– Nyx –
Our original plan was a thing of beauty. We were proud of it, and we had every right to be.
Okay, the little pill things on Zillah’s boots? Small explosives. No magic. Just C-4, and not even much of it. About ten grams—enough to blow off the bottom of her legs and leave her spitting up blood, but not enough to kill her.
Probably.
The goal was to leave her incapacitated and in need of immediate medical care. We were going to trigger them in the middle of the formal dinner. Araminta told us Zillah would be at or near the main table. The noise and injury would start a chain reaction.
First, most of the security team, about a dozen vamps, would turn their immediate attention to Valentine. They would want to guarantee his safety, so they would usher him from the Great Hall to a smaller, more contained space. Probably the antechamber immediately connected to the Great Hall.
Second, one or two of the security vamps would make a mad dash for the main security room. They’d want to call for backup to ensure Valentine’s safety—not so much because they really give a shit as much because letting a vamp of that power die on their watch would turn every other clan against them.
Vamps don’t cooperate often. We’ve covered that. But there are exceptions. And because exceptions are inevitable, they have a secure emergency channel that relies on a tower-mounted ham radio network.
Fucking crazy, right? But it works. However, it wouldn’t because that’s what we toggled off before sunset.
Third, any remaining security personnel, and probably a couple of additional suckups, would try to assess Zillah’s condition and administer first aid.
Finally, the rest of the vamps would scatter, either to locate the threat or to hide until the chaos was over.
In less than two minutes, every vamp in the castle would be frantically trying to assess an unknown threat, terrified that the unthinkable was about to happen. We estimated it would take Zillah’s leaderless security team five minutes or less to decide the best place to keep Valentine safe was the main security room. They would mistakenly think the metaphorical beckons had been lit and a few neighboring clans were on the way. They’d move Valentine from the antechamber toward the security room, bringing him directly past the room we were already hidden in.
We’d hear them coming. When the group was even with the door, we’d toss out a flash-bang, and then stake, stake, stake.
With the security team mostly dead and everyone else panicked, we’d have a relatively easy time finishing the job. No one would even think to leave the castle with reinforcements on the way, so we could take our time tracking down Ambrose, Montague, and Rosina. We’d kill anyone else we came across along the way.
While all that was happening, Araminta would hide out in her room, safe and sound. That’s when we’d hit the castle with our last surprise—the one we left in Araminta’s room.
On top of the bookshelf, we planted a very small vial. Essentially, a spell jar. Old Marge made it for us.
We’d say a simple incantation, and it would fling itself toward the middle of the room where it would erupt in a flash of honest-to-God sunlight. Any vamp in the room would be incinerated so fast there wouldn’t even be an ash pile left.
Yeah, we were supposed to let her live. Oops.
✦ ✦ ✦
Of course, Zillah’s little phone meeting with Old Marge meant all our plans were fucked.
Zillah’s boots wouldn’t blow up on command. We could no longer assume the relay at the tower was off. And the surprise we left for Araminta might be nothing more than water and food coloring in a fancy little bottle. For all we knew, Araminta had tipped off Zillah and Old Marge.
I said as much to Keria.
“If that were true, she would know we’re in here. She wouldn’t have taken that call.”
“Unless,” I countered, “she wanted us to think we’re still a slight step ahead. Think about it. Why have Old Marge call her? She could have called Old Marge, which would be way more discreet. And why use an old rotary phone? Why not a burner? And really, Zillah’s a planner based on everything we know about her. Do you really think she’d pause to chat with Old Marge in the middle of an elaborate plot?”
Keria’s shoulders slumped, and she shook her head.
“You’re right. We have to assume they know everything. It’s probably all a trap. We lost our advantage completely.”
It was my turn to nod.
“The best laid plans of mice and men,” she recited.
“Except, we’re neither mice nor men. We’re lesbian vampire hunters, and we do not stop just because every element of our plan has been compromised.”
Keria grinned, and it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I swear, that girl can give me hope without a single word.
I scooched a little closer to her and wrapped one hand around the back of her neck, my palm on her cool flesh. Our eyes met. I’m told I’m intimidating. Most folks look away if I hold eye contact. But not Keria. Never Keria. She’ll match my gaze for hours, no matter what else is happening.
Trust me. I’ve pushed her limits.
We’re a kinky pair, the two of us. I’ve never had a lover before her who could maintain eye contact even if I slapped her pussy without holding back. But Keria can. Keria does.
So it didn’t surprise me that even here, staring down the double barrels of betrayal and near-certain death, my brave girl still held her head high.
It was so fucking hot.
I leaned forward, resting my forehead on hers. My eyelashes brushed against hers when we blinked. My other hand found her thigh, and I gripped it firmly but sensually. I could feel her breathing slow down. She closed her eyes. I closed mine.
This is what we are for each other. Home. Even, maybe especially, in the worst of times.
We stayed like that for a moment, savoring the familiarity of the other’s presence. Finally, I inhaled deeply, and she matched my breath. We did three deep breaths, in for seven seconds, out for nine.
Regulated and calm, we opened our eyes. Foreheads still touching, I spoke.
“You know what this means, right?”
She grinned again. “We use it all to our advantage.”
“Exactly,” I said quietly. “They think they’re a step ahead of us. They think we’ll proceed as planned or panic. So we won’t do either.”
Her voice was a whisper, sultry but confident. “I’m with you, babe. Always.”
I kissed her, our tongues gliding over and under each other while our hands pawed and grasped. I reached around her waist and drew her closer to me, pulling hard enough that she slid a few inches across the stone floor. She mewed as she moved.
It was heady and hot and sexy, yes, but it was also deeply grounding. Maybe that’s why sex with her is so different from any other sex I’ve had. Imagine riding the high of orgasm and feeling completely aligned with another’s soul at the same time. And as much fun as that is, we don’t have to cum to tap into that level of connection.
We were there, making out surrounded by vamp hand-me-downs and cobwebs. Us against the world. Just like we like it.