Hello! This is my first attempt at Urban Fantasy erotica! Please rate and let me know what you think.
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I carefully fixed my lipstick in the window of a dark shop before slipping down a dark alley. At the door I withdrew the Emerald dagger from between my breasts and inserted it carefully into the lock. The tumblers inside clicked as they turned into place. The green glow of magic lit the word "mortal" on my right wrist as the door clicked open. I stepped through the doorway from the silent alley. The music in the club was a dark haunting melody paired with techno pop beats.
The effect was intoxicating, everywhere I looked red daggers glinted between breasts and below puncture marked throats. Wrists glow red, the word "immortal" marking most of the clubs patrons. Here and there a green glint could be seen, usually on some poor young girl, pale from too many feedings, eyes bloodshot with the euphoric effect of being fed on. These waifs didn't make many visits to the club before disappearing mysteriously.
Lost souls rarely had anyone to care about their deaths. The vamps chose them for this quality exactly, to be fed on and disposed of like mere warmers for blood vessels. The regular patrons of the club glanced at me and then averted their eyes, they knew I was no waif to be drained and disposed of.
As I walked toward the bar, I felt a hundred eyes on me. Each patron drunk on the fae essence that Rana added to every drink couldn't help but stare as I crossed the room. I wore a sheer black button down over an satin bra the same color as the emerald dagger and "mortal" emblazoned on my wrist. A short pleated skirt stopped midway down my thigh where fishnets continued to meet my 4 inch stilettos.
My dirty blonde hair was loose around my shoulders, framing the shirt that was unbuttoned to my navel. I stood at the bar waiting for Rana's attention. Rana placed my usual order on the bar, a shot of fae essence and gin on the rocks. She winked at me and eyed the green glow between my breasts. "I always forget that you are mortal, Ash. The way you carry yourself tells me you are unafraid of death."
I took the shot of fae essence, swirling it around in my mouth the feel the tingling burn on my gums that indicated my body rapidly absorbing it. As the fae essence kicked in the lights seemed brighter, the music louder and my confidence grew as my heart started racing.
"I am immortal, Rana, in the only way that matters. Those who know me will never forget me."
I turned away from her, knowing her next words caught in her throat. Rana and I had shared my bed, she would always remember the mortal who took her innocence. As I sipped my gin I surveyed the club.
Several feet away standing at the bar with a look of frustration plastered on his face was a beautiful Daemon. He was shirtless, a red dagger hanging on his chest. Tight leather chaps stretched across his hips. The sharp planes of his body begged for me to trace them, the cuts on his hips guiding my eyes down to his member straining against the tight leather. His high cheekbones gave him a severe countenance. Sandy blonde hair covered the points at which two short horns protruded from his skull. Each one came to a razor sharp point about 3 inches from his head where they were starting to curl at the ends.
The start of curling intrigued me. I had heard that Daemon's horns curled only when they became lords. The lords had been the same for so long I was never sure if it was true, but this Daemonling in front of me proved it. He wore a crown that came to many sporadic, sharp points. Black gold glinted in the lights of the club dotted with bright rubies. This must be Reynauld, then, the Daemon that ascended when Patrecius was vanquished by the Archangel Rafael. Immortal did not always mean you'd live forever.
I made my way down the bar, sidling up to the bar with the Daemon on my left. A faun sat on the stool on my right, his horns short and blunt, more like nubs than horns. He grunted like a goat as he sipped something bright fuschia. Reynauld cleared his throat and placed a balled fist on the bar in an attempt to get Rana's attention. Beautiful Rana all but ignored the Daemonling, Rana was pretty but she liked her girls prettier and had no use for Daemons.
I drained my gin and placed the empty glass on the bar. Rana approached immediately, her blue wings fluttering. She couldn't hide from me how much she wanted me even if her fluttering wings didn't give away her arousal. She placed another shot of Fae Essence on the bar with a gin on the rocks. I slid the Fae Essence over to Reynauld, as a mortal I would lose my wits after more than one shot of Fae Essence so close together, I had learned that lesson the hard way.
Rana leaned over the bar and winked, her green eyes twinkling, "Are you sure you don't want another shot, Ash? You're so much fun when you are full of fae."
I gestured to the Daemon, meeting his eye, "Rana, this is Reynauld, lord of the darkest reaches." Rana looked up and registered the slightly curling horns and black helm. Her wings fluttered to a stop as she realized who he was. Her face showed regret, she knew she may have offended one of the thirteen most powerful Daemons in the underworld.
"I-I-I'm sorry sir!" she stammered as she bowed at the waist. Her eyes travelled from the horns on his head to his red pupils surrounded by black irises. Below his nose were blood stained lips with teeth that came to sharp points pulled back into a haunting smile.
"What would you like, handsome?" Rana asked, clearly gathering her wits and trying to make up for her initial mistake.
He nodded toward my drink, "I'll have what she's having" As Rana whirled around to get him a drink he took the shot of fae essence, swirling it around his mouth, leaving his razor sharp teeth tinged slightly blue.
I smiled at him, "My name is Ash, I don't think we've met yet." I held out my hand to him. He took my palm gently in his and kissed the back of my hand. His teeth grazed my skin, sending shivers down my spine. His red pupils were quickly dilating as the shot took effect. Rana placed a drink down on the bar with a slight aquamarine glow. She had spiked his drink with essence.