The party can wait

"Okay, I think we're ready!" Jen grabbed her small clutch purse from the hall table, checking her reflection one last time in the entryway mirror. The gothic wench costume looked perfect—black corset cinched tight, layered skirts of black velvet and burgundy sweeping the floor, off-shoulder sleeves framing her bare neck and collarbones. Her makeup was dramatic and dark, burgundy lips and smoky eyes completing the look.

Marcus stood by the door with the car keys in hand, looking equally ready in his vampire lord costume. The black vest over sheer white shirt, tight leather pants, boots, and that magnificent floor-length cape with its crimson lining. They'd been about to walk out the door when—

The transformation hit him like lightning.

One moment Marcus was reaching for the doorknob, the next he was doubled over as power flooded through his body. Ice and fire in his veins, reshaping him from the inside out. His skin paling to alabaster. His features sharpening. His eyes darkening to pools of shadow.

And the hunger. God, the overwhelming, all-consuming hunger.

"Marcus?" Jen's concerned voice seemed to come from far away. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

He straightened slowly, the car keys falling from his suddenly nerveless fingers to clatter on the hardwood floor. When he looked at her, everything had changed.

He could hear her heartbeat—the rapid thump-thump-thump of blood pumping through her veins. Could smell her—perfume and arousal and the sweet copper tang of her blood just beneath the skin. Could see the pulse fluttering in her throat like a beacon.

"Marcus, you're scaring me. Your eyes—"

"Come here," he commanded, his voice deeper, resonant with supernatural authority.

Jen took a step toward him without thinking, compelled by something in his tone. Then she stopped, shaking her head. "We need to go. We're already going to be late, and Derek specifically said—"

"Fuck Derek." Marcus moved toward her with liquid grace, predatory and purposeful. "Come. Here."

This time the command was laced with power—vampiric compulsion flowing from him like invisible chains. Jen's resistance crumbled immediately. She walked toward him, her eyes beginning to glaze.

"What's happening?" she whispered as she stopped in front of him. "You look different. You sound different."

"The costume." Marcus reached up to touch the high collar of his cape, feeling the power thrumming through the fabric. "It's real, Jen. All of it. I'm not just dressed as a vampire—I am one."

"That's not possible—"

"Isn't it?" He smiled, deliberately letting his fangs descend. Sharp, wicked points that had been waiting just beneath the surface, aching to pierce flesh.

Jen gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh my god. Those are—they're real. How—"

"Magic. The costume. Does it matter?" Marcus circled her slowly, his cape swirling with the movement. "What matters is what I can do now. What I want to do."

"We should go," Jen said weakly, but she wasn't moving toward the door. "The party—"

"Will still be there in an hour." Marcus stopped behind her, close enough that she could feel his breath on her bare shoulder. "Right now, I want to test my new abilities. And you're going to help me."

"Marcus—"

He wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her back against his chest. His cape followed the movement, beginning to drape around her body, heavy fabric enveloping them both.

"Look at us," he murmured, nodding toward the mirror across the entryway.

Jen's eyes went to their reflection—him pale and dark-eyed and predatory behind her, his cape wrapping around them both, her looking beautiful and helpless in his embrace.

"We match perfectly," Marcus continued, his lips brushing her ear. "Dark lord and his wench. Like we were designed for each other. Like you were made to be mine."

"We need to—" But her protest was already weakening as his compulsion tightened around her mind.

"Shh. Just look into my eyes, Jen." Marcus met her gaze in the mirror and pushed his will into her fully.

He felt her resistance collapse like a house of cards. Her body relaxed back against him, her eyes glazing completely, her mind opening to him like a flower.

"That's better," he purred, pulling the cape more fully around them both, cocooning her in shadow and crimson. "Now just listen to my voice. I'm going to show you some things. Put images in your pretty head. And you're going to feel every single one."

His hands roamed over her body as he spoke—cupping her breasts through the corset, sliding down to grip her hips through the layered skirts.

"Picture this," he whispered against her neck. "We're at the party. You're standing by the punch bowl talking to someone—doesn't matter who. And I come up behind you just like this."

He demonstrated, pressing his rapidly hardening cock against her ass.

"I pull you away from your conversation. Lead you down a hallway. Find an empty room. Lock the door." His hand slid up to wrap lightly around her throat. "And then I push you against the wall and kiss you like I'm trying to devour you."

Jen's breathing quickened, a soft moan escaping her burgundy lips.

"My tongue is in your mouth," Marcus continued, his own arousal building as he painted the scene. "My hands are everywhere. Groping your tits. Grabbing your ass. Sliding under your skirts to find how wet you are."

He punctuated his words with actions, his hand slipping down to bunch her skirts, pulling them up slightly.

"You're already soaked," he growled. "Because you've been watching me all night. Seeing the way I move now. The power radiating from me. The danger. And it's made your pussy ache with need."

His fangs descended further, the tips beginning to press against his lower lip. The combination of arousal and hunger was intoxicating.

"I spin you around to face the wall," he whispered, beginning to gather her skirts in earnest now. "Lift these beautiful layers up around your waist. Expose your ass. And I don't even bother taking your panties off—I just tear them away."

He could feel her trembling in his arms, completely lost in the hypnotic images.

