Part 1

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“Where are we going?” Amaranth, her prodigy asks curiously as he follows her. “To meet my brother,” Nitiya simply answers, leading him from one rooftop to another. “You have a brother?” the boy asks, surprise clear in his eyes. “How come I’ve never heard of him?” “Well,” his marker tries to rack up her brain, “he is not really a character that is worth mentioning over.” “Why? Is he a bad person?” “Depends on how one sees it. He has some bad qualities, but not so bad overall.” That is the vaguest way to describe someone who is so closely blood related to her. Wait, he is related to her, right? Amaranth has been Nitiya’s progeny since the eighteenth century. If she has a brother, he would at least has to be an immortal (or at least partially so). And that only leaves about two options. “Is he like a progeny-brother, or a blood-related-brother?” he asks. “Blood related. We have been siblings since we were humans. We grew up together, and some can say that we are fairly close. No keep no secrets from each other. It has been quite a while since I last seen him though.” “When was the last time you saw him?” “A little bit before I was turned.” “So he was still a human back then, I assume? Does he know that you’re still alive?” “I don’t think so. I never contacted my old family after that. Doubt he will expect me to show up.” “Then why are you meeting him now? How do you even know that he is still alive?” Nitiya shrugs her shoulders. “Magic.” His maker is not entirely vampire. In fact, she is a hybrid, one of the rarest kind there is. Nitiya had been born with magic back when she was still mortal, having inherited it from her maternal side of the family. She was such a powerful being even back when she was human that she thought it would have been such a waste of resourceful ability to get rid of it, no matter how much she wished to be immortal. And thus she had purposefully sought out another half-vampire half-human hybrid in order to help her turn into a half-vampire half-witch hybrid. Do not be mistaken. The task was not easy, and Nitiya spend almost a decade trying to track one down. And when it was time for her to be turned, the half-vampire chickened out. And Nitiya had to resort to some trickery to coax him into doing so. His maker did not go into detail on that one, but knowing her, Amaranth bets that she probably had threaten or torture the poor guy into doing what she wanted him to do. Shaking the thought off, the boy focuses his attention back to his maker. Nitiya has been a lonely, individual being. She keeps everyone away, even when she looks so friendly in the outside. An anti-social pretending to be caring. Sometimes, he can not even help but to doubt her feelings towards him. Don’t get him wrong. Amaranth loves his maker with a mother and older sister he never had. He had been an orphan when he found her, wandering around aimlessly without purpose on his own, left alone to die without anyone to turn to. It was her to save his life, and eventually, became his whole life. He will follow her to the end of the world, if she so wish. His loyalty to her in unwavering, even though it can be rather lonely to love a Nitiya. She is too distrustful and cold. She seems to think that everyone is out to get her. She does not tell him anything, but somehow he has a feeling that something bad had happened to her, to make her act like this. And just when he thinks that his feelings are for nought, she would turn around and wrap him in a warm embrace. He knows that she will never abandoned him, and everything is right again. “You okay?” Nitiya pauses and turns back after leaping off to another rooftop across. Ranth leaps across too, following her footsteps. His jump is not as graceful as hers, but he had made a lot of improvement since a while back. “Yes, of course,” he smiles at her convincingly. Nitiya does not let anything put past her, and she lingers a little bit on him, just to make sure that he means it. She is so sweet when she does this, and Ranth can not help but to grin wider, genuinely this time. If his heart were still beating, he would have been able to feel its warmth. “Yes, everything is alright. You don’t need to overthink stuff,” he grips her hand reassuringly, before pressing his lips against her knuckles. She remains stoic, like a doll. No reaction again, it seems. His maker used to be so affectionate towards him, especially back when he was small. But that has decreased greatly ever since he grew up. Nitiya is not a short woman. He used to barely reach the line of her waist, but now he has become a head taller than her. So many years have passed since then. To break the awkward silence, he asks her instead, “Where’s your brother? Is he anywhere near?” “We should be able to reach him in a few minutes. Let’s go,” she tugs back her hand. They arrive into what seems to be a nightclub. Music is blaring so loudly that they can even feel its vibration from outside. At the entrance, they are checked by a female bouncer — though the skinny blonde barely looks intimidating. At least to Amaranth. She is taller than his maker slightly, but that might be because she is wearing a pair of six inch heels. She is dressed in a gothic getup, an intricate onyx necklace circulating