Filthy Rich Vampire: Chapter 1

“What year is it?”

I blinked as I raised my hand to shield my eyes. Daylight assaulted me through the windows, making it impossible to see. Still, a few things were apparent:

The world had not ended.

Despite this, I was awake.

And someone had opened the blinds.

There was only one soul who knew where I kept the remote control for the window shades–the only person I could trust. Someone who knew that waking me was not only stupid, but dangerous. Someone who’d seen me take off someone’s head for doing it.

And she’d opened the blinds, anyway.

If my assistant had disturbed me, there had to be an excellent reason. At least, there better be.

Celia moved noiselessly around the room as the blinds finished rising to reveal floor-to-ceiling windows. Light sparkled on the ceiling, dancing to the rhythm of the waves outside. Quiet. Peaceful. The only sound came from the crashing surf. I was utterly alone. That was the way I preferred it. People didn’t bother me here–except for Celia, apparently. She had not only woken me up, but now she carefully skirted around my bed. She knew better than to be within reach of a vampire who hadn’t had a warm meal in a couple of decades.

“I’m not going to bite,” I assured her.

Celia snorted and maintained her distance. “I’ve heard that before, so I think I’ll wait until I’m sure your gentlemanly side has kicked in.”

“That could take a while.” I grimaced, rubbing the back of my neck with my palm. I wasn’t feeling benevolent at the moment, not after my rude awakening.

“I have no doubt that’s true.” She busied herself by arranging items on a silver tray.

A growl vibrated in my chest, and I gritted my teeth to contain my burgeoning annoyance. “Why am I awake?” I demanded. “And what fucking year is it?”

“I’m not talking to you until you’re less grouchy.” She didn’t bother to look up from her task. Her silvery-white hair fell over her shoulder, blocking me from seeing her face. But I heard the grin she kept hidden. I’m glad she was having fun.

I tried a more polite approach. “What year is it, please?”

“It’s 2021, sir.” She turned a sweet smile on me. I knew better than to trust it. Celia could rip a man’s heart from his chest without breaking a nail. I’d watched her do it–more than once.

“Christ, I was hoping to get a few more decades in.”

Her lips pinched together, erasing the smile, but she didn’t respond. She simply shrugged her slight shoulders as though nothing was out of the ordinary. I studied her for a moment, trying to get some clues on what I’d missed while I’d been out. But there was nothing remarkable about her appearance. She looked exactly as she had a couple dozen years ago. The scar that extended down one side of her face, a gift from a former lover a lifetime ago, remained uncovered. She’d hidden it as a mortal but wore it proudly as a vampire. She called it proof that she had survived and a warning to anyone that might hurt her in the future. It was one of the reasons I trusted her. She didn’t bother to hide her past or who she was now. She owned it.

But despite that trust, she was keeping something from me now. I could feel it.

That didn’t bode well.

I moved to sit up and nearly ripped an IV from my forearm. I glanced at the crimson stream filtering down the tube and sighed heavily. It was a thoughtful gesture on her part but further proof that my nap was over. I untangled myself as best as I could and rested against my bamboo headboard while I waited for the transfusion to finish. It should cut the edge off any lingering hunger, which might help my irritability over the situation.

Somehow, I doubted it.

Now fully awake, I turned my attention to the turquoise waters lapping against the house. Not that it was a house, exactly. My private residence took up an entire island near Key West but was in international waters. So, unlike the Keys, the island was outside the reach of any government. It was an intentional choice as well as my way of sending a message to everyone I knew:

Leave me the fuck alone.

I’d made the entire island my sanctuary. I had built my bedroom to jut over the water, three walls surrounded by nothing but the ocean’s vast, unending blue. The rest of the island was as large as a fully functioning resort, and a dedicated group of vampires and humans lived on the three hundred acres for most of the year, vacating only for hurricane season. It was relaxing here, a luxury I suspected I should enjoy while I could. Celia had to have a damn good reason for waking me up.

“Anything happen while I was out?” I tried to make conversation, hoping she would finally reveal something.

“A fair amount. There’s a dossier of major events, the last four presidents and various heads of state, and this morning’s paper.” She must have decided I was no longer a bite risk, because she placed the silver tray next to me in bed. She turned to inspect the blood bag feeding into my arm. “This is empty. Should I get another one?”

I shook my head. The older I got, the less blood I needed after waking. Picking up the Wall Street Journal, I skimmed the headlines. My lips turned down with each bit of news. Reaching for the dossier, I found it even more depressing. “How did that moron get elected?” I flipped the page. “Or that one?”

I dropped the papers on the bed. The eighties had been a shit circus: too much hair, too many shoulder pads, and way too much cocaine. It had suited my siblings just fine, along with plenty of other vampires. But I’d needed a break. From the parties. From my family. From everything. I’d meant it when I told Celia to let me desiccate in my master suite until the apocalypse was at hand.