"My cock is so hard it hurts," Marcus continued, grinding against her. "Straining against these leather pants. And I free it with shaking hands because I need to be inside you right fucking now."

Jen whimpered, pressing back against him instinctively.

"I enter you in one brutal thrust," he growled directly into her ear. "No preparation. No gentleness. Just claiming what's mine. Fucking you against the wall while anyone could walk by and hear you screaming."

His cock was fully hard now, throbbing painfully. His fangs ached. Every instinct screamed at him to take her, to stop talking and start doing.

"But here's the best part," Marcus whispered, scraping his fangs along the side of her neck. "While I'm pounding into you, while you're crying out my name, I sink these into your throat."

He let her feel the sharp points against her pulse.

"I bite down and your blood floods my mouth," he continued, his voice rough with need. "Hot and sweet and perfect. I drink from you while I fuck you. Take everything. Your body. Your blood. Your will. Your submission. Everything."

"Please," Jen begged, the word barely audible. "Marcus, please—"

"Please what?" He pulled back to look at their reflection again—her flushed and trembling, him pale and predatory. "Tell me what you want."

"Don't want to wait for the party," she moaned. "Want it now. Want everything you showed me. Right here. Right now."

Marcus's control shattered.

He spun her around to face the wall, her palms slapping against it for balance. The mirror was to their left, giving him a perfect view of what he was doing to her. He yanked her skirts up roughly, bunching all the velvet and burgundy layers around her waist.

She wore a black lace thong beneath. He hooked his fingers in it and tore it away with supernatural strength, the fabric ripping like paper.

"Yes," Jen gasped, spreading her legs wider, bracing herself.

Marcus opened his leather pants with trembling hands, his cock springing free, hard and leaking. He could see her wetness glistening between her thighs—she was ready for him, her body eager despite the compulsion.

He positioned himself and thrust inside in one brutal stroke.

Jen screamed, her back arching, her inner muscles clamping down around him. Marcus didn't give her time to adjust—he immediately started fucking her with punishing ****, one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her hip.

His cape fell forward, draping over her back, the crimson lining flashing with each powerful thrust. In the mirror he could see them both—the dark lord claiming his wench right here in the entryway when they should have been leaving for the party five minutes ago.

"Mine," he growled. "My wench. My prey. Mine."

"Yours," Jen agreed breathlessly, pushing back to meet each thrust. "All yours. Always yours."

Marcus pulled her head to the side, exposing the elegant line of her throat. He could see her pulse hammering beneath the skin. Could smell the blood flowing just beneath the surface. Could practically taste it already.

"Going to bite you now," he warned. "Going to drink from you while I fuck you. Just like I promised."

"Yes—please—need it—"

He struck without further warning.

His fangs sank deep into the side of her neck, piercing the vein, and her blood flooded his mouth in a hot rush.

The taste was indescribable. Sweet and rich and perfect, laced with her arousal and the compulsion binding her to him. It sang through his veins like liquid fire, completing his transformation, making him fully what the costume had promised.

Jen's scream was pure ecstasy. The combination of being fucked and fed from simultaneously triggered something primal in her. Her body went rigid, inner muscles clamping down around his cock like a vice.

Marcus drank deeply, gulping down her blood while maintaining his brutal rhythm. The dual sensation was overwhelming—the tight heat of her pussy and the rich taste of her blood combining into perfect pleasure.

He pulled back from her throat, licking the wounds, and immediately bit down on the other side of her neck. Fresh blood flowed into his eager mouth as he continued to pound into her.

"Marcus—oh god—I'm going to—"

"Come," he commanded against her throat, and the compulsion made it inevitable.

Jen came with a scream that probably alerted the neighbors, her whole body convulsing, her pussy milking his cock desperately. Marcus released her throat and straightened, both hands gripping her hips now, fucking her through her orgasm with supernatural stamina.

In the mirror he could see the bite marks on both sides of her neck, blood trickling down to disappear into her corset. The sight triggered his own release.

"Going to fill you," he panted. "Mark you inside and out. Everyone at that party will smell me on you. See my bite marks. Know you belong to a vampire."

"Yes—want them to know—"

Marcus came with a roar, his hips slamming forward one final time, flooding her with his seed. His fangs descended again instinctively and he bit down on her shoulder, marking her a third time as he emptied himself inside her.

They collapsed against the wall, both trembling and gasping. Marcus withdrew carefully and spun her to face him, taking in the sight of his handiwork.

Three bite marks—both sides of her neck and her shoulder. Blood staining the edges of her corset. Her makeup smudged. Her hair mussed. Her skirts still bunched around her waist.

She looked thoroughly debauched.

"We're definitely going to be late now," Jen said breathlessly, but she was smiling.

"Worth it." Marcus kissed her deeply, letting her taste her own blood on his tongue. Then he used his newfound powers to clean them both up—the blood disappearing, their clothes straightening, though he left the bite marks visible. Those were staying.

"Ready for the party now?" he asked, offering his arm.

Jen took it, still slightly unsteady on her feet. "After that? I'm ready for anything."

Marcus smiled, his fangs glinting in the light. "Good. Because the night is just beginning."

He grabbed the car keys from where he'd dropped them and opened the door, his cape swirling dramatically as they finally headed out—an hour late, but infinitely more dangerous than when they'd planned to leave.