When gods fall from grace, they do not stumble. They collide.
🩸🌹🩸
The music returned, weaving through the air like a dark spell. Bodies swayed beneath the lights, their motions fluid and unbroken, as though the night had never been disturbed. Beneath the rhythm, the air remained fractured and thick with the metallic sweetness of violence, lingering like smoke after a fierce storm.
For a breathless moment, it seemed the two creatures would tear each other apart. Liliana's claws were buried in the other vampire's forearm, black blood slick between their skin, steaming faintly in the cold of the club. Her fangs were bared, lips curled back in regal fury. His grip tightened around her throat like a vice forged in ancient memory.
They stood locked in a tableau of rage and recognition: two sovereign beasts poised at the edge of a thousand-year grudge. The floor beneath them creaked, and a low sound trembled in the walls, as if the building itself recoiled. The air warped with tension thick enough to break bones.
Then, without warning, the male vampire leaned in, his lips brushing the Nocturne Temptress' ear, his breath was hot and cruel.
🍷 "You've gotten tighter since the last time I came in you."
His voice was a rasp, low and obscene, meant for no other ears.
The succubus' eyes flared, whether from rage or something else, even she did not know. A flush burned beneath her skin, and for a single heartbeat, her claws tightened.
But then the Pale Lord dropped Liliana. Her heels struck the marble floor with perfect grace, but her silence was a weapon. Her gown swayed, a ripple of shadow and silk.
Behind her, her soldiers surged forward like hounds loosed from chains. Their eyes were red, their hands already half-shifted into talons.
🩸"Stand down."
The Midnight Sovereign's voice cracked across the room like lightning, splitting the silence with the authority of a queen no one dared deny.
The soldiers froze mid-step, caught in a command that left no room for doubt.
The Dark Lord simply stood, smirking, blood trailing lazily down his forearm from the crescent wounds she had left there. He tasted it with two fingers, watching her with eyes that knew every inch of her fury, every contour of her hate.
The Lamia turned without another word, her back straight, chin high. Her gown swept past him like smoke curling around steel, dignified even in the wake of disgrace.
The door to her office slammed behind them with a sound like a tomb sealing. It was the only place in the club untouched by music or heat. Here, the walls remembered secrets. Here, the cold was old.
Before she could turn, the male vampire hands were already on her waist.
He shoved her against the carved obsidian wall. The impact was harsh and unyielding. Liliana's spine met black stone with a dull thud, and she hissed in anticipation. His lips crushed down on hers with the urgency of a man who remembered how she used to taste: salt, fire, power.
His fingers tangled in her hair, fisting it at the root, tilting her head back. Her own hands clawed into his chest, testing the shape of his ribs, the beat of his undead heart. Her thigh curled around his hip, and he caught it, pressing her harder into the wall with a force that cracked the stone behind her.
🩸"You're filth."
The Nocturne Temptress whispered, voice thick with venom and need.
🍷"You moaned for filth once."
The male vampire hoisted Liliana's up, one hand under the wight's thigh, the other braced against the wall beside her head.
The Pale Seductress growled, fangs grazing the dark Lord's cheek. He laughed against her lips, feral and bitter. Her fingers raked down his shirt, rending fabric like paper. She opened him like she used to, hungrily and without mercy.
The male creature buried his lips against The Bloodborne goddess' throat, biting hard enough to leave the ghost of a mark, but not deep enough to draw blood. His lips dragged over her collarbone, his teeth brushing skin once called sacred.
She clawed at his back. Her nails dug into his skin and dragged downward, tearing through flesh.
The Dark Sire tore Liliana's bodice open with both hands. The fabric split with a sharp sound, falling in pieces around her feet. She pulled at his belt, yanked it loose, and shoved it to the floor. His shirt was already gone, ruined by her claws.
As the fellow vampire bit her throat, the Night's Consort growled and answered with her own teeth against his shoulder.
He forced himself inside her in one brutal thrust. Liliana threw her head back and groaned through her teeth, her fingers gripped his hair while his hands locked under her thighs, holding her in place as he drove into her, relentless and deep.
He then flipped her around and bent her over the desk. She braced herself with one hand, the other gripping the edge hard enough to splinter it. He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back as he took her again.
They fucked without words, without pause.
They used each other. They punished each other. Their bodies knew the rhythm even when their minds wanted war.
When it was over, she shoved him off. Her chest rose and fell with sharp, even breaths. He stood across the room, naked, his body marked with scratches, bruises, and bites.
