina turns away. Marianne does the same but lingers for a moment.
"Be safe, Master," she murmurs.
His face softens. "I will, little dove."
She pads noiselessly out of the room. Now that he and Daisy are alone, he turns to where she has risen but not come forward. He raises his chin and watches as she subtly shifts between her feet. Judging by the sound of her lungs, she's hardly even breathing.
"I know you're scared," he says after a prolonged moment of tension, "but I also know you have come to trust and rely on me more than anyone in your whole life. I know you better than anyone else in this world, alive or dead." At her silence, he growls. "Is that untrue, Daisy?"
Her light eyes snap up to his. "Of course, it's true, Cal! I have bound myself to you for half a century. I have no one else. I have no choice but to rely on you."
Shaking his head, he refutes her. "There is nothing stranding you here, flower. You could leave this instant and cross the globe to escape me, if you so desired." He walks over to her and wraps his fingers around the cool skin of her tiny wrist. "We both know you would be back. We need each other, Daisy. Don't torment us both over such nonsense. Should I bring this human girl here, you will grow to love her and make a sister out of her." He bends down and graces his lips against hers. "You could use a new muse anyway, couldn't you?"
A strangled noise sounds in the back of Daisy's throat before she launches herself up, hooking her legs around his hips. She claims his mouth angrily and desperately while grinding against the stiffness bulging through his robe. Calypso holds onto her and relishes in the feel of her strong, lean body writhing against him. They dry fuck like that for a minute before he places her back against the loveseat, peels open her robe and runs his hands greedily over her smooth flesh. When he parts her thighs, she moans and her pink slit glistens with need. Calypso guides his aching rod between her bare, gleaming folds and rubs his head roughly against her clit.
"I need you," she pants. "Fill me with your cock, Cal. I need you inside me so bad!"
He pushes himself into her and they unite with a loud, collective moan. Calypso grabs the back of the loveseat and the edge underneath her to leverage himself in and out of her hole. A ripple of pleasure shoots through them and Daisy whimpers lewdly. After speeding up his tempo and slamming into her, he pulls out and lifts her off the couch. Daisy automatically winds her legs around his waist as he sits her on his cock. Clutching her ass, he bounces her up and down and watches her small, pale nipples pebble. He leans in to swipe his tongue along the ridged surface while Daisy takes over bouncing herself. He feels her walls tighten and her hands fist his hair. Within seconds she unravels his on dick and pumps him so hard that he can do nothing but moan as he shoots his cum deep inside her.
Calypso holds her into his chest as they try to catch their breaths. Sighing, Daisy buries her face in his shoulder. His fingers tangle in her silky red strands while he clutches her tighter and carries her out of the drawing room. When he reaches her bedroom and moves to place her on the bed, she stirs with a disgruntled groan.
"Don't leave me, Cal," she whispers. "Stay with me. If you love me, stay."
"You know how deeply I love you," he murmurs. He pulls her away from him and settles her on the bed.
Frowning up at him, Daisy smooths out her hair and hugs her knees to her chest. She is always radiant with confidence but now she looks lost like a little girl in a busy train station, her red hair wild and knotted.
"When I took you in," he reminds her, "you had nothing but your own beauty. You were abused over and over by greedy men who wanted to own your body but not your heart, mind, and soul." He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and rubs her hollowed cheek. "I will never treat you that way, but you know what I expect from you in return. Loyalty and acceptance of this lifestyle I have built. If I so desire to introduce a new person to my flock, you do not have the power to stop me," he says softly. "You must understand this, my flower."
Daisy sighs and lifts her head to meet his eyes. "I understand, Master."
"Will you stay and continue to love me then, as I have loved you?"
She nods. Her eyes are solemn but the fire in them has extinguished. Cupping her jaw, Calypso kisses her plump pink lips and then her nose.
"I will return later," he tells her.
With that, he leaves her room and heads to his own across the castle in his private wing.
The village is quiet for late morning as Calypso parks on the cafe's block. He chose to drive the dark blue Shelby today so he takes extra caution to park away from human vehicles. Just when he steps out of his car, her smell washes over him. As he starts down the sidewalk towards the cafe, he hears the door open and watches as a tall, muscular man steps out. He carries a tension in his shoulders and holds a brief case as he moves swiftly to his shiny black Audi. Calypso is unsettled for some reason but he doesn't realize why until he draws nearer to the door.
