“Byron, I can’t.” Amelia moaned.

“Of course you can. I’m here. Let it wash over you. I won’t let you fall,” Byron said as her thrusts got faster and her thumb stroked her clit.

Amelia struggled as the intensity crept up on her, and she was helpless to resist the pleasure about to hit her. She was groaning continuously now, almost as if in pain.

“It’s too much. Too much,” she said desperately.

“Amelia, look at me,” Byron said.

As soon as she looked in Byron’s eyes, she knew she was safe, and her orgasm hit her. “Yes, yes, oh God.”

Amelia had never experienced anything like that. She tried to calm her breathing, and as she did Byron released her hands. She immediately pulled Byron down into a kiss. Amelia wanted to say, I love you so much, but had to bite her tongue.

Byron pulled back and smiled at her. “Welcome to the mile-high club.”

Amelia laughed and cupped her cheek lovingly. “Thank you.”

“I’ll always be here to catch you,” Byron said. “Always.”

Chapter Three

Victorija Dred groaned as the last of her victim’s blood flowed deliciously over her tongue and down her throat. She pulled back from the young servant’s throat, and let her body fall with a deadly thud to the floor of her bedroom.

She gasped inhaling the scent of blood as it ran messily down her chin and neck, dripped onto her bare chest, and began to seep into her crisp white shirt.

Victorija ran her tongue over her lips, determined to gorge on every last drop of warm blood. She heard footsteps heading towards her room, and knew who they belonged to.

The door opened and she said without turning, “Good morning, Lillian. You’re up bright and early.”

She turned around and smiled at her visitor. Lillian was a contrast to her messy state, and she always possessed the ability to look effortlessly well dressed, today looking extremely executive in a short-skirted business suit, her dark brown hair twisted into a bun.

Lillian sighed and Victorija followed her gaze to the bed where the other servant, a young male, lay with the last of his blood dripping onto the bed sheets, a breakfast tray left untouched beside him.

“Victorija, why do you insist on eating in bed? You make such a mess and your father will have no staff left if you continue to use them for food.”

In a heartbeat, she flashed across the room and pushed Lillian up against the wall, her hand around her throat. “Remember who you are talking to, witch.”

Victorija loved the shortening of Lillian’s breath, the fear she could produce in her, even though she and the witch were allies, but almost instantaneously Victorija smiled again. “I had a late night and needed a pick-me-up. As for my father, it won’t be his castle for long.”

In her family’s castle just outside Paris, the unwritten rule was not to use the human staff as food, so as not to alert the local population to their presence, but Victorija never liked rules. She let Lillian go and heard her gasp in relief. Victorija walked to her bathroom and said, “Is everything prepared for today?”