Silence settled, thick and electric, broken only by the faint hum of the club beyond the door. The air between them still burned, tasting of blood and old grudges.
Liliana straightened, smoothing her hair with deliberate calm, as if pulling armor back over her skin.
She stepped away from the wall, smoothing her hair with deliberate calm.
🩸"State your business, Adrien. I assume you didn't come here only to fuck me and insult me."
The Dark Sire smirked, just enough to make her want to drive a stake through his chest.
🍷"No. I came because something is happening."
🩸 "Happening?"
She arched a brow
🍷 "Some of ours are disappearing."
He paused, letting the words take their weight.
🩸"No one knows where they have gone. There are no bodies, no ash, not a drop of blood to mark their passing. Whether they were slain… or stolen away… no one can tell.."
The Midnight Sovereign's expression did not change, but the slightest tilt of her head betrayed interest.
🩸"From what city? Under whose territory were they sworn?"
🍷 "A city three nights from here. At first I thought it was infighting, some petty blood feud. But no. This is different. There's no sign of struggle."
He stepped closer again, his voice lowering to something almost intimate.
🍷"It's the kind of quiet that feels… unnatural."
Liliana considered him for a long moment.
🩸"And why bring this to me? What do I care for what happens outside my territory?"
His smile thinned, losing all trace of amusement.
🍷"Because if it's happening there… it will happen here next."
Liliana's gaze lingered on him, the silence between them stretching until it felt like the walls themselves were holding their breath.
🩸 "You think I fear shadows at my door?"
🍷 "Not fear, Liliana. But you know the cost of being unprepared."
She rose from her desk, each step measured, the train of her gown whispering over the marble like a slow blade unsheathing.
🩸 "If you expect me to ride into another lord's domain over a rumor, you waste both my time and your breath."
🍷 "It's not a rumor."
His tone cut like iron through velvet.
🍷 "I've seen the places they vanished from. Empty rooms with the candles still burning. Blood glasses half full. Doors locked from the inside."
Liliana's fingers drummed against the obsidian edge of her desk. Her mind was already working, cataloguing the possibilities, weighing the risks.
🩸 "And the city's lord? What does he say of it?"
🍷 "Nothing. He's gone too."
That gave her pause, though she did not let it touch her face. Adrien leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper.
🍷 "Tell me that doesn't stir your curiosity, Sovereign."
Her lips curved, though it was not a smile.
🩸 "Curiosity is for mortals. I deal in certainty. And the only thing I am certain of…"
She turned away, crossing to the window, looking out at the pulsing lights of her city.
🩸"…is that if this plague of absence reaches my streets, I will burn the world to stop it."
The Dark Lord stepped up behind her, close enough that his breath touched her hair.
🍷 "Then perhaps,… we should start with their city."
🩸 "Bring me a name."
🍷 "You'll have it by tomorrow."
Without another word, Adrien turned and slipped through the heavy door, leaving the female vampire alone in the cold silence of her office.
The room felt colder now, the shadows deeper, as if the very walls absorbed the weight of hid words. Liliana's breath slowed, each inhale steady and deliberate, grounding herself in the stillness.
If Adrien, the Dark Sire, a predator with centuries of power and cunning had come to her with this matter, it was no mere rumor to dismiss. The urgency in his voice, the tension behind his smirk, had spoken volumes she dared not ignore.
The Midnight Sovereign's mind raced ahead, plotting, calculating. Allies to call, spies to send, wards to strengthen. If the shadows were spreading, then her domain could be next.
And if the world burned to keep the darkness at bay, so be it.
She finally turned away from the window, eyes blazing with fierce resolve.
🩸🌹🩸🌑🩸🌹🩸
No sooner had the door closed behind the wight's than darkness claimed the city without mercy. Shadows danced beneath the cold glow of street lamps, wrapping the streets in a cloak of ink and silence.
Several blocks away, in a house where curtains trembled against the chill wind, another battle waited to unfold.
Amalia's phone buzzed sharply against the quiet night. The screen lit up with her parents' name. It's was an unexpected summons that pulled at the edges of her carefully guarded calm. They wanted her to come home for dinner and stay through the weekend.
Flickering candlelight cast trembling reflections across stern faces, illuminating invisible scars carved by loyalty and fear.
In a night already thick with secrets, the brunette bore a burden far older than time itself. The truth she refused to name pressed upon every breath, threatening to shatter the fragile ties that bound her family.
Thus began the hours where blood, silence, and pain would intertwine with the human's fate.