I’m not sure why she thought I was joking about that.

Stretching my arms over my head, I pushed free of the sheets. I preferred to sleep in the nude, which now gave me a chance to see that the blood drip had already done its job. I ran my palm over my stomach. The hard slab was as stacked and defined as it had been when I’d retired. Flexing my toes, I found my quads and calves had already regained their considerable muscle mass. There was no hint that I’d been sleeping for the better part of three decades, except maybe for the lingering erection inspired by my dreams. I’d been chasing a woman. It was the only dream I remembered having. I never caught her. The result was blue balls that had lasted decades and a hard-on that was as annoying as it was painful.

If Celia noticed, she didn’t comment. She was good that way. It was another mark in her favor.

“So, about my undesirable awakening…” I dredged up my most charming smile. It hung crookedly on my lips from lack of use.

“Your mother has summoned you home.” She blustered on, ignoring the sour change to my expression. “I’ve arranged the jet, but I should–”

Before she could finish the statement–or explain what my mother needed with her eldest son–the door to my room swung open on its hinges. A familiar figure stood in the doorway, grinning maniacally and giving no sign decades had passed since we last saw each other. Sebastian Rousseaux was not my brother by birth but by blood. It left us as far apart physically as we were in temperament. The last time I had seen him, he had bleached, spiky hair. He’d been leaning into the punk rock scene. Sebastian had adored every depraved moment of the eighties. Humans prone to excess were easy to manipulate, and vampires–who it turned out liked cocaine as much as they loved opium–found it difficult to resist.

And no one loved drugs and humans more than Sebastian.

His hair had grown longer and faded to its natural blond in the intervening years. He’d given up the earring and dog collar that had been his signature look back then but kept the motorcycle jacket. He wore it now over a black T-shirt and loose, worn Levi’s.

I observed all of this within a second of the door flying open. Sebastian might look different, but his cheekiness was fully intact because a half-dressed woman leaned precariously against him.

“Good morning, brother,” Sebastian called cheerfully. “I brought you a blonde.”

The girl’s head lolled a little, and she blinked dreamily over at me. She was conscious. Mostly. Her gaze skimmed down my body appreciatively until it reached my groin and locked on like a heat-seeking missile. Eyes widening, her mouth rounded as she stared.

“I appreciate the thought,” I said dryly. I tossed the sheet back over my lap to block her view of my dick. “But I’m not hungry.”

“I doubt that.”

I ignored his opinion. “Why are you here?”

Sebastian didn’t answer.

It was never a good sign when I woke from a long sleep to find him in my house. Or any of my siblings, for that matter. He shifted the woman to his other arm like a doll. Her arms flailed out, and she clung to his shoulder.

“I see you opted for a transfusion,” he said, lips turning down as Celia passed him with the spent blood bag. “But judging from that tent pole between your legs, you might need her for other matters.”

“That won’t be necessary.” But I might as well have been talking to a brick wall because Sebastian was already murmuring to the woman.

“Tell him how much you love to go for a ride.”

“I love to ride,” she said in a dreamy voice. “Can we go for one now?”

“See? The flesh is willing.” Sebastian moved into the room. He didn’t rush like most vampires his age, who saw their speed as an advantage. No, my brother had perfected the art of taking his time. When he finally reached the bed, he nudged her toward it.

She dropped onto all fours, crawling toward me, but I held up a hand.

“As touching as your welcome gift is, Celia was in the middle of telling me why the fuck I’m awake.”

“Allow me to share the good news,” Sebastian told Celia, who tipped her head in agreement. But while Sebastian’s grin remained, her lips formed a grim slash.

Anything that amused my brother and worried Celia was likely to piss me off.

“I’ll check in with the airfield to make sure we’re on track.” She hurried out.

I’d never seen her avoid anything with such utter anxiety. I didn’t understand it. Unless there had been a financial catastrophe, the Rousseaux family name still meant open doors and swiftly snipped red tape. The jet would be ready to take me to whatever private residence my mother currently occupied as soon as I summoned it. Our family had over fifty properties spread throughout the world, the results of a real estate portfolio that stretched back several centuries. We employed private pilots, owned multiple airplanes, and could buy whatever we wanted by simply snapping our fingers. So Celia didn’t need to check with the airfield. She was putting a safe distance between us before my brother dropped a bomb.

This was going to be bad fucking news.

“What does mother want now?” I asked him as soon as Celia had left. The blonde girl lay down at the foot of the bed and fell asleep, looking a bit like a house cat. He must have fed her a fair bit of vampire venom before bringing her here. She was stoned out of her mind.

