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Blood Kin

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Drusilla shivered in anticipation and scented the air again.

The faintest taste of Daddy tickled her brain. He was here. Somewhere. But where?

And why? Haiti was too primitive for Angel’s taste, even at his most decadent. But it was the perfect garden for her to blossom in, with the loas flitting about her head like fairies, whispering secrets and truths in her ear, and the mambos all looking on her with fear and reverence. They brought her their sons and daughters to be cleansed, purified in exchange for her speaking for the loas, so that every night she had hot, sweet, young blood coursing over her tongue with only the effort it took to not kill the children outright. She had come here to rest and finish healing from Daddy’s reprimand back in Los Angeles. Had he come to finish what he had started? Or to bring her back home where she belonged?

She couldn’t show her true face to track him, not here in the plaza. All the little human sparrows would flutter away in a panic and then return to destroy the corby in their nest. So instead she closed her eyes and reached out with her senses.

She found her White Knight first. Poor sweet William. It had begun for him, all that she had seen the last time she had touched him. His heart was torn out and cast into a fresh grave, so all he had now was grief and despair. But he hadn’t left the Hellmouth. She sent a shot of comfort along their link even as she fed off his suffering.

The Black Queen was no better. Daughter-Grandmother had had a nasty shock and was finding she couldn’t run from it. Poor Darla. Dru giggled.

But where was the Black King? Search and feel as she might, she couldn’t find him anywhere. Had he crossed into Valhalla, to join the noble warriors there? No, the thread between them was still taut. He existed still. But it was as though he had stepped off this plane entirely. His dark light didn’t shine in her world.

But in the absence of his brilliance, a dimmer star shone through. Watery and weak, it flickered and sputtered, struggling against itself like a fish on a string.

So it wasn’t Daddy, but one of his children. Young, untrained, lost.


Now that she knew what to look for, she opened her eyes and began scanning the crowds for that flickery gray aura that would identify him to her.

She found him finally on the other side of the square, watching from the shadows an impromptu dance that had started around a cluster of street musicians. Their dusky bodies shone in the streetlights, their brightly colored clothes flashing. Birds of paradise preening and posing for potential mates, but drawing the eyes of predators as well.

He was hungry.

She could feel his need from here, body and soul both empty, desperate for something to fill him up. Such loneliness, such pain, She wanted to taste it.

Dru rose gracefully from the table she had been taking her tea at to flow into the crowd, shifting from cluster to cluster as she made her way unnoticed over to him. She came up next to him, stopping just ahead of him to assure he noticed her. She looked back over her shoulder coyly. “They are quite alluring, aren’t they?”

“Um, yeah.” She had obviously disrupted his fascination.

“Like spinning tops. What happens when they collide?”

He looked confused by her question. “I guess they’d hold onto each other, keep from falling.”

An American. Pale skin, dark hair and eyes. Not a large man, softly muscled. She wondered that Angel had turned him. He usually liked his dollies prettier.

She licked her lips slowly, drawing his attention. She offered her hand. “What a beautiful sentiment, my handsome boy. What is your name?”

He took the hand automatically, but she knew it was still warm from the tea she had taken and the sultry humidity of the night. There was no flicker of recognition in his eyes for who or what she was. “Name’s Lawson, ma’am.”

“Lawson. What a perfectly perfect name.” She wove her fingers through his. “Don’t you want to know mine?”

And there. He tagged her as food. He was hers now. “Nothing would make me happier.” He drew her hand into the crook of his arm, moving closer to her.

They spoke meaningless words to each other, and she was amused by his lies. She could see his truth, of course, buzzing about him like angry bees. Failed in life, failed in death. Feeling the glory of his family lineage in his veins and not knowing what it was, what it meant.

Dru smiled coquettishly. She would show him, her brother, what the line of Aurelius was truly capable of.

He offered to take her back to his hotel for a drink, which she agreed to. They made their way arm in arm through the twisted streets, further away from any hotels she knew of. “I think we’ve gone and gotten all lost,” she pouted when she tired of walking.

Lawson looked around, and when he was sure there were no spying eyes on them, turned to her. “I think you’re right.”

His true face was heavily browed and deeply ridged, his teeth rough but even. She had only a moment to enjoy the sight of him before he slammed her against the wall and sank his fangs into her neck. Dru gasped in pleasure at the fiery sensation that only came from being fed on by a family member. “Oh yes,” she moaned softly, letting her own true face slide into place.

