21.1.0

The new king's court convened at midnight, on the rare occasions when he deigned to hold it. Tonight there was a long list of nobles desperate to offer symbols of their loyalty after the recent thinning of the ranks. Now that Dirk had eliminated every noble house in Karteia powerful enough to ever cause him any trouble, the few remaining families were falling over themselves to prove their value to the Crown. A half dozen of them had sent representatives to pay their respects to the king tonight.

Zyrdicia usually found the spectacle mildly amusing. The messengers would shower her with flowery compliments, babbling on interminably about how beautiful she was and how lucky Karteia was to have her. She enjoyed the attention, even if they tended merely to state the obvious. She expected that Dirk would entertain her during the event by thinking up creative modes of execution for most of them.

21.1.1

Zyrdicia sat in a wing-back chair near the fire in Dirk's sleeping quarters, in no hurry to prepare for Midnight Court. It was not as though it would start without her.

She watched the king's valet leave the room, a trace of boredom touching her expression. Her eyes moved to Dirk, who had just begun to shave in front of a mirror and wash basin filled with steaming water.

He had stopped shaving in her presence for a while, given her susceptibility to the infernal blood hunger. Only recently did he again have enough confidence in her to allow her in the room with him.

Zyrdicia gazed briefly at the sharp, glittering blade, pondering its proximity to his jugular vein. She knew he never permitted anyone else to shave him. He was probably the only royal man in Aperans who did this task himself. Even Geoffrey had a servant do it while he lounged lazily. But Dirk was much too paranoid for that.

Zyrdicia bit her lip a moment, longing to feel the weight of the blade between her fingers. She whispered, "I want do it."

He set the straight razor down and regarded her. Their eyes met in the mirror. He answered firmly, "No."

"I'm very good with a blade," she coaxed sweetly.

"That's what troubles me," he smirked. He picked up the razor then, and resumed his task.

"I couldn't possibly kill you."

Dirk paused the blades motion over his chin, glancing at her in the mirror. "Why? Is it because you are hopelessly in love with me?"

"If that were true, you would already be dead," she countered defensively. "I still need you to spawn a soul."

"That's hardly your only motive."

She moved from the chair, slinking behind him. She ran her nails along the well defined musculature of his bare back. She could not fathom how he could stand to be without a shirt when it was so chilly in the castle. She found the temperature uncomfortable, even wearing a second layer of leather over her body-hugging calfskin.

Her chin settled on his shoulder as she watched the blade move over the contour of his face. As it passed down over his throat, a barely perceptible telekenetic wave caused it to wobble slightly. A small bead of blood appeared on the surface of his skin.

She looked at the tiny red trail and inhaled sharply as she caught its scent. She experienced an instant, compelling need to taste it.

He finished the last stroke of the blade quickly, then shrugged her chin off his shoulder bruskly. He bent to rinse, wasting the precious red drops in the wash basin's warm water. He patted himself off with a fresh towel, deliberately ignoring her.

A fresh bead welled up in the tiny wound at his throat. She leaned closer to him, intending to lick it away.

He caught her with both hands before she could satisfy the urge to taste it. He held her away at arm's length, scowling in dismay at the behavior. She had never dared to be quite this bold.

Noting his apprehension, she laughed. Her eyes widened innocently as though to mock whatever fear he had of her.

He glared coldly in reply.

Zyrdicia's lip trembled slightly. Her expression became perversely imploring in its child-like frankness. "Please?"

"No!"

"I've never smelled your blood like this before," she murmured, her nose twitching. She closed her eyes then, inhaling deeply and smiling. It was not just that it was mortal blood - it was his blood. The familiarity of it was profoundly sensual. "It's so erotic..."

She opened her eyes, surprised she had said it out loud. She saw the skepticism on his face then - and the sudden amusement. Frustrated, she projected the full force of the craving into his psyche. This time her need for the blood truly was not murderous. It was weirdly affectionate.

"Oh, get on with it," he sighed impatiently. This was as impossible for him to refuse as her occasional pleas for pain from him. His hands' grip on her softened. He watched her carefully in the mirror as her face neared his throat.

She maintained the psychic connection in his mind as her lips touched tentatively the minuscule blood flow. She caressed it with her tongue, then sucked at it delicately. Everything she knew of him, its taste seemed to mirror every experience they had ever shared. The fluid carried the concentrated essence of his entire being. Nothing could be more intimate.

She moaned in delight and frustration as the cut denied her more than a faint trace of the blood's thrilling taste. Her lips hovered above it uncertainly. She craved more of the sensation.

Dirk turned her face away from his throat, his hands resting on each of her cheeks. She closed her eyes again as she fought off the highly personalized urge to consume more of this peculiar intimacy.

"Tell me, does this always happen to you when you taste blood?"

"Not with strangers," she answered helplessly. She opened her eyes then, only to stare deeply into his own.

"I'm pleased. Otherwise I might be terribly jealous of your previous victims."

"If I could feel this every time I killed, you would have reason to be." Her eyes glittered in the room's candle light. "I want-"

He interrupted her nascent request with a kiss. She pressed against him eagerly, wanting much more. He stopped the kiss abruptly, preferring to let her linger unsatisfied awhile - Midnight Court promised to be far more entertaining this way.