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Mercy Graves was used to beautiful things and beautiful people. Her sire, while an oddball among the noble vampire class, still had the clout necessary to remain in their circles, and therefore they were often rubbing elbows with the highest of the high, the finest of the fine, and all the pretty things that they like to parade around.
But there was very little that was as captivating to her as Lord Zod's right hand, Faora Ul. Striking, commanding, captivating - and cold to the bone - she was as intimidating and respected as her sire. While most in her position were still considered servants, she was regarding as almost Zod's equal - and status he himself helped ensure. Though the two remained unwed, rumors had been circulating for years that she was Zod's mistress as well as his body guard, personal assassin, cleaner, and anything else he had need of.
Mercy knew otherwise.
There was nothing but mutual respect and an enjoyment of each other's company between the two of them. The origins of their relationship were still a mystery to her, but Mercy knew quite well that as loyal as Faora was to her sire, she harbored no lust or desire for him. It was something Mercy was sworn to secrecy over, as the gossip held off hungry offers to Zod to wed together his bloodline with any others - few were willing to risk that Faora was a greedy and selfish lover who had no interest in sharing her sire.
Few were ever willing to risk Faora's wrath.
Mercy, on the other hand, loved to tease and taunt - she loved the way those deep, blue eyes would grow icy cold, the way those red lips curved into a wicked smirk, the only warning before she punished Mercy for testing her ire.
Oh, Faora might not have any lust for her sire, but that did not mean she didn't have plenty of lust in her.
And fortunately for Mercy, she was the current object of Faora's desire - their affair had to remain hidden, but oh, the heightened pleasure that brought, when Faora would drag her into the shadows, far from all the socializing nobles, sipping from open necks and wrists of the human offerings of the night, and instead sip from Mercy's throat, her hands hungry and possessive between Mercy's legs. It was a decadence she had never known before - and there had been plenty of nights with Lex, her own sire, that were wild and wonderful, but could hardly compare to the things Faora could make her feel, make her do, or do to her. The secrecy only added to it, that rush, that thrill that accompanied the constant threat of being caught.
If only because of the scandal of Zod's and Luther's fledglings being found together - Zod's distaste for Lex and Lex's annoyance over said distaste was well known.
The court finding out that Mercy and Faora were having their fill of each other every chance they could take would certainly ruffle their sires' feathers.
It was a nuisance and an aphrodisiac.
"Shh, Mercy," Faora whispered in her ear every time she had her pinned against the wall in the dark. Those blue eyes seemed to glow in the dark, icy cold and full of want, greedy fingers stroking Mercy back to life. "Look at me, let me see how beautiful you are when you come." Her fingers knew Mercy so well, too well, drawing out a silent scream of pleasure within moments, and hungrily she licked the slick of Mercy off her skin. "Mmm, you taste as good as you look. Think I'll have a bite." Fangs against her racing pulse, Faora bit down. Always having her fill of Mercy, she was a greedy lover who gave only to take her lovers apart, eat her heart out, a glutton for her lover's pleasure, her lover's surrender, submission.
Faora liked to possess her lovers.
That suited Mercy just fine. Mercy liked being possessed, devoured, taken apart and slowly coaxed back together.
And all the while their sires remained unaware - knowing only that their favorites had trysts, affairs, flings, dallying with others in the shadows. It was their nature, after all. Always hungry, always wanting more, never satisfied, never sated, fueled by a parasitic craving that never had enough. So they sought out victims and lovers over and over and over again, until the boredom set in, and they moved on to the next.
Mercy dreaded the day that boredom set in between her and Faora. On the plus side, it still seemed far away, and she had a few more years of sinking into the shadows, into Faora's cold eyes, all those promises of ecstasy still on her tongue.