“Always straight to business.” Sebastian dropped into a linen chair by the bank of windows. “Not even a little interested in what I’ve been up to?”

“Women and drugs, I assume.” Probably a few men, for that matter. But I didn’t bother to say it aloud. Sebastian’s appetite was always open to new experiences, as was his bed.

“I had another band for a bit.” Sebastian tilted his head thoughtfully. “Mostly because of the women and drugs. Then again, everyone had a band in the nineties. It was like the sixties all over again.”

“I’m sorry I missed it,” I bit out. I was not, in fact, sorry. Immortality hadn’t gifted Sebastian with musical talent. Thanks to his obsession with the art, I’d sat through a couple of failed symphonies and one horrible opera. Punk had been okay for him since it mostly involved screaming.

“Oh, and these are big now.” He tossed a small black object toward me.

I caught it in my right hand and studied it for a second. When I turned it over, an image lit up along with a display of the time and neat rows of small icons. “What is it?”

“Phone,” he explained.

“This is a phone?” I shook my head. “That’s what humanity has been up to? Tell me that they at least cured cancer.”

“It’s also a camera,” Sebastian continued, sprawling in the chair. “And the internet. Wait, fuck, was that even a thing when you took your little nap?”

It must be show-and-tell hour. I dropped the phone on the bed. It felt fragile, but I doubted it was too complicated to figure out. Later, I’d get a less narcissistic rundown of the major political, technological, and cultural events I’d missed from Celia. For now, I needed to steer Sebastian’s ego in the right direction.

“So, why are you here?” I asked.

His mouth curved into a feline smirk. “Mother wants to catch up.”

“I better not be awake because mommy had a bout of sentimentality.” Those never ended well. The last time the entire Rousseaux clan was in the same city, we’d drawn local attention. By the time we’d realized it, it was too late.

“Oh no, it is an official summons.” The smile grew wider, displaying a dazzling set of white teeth that could disarm and dismember within seconds. “I’ll give you a hint. It’s been about fifty years since the last one.”

I picked up the phone again and looked at the screen again. Under the time was a date. I groaned when I read October. Fifty years. October. It was all adding up. I didn’t know why I thought I would get out of it. Nothing could stop it.

I’d gone to sleep expecting humanity to put the final nail in Earth’s coffin while I was out. They’d been heading toward total devastation at a breakneck speed back then. I couldn’t stand watching it any longer. But now that I was here, not dead, facing the looming threat of the vampire social season instead, I wished they had. Armageddon would have been more fun.

“Fuck,” I groaned. “Just stake me. I’ll write you a note that says I asked you to.”

“Cheer up, brother.” His eyes glinted, which only made me dread what he was about to say more. “It’s not just any season this year. The Rites are being revived. You know what that means.”

Now I understood my brother’s smugness. It wasn’t just any social season. Not for the Rousseaux family. Not for me. The Rites changed everything. While vampires held a social season every fifty years to catch up and show off the wealth and numbers they’d accumulated since the last season, the Rites were more like an archaic mating ritual. Traditionally, they were held every couple of centuries. During the Rites, vampires dined with–and on–familiars, the descendants of once-powerful witches. Both groups came seeking matches that might produce new pureblood vampires, encourage alliances, and pad already swelling egos. It had fallen out of fashion by the twentieth century. It appeared something had changed while I was asleep.

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” I warned him. “Someday, it will be your turn.”

“I figure I’ve got a couple hundred years unless you fuck this up.”

I overlooked the barb, but ignoring the summons from our mother would be impossible. We both knew that.

“A Rousseaux answers when duty calls,” I reminded him, even as I reached for the blonde, suddenly interested in a distraction.

“Still better you than me. I’ll leave you two alone.” Sebastian stood and walked toward the open door. He stopped just short of it. “Try not to drain her. I promised her I wouldn’t kill her. See you at home.”

He left as she climbed onto my lap. I didn’t know if I was going to bite her or fuck her. Judging by the way the woman craned her head, she was ready for anything. She was pretty, in an artificial way. But there was altogether too much of, well, everything. Maybe Sebastian was still chasing the excess of the eighties, or perhaps he thought it might bridge the gap between when I had gone to sleep and the current year. Either way, I didn’t care. She was willing, and her blood was warm.

I barely processed as she sank onto me and began to moan. I had other problems to worry about, and even a pretty blonde riding my cock wasn’t enough to take my mind off them. They had enacted the Rites. That meant it was worse than tedious parties and pissing contests. There were strings attached. It had been at least two hundred years since the last time that had been necessary. Our older sister had been alive then, and the duty had fallen on her to attend the balls and orgies and all the general mayhem the elite of vampire society could concoct in the name of matchmaking. Now it was my fucking turn.

I, Julian Rousseaux, had to take a wife.