|
Characters: Mal, OCs Disclaimer: The author makes no claim to owning the rights of anything to do with Terry Pratchett or Discworld.
I Was a Teenaged Vampire
Stupid Balls. There are eight million things I'd rather be doing than standing in a corner with Lamia Kurikova and Sepulchuria von Schmalzberg talking about boys. Don't get me wrong. They're pretty enough to look at, but Sepulchuria hasn't got the brains of dead sheep, and Lamia enjoys her cruelty a little bit too much. But there's no-one else to talk to. The boys only talk to the girls if they're looking for a date, or a drink. Otherwise we're off limits and they flirt with each-other (openly! Lucky bastards!) and talk about hunting and politics, and things that are actually interesting. What do we talk about? Hair products. Which boys are more desirable than which other boys. Why on earth would I be interested in any of that? "Hello? Earth to Maladicta?" says Sepulchuria. "Did you even notice that Malachai's been looking at you all night?" "Did you even notice that I'm so not interested?" I reply in bored tones. "Gods, Mal, you're such a square," this, from Lamia. "Oh, you mean I'm all edges and pointy bits? Tell me something I don't know. Maybe I'm just not interested in someone who's as transparent as he is." Which shuts her up fairly quickly. Lamia spends three quarters of her time trying (and failing) to catch they eye of Rubius Sandrini. I can't imagine why. He's popular, but he's a complete bastard. Cruel and stupid and totally un-likeable. I don't think I could despise him more if I tried. Sepulchuria nudges Lamia, "Hey, who's that?" she asks as I turn to see who she's nodding towards. Who is that, indeed... My mother is talking to a cluster of newly-arrived guests, but my eye is immediately drawn to the girl in the group. A vision in scarlet — red dress, red hair, red jewels at her throat, like drops of blood. Suddenly I find that I want, very much, to be a good hostess. One should always greet one's guests, after all. I see my mother look up, searching for me I'm sure, and I glide forward with all the seductive poise that is expected of me, and that I normally hate to use. "Maladicta," says my mother, I'd like you to meet Carmine Lastovitz. She and her family have just arrived home from Al Khali." Well, that was interesting. "Really?" I ask my new charge. "I've only ever been as far as Genua. I'd love to hear about Klatch." Carmine slides her eyes over me — nothing overt, merely the once-over that anyone would give upon meeting someone for the first time — but I feel her gaze as intimately as a touch. Her eyes are the colour of amber. I've never seen anything like that before. She's really quite breath-taking. "I'd love to tell you about it," she says with a smile. "Perhaps while you show me around?" "Of course," I say, offering her my arm. "This way, I think." As we stroll away, a voice calls after us, sharply, "don't go too far, Carmine." Is it just me, or was that tone rather more pointed than it needed to be? But Carmine only rolls her eyes at me. "Parents," she says quietly, "they're so controlling." "Tell me about it," I reply. *** We have been wandering the halls for, perhaps, an hour already. I don't think I've ever been happier to be in our family's provincial castle rather than in the estate outside the capital. Not that I don't prefer this place to begin with, but it means there are so many more rooms to explore, which of course means more time with Carmine. Carmine, who has slipped her arm around my waist as we've been walking, Carmine who's scent is making my head spin in entirely the right way, Carmine who seems to be finding reasons to brush up against me in tight spaces. Although, I'll admit that most of the tight spaces were my idea in the first place. And now we're in my favourite room. Bookshelves fill the place like an indoor maze. The perfect spot to get lost for an hour or a night. "I'm sorry," I say, as we thread our way through the library's passages, "I don't normally care about this sort of thing, but you smell amazing. Are you wearing perfume?" "Mm-hmm," she replies. "It's amber and narcissus. Just a drop, here," she turns my wrist over, touching my pulse delicately, "and here," she brushes the hollow of my throat, lingering there for a moment. She glanced up, coyly. "Hungry?" I smile, hoping that I look knowing, when really I can barely catch her words over the rushing of my own blood. "If my guest is," I say. "I'm sure I saw a gentleman a few rooms back who'd make a good meal. Want to share?" Suddenly Carmine steps in close to me. Very, very close to me. Close enough to feel her breath on my skin. "I think I'd like that a lot," she tells me, sliding her hands up and over my shoulders. "Tell me," she says, "have you ever played two-for-one?" "Sure," I lie, "lots." Two-for-one is a hunting game where two girls lure some human boy into an empty room by making him think he's going to get to sleep with two women at the same time. Then the boy becomes dinner. In truth, I've never played it in my life. I've always been afraid that I'd take things too far, be a little too convincing, and then that would be it. Everyone would know. But this. The way her fingers are playing over the back of my neck, the way she's looking at me... We're alone in the library, there's no-one here to fool. I don't know if this is an act, just getting into character, or what. I do know, however, that I am shivering. Gods, how embarrassing. I run my fingers through Carmine's copper hair, hoping that I'm doing the right thing. And then she lays her cheek against my shoulder, and kisses me, softly, on the throat. The kiss is not quick and nervous, the way I would have done it in my uncertainty. It is slow and luxurious, a kiss that makes me weak at the knees. I let my arms creep around her body, and allow my lips to brush her earlobe, gently. Maybe she's not playing around, I think, I hope, as her mouth finds mine, and then I can think of nothing else but the taste of her lips on my own. |