when I’m coming and feeding at the same time…fuck it was the best feeling in the world. I used to think love was until it weakened me. Or rather, the lack of reciprocated love had. Too much loss and pain could do that to you. Make you bitter and cold. I had never loved anyone the way I loved Camille. And I never wanted to again.
So the parties were for my amusement. For my entertainment. When the reality of my existence was too much to bear, the exhilaration and beauty of painted faces, glittered skin, and intoxication was what I craved. Sometimes more than anything else. But blood was better than love. Blood was bonding. As was death and it did not taste the same anymore. Neither did the booze or the women. All of it had lost its shine and luster. But I was afraid of who I’d be if I stopped any of it.
I headed downstairs to see my penthouse springing to life. The scent of garlic and puff pastry wafted through the air. Staff buzzed around setting up food stations and opening bottles of wine. The guests would be arriving soon. And to their delight, I had pulled out all the stops. I needed extra distractions tonight to keep me from remembering the anniversary of her human death. I couldn’t let myself go down memory road again. It would only lead to destruction—of myself and those around me. It was one hundred years ago, but it felt like yesterday. One of the downfalls of living forever.
Enzo arrived with the Dolce Sale staff and sent them directly into the kitchen to load up their trays with flutes of sparkling wine and hors d’oeuvres. I didn’t bother to greet them. I wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries and small talk just yet. Instead, I walked to the glass ledge of the terrace and took in the view of the city and wondered how many women would try to end up in my bed tonight. Maybe I’d let them all have a piece of me. Would that be enough to help me forget?
Within minutes, the first of my guests started to arrive and I headed over to them, mustering up all my charm and sex appeal on the way. A lanky blonde, accompanied by some greasy financial guy, strutted up, meeting me half way. She blew air kisses and fluttered her eyelashes. “Ozi, what a fabulous home you have.”
I flashed her a toothy grin. “It’s more of a lion’s den than a home, bella,” I teased. “But I’ll take it. Go see Max over there at the bar. Tell him I sent you.” I winked and I swear her nipples hardened instantly. Fuck, this was so easy.
The string quartet had set up on the terrace and had begun playing. They were the best in the industry, I was told. While their violins and flutes blasted out, making top forty hits sound like classical masterpieces, the city lights sprawled out behind them. It was like a page out of a magazine or a dark fairytale. The penthouse was enormous, it was hard to believe the owner lived here all by himself.
I wound in and out of the glittering crowd in awe. Every face I passed looked like it had been photoshopped. If only my friends in Maplewood could see this, they wouldn’t believe it. I barely did. These people didn’t exist in real life. But here they were, in the flesh. They were gorgeous and they knew it. I weaved in and out unnoticed. They took the flutes of sparkling Ozi wine without so much as a nod or facial acknowledgement. They were used to pretending staff were invisible. I actually liked it. It kept me from having to make idle small talk with strangers.
Once everyone had a glass and a decent helping of small bites, I and another server stood alert by the floor to ceiling French doors that separated the living room from the terrace, now wide open for foot traffic to pass through. I breathed in the crisp fresh air, listened to the sounds of car horns and sirens erupting from down below. We were thirty floors up and this view of the city was even more spectacular than the one from my apartment. It was breathtaking.
I looked across the terrace at all of the too perfect faces and froze. The most beautiful man I’d ever seen in my life was just a few feet away. He laughed