He pulled back slightly in surprise at her obvious enjoyment, making it easier for her to drop her face to his throat and bite in eagerly as well. She drew deeply from his vein and he came with a rough gasp of surprise.

Lawson pressed her heavily against the wall, and she felt the damp seep through his trousers and her dress as she lapped at the wound she had made. Finally he pulled back with a shudder. “Who are you?” he pleaded in wonder.

“I’m your elder sister, darling boy.” She pulled his head down to her mouth, letting the cool, thick blood they had shared mingle on their lips and tongue. “My Daddy made you as well. Can’t you feel it?”

He shook his head, a sorrowful puppy.

Dru tickled her fingers over his eyes. “Look with your heart. Your eyes will tell you wicked lies.”

He did as she commanded, and she could feel him sensing out to her, could tell the moment he found the thread between them. “That’s it, my little love. That glistening, glowing tie that speaks family.”

“I’ve felt it before,” he breathed, eyes still closed. “After I was turned. But there was so much that I hadn’t felt before, I didn’t know . . .”

“Would you like to know more?” she tempted him.

He opened his eyes, and she reveled in the worship she saw there. “Please,” he begged oh so sweetly.

She turned and walked away from him. “Then be a good doggy and heel.”

Lawson fell into step behind her without hesitation.

“We’ll pick up a tasty treat on the way.”



The young man who joined them had been walking home from a brothel. He thought he still was, not noticing the two who had joined him or the fact that his feet had strayed from the true path home. His mind was so susceptible to Dru’s abilities that it took no effort at all to draw him under her spell. He was young and strong, smelling not of disease but of pleasure and wine. What she planned worked best with strong, vital ingredients. He would be perfect.

Dru remembered the first time Angelus had introduced her to this particular pleasure. He had starved her first, of course, to improve the sensation he said. And then he had fed and ravaged her and fed her and took her again and fed off of her until the blood of all three of them was so intermingled as to be indistinguishable from the others.

Sharing it with Spike had pushed his devotion to her over into worship. He had awoken the next morning with such a look of wonder on his boyish face.

It should have been Angel’s place to teach Lawson this, but Daddy didn’t seem to want the poor outcast childe. So she would do what any good sister would do, and teach him the ways of blood and sex and family.

The human now sat in the chair in her bedroom, waiting for his death all unawares. Lawson stood on the other side of the room, hunger in his eyes. But she was mistress here, and they all awaited her pleasure.

She slipped the straps of the linen sheath from her shoulders, allowing it to pool on the floor at her feet. She wore nothing underneath, as she needed no support and had no modesty. She saw the expression in Lawson’s face switch from “feed” to “fuck”, devouring her with his eyes. “Undress,” she commanded, and turned her attention to their food.

Another day she would have dropped the glamour so the poor little mouse could see death coming for him. But fear gave the blood a tangy, acrid taste, and she wanted this to be ever so sweet. So she left the illusion in place and climbed astride his half dressed body.

He smiled, white teeth in his dusky face, and rested his warm hands on the curves of her waist. “Bella,” he murmured, his erection growing in anticipation of his wife’s welcome.

“Bebe,” she whispered back, moving her center against the growing bulge in his pants, her wiry curls catching in the rough fabric of his trousers to pull lightly. It felt so good, warm and a little rough, and she rode him harder, listening as his heartbeat sped up. She nipped and licked at his ear, and his heart rate increased. She would drain him dry, and the faster his blood flowed, the easier it would be to get. His hand slipped between them to finger her, coarse skin delightfully rough on her delicate inner flesh. Oh, a generous lover he was. His wife would miss him. And his mistress. Maybe she should just . . .

But no, not tonight. “Please, my love, please,” she begged in his ear in flawless French, “I need you inside me. I need to feel you spilling inside of me.”

He groaned and gathered her up, surging against her.

And she sunk her fangs deep into his carotid.

The blood poured into her mouth, tasting better than she had thought it would. Sweet and hot and spicy with arousal. He gasped and cried out in pain, in release, as she suctioned deep, drawing the blood away from his heart and into her own body. Within moments he stopped moving, the barest flutter of his heart against her still breast showing he lived still.

Lawson pressed up against her, his thick, hard cock grinding into her back as he leaned over to catch the leavings that escaped her mouth. But she ran her tongue over the dark, salty skin, leaving nothing for her brother to sample before she went back to feeding. Her body was warm now, flush with the blood from the man cooling beneath her. Lawson’s equally cool body shook as he whimpered at being denied. Too delicious.

