Jokes and GigglesChapter 908 Canada Day 150
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My Little VentrueChapter 150 free porn video
~~Jack~~
He took a deep, useless breath, then another, and another, before pressing the elevator button. Up to the top floor. Up to Antoinette.
He stepped off the elevator and stared at the big door that opened to Antoinette’s enormous main office. What to say? How to come at the conversation? What angle, what trick, what stance? He’d walked through a thousand different possibilities in his head, a thousand different ways the conversation might go, and he knew he wasn’t a tenth as prepared for it as Antoinette was. She’d probably had this exact conversation with people before, or something like it at least; she’d had millions with how old she was.
So, what the fuck was he gonna do? Hell, he didn’t actually disagree with her, and he hated himself for that. And it wasn’t like they knew what was going on. Azamel was convinced the tears Black Blood was creating were dangerous, for everyone. Ok, fine. Now Natasha said a spirit was convinced Black Blood was trying to do what Minerva was up to, and that might potentially be apocalyptic. Ok, fine. Jacob and Minerva were lovers, very close, and there was no way Jacob didn’t have at least some interest in what Minerva used to be up to when she was alive. Ok, fine.
Fuck. Fuck! He couldn’t trust Jacob, but he couldn’t quite come to the conclusion the dude was out to kill everyone. The bastard was strange, maybe a little psycho, but Triss wasn’t, and Triss had grown pretty devoted to the guy. And if Triss thought his mom was in danger, she’d do something.
Of course, Triss was getting neck deep into dark magic shit, and considering what she was up to, it was only a matter of time before his mom get involved. And that idea was almost as terrifying as Black Blood’s tears dooming the city. If something happened, something involving Mary, and it turned into a fucking horror movie, what would his mom do? She couldn’t even watch previews for horror movies without getting scared.
Jack slapped himself in the face. Focus. This isn’t about your mom. This isn’t about Black Blood or Jacob. Right now, this is about a stupid turf war between two stupid elders who don’t know how to let go of a grudge. He had to get this situation fixed now.
He knocked on the office door. It opened, revealing the sheriff, who gave Jack a small nod before he backed off and joined Antoinette by the desk.
And there she sat, face neutral, hands on the arms of her chair, sitting straight up. Power pose. She probably thought he was here to argue about his mom. Well—
“How was Clara’s visit?”
Oh fuck. Oh shit fuck. The shock on his face — he knew it was there — sealed the truth before he could say a fucking word. Fuck fucking fuck.
“You were spying on me?” When in doubt, deflect.
“I spy on everyone, Jack. This is my city.”
He sighed as he looked at her. If she was angry or offended, she didn’t let it show, but considering what they were talking about, there was a good chance she was angry. Livid, maybe. Tear his throat out, just possibly.
“You don’t trust me?”
“One of my thralls spotted you with a drone, Jack, and decided the footage warranted sending me.”
A drone. Well, the future was now, he had to be conscious of that. Maybe Scully or Mulder could drop some rocks on them?
“Alright. But I’m not here to talk about Clara, and I’d prefer to move on.”
Antoinette’s steel eyes were impervious. “Yes, perhaps that is for the best. For now.”
He did his best to hold her gaze. He managed, barely.
“I need your help.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I need to break our no business rule.”
“I will not help the Invictus win this war, Jack, you know that.” At least she was calling him Jack, and not Mister Terry.
“I know. This isn’t about winning it, this is about ending it. I’m trying to do you a favor.” And himself. Last thing he wanted was a bunch of dead people. Last thing he wanted was to be the one killing them. Last thing he wanted was the Ripper getting another foothold in his mind.
“Ending it? I am powerful, Jack. My sheriff is powerful. But I have used diplomacy to rule this city, not an iron fist.”
“You say that like you don’t have the ability to wipe out both Invictus and Carthians.”
She grinned, sly and smooth. “Perhaps.”
She was too smart to not have a bunch of shit set up for all out war if she absolutely needed it. Thralls, enslaved with either the Vinculum or her Majesty, trained and ready to die for her. Hidden explosives. Secrets she knew about people. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise him if she had a nearby military base under her control, and if shit hit the fan, she could launch anything from a coordinated military raid, to a fucking missile strike.