around her long neck, a tight bodice wrapping her upper half, and she has eyeshadows lining around her eyes. In a certain angle, she might look a little bit like a slightly older version of Angelina Jolie, but one can barely tell in this getup. “Age?” the female vampire asks his maker, placing her hands on her hips in a questioning manner, her attitude rather disrespectful in his eyes. “Two and a half century,” Nitiya replies, disregarding the impolite notion, the edges of her lips twitching slightly to reveal her fangs. There is a newfound respect gleaming in her eyes when the blonde hears this, her back straightening up in respond. “Ah, sorry, my mistake. I can barely tell with us vamps. Hope you’re not offended.” Her tone still sounds insincere, though. “I mean, look at me. I almost look twenty years older than you, but I’m actually eighty years old in my vampire years.” “I don’t think so,” his maker says. “You look like you are thirty years older than me when you were turned, at least, but I’ll always be permanently seventeen.” Ranth wants to hit his forehead when he hears her reply. He knows that she probably does not mean it in an offending way, but Nitiya has always been a very literal being. The woman probably didn’t think her words through when she first opened her mouth, though. “Excuse me?” the blonde says offendedly. “And my progeny is two centuries old, so we’re clear,” Nitiya quickly finishes off and grabs his hand, pushing her the bouncer before blonde vamp can react. “You almost caused us trouble again,” Amaranth grins cheekily. “She’ll get over it,” Nitiya says, not looking at him. She hates it when she makes a mistake, and thus trying to act like she is not bothered by it by pretending not to care. This side of her is also adorable. They search through the crowd until her eyes settle on a blonde haired man sitting at the stage of the club, looking like he is a king on his own throne. The redhead heads towards him without a second thought, and he can feel many eyes glued on their backs as he follows her suit. He has a bad feeling about this. The male vampire is overestimating large, a foot taller than him. He can tell as much even while he is sitting, thanks to many decades of Nitiya’s profiling lessons. Muscles ripple through his clothes. He has a bored, almost lazy expression plastered on his face. His gaze is intense, his nose long, his lips full, his cheekbone high and his jaws clean cut. He is a looker, handsome in a brooding way. And his very icy blue eyes widen when his gaze settles on Ranth’s maker, most probably recognizing her. But the way he stares at Ranth’s maker so openly — it makes his heart tingle with irk. “Ian,” she breaks a genuine smile as the approach him, the rest of the crowd parts for her to pass through as soon as they see the receiving end of her breath-taking smile. “Tiya,” he speaks of her name, feeling breath knocking out of his lungs as well, though it is probably due to an entirely different reason. He stands up abruptly, his mass looking so threatening as the giant approaches his maker. In a second flat, he closes the remaining space between then and wraps his muscular arms around Nitiya’s small waist, pressing her breasts against his hard chest, squeezing her hard. “Nitiya, oh, Nitiya! Søsteren min! Hvordan har jeg savnet deg!” the blonde male exclaims excitedly in Norwegian. My sister! How I've missed you. They embrace for what seems like a long time, before he releases her. “How—” He is at a lost of words as he looks at her up and down, looking so relieved and bewildered at the same time. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you in ages! Wait, does that mean you’re a vampire too now?” He is still speaking in Norway, and so the crowd can only stare at them in confusion. Ranth doubts any other New Yorker in here can understand the language. “Ja, bror. Det er riktig,” she confirms him. Nitiya smiles at him reassuringly while her brother continues to stare at her in disbelieve. Something changes in his eyes — a realization, perhaps — before he suddenly shocks them both and leans down, pressing his lips against her. Amaranth can do nothing but stand in there like a fool, too abashed by the gesture as he watches his maker’s brother lock lips with his own sister. Wait, is this really happening? He knows that some siblings kiss, but this is beyond some familial gesture. The brute is full on lip-locking the stiffen redhead, and his intentions is beyond lust. What. The. Heck? He is just about to step up, before the female bouncer beats him to it. She zooms past them all so fast and hits the brute so hard, he is forced to release Nitiya and stumble back for a couple of feet until his back almost hits the wall. “Erik! What the hell?” she protests, bewildered, anger clearly written in her face like a jealous girlfriend. Who is she? His lover, perhaps? The blonde brute blinks a couple of times, eyes focusing, before finally speaking again, “I’m sorry. It has been so long. I just couldn’t help myself.” But his eyes are not looking at the gothic vamp when he speaks. No, he is staring at Nitiya longingly, looking like a lovesick puppy. If Amaranth did not know any better, he would have thought that he is some long lost lover of hers . . . or is he? The goth follows the path of his line of