set of drapes to reveal a secondary space.
“Master, Malcolm McTavish, Primus, House of C ailleadh, Los Angeles. Escort, Tatum Price.” Malcolm and Tatum waited at the entrance to the other room as the girl announced their presence. The two moved into the space where a large group of others were gathering. “Sir, Cyrus Atossa, Secondus, House of Cailleadh, Los Angeles. Escort, Dylan Hart.” The girl introduced us as if she’d been reading from a list of guests. Maybe she had memorized the damn thing.
I looked at Cyrus with shock. He’d mentioned Secondus, talked like it was some kind of right-hand man, a second in command; he never said it was him. I always thought he was some kind of lackey. A minion to do bidding. If he was a second in command, they must have a strange way of honoring that.
Cyrus held a stoic expression and led the way through the black curtains. All the while, I stared at him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.
Once inside, we were greeted by a line of strangely dressed vampire folk. Not one of them seemed to be representing the same period or genre. Malcolm and Tatum were dressed very L.A. chic; the charcoal black suit with an emerald green tie and a floor length crushed velvet green dress worked well for the two. The others weren’t quite so blessed with such glorious fashion sense. One couple donned Victorian garb that matched the teahouse, another matched the latex girl at the front door, and yet another couple of women wore all white lace down to their delicate fans. I looked down at my little black dress and instantly felt underdressed. Especially in my flats. I snuck a glance to Cyrus’ other hand and smiled from ear to ear when I saw my sexy black heels dangling from his fingers.
Tapping on his shoulder, I pointed to his hidden hand and my much needed shoes. He smiled and sneakily handed me one at a time. No one was paying any attention to the two of us; they were all focused on Malcolm and his new fancy American girlfriend. Shoes firmly attached to my feet, I stuck the roll-up flats in my purse and proceeded with the evening.
Malcolm followed along the line the other guests had established as we were entering the room. He and Tatum shook hands and kissed knuckles with every last individual in the room. Following Cyrus’s lead, I did the same.
I heard so many names as I kissed and shook. I had no clue what the fuck I was doing, but I was doing it. I felt so unbelievably out of place in my little black Macy’s dress and my clearance heels. I just wanted to go home and put on my pajamas. But all the vampire hierarchy information I was soaking in, just being in the presence of these people, was worth the discomfort. With every introduction, I was building characters. With each glance at the layout of the teahouse, I was creating scenes in my head. A fiction book was what I had in mind and what better to inspire fiction than reality?
We’d reached the end of the line and I stood there hanging in space with nothing to do and no one directing me to the next activity. Cyrus held his arm out for me once again and once again I took it. I felt better being connected to him. I felt less vulnerable. If there was anything in this world I hated being, it was vulnerable. Alright, there were a shit load of things I hated, but vulnerability was probably in the top three.
The group, at least ten Houses from what I could gather, each with a Primus and a Secondus, and some with escorts, made the cozy room feel downright snug. There weren’t many seating areas in the Victorian decorated room so I stood. And I waited. For what? I didn’t know…something. There had to be a reason for all this formality.
A second door opened at a far wall and light spilled into the dimly lit room. Another latex wearing girl stood at the doorway without a sound. Her eyes focused on the floor at her feet. She stood motionless as the others moved past her into the adjacent room. These girls appeared to be the help. The
“Master, Malcolm McTavish, Primus, House of C ailleadh, Los Angeles. Escort, Tatum Price.” Malcolm and Tatum waited at the entrance to the other room as the girl announced their presence. The two moved into the space where a large group of others were gathering. “Sir, Cyrus Atossa, Secondus, House of Cailleadh, Los Angeles. Escort, Dylan Hart.” The girl introduced us as if she’d been reading from a list of guests. Maybe she had memorized the damn thing.
I looked at Cyrus with shock. He’d mentioned Secondus, talked like it was some kind of right-hand man, a second in command; he never said it was him. I always thought he was some kind of lackey. A minion to do bidding. If he was a second in command, they must have a strange way of honoring that.
Cyrus held a stoic expression and led the way through the black curtains. All the while, I stared at him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.
Once inside, we were greeted by a line of strangely dressed vampire folk. Not one of them seemed to be representing the same period or genre. Malcolm and Tatum were dressed very L.A. chic; the charcoal black suit with an emerald green tie and a floor length crushed velvet green dress worked well for the two. The others weren’t quite so blessed with such glorious fashion sense. One couple donned Victorian garb that matched the teahouse, another matched the latex girl at the front door, and yet another couple of women wore all white lace down to their delicate fans. I looked down at my little black dress and instantly felt underdressed. Especially in my flats. I snuck a glance to Cyrus’ other hand and smiled from ear to ear when I saw my sexy black heels dangling from his fingers.
Tapping on his shoulder, I pointed to his hidden hand and my much needed shoes. He smiled and sneakily handed me one at a time. No one was paying any attention to the two of us; they were all focused on Malcolm and his new fancy American girlfriend. Shoes firmly attached to my feet, I stuck the roll-up flats in my purse and proceeded with the evening.
Malcolm followed along the line the other guests had established as we were entering the room. He and Tatum shook hands and kissed knuckles with every last individual in the room. Following Cyrus’s lead, I did the same.
I heard so many names as I kissed and shook. I had no clue what the fuck I was doing, but I was doing it. I felt so unbelievably out of place in my little black Macy’s dress and my clearance heels. I just wanted to go home and put on my pajamas. But all the vampire hierarchy information I was soaking in, just being in the presence of these people, was worth the discomfort. With every introduction, I was building characters. With each glance at the layout of the teahouse, I was creating scenes in my head. A fiction book was what I had in mind and what better to inspire fiction than reality?
We’d reached the end of the line and I stood there hanging in space with nothing to do and no one directing me to the next activity. Cyrus held his arm out for me once again and once again I took it. I felt better being connected to him. I felt less vulnerable. If there was anything in this world I hated being, it was vulnerable. Alright, there were a shit load of things I hated, but vulnerability was probably in the top three.
The group, at least ten Houses from what I could gather, each with a Primus and a Secondus, and some with escorts, made the cozy room feel downright snug. There weren’t many seating areas in the Victorian decorated room so I stood. And I waited. For what? I didn’t know…something. There had to be a reason for all this formality.
A second door opened at a far wall and light spilled into the dimly lit room. Another latex wearing girl stood at the doorway without a sound. Her eyes focused on the floor at her feet. She stood motionless as the others moved past her into the adjacent room. These girls appeared to be the help. The
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