But those were all end game options. If she used them, her vampire utopia would be ruined, the streets turned into rubble, with open war waged in the open. She’d have to start over.
“I need to get Michael and Garry in a room together.”
“Now that the two have declared open hostilities, they have refused to join my Primogen meetings until such hostilities have ended.”
“Not there. I need them together somewhere where it’s a lot more ... where they can tear into each other.”
She leaned back in her chair. “Ah. You wish to recreate the scenario between Tony and Viktor.”
“Yeah.”
“That scenario took months of effort to craft, Jack. Years. I did not simply throw pieces of bait into the city, and watch the two men run headlong into danger.”
“I understand that, but this time you’ll have better bait.” He walked up to her huge desk and set his hands on it. Negotiator mode. “Roland.”
“Michael’s dead childe.”
“Michael blames Garry. Garry blames Michael.”
“That was a hundred years ago.”
He shrugged. “So? You telling me vamps don’t hold grudges? If anything, Kindred suck at dropping grudges. We’re all stuck.”
“That is ... not entirely untrue, though Kindred can evolve their minds. It is difficult, and takes effort, but we are capable. You are partially correct. Kindred do struggle to move on, trapped in our unchanging biology.”
“Exactly. I think Roland is a big part of why Michael and Garry hate each other.”
The Prince slowly nodded as she looked up. “Yes, I have always suspected as much. But you can confirm?”
“Maria told me. Details about Roland are uh ... a little more personal than I expected. His death wasn’t the sort of thing anyone would just forget. In another city, I’m sure Michael would have killed Garry for it. But not in Dolareido. And Michael’s been resenting Garry ever since ... and probably you, for how Dolareido is run, that he can’t just go kill Garry without upsetting you.”
Kindred on Kindred violence hadn’t exactly been outlawed, but the Prince had made it pretty damn clear it was discouraged. Killing an important Kindred would be a recipe for disaster. That sort of shit had led to the purge of the Lancea et Sanctum.
“You believe I should exploit the emotional attachment those two men had to Roland, and lure them into a confrontation, with their fury as the guiding beacon?”
“Yeah. Get them angry. Get them very angry. Get them so angry they can’t think straight, and barking like rabid animals.”
“Doable. They are Gangrels, after all.”
“Exactly. You get them livid and furious with each other, and trick them into doing something dumb. Maybe drop a hint about a cheap shot they could take to hurt the other, something they’d know would be taken personally by the other, something they couldn’t pass up on.”
“That, I believe, I can do.” Antoinette’s grin grew. “A devious plot. Well done.”
“Yeah well, I’ve run out of ideas on how to fix this. Azamel suggested this, not my idea.”
Apparently Antoinette wasn’t convinced, judging from the grin.
“I am sure.”
“Whatever. You going to help me or not?”
The grin vanished. “Jack, do not be curt with me. I am the one with grounds to be upset.”
“What, because of Clara? I said we can talk about it later.”
“I wish to speak of it now. You knew very well Clara is romantically interested in you, and yet you invited her into your apartment.”
“Excuse me for wanting to talk to a friend! Christ Antoinette, I ripped off her fucking arm. The whole damn city is terrified of me, and I thought for sure she would be too, but she isn’t. I just wanted to talk to her.”
“And is that all you did?”
“That ... She kissed me, ok? She kissed me, but I stopped it.” Eventually. “And I explained that nothing was going to happen between us. I’m fucking pissed at you, but I’m not a moron. And I’m not unfaithful, you know. How can you even—”
“I spoke to Clara.”
Jack took a step closer until his knees almost touched her desk. “You fucking what?”
Daniel took a step forward as well, and Jack slowly turned his head to glare at the man. But before they could say anything, the Prince held up a hand.
“Daniel, please leave us.” She didn’t look her sheriff’s way, keeping her hard gaze locked on Jack.
“You sure?”
“Oui, I am sure.”
With a stone cold gaze, Daniel adjusted his glasses with a single finger against the bridge, nodded, and left. One glance over the shoulder before he opened the door, and closed it behind him.
“I said, I spoke to Clara.” Antoinette met his gaze again, though he didn’t see anger there. Frustration, sadness, subtle in her practiced stare, but not anger. “And I admit that, perhaps in the heat of my rage, I thought you had betrayed me. But it was a fleeting thing, and I quickly realized that nothing would happen between you two. I trust you.”