Finally, the human drew a slow, rattling breath and went still.

With a sigh, Dru let his head fall limply against the back of the chair and daintily licked her fingers. She rose and turned to Lawson.

His yellow eyes burned with rage. “You didn’t save anything for me!” he ground out.

“Oh, didn’t I?” she held out one blood smeared finger to him.

Still angry, he sucked the gory digit into his mouth.

She twisted her wrist to slash the finger across the blades of his fangs, allowing the fresh blood to spill into his mouth. He reacted instinctively, drawing deeply and making her gasp.

With nothing but the finger in his mouth, she pushed him back towards her bed, knocking the backs of his legs out from under him so that he fell onto the mattress as she mounted him. “I want to feel you inside me while you’re still cold,” she explained, wasting no time on preliminaries as she guided his short, fat cock to her now hot opening and slid down around him.

Lawson growled and thrust up into her, still suckling on her finger. The chill friction of him moving in her warm, moist center made her brain buzz and she rode him eagerly as she had wanted to do to the man. She spasmed as pleasure suffused her and she spilled her juice all down his length. Slowly she pulled him upright and held their torsos close, his face buried in the crook of her neck where his earlier bite marks were already healing. “Now,” she commanded, “feed off me.”

With a snarl he sank his fangs deep into her neck, wrenching his head side to side to allow the blood to flow freely. He cried out as the hot blood filled him, flavored now with the essence of her blood, and with a powerful thrust of his hips, he erupted inside her.

Dru continued to ride him as he fed, pulling out the few remaining drops from his still hard cock as the suction of his mouth drove her over the edge again.

Finally she slid off him with a long slow pop and moved to recline against the pillows, patting the bed next to her. Lawson rolled over and crawled up the mattress to collapse in a contented heap next to her. Poor child. He didn’t realize what he had gotten into. There would be no rest until the blood was cold.

With a feral grin, she moved down his body to lick her own juices off his cock in one long swipe. He gasped and fisted her hair as her ragged teeth scraped his length, tracing along the now-flush vein. She could feel his fear of what he thought she was about to do. But she knew as he didn’t, through dint of long hours of practice on poor, eager Spike, that fellatio and feeding did not go well together. Mouths and fangs needed to be going in opposing directions, making either act impossible. So she simply devoured Lawson, sucking and licking until he surrendered the fear, rolling his delicate testicles between her long, clawed fingers until she felt them start to tighten. The she gripped his shaft hard, her hand taking the place of her mouth, jerking viciously as her fangs move to severe his femoral artery and gorge on the flow of blood, which now tasted of him and her and death and rum and sex. He came violently, casting pale strands of seed over his stomach and into her hair before dribbling down over her fist. She sat up on her knees and delicately licked her hand clean, then just as carefully licked every drop of come off his belly.

He grabbed her shoulders and jerked her up with a roar, flipping her onto her back as he crawled between her legs, burying fangs and cock into her brutally. Dru keened her pleasure as suction and friction overwhelmed her. She bit just as deeply into his throat, creating a circuit of blood and desire that only family could share.



The blood finally cooled hours later. They lay tangled together as he gently nursed at her breast, his fangs piercing the rosy aureole as his tongue slowly lashed at the erect nipple. Dru gently toyed with his short, coarse hair, nuzzling his head as he found comfort at her breast. They were both covered in jagged bites in every fleshy part of their bodies, every muscle drained and sated. Her throat tingled where he had bitten over the mark Angel had given her when he’d created her, and the one Spike had given her when she made him. Layers of family all tangled together. Father, brother, son, all lovers. All her family.

She knew Lawson now. Knew that in life he had done what he thought he should rather than what his heart commanded. Knew that he had felt responsible for lives he never would touch. And he had brought that with him into death, killing and destroying and tormenting because it was what he thought he should do rather than making his own place. Feeling responsible for the lives he took without feeling remorse. And he longed for someone to blame for his emptiness.

He sighed contentedly. “Mistress.”

She smiled at his surrender. “Tsk, tsk. You know that isn’t right.”

He looked up at her, wonder in his eyes, a single drop of her blood on his lip. “Sister.”

“My darling brother.” She licked the droplet off his lip before continuing on to kiss him sinuously.

He slipped his hand between her legs and began to roughly finger her moist, tender flesh.

She purred and spread her legs for him. She would keep him, teach him the ways of the line, help him find his way.

And then she thought she would send him to Daddy . .