The Waters of Lethe

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters from Blade 2.

Summary: Reinhardt’s thoughts one night at the House of Pain, before Blade and the Bloodpack team up. If you’ve read a story I wrote for fanfiction.net called “Bloodpack’s Night Off,” this is what happens after he leaves Nyssa at the table. Just a little ficlet.

The Waters of Lethe

She’s in my arms the moment the door to the private room closes behind us, my hands slipping over the slick material of her dress as I grab her hips and pull her tight against me. My mouth locks onto her neck and I suck at the skin over her jugular. She makes a small noise of pleasure, and I smile. It has been a long damn time since I got myself any, and this one seems as good as any other. Wish I remembered her name. But Nyssa had been looking at me funny earlier. What choice did I have? My own fault, since I’d had too much to drink and let things slip. Why the hell had I told her about that woman, how I couldn’t forget her over a decade since I’d seen her, and worst of all that she was human? She knows I never keep familiars. I like to travel light and they’d only slow me down. To distract Nyssa I’d picked up a nearby vampire female and brought her up here. She’d told me her name, but the bass line of the techno had drowned her out. Doesn’t matter, though. I wouldn’t have remembered her name tomorrow anyway.

She knew who I am, though. Dieter Reinhardt, killer of his father, disgraced one-time heir to the Vienna overlord, current leader of the Bloodpack. It works for me, though; some females get off on the danger of fucking me. Vampire females don’t get me hot, at least not the way human women do, but my cock responds to the feel of her against my body and an instant of memory transfixes me. *Her beautiful face, held in my hands as I kiss her. My mouth raises from hers and she whispers, “Dieter.” The first time she ever called me by my first name.* But I shove the memory aside, angry. I want to forget her, don’t want her intruding on this.

This female, the one I’m touching, looks nothing like her, except for the long hair. I love long hair on women, always have. That’s one reason I never went after Verlaine myself, or Nyssa. And because they aren’t human. I can fight it all I want, and I do, but I always come back to that, to the delicate pale skin over veins that throb with hot blood, to life. I want to be cold, not fuck cold, and vampire females feel like the Danube in December. I take one hand off her ass and brush the hair from her face. She wears it crimped, rivers of golden brown flowing around her face and shoulders. When she opens her mouth to say something, I bring my lips down to silence her. All I want is a good hard fuck, not talk. And we’d better be quick about it, too. Nyssa showed up at the House of Pain with Asad tonight, and he never comes here unless it’s on business. He holds himself apart from pleasure. Who knows when they’ll come knocking on the door, rounding up the Bloodpack to say it’s time to get to work?

Her fangs sink into my tongue, and I taste my own blood as she moans, beginning to suck. The pain is tolerable, just the price you pay for fucking a vamp female. And I can’t say the taste of the blood doesn’t excite me. My cock strains uncomfortably against the black leather pants I wear as I lift her and she wraps her legs around my hips. When she finally breaks the kiss, her lips are stained red and her head lolls back, blissed out from the power in another vampire’s blood. “Don’t nod off yet,” I tell her. “We aren’t finished.”

“Good,” she hisses. I find the zipper to the tight scarlet PVC number she’s wearing and slide it down. Since her legs are still around my hips, the dress bunches at the top of her thighs. Her breasts bulge out of the skimpy red bra she wears, the nipples hard against the lace. Lifting her high against the door, I capture one of the hard points in my mouth and suck. I hear her gasp with pleasure and her hands grip the back of my head, her fingers sliding over the skin. It feels good. I push the bra cup down and lock my mouth onto her bare flesh, letting my fangs sink in just a little. A cry of pain and pleasure escapes her and I taste her blood, the dizzying rush of it. Human blood can’t compare, but vampire blood won’t sustain our lives. I don’t take blood from my human females, though. I won’t kill them. They please me too much for that.

Memory like lightning. *Someone must have struck her during the fight and split her lip. A large drop of blood trembles on her lower lip, and I reach over, wipe it away with the pad of my thumb. I shake with the need to sample her but wait until she is distracted, then lick her blood away. It tastes like wine.*

That doesn’t count. I wasn’t the one who hurt her. And I hate that I can’t keep her out of my mind, even when another female’s wrapped around me, working one of my earlobes between her teeth and rubbing herself against my hard-on. Impatient, remembering that Nyssa and Asad are here, probably to herd us back to the Damaskinos compound to suit up for an attack on the Daywalker, I throw her onto the bed and pull the dress all the way off, leaving her stretched out in front of me in a red lace thong and high heels. Her bra is twisted around her body, her breasts bared, so I simply rip it off her. A satisfied smile wreathes her face and she murmurs, “I want to see you, too.”