“I ... thank you. But, then if you went to see her anyway, you ... Oh fuck, did you kill her!?”
“Non.”
“Hurt her?”
“Non.” The fact she didn’t react to the absurdity of any of these things struck him cold. God damn.
“Then ... what did you speak about?”
“Her relationship with you. Her inability to see how doomed it would be, regardless of whether I was a factor.”
“I ... That...” He didn’t disagree. Strange as Antoinette and Jack were together, and as different as they were, they also had a lot in common. A lot of shared interests. A lot of shared passions. He woke up excited to talk to Antoinette about stuff.
He knew damn well he’d have basically nothing to talk to Clara about. They liked each other a lot, and were attracted to each other, but it took more than that to have a lasting relationship.
“And Clara understands that,” she continued. “It was a painful conversation for her, but she understands that. Harcourt is a better match for her, but—”
“He doesn’t really know how to, uh, be a ‘man’ about it.” He air-quoted ‘man’.
She grinned. “Oh? You spoke with Clara about Harcourt?”
“Yeah. Before she ... yeah. I talked to Harcourt yesterday too, after that, and I think I gave him a decent nudge in her direction.”
“Oh Jack, please tell me you were discrete?”
“Um.” He scratched his buzzed head as he thought about it. “ ... no, definitely not.”
Sighing, Antoinette rolled her eyes and stood up. She motioned for him to follow as she stepped over to the giant window behind her chair.
“You made a mistake, inviting Clara into you apartment. I understand you were trying to salvage your friendship, but you put her into a dangerous and painful position.”
He groaned as he joined her in front of the window. “Maybe.”
“But I made a mistake as well. The thought of her touching you, had me ready to murder her. I made a terrible assumption, and went to her quite willing to end her.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No, I did not, and while I like to believe I never would have, it was when I saw her ... her expression, as she returned to her den, that I realized I was being foolish.”
Her expression?
“You know I’d never cheat on you, Antoinette. I mean, yeah I’m angry at you, at the situation, but it’d take more than this to end the relationship, right? And even if I’d decided to end it, I wouldn’t touch any girl until we’d talked, right? I mean come on, this is me. The one thing, the one damn thing I got going for me, is I stick to my guns.” Sticking to his guns was a nice way to put it, an ego-stroking way. Truth was, he pretty much couldn’t break his word. It didn’t compute, didn’t resolve in his brain.
“I know.”
“And, I was telling Arturo and Matthew this, but ... there needs to be room in a relationship to be angry at each other. Problems happen. Mistakes happen, right? I mean, I know I’m preaching to the choir here, but—”
“I have forgotten more about the nature of human interaction than others will ever know, my love. But I became an observer of such things centuries ago, not a true participant.”
“I guess. I ... I’m just trying to say, we can get into arguments about stuff, and not worry about the relationship disappearing. Even about serious stuff like ... like what to do about Mom. We need to be able to trust each other.” Talking about relationships was hard, and awkward, and painful. And it sounded dumb saying shit like that, but they needed to be said, because they were true.
“I trust you, my love. I do not trust others. They will manipulate you, lie to you, deceive you, or take advantage of your honesty. Our relationship is precious to me in a way a child like Clara will never understand.”
He looked up at her, but she kept her gaze on the window, and her city, even as her expression softened into something pained and sad. To her, their relationship was more than a romantic one, it was something she was sure no elder her age could ever have. Combined with her Daeva tendencies, Antoinette was possessive. Smart enough to realize it, but still a slave to it.
It was a weird relationship, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.
He turned, faced her, and gave her a small shove. Tall as she was, a foot taller than him, reaching her shoulders required reaching up a bit, but he managed.
She stumbled a little, something he didn’t think he’d ever seen her do before.
“I beg your pardon?”
He smiled up at her, and gave her another shove. Apparently being shoved by him was something so unexpected, she couldn’t imagine it ever happening twice, because she stumbled back again.
“Jack! You—”
“Antoinette. I know you think you need to be the ancient vampire in everything, all the time, even when you’re with me. But you know I know you’re still a person, right? Not a god or statue or something.”
“What are you—”
“I’m saying ... relax.”