sight, and she throws Nitiya the meanest glare she can muster, jealousy clearly written in her eyes. Yes, must be lovers. “I don’t care who this b***h is. You can’t just kiss some random strangers!” It is not Nitiya, but the brute who looks offended from her outburst. He finally shifts his gazes at her, taking long, heavy strides towards the female blonde, his body towering over her as he looks down at her in deadly stares. “Do not disrespect her. She is not a stranger.” They might still be speaking in foreign language, but the guests can tell when the brute is pissed off. The woman has just offended the wrong vamp. The blonde woman does not seem to be someone that is willing to be pushed around easily, and she meets his glare challengingly in return. The guests grow uneasy, looking barely minutes away from fleeing the place when his maker suddenly decides to intrude. “Now, now, brother, let’s not ruin this reunion,” Nitiya gleefully steps in between them, speaking in English. “Brother?” the female blonde turns her head to her at the notion. “You’re his sister?” she asks in disbelief. “Why yes. My name is Nitiya. Pleased to meet you,” the redhead offers up her hand, as if the fight that had almost broke out never happened in the first place. The goth does not take her hand, instead keep staring at her suspiciously. No wonder. His maker is not known for her subtleties. While Nitiya tries to introduce herself, the brute she calls her brother side steps the goth woman and pulls the redhead back into an embrace, this time causing his maker’s eyes to bulge. Don’t tell him— Before the b***h decides to attack his maker again, Amaranth decides to step in as well. “Excuse me,” the boy says, wrapping his arm around Nitiya’s shoulders, pulling her to distance the woman from the brute for a few feet, “but I would really appreciate it if you don’t press that against her.” He gestures at the erection that is clearly straining underneath the blonde male’s pants, tightening around the material shamelessly. Lust temporarily forgotten, he glares back at Amaranth challengingly, though his tone sounds underestimating when he speaks to the boy, “And just who do you think you are . . .” Who is this kid who dares to take his dear sister away from him? He looks up and down at the skinny kid, before smiling triumphantly. “ . . . boytoy?” Amaranth looks like he is on the verge of growling back, but Nitiya chooses that moment to introduce the two men with each other. “Ian, this is my progeny, Amaranth. Ranth, as you can see, this is my brother, Ian.” “Progeny? This puny little thing?” “Not everyone can be as big as you are, Lillebror,” she says offending her boy. Ian, however, takes that as a completely different meaning. “That is true.” The lust in back in his eyes when he assesses her appreciatively, as if trying to make her squirm from the imprudence of his staring. “Are you sure he’s really your brother?” Ranth whispers to her ear in French. “I know that it does not seem like it at first,” she speaks back in the same language, “but he is also a redhead.” “This is not how a brother is supposed to react to his sister.” “And you wonder why I only seek him out now.” “He is out of the line. How could he—” “Lust commands after him, yes, but if you can see pass that, he is actually not so bad.” Ranth gives him an, “Are you kidding me?” look. So instead she tells him, “I’ve seen worst.” “Eldre søster,” Ian starts off, “you two aren’t the only ones who knows French.” Nitiya still looks calm, but Amaranth stiffens up a slightly in annoyance. “I do not approve of you,” the boy states. “Sadly, I do not care, nor are you in the position to claim so. In fact, it works the other way around.” He takes Nitiya away from the boy’s embrace and wraps her with his own arms, his waist pressed against his sister once more. But it is when he starts rolling his hips against her ass that she finally draws the line. “Um, I think that’s enough excitement for today,” Nitiya says, starting to show her discomfort of the prominently hard c**k, trying to put some distance in between them. One of his arms wrap tighter beneath her heavy breasts, feeling the weight when he lifts them slightly along the way. That causes the c**k to stir in his pants, trying to find its way at her entrance through their clothes from behind. “Oh, come on, eldre søster, it’ll be fun, just like old times,” he whispers huskily into her ear, arms preventing her from stepping away. “Ahem,” the goth fake-coughes decides to use this time to intrude whatever it is that is going on between the two. Ian/Erik glances her way with slight annoyance, the look on his face asking “What do you want?” in silence, but Nitiya appreciates the effort. “You haven’t introduce us,” she explains. “Pam, this is Nitiya, my blood-related sister. Nitiya, this is Pam, my progeny.” “Wow, really?” the redhead looks so excited that she manages to push Ian’s hold off of her hand approaches the other female vampire, taking her by the hands. “I never thought that Ian would ever had a kid, let alone taking in a progeny. It is very nice to finally meet you.” And then she seals with a hug. The female blonde is overwhelmed by the welcoming gesture that she barely knows what to make up of it. Amaranth can tell that she is not used to be so welcomed with