By the time he's close enough to hear a woman's muffled cries, the black car has sped off down the narrow village streets. Her cries at first paralyze him as he processes the raw emotion.
'She's hurt,' he realizes with a bolt of panic. 'That man must have hurt her!'
Then he springs towards the door and grabs the handle. Before he can rip the thing from its threshold, he notices that the 'open' sign is switched to the 'closed' sign and a sticky note attached to the corner reads: 'I'll be right back! Come back at 11:30.'
Growling, Calypso's eyes unfocus from the sign and zone in on a figure in the dining area slumped over in her chair. Her familiar round shape and dark blonde hair drive him into more of a panic. He raises his fist and bangs it against the glass. Her shoulders continue to move up and down with each cry she utters. A crazed panic tears through, an instinctual need to hold and comfort her. He bangs against the glass again, over and over, without caring if he shatters the glass. He could do it easily enough.
Before he can, she lifts her head and glares at the door through wet, hollow eyes. He pauses his fist mid-air and watches her brows rise, the darkness in her face momentarily dissipating. She takes him in slowly but without budging. Calypso's temper spikes.
'Why won't she quit staring and come open the door?' he growls internally.
He starts banging his fist against the glass again in the hopes that it'll shake her from her frozen state. Bellina's features draw together in a scowl. Still, he holds her gaze and continues to obnoxiously pound on the door. At last, she rises from the chair and approaches the door. Calypso drinks in the sight of her—the way her jeans hug her luscious curves, the fit of her shirt over her ample chest. When he looks at her face, her eyes gradually drag up to meet them. The scowl has been displaced with a look of awe or perhaps curiosity.
He wonders if she's thinking about the dream they shared last night. His own palms tingle at the thought of reliving those few precious, intimate moments.
Bellina clears her throat and says, "We're closed," her voice muffled by the door.
Without taking his eyes off her, Calypso points at the closed sign. "Not according to your sign. It's 11:31."
He really has no idea or care what the time is, but he knows he must be close to this human. His heart still aches at the gleam of tears speckled on her checks.
Her surprised expression shows how taken off guard she is of the time. Wetting her lips, she nods and unlocks the door. To his surprise, she even opens it for him and steps aside. After his behavior, this is the last thing he expects from her. Calypso lifts his chin and and moves into the cafe, walking directly passed her to the counter without a second glance. He can smell her tears mingling with the scent of sugary baked goods and her perfume.
She appears behind the order counter a moment later, suddenly appearing very tired. Her eyes are dull as they hold his.
"Small black coffee," he says.
The girl taps the order into her monitor and asks, "Can I get you anything else? I have fresh scones baking in the back."
He studies her, wondering how she can act like usual after being so emotional. "No," he tells her. "Just the coffee." The thought of human food makes his own stomach roll.
Calypso hands her a twenty-dollar bill and turns away. He's just about to settle into a seat at one of the booths when he hears a distinctly feminine cry. Unfortunately, he recognizes that it is not one of pleasure. Without thinking, he glides across the room with speed and grace only an immortal can possess.
Bellina is sprawled across the floor behind the counter. Steam rises from the dark liquid staining her shirt and jeans and her face is screwed up in pain. The spilled mug is still in her hand, now empty. Calypso nearly leaps over the counter to pull her into his arms but stops himself. His hands grab the countertop with brutal force as he clenches his jaw. Her eyes flicker up to his and he feels himself crumple inside. She looks so broken and just done.
"Jesus." He can practically feel the burn of the hot coffee singeing her delicate human flesh. "Are you alright?" he asks.
"Fine,"Bellina huffs. She pushes her hands to the tile and leverages herself back to her feet, dodging his gaze.
He notices a lovely red blush colors her fair cheeks. Her irresistible scent grows more aromatic as the blood pulses closer to the surface of her skin. Calypso's grip on the counter tightens even more. If he fails to control himself, he may drain the girl and have no further story to bring to his girls.
"I'll make a fresh cup and bring it to you," she adds as if trying to dismiss him.
Calypso persists, however, unable to budge without lunging for his delicious little human treat. His eyes haunt her every move while she disposes of the empty mug in the sink and returns to the machine. She must feel the weight of his lustful gaze yet she ignores him completely. Calypso finds this annoying and further exacerbates his conflicting emotions towards her. He wants to demand that she look at him, that she let him see her, devour her, consume her.