She blinked down at him. “You are telling me, to relax? You? The boy with the weight of the world on his shoulders?” She said that last part sarcastically.
He shrugged. “You’re right you’re right. What I’m trying to say is, when it comes to ... to us, to you and me? We’re solid, ok? Like ... like...” He blinked at her, then down at the floor. “Like, you ... you know I want to spend the rest of my life with you, right? That includes the arguments and butting heads. I mean, fuck, I was getting worried that we never butt heads! It was too good, too perfect, too surreal. We should argue sometimes. Arguing is real.”
Score one for Jack, he’d managed to surprise the five-hundred-year-old Daeva.
“You wish to argue more?”
“I want a relationship where we can feel comfortable arguing. Little things, serious things. I want you to be comfortable knowing I’m not going to abandon this relationship just because we aren’t perfectly in agreement about everything all the time.” He looked down and squirmed a little. “I’d ask you to marry me, you know? If it made sense for us. If...”
“If I was not Prince. If I was not of the Ordo Dracul.” With a heavy, but happy sigh, Antoinette spun her chair around to face the window, and sat. “But, please understand the sentiment is received, my love. There is little I would not do for you. For us. And with my childe, it ... it is a decision I made not only because I felt it necessary, but also because, despite the strain I knew it would put on our relationship, I knew ... felt, it would survive it.”
He laughed as he walked up to her, and took her hands into his. At least with her sitting, he was taller than her.
“But a visit from Clara and you freak out?”
“I did not freak out. Ancient vampires such as myself are beyond freaking out. We ... enact our will.”
“Uh huh.” He kissed her hand, and came in closer, until his knees were touching hers. “I ... I mean, I’m still angry about the situation with Mom. But I don’t really disagree with you about what you’re doing either. I guess maybe I’m angry at myself for not being...”
“Cruel enough, to potentially sacrifice your mother to save others? Come now Jack, no one should be forced to make such a decision. It was part of the reason I did not ask you. I knew it needed to be done, and if I laid the decision at your feet, you would tear yourself apart making it.”
He groaned as he nodded. “You’re too damn smart.”
“That I am.”
“Humble too.”
“Of course. Though I am no Ventrue.”
And back to laughing. “Clara thinks all this tactical, cold reasoning doesn’t hold up when the bullets start flying. That it’s will and love for your ... fellow soldiers I guess, that really save the day.”
“Do you believe her?”
“I mean, kinda? I guess I only believe that, when it’s about the heat of the moment.”
“As you said, when the bullets fly.”
“Yeah. I think if I wanted a military general making macro decisions, I’d want you.”
“You would do well in such a position, Jack.”
“Maybe.” And probably hate himself every day of it. He sighed, and as he leaned in, she leaned in too. With him still standing, he set his forehead down against hers, and they held each other’s hands in a ball on her knees together. “I won’t tell Mom.”
“Thank you.”
“Clara won’t either.”
“That is good.” She tilted her head upward, and kissed him.
He kissed her back. “I uh, wanted to talk about Michael and Garry. Things are getting pretty bad. The fighting’s getting worse. That whole thing with sparing Tilly, I’d hoped it’d calm him down and get him to back off, but...”
“He is angry, Jack. Angry to the core of his being. And perhaps, no longer reasonable.”
“I know that feeling.”
“Do not we all.” She grinned and kissed him again. “I will do what I can. With emotions as the bait, perhaps I will be able to have the two dogs chasing it easily enough. I will need ... two weeks. Do you believe you can keep their turf war managed until then?”
“Two weeks? Maybe. Amanda, she...”
“What? A secret?”
“Kinda, yeah. It’s Invictus business, but ... I know Amanda’s still alive. Michael staked her. Has her stored somewhere.”
Antoinette pulled back a couple inches. “Michael has tricked Garry. He has tricked me.”
“Kinda, yeah.”
“I should—”
“If you do, Michael will know I told you. This is an Invictus thing, and I shouldn’t have told you.”
“But you did.”
“Because something’s going on,” he said. “Michael didn’t stake her against her will. If that’d been the case, he might have just killed her outright. But Michael isn’t that colossal an asshole.” She raised a brow, unconvinced, but he set his hands on her shoulders. “He isn’t. The thing that concerns me, is it seems like he didn’t take Amanda against her will.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I don’t know enough details, but I do know she let him stake her. Maybe Michael’s blackmailing her, maybe not. But there’s something weird going on. The timing of this turf war is just too perfect.”