opening warms like this. Nitiya still looks every ecstatic once she pulls away. Ian/Erik dismisses the crowd rudely, before leading all three of them back to his house. . . . . . Ian is wealthy, and he lives in a mansion just by the outskirts of the city, but Amaranth doubts that it can be compared to his maker’s own penthouse. In this house, Ian introduces them to someone new: his maker. Godric is pale, is the first thing they notice. His skin is so washed out of colour, it looks grey under the light. He looks like he has not been drinking blood for some time, and the sight concerns Nitiya — even though she just met her, her natural instincts usually takes over. She likes to pick broken things. Compared to his progeny, Godric is short, almost at the same height as the woman. His features are soft, like that of a child’s. His hair is dark brown and short, his eyes round, reflecting sincerity, his nose big, but his mouth small and full. His neck is as large as his head, and they can see some slight muscles showing through the plain white shirt he wears. Unlike his progeny, who looks more like a hungry s****l sentient reincarnated, this guy seems rather down to earth. “Hello, my name is Nitiya. Thank you for taking my little brother as your progeny. I know he can be a handful, but I am glad that he is in good hands,” she says shaking the guy’s hand. “So this is the sister I have heard much about. You’re welcome. I have to admit, he was rather a troublesome at first, but then again, I was not that much better. You can call me Godric.” He smiles at her, and for some reasons, Amaranth knows that he is going to become his rival in garnering his maker’s attention — much because the other guy looks like he can barely stand on his own feet. “I’m sorry to ask this, but are you okay? You don’t seem so well.” Nobody answers when she asks this, and they can sense that this is probably not a very welcomed topic in this house. Even Pam, Ian’s progeny, who has usually appeared uncaring, looks bewildered by this question. “I’m on a diet,” Godric explains. “He is killing himself,” Erik cuts in. “I do not wish to feed to kill.” “What is so wrong about it? We’ve done that countless times before.” “That was before. I’m a changed man now.” The two bicker, Godric explaining his reasons as patiently as ever to his progeny while Ian/Erik looks positively furious at his maker’s stubbornness. They can see the love and loyalty Ian feels towards his maker, but seeing Godric in this condition must be agitating for him. “Excuse me, if I may ask,” Nitiya raises her hand to intrude, “but why exactly are you not drinking?” “Because I don’t feel the need to anymore,” is Godric’s simple answer. “I tried the dieting thing before, but I never last more than a month,” she offers. “Oh, is that so?” Godric looks more impressed than anything else. A kindred spirit, they must have been. “I like to commence experiments, and that including on myself. But if I pushed myself too far, I usually reduce to my berserker state. Good thing I always do that in the safety of our home.” “Safe for everybody else but me. You almost drank me dry before,” Ranth adds. “Once! That was once! Besides, you took care of it,” Nitiya says defensively, her cheeks flush out of embarrassment. “Ah, this must be your prodigy,” Godric acknowledges the boy. “Yes, that he is.” Nitiya smiles and pats Ranth’s head. “Still treats me like a kid too,” Ranth mutters with slight annoyance, though she knows that he is just being playful. While the two interact, Ian and Godric watch them in awe. They have never seen maker and progeny interact they way they do, so lovingly and close, like an actually mother and child, or even siblings at times. . . . . . While Nitiya takes her time catching up to her younger brother, they do need to get back to their own home. Ian insists that they stay however, as the sun is almost approaching. Amaranth contemplates whether or not he should say anything, but Nitiya beats him to it by receiving the invitation. “Are you going to tell him?” Amaranth asks once they are in comfort of their guest room. The place is not bed for something that is supposed to be preoccupied by guests. In fact, it looks as luxurious as a master bedroom, with fully decorated details, a king-sized bed, a walk-in closet, and a big bathroom. The progeny is already lying in the bed, watching as his maker strips her clothing, changing into one of Pam’s nightgown. It is way too revealing on his maker, but he can not deny that she looks extremely appealing in that piece of clothing. Pam’s bust is not as big as Nitiya’s, but the redhead’s breasts are huge. Her breasts are so much bigger than what the nightgown can handle that more than half of them are spilling out from the material, looking like they are about to burst out. She really should not be wearing that, but Nitiya is one who can not help but take in a kind gesture. In her mind, she thinks that refusing to wear the change of clothes offered to her will be considered as an offence. Typical Nitiya. “Not yet,” she answers as she steps out of her bottom piece, before joining him in the bed. It is his turn to change now, and he strips down to nothing but his boxer. His dark hair and eyes is a stark contrast to his pale skin. His facial features still show some signs