Bellina brings the new mug to the counter and lifts her eyes to meet his again. A bolt of warmth ignites inside him. His self-control is waning. He wants her desperately.
But how? He has tasted of her already. What more can he want? Her body, compared to many females, is nothing extraordinary. Her face is rather plain. He is nevertheless captivated with her. Her face and her body are something forbidden, something pure and angelic. Something a demon like him has no right to enjoy.
It's too late for this angel. He has had his taste of her and now he only craves more.
Even so, Calypso is terrified to confess as much to himself much less this unknowing girl. He straightens his posture and looks down his sharp nose at her.
"So you won't slip and spill my coffee again," he says, holding out a hand towards her.
A look of defeat crosses her features and he is immediately guilty of treating her so. She hands the mug over to him. "I apologize for the inconvenience, sir," she says softly.
His long, cool fingers brush against hers as they wrap around the mug. Calypso feels a shiver of thrill down his spine and he can't bear to rip his gaze away. She has no idea how transfixed he is by her. He feels like she is the moon, pulling her towards him and guiding his eyes to her light. After a prolonged moment, he turns away and goes back to his seat to stare at the dirt water he purchased.
'I can't just sit here. I just think of something to say or do. How is it that I become such a dunce around her?'
Bellina's sigh can be heard across the cafe. He silences thoughts to tune into her more closely. Her pulse is slightly elevated, thumping quicker as if to tempt his thirst. His own breathing harshens. Rather than look at her, Calypso gazes at her moving reflection in the window panes lining the entire front of the cafe. She moves between the machines behind the counter with an odd sort of grace, especially considering she just slipped and fell. After cleaning the machines, she rolls out a mop from the back where he presumes the kitchen is. She douses the mop head in the bucket, rings it out, and then performs the back and forth dance of pushing the wet slop across the floor.
Calypso finds the ritual captivating. He watches her braids swing about, her eyes focused on the task at hand. He enjoys seeing her in her element.
'She thinks she has an entire life of work ahead of her,' he muses to himself. 'Little does she know how pampered she could be.'
Sighing again, Bellina places the mop back into the bucket and rolls the rig back to wherever it came from. When she re-emerges a second later, Calypso is standing at the counter yet again. Her eyes widen at the unexpected sight. He can see the deep emerald swirls in her irises interwoven with tan and light browns. She is as earthly as they come, but to him, she is ethereal. An innocent angel sent from somewhere divine to torment him. A siren custom fit to his most desperate cravings.
"Was your coffee alright?" she asks, slipping her hands into the pockets of her apron.
Calypso snaps out of his trance. "Why were you crying earlier?"
She blanches at the question and turns away from him. "I . . . personal matters," she says.
Without any further information, he frowns. It's rather easy to comfort his girls because they open to him without hesitation. Bellina is obviously closed off to him, a stranger. He's unsure how he can change that. He wants the girl to trust him but he has been out of the game for some time due to his girls. Flirting is not one of his strengths. He would rather have an honest discussion about why she was sobbing her fragile human heart out.
"Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?" she asks warily.
"Did he hurt you?" The words tumble from his mouth before he can stop them.
Bellina meets his gaze with a puzzled look. "Who?"
"The men who left just before I arrived."
"Oh," she says. "No, it hasn't really got anything to do with him."
Calypso relaxes slightly now that he no longer has to hunt some bastard down and maul his head off. Bellina grabs a rag from behind the counter and busies herself with wiping the register down. Yet again, she has left him with no further information to work with. Calypso is clueless how to talk to her.
It was easy in the dream, but that was because she opened herself to him. Humans are far more guarded when conscious.
'Maybe that's just it,' he realizes. 'I have to seduce her in her dreams first.'
As much as he wants to linger and just follow Bellina home after she closes the cafe down, he knows that would be obvious. She would see him go to his car and then know he's was following. Or, if it was still light out, there was too much of a risk that someone would see him sprinting alongside the road in the forest moving at impossible speed.
He hates obvious. Being a vampire amongst suspicious, fearful humans means he had to figure out a way to live inconspicuously or risk getting burned at a stake or tortured in a lab somewhere. Granted, he doesn't live in hiding out of fear. He could kill an army of humans without breaking a sweat. He enjoys his way of life too much to risk it. His concubines are far too precious to him.
Rising from his seat, he leaves the full but cold cup of coffee on the table and exits the cafe.