She nodded. “Indeed it is. I constantly find my attention diverted by it. I am ... researching avenues to deal with Black Blood, options, but my thralls bombard me not with information of the spirit, but of Garry and Michael and their infuriating skirmishes. If they violate the Masquerade, I will need to squelch the issue, and I have been forever preparing to deal with those two if such a problem arises. It will get violent.”
“I’ll do what I can. But if we don’t get this issue between them resolved, they’ll keep pushing until someone dies or crosses the line.”
She nodded as she leaned back in her chair, but she didn’t let go of his hands either. “We will fix this. And then we will deal with Black Blood, you and I.”
“Ha. Partners?”
“Indeed.” Nodding again, she pulled him in to her, and before he knew it, she’d turned him around and set him on her lap. “I missed you last night, my love.”
“Because of—”
“You were not with me, and I admit that the troubles that befall my city have left me frustrated and stressed.”
Frustrated and stressed was what Antoinette used to describe Jack, as a precursor to sex. After those words, he’d usually wind up sitting or lying down, and Antoinette would be treating him to some sexual de-stressing.
Message received. He laughed, and turned on her lap. Yeah, she was a foot taller than him, a lean-but-curvy goddess, and he fit pretty damn comfortably on her lap. He nuzzled his head into the groove of her shoulder and neck, undid one of her jacket buttons, and another.
~~Eric~~
He stared across the river, into the city of concrete and fake light. Behind him was the forest, chirping with crickets and caressing his fur with a breeze smelling of bark and grass and moss.
“I’m dreaming.” Easy enough to tell that. He was in his wolf body, sitting on his haunches, and was able to talk without actually moving his mouth.
“Yes, you are,” the shining light above said. Above and below, the moon’s reflection shimmering in the river.
“Haven’t talked to you in a while.”
“I have been busy, young Uratha.”
“Busy?”
“Do not ask. I am not allowed to speak of it.”
Not allowed to speak of it? What sort of things could a moon goddess not talk about?
“Alright.”
“You are soon to work with Avery to investigate the tears in Dolareido.”
“I am.”
“How do you plan to deal with the blood wraiths that guard the tears?”
He shrugged, as much as a wolf could shrug. “You don’t know? Seems you’ve been eavesdropping.”
“I ... am not omniscient.”
“Big of you to admit that.”
“My reach is far, and my power vast, Uratha. Or did you think I had not touched this city?”
“Touched the city?”
“Surely you have enjoyed its sexual indulgences.”
“You—oh. Us being in better control of our Gauru form. Kinda thought one of the big sex spirits in the city was responsible for that.”
The moon shimmered a little more. “I would be lying if I said I did not consult with them. The choir of sexual spirits in Dolareido are powerful.”
“A moon spirit colluding with sex spirits to ... what, let Uratha fuck more?”
“I need not explain myself to you. But I am happy to know you have been indulging my gift.”
He laughed. “Jessy has been, anyway.”
“Surely you have as well. The power, the desire, holding her naked body and forcing your immense length into her insides, to—”
“Not going to talk about my sex life with some spirit god that gave me a curse I didn’t ask for.”
“Curse?”
“Being a werewolf.”
“I gave you a gift.”
“Uh huh. You knowing I fucking ate someone my first night transformed?”
“I do.”
“You think I wanted that?”
“How is your knee, young Uratha?”
He growled as he paced the river shore. “I suppose you think you can do whatever you want. Us humans are just pawns for you fuckers to play with.”
“I think you do not understand the game if you think you are but a piece on a chess board.” The moon sighed, somehow. “Regardless. How are you, Eric?”
“I ... I’m fine.”
“Do not lie.”
“Alright, better than fine. I’m great. My knee’s healed. I’m in the best shape of my life. I got an amazing girlfriend. I make great money. Dad’s out of the hospital and happily retired.” And probably looking at pictures of his girlfriend’s tits. “But I’m also neck deep in life or death shit.”
“You were always in danger, Eric. Now you can actually do something about it.”