No problem with that, so I strip quickly, leather coat, black T-shirt, boots, leather pants and underwear. She runs her tongue over her lips and her eyes gleam. “Like what you see?” I ask.

“Yes. God, yes.” She motions me closer and tries to wrap herself around me again, but I’m not having any. I run a finger under the red lace thong, over the softness of hair and skin, to find her wet already. I like that.

“Take off the sunglasses. Please.” I oblige. Her eyes are hazel, with little green flecks in the irises. Green. I fight to think about this one that I’m with.

“Pretty eyes.” She thought I had pretty eyes too. But I don’t want to hear it now. Her hips arch up to my hand and she moans as I brush the tip of my finger over her clit. “That’s good,” she moans. “Soooo good.” I fall to my task, rubbing circles around the sensitive nub as she spreads her legs wider for me, her words turning into cries of desire as her feet in their stiletto heels dig holes in the mattress. Wonder if the House of Pain will charge me or her for the damage. But it’s less than a pressing concern. Her passion begins reaching me, the urgency of her need sparking mine. Human women are the only ones who can make me lose control of myself, but this vamp pleases me with her response. Maybe I’ll be able to bury my memories in her body, finally lay to rest this ghost that haunts me. In the old Greek myths they speak of Lethe, the river whose waters bring forgetfulness to the dead when drunk. Frequently I’ve suspected that death is all that will rid me of her. I keep searching for that cure, that blessed amnesia, but the Underworld doesn’t bottle its water and she burrows deeper inside, defending her place in my heart.

*She lies awkwardly across the chandelier, her face pillowed on one hand, eyes closed, hair draped across the crystal. Golden light bathes her. I worry that her hair will get snagged on those crystals because it’s so long. I shouldn’t let her sleep, but she looks at peace. I’ve never seen her look like that.*

Angry at the intrusion, I shove the vamp’s thong to one side and kneel between her legs. My tongue flicks out to rub her clit and she comes with a scream, her thighs gripping the sides of my head, but I don’t stop. I don’t know if it’s to pleasure the one underneath my mouth or to punish the one inside my head, but I keep working her with my tongue, driving her from release to release until her screams bounce off the walls. The sight of her, every muscle tense with orgasm, head thrown back, is too much to resist. I grip her hips tight and drive my cock into her.

A deep groan of pleasure escapes her as I begin thrusting. “Oh, yes, fuck me, Reinhardt. God. I need you.” She picks up my rhythm quickly and we pound away at each other, gasps of effort and animal noises filling the room. Feels different with a human woman, though. Their body temperature is much higher; it’s like drowning inside a volcano. Can’t remember a time when I didn’t want them instead of what the world told me I should want. I always did have a problem with authority. Her nails tear into my back and I smell blood before the tiny cuts heal themselves seconds later, only for her to rip them open again. No tenderness here, just excitation of nerve endings, pure fucking. The need moves into my temples, throbbing, but I’m not there yet. I still have control. This female can’t drive me insane, no matter how much she writhes and groans and claws at me. My desire ebbs, and I don’t want that. I want to come, need to come before Asad knocks on the door and tells me it’s time to die. And I know how to manage that. Hell, I’ve done it so often it’s second nature.

No memory now, but fantasy as she claws her way out of my heart and into my mind. The female from the bar is gone and my human lies beneath me, writhing in the ecstasy I give her, those long legs wrapped around me, the luxurious sable hair spilling over the bedspread, her eyes the color of sea water in daylight, a color I’ve only seen in pictures. Her hands lift and her palms caress my face. And I lose control, as I always do when I think of her, which is why I try not to. I sink my fangs into the neck of the nameless female under me and she bites me back, both of us sucking and the blood recycling between us in a heartbeat rhythm, the same rhythm our joined parts beat out. Nothing exists but the body under me, the fire in my belly. I close my eyes again, trying to recapture her, that beautiful Irish-pale skin, and suddenly I come, roaring with the delight of it, the female under me swept into another climax. The strength leaves my arms and I roll over to lie beside her, not wanting to crush her. When I look over, it’s as I expected: crimped golden-brown hair, dark eyes, and ivory fangs visible between her pink lips. Not eyes the color of the sea.

Carolyn. Oh, angel.

I’ll never forget you.