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   Chapter 6 5.

On Her Knees By Chyna McCartney Characters: 14614

Updated: 2018-01-23 21:15

"Giovanni, I don't think you should be doing this. There are other ways to bring this institution down, " Bertold called after me. I could hear him following close behind.

"Can you think of a better way? Do you know how many cases of torture and unlawful imprisonment have been brought before the council against that place, only to fall upon deaf ears?"

I waited for a response from him but there was none. "That's right, Bertold. You don't know; but I do. I hold a seat on the council, remember?

I have seen thousands of cases being lodged against these illegitimate brothel keeps and none of them have been given any real attention. I need proof; that's the only way this is going to end."

He grabbed my shoulder and spun me around.

I stared into the face of the man who looked uncannily like me. They called us The Twins--Bertold and me--and in a lot of ways, we looked as though we should have been related even though we weren't. We both had the same long, blond hair, chiseled jawline and hooked nose. We were the same height: six feet four inches and roughly the same build although my shoulders were leaner; my physique a tad softer and less bulky than he was. His eyes were a hazel brown while mine were ocean blue.

We were two blond, harbingers of death for both human and vampire kind; having been fighting side by side in other men's wars since we met a century ago. If all that violence did anything for us, it made us close- closer than brothers. Now that I was a council men, he had become my closest adviser and shield-- a trusted bodyguard and general. Bertold's loyalty came without question or condition and that made him irreplaceable. I valued his opinion more than anyone else's but he had to let me do this.

His blonde brows knitted together in obvious frustration, his German accent peaking out when he spoke. "You don't know these men. They live differently than we do; our laws mean nothing to them. They won't just hand you the ammunition you need to put sanctions on their way of life. They'll make you fight for it and they don't fight fair."

"Which is why I'm going undercover. I told you this." I stopped in front of the mirror in the hallway to re-position the knot of my red tie, brushing the rest of my hair over my shoulders. The suit which complemented the tie is all black, including the dress shirt and Italian-made. As intellectually superior as my kind boasted of being, it always amazed me that I found that humans made far better tailors.

A well-made suit, like this one was fitted in a way that a cheap suit could never be. There was no comfortable middle ground with a cheap suit: it was either too loose-- sagging on the shoulders and waist or it was too fitted and you ended up feeling like you were wearing a thicker version of spandex. One that is well-made provides the illusion of what is underneath without actually giving it all away. It shaped the shoulders and the chest, gave true boundaries for the waistline and it let your crotch breathe, most importantly.

All this knowledge I'd tried to impart on Bertold but he wouldn't have it. Which was why he was dressed as he was now in a dark blue polo and khaki colored trousers. He tied his hair back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck.

"And you think this will fool them? You walk, you talk; you even smell like an aristocrat, Giovanni. They'll figure it out."

"What is so utterly inconspicuous about a wealthy man who is without a life partner and is looking for companionship while he is away from home on business?" I gave myself one final look of inspection and now that I was pleased with my appearance, I resumed walking across the marble floor of the foyer of my home.

He rolled his eyes at me and fell into step with me as I headed across to the French doors. "That's brilliant, " he murmured sarcastically. "How gullible you think these men must be.. They're not human, Gio. We're not human. "

"But we're not much different from them are we? We want to have the same desires fulfilled: a thirst to be quenched, the lust of wealth and power and the desire for a woman's embrace. This persona I've developed --and you are to address me as Leonard for the duration of this plan by the way--wants the same things. Its not as impossible to believe as it sounds."

"And how long have you been developing this persona?" He closed t

ll we gentlemen?" he spoke to the room.

There were collective nods and verbal acknowledgements of agreement from the other men but I remained silent. The vampire- I suppose it's safe to call him the host of sorts- pulled on a cord to the left of the curtain and the fabric retreated back like a wave pulling away from the shoreline.

It revealed a floor length, two way mirror that allowed us to see into the bright, white room on the other side. I was aware that there were other girls, my sensitive mind and eyes registered that there were eleven of them but as soon as the curtains were drawn away my eyes were immediately drawn to only one girl in particular.

She was shorter than most of the girls there; the shortest being a girl with long chestnut colored hair who stood beside her, clutching onto her hand. There was a male vampire, with dark hair, green eyes and a scar on the left side of his face, standing on the other side of her. I would estimate her height to be around 5 foot five.

Her skin was a lovely shade of olive and even from this distance it was incredibly smooth. Black curls cascaded down her body to rest just above her waist with a few strands pulled over her shoulders to hide the dangerously immodest bodice of the dress she wore.

The dress itself was made of an odd fabric-- sackcloth was the only word that came to mind to describe it. A 'v' was cut into the neckline and triangular sections of the bare flesh of her ample bosom peaked through where the thin leather cords could not manage to conceal her. The dress fell over her waist, clinging tightly to her full hips and stopped at her knees, leaving her legs and dainty feet exposed.

Finally, my eyes traveled to her face which sported a small round nose and plump pink lips. She blinked and for a fraction of a second sinfully long, black lashes fell over eyes that were a golden brown, the color intensified by the bright lights above the raised platform where she stood.

She was beautiful: a dainty cherub with golden eyes. Never before had I even acknowledged a woman's attractiveness.

Her head turned toward me and it was almost as if she could see me through the glass even though I knew it was impossible. The intelligence in her bright eyes unmanned me. A need-- a desire so strong and entirely centered around this mysterious girl swept over me and I had to fight to remain upright. The sight of her curves made my mouth water, my fangs bruising my gums as they threatened to break through. I wanted her more than I had ever wanted anything in my existence.

This, an observation that seemed to last an eternity as I drank in the sight of her, took only a sixteenth of second in reality. Before the host could begin to describe the girls, before anyone else could finish observing the specimens before them and without even thinking, I spoke up. "The olive toned girl next to that man; I want her."

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