“I still don’t know why me. It’s not like I’m—”
“No, it’s not like you are special. But Dolareido has been at the center of rising events for a while now. Others like me are here, and we’re invested in the outcome.”
“You mean the tears? And Black Blood?”
Silence.
“Luna, if you know about what’s going on, you have to tell me.”
“I am bound by the rules, as are the others.”
“Others?”
“Continue as you are, and you will learn more, I am sure.”
He grumbled and groaned and shook his head. “Why are you here, visiting my dream then, if I’m not important?”
“You represent my presence in this city.”
“Do I?”
“You do. Be thankful. It is why I speak to you. I wish to grow my presence in these walls.”
“Why?”
Silence, for a moment. But after a few seconds, the breeze in the forest grew to a hard wind, the river rippled under its power, and the distant city went quiet.
Rustling in the bushes. Eric turned around, and froze. A white wolf. The larger wolf crept out from the woods, deep eyes shining with stars of their own as she approached.
It didn’t feel like a dream anymore. It felt very real.
“Things are happening in this city, so I touched it with my hand. Enjoy the gifts I have given you,” the big scary white wolf said.
“But ... what?”
“I cannot tell you.”
“Then why tell me anything?”
“Because I am happy to see the fruits of my labor have helped someone.” She came closer before she walked past him, and sat by the river beside him. Close. He was so close to her. And dream or not, he could feel the power radiating from her, like standing in the eye of a hurricane. “Maybe things will be different in this city in the future. Maybe my children will find a little happiness, instead of this endless march to fulfill their father’s duty.”
“Father?”
“Father Wolf.”
Father Wolf, a mythic figure he knew next to nothing about. Except, what Avery had told him, about how his children killed him, and doomed the world to this weird split between physical and material. Sounded like a load of shit to Eric, but a moon goddess was sitting next to him. You could only take denial so far.
“I ... see.”
“I miss him, you know.” The white wolf shook her head and patted the water once with a paw. “And perhaps I made a mistake in my anger. My children have ... fought hard, carrying his burden, even the stubborn ones like you.”
“I’ve done his duty?”
“Are you not doing what you can to keep the spirits in Dolareido under control? Sneaking away into the Hisil to kill those you consider problematic?”
“I ... I was just helping out my city.”
“And that is why I chose you. Not because you are special, but because you consider this city yours, and it is this city that I consider special.” Sighing again, she lowered herself until she lay on the river shore. “Maybe my children will find a little respite here.”
“Are you, uh, giving the Uratha a break? Like, fifteen-minute break from work, in Dolareido? Cause this is just one city, and it’s not like I’ve been doing this Uratha gig long.”
“Perhaps with time, things will be different. Be happy that I am testing what can be done here and now, as my temper has ... waned.”
“Temper? How long ago did Father Wolf die?”
“Tens of thousands of years. A blink of the eye in the lifespan of Gaia.”
That was true. If the Luna spirit really was a spirit form of the moon, however that worked, yeah she’d been around for hundreds of millions of years. And the idea that he was sitting next to her was too damn big to wrap his mind around.
“What ... What is Dolareido to you, Luna? What’s so special about it?”
“I cannot tell you. But I am sure you will find more on your own.”
“But—”
“No more questions. I am not here to indulge your curiosity. I am here to see how you are doing, how you are enjoying my gifts, and to ... settle my guilt, I suppose.”
“Guilt?”
“It is my will that Uratha are to bound to Urfarah’s duty, these ... Forsaken children of ours. Perhaps they will not be so forlorn ... within Dolareido’s walls.”
At this point, he gave up asking. Either she didn’t answer, or her answers were beyond him.
But she’d made one thing obvious: she felt bad. Guilty about something she’d done thousands of years ago. Sad her, uh, lover was dead. Maybe lonely? The fuck did he know about spirits that were basically gods?
“Mason,” he said, “he told me about what happened to him, when he first transformed. Killed and ate a bunch of idiot punks. Then he spent months just wandering around, life ruined. Everything was hard for him. Avery found him, and life got better. But he tells me Dolareido’s the best place he’s stayed, the only place he’s lived in that, as an Uratha, he feels like he can be who he is.”
Luna lifted her head, looked at him, nodded in a gesture his wolf brain recognized as a wolf’s equivalent of a smile, and set her head back down on the river’s edge.
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