from his childhood years, but his body clearly has developed further since then. Nitiya trains her eyes on the sight of him carefully, noting the slight hint of muscles that the lines on his abs suggest, all the while down to the deep V shape that disappears beneath the band of his boxer. He clearly was not the scrawny kid she had saved from back then. “Why? Don’t you trust him?” he asks, making her shift her eyes back to his, who is completely disregarding the way she just saw him. “Er, to a certain extent, yes. But he can be rather greedy too, and I am concern that it will blind him from the truth.” “What is he gonna do? Take your blood by force and distribute it to a mass market?” Amaranth jokes as he climbs into the bed. But when she does not say anything, his face immediately turns into a deep scowl. “What? Are you kidding me? For real?” “I’m not gonna lie—” “Then what are we still doing here?” “Because I miss my brother,” she tells him honestly, and he pauses to look at her. Her face turns melancholy, as if in the verge of tears. “I know that he can be bad for me, but I miss my family. He is the only one in the world that is still alive, and I can’t just ignore his existence. Not anymore.” Amaranth takes a deep breath, looking away. She is is weakness, and his conscience can’t barely it to hurt her. If this is what she wants, then he will comply. “Alright, we stay. But if I see any funny business from him, I won’t hesitate to attack.” “Awe, thank you, Ranth dear. You’re so sweet.” She kisses his on the cheek. “But not that sweet.” He blushes a little bit, before deciding to lie down. She lies down next to him, arms and legs ready to cuddle by instinct. They lie still like a corpse, falling in slumber into a slumber. . . . . . A shout jerks Amaranth to wake. “What the f**k?” It is Ian who shouts. Ranth tries to ignore him, trying to get back to sleep. But before he can cuddles back against his maker, he feels a force suddenly pushing him away from the her, lifting him up from the bed so fast until his back collides against the wall behind him. A hand is pressed in a deadly grip around his neck, pushing him so hard up against the wall that he can not feel the floor supporting him beneath his feet anymore. “What the f**k do you think you’re doing?” Amaranth is still half-asleep when he replies with the obvious, “Sleeping.” Duh. That is apparently not the answer Ian is looking for, because the next thing he knows, he is slammed back into the wall once again. “I was nice enough to give you a separate room to sleep in next door. Why are you here instead? Explain yourself!” Before Ranth can say anything, Nitiya answers for the boy sleepily. “We are used to sleep together,” she says squeezing her eyes with her hands. “Dressed like this? Did you two f**k behind my back? In my own house?” Ian’s anger is illogical. He has his own keen sense of a vampire, and he should be able to tell that nothing like that happens in this room. “Ian, it’s not like that with us,” Nitiya says softly, still very much asleep. “Then explain to me why you had your breasts all pressed up against this brat’s arm!” “That’s just how I sleep. You know how much I like to cuddle.” “You could have asked me.” Hah! Amaranth wants to laugh. “Too bad you weren’t there for the past two hundred years.” That is also a wrong this to say, because the next thing they know, Ian is already to punch the boy’s face. He raises his fist, but before it can collide to one side of Amaranth’s face, the boy catches it, blocking his attack with a surprising strength — all the while looking so smug along the way. Frustrated, Ian applies more pressure to his first, but the boy still keeps a good hold on him without spending that much effort. The blonde groans and retrieves his fist, ready to launch once again, before a cold, stern voice interrupts. “Enough.” They all turn to see Godric standing in the doorway. “What is the meaning of this?” he demands his progeny, who is caught trying to beat up one of their guests. “I will not tolerate you attack our guest while I am still in this house,” Godric states with an authoritative tone, clearly displeased by the way Erik acts. “Godric, I—” “It’s alright,” Nitiya cuts him in, “Amaranth can handle himself.” Godric glances towards the lady, and his own eyes widen, unsure of where to stare at. “Nitiya, what happened to your clothes?” The woman/girl looks down on herself, only to discover that her nightgown is moments away from snapping in half, the fabrics already way too strained from the size of her bust. “Oh, it must have gotten shoveled around while I was asleep.” Godric nods, before stripping his own skirt in record time, only to place it around her front. “You should cover up,” he tells her, “or else you might provoke more than just your brother.” His voice has turned calm like his usual manner, but she can see the slight hint of fire that he tries to desperately hide. Nitiya does not comment on that, but instead thanking him for his gentlemen act. “Let’s go back to sleep,” Godric tells his progeny. “But master—” Ian sounds like he wants to say otherwise. “Now,” he says again, and that is the end of it. The two pair goes back to sleep, Amaranth finding comfort once more against his maker’s body.
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