Blood and Trust

WARNING: Sexual content and bondage.

Lot faces consequences and makes a decision.

London – 1844

I fell through the bedroom window covered in blood and hungry and staggered to my feet. Bran burst through the door and caught me round the waist before I could tumble into the hallway.

‘Millie’s safe,’ he whispered. ‘Josef is with her. You need to rest.’

I glared at him.

‘It was better than saying you look a fright.’

I leaned into him, shaking, cold, wet, and covered in blood. ‘I am a vampire.’

‘You should’ve summoned me,’ he said against my ear. ‘The magic works both ways.’ He bit his wrist and offered it to me.

I took two deep gulps. Warmth spread from my stomach and my shivering eased. I wanted more.

‘You’re not alone anymore,’ he whispered.

I tilted my face towards him and nuzzle his cheek. In my mind I cracked open door between us, the heat of his love was as real as the blood buzz, I pushed the door shut.

He helped me rinse away the dirt and blood in the wash bowl, peel off my filthy clothes, and pull on a nightdress so I looked a less like I’d been dragged through a hedge by rabid badgers.

I pushed him onto the chair by the washstand and straddled his lap. ‘I’m hungry.’

He grinned, threw off his shirt, and put his wrists together behind the chair. I strapped them with my belt. I kissed him deeply then worked my way along his jaw and down his throat.

He tilted his head, bearing his neck. ‘Do it.’

I licked his shoulder then bit.

It was dangerous, if I lost control he wouldn’t be able to stop me in time. His trust was intoxicating.

Bran’s arms flexed and the belt around his wrists creaked. I slid my hands down his arms and laced my fingers with his as I sipped from his shoulder. He breathed heavily near my ear and kissed where he could reach, shifting against me but I wouldn’t give him the right angle. Being hungry didn’t mean I had to play fair.

I finished, licked the blood away from the healing gouges and kissed his shoulder. I stretched out my arms, things popped back into place, my chest burned as bits knitted back together, my body turned hot with energy. Everything in place I arched back for no reason save his expression of desire.

He kissed the hollow at the base of my throat and pressed his face to my chest. I pushed him back. There he was, hair tousled, and chest bare. I traced my fingertips down his chest and he squirmed.

I smiled and touched my nose to his. ‘My beautiful Brandon.’

‘Might be inappropriate timing but could you… maybe…’ He glanced down.

‘Is that not your pistol?’ I moved against him.

He gritted his teeth.

My fingers played over the belt. ‘Do you want to touch?’

‘It’s more fun this way.’

I grinned and kissed him. ‘You’re wicked.’

‘You love it,’ he said.

I rested my face against the side of his. ‘I do.’

‘Be rough,’ he whispered.

‘My favourite.’ I unfastened his trousers and caressed my hands up his scarred back to grip his shoulders from behind, giving him time to change his mind.

I kissed him deep and rode him hard, biting and scratching in our fervour. He allowed me to take my pleasure from him but he was never passive, kissing and straining to meet me. I missed his hands on me but loved him asking for more, unafraid to say if he didn’t, until words were lost to pleasure.

I stayed for a moment breathing in the sweetness of his arousal then unbuckled his wrists and kissed the marks the belt had left. ‘Are you alright, chuckaboo?’

He nodded and rested his head against my shoulder to catch his breath. ‘Perfect.’

I nipped his ear. ‘You’re always safe with me, Brandon.’

He kissed me softly. ‘And you’re safe with me.’ He lifted me up, kicked off his trousers, and carried me to the bed.

I curled up against his side and rested my head on his chest. ‘Maybe you should put some clothes on.’

‘Five minutes,’ he murmured against the top of my head.

‘I’m trying to think of a delicate way to ask if you’re feeling better,’ I said.

‘Depends what you mean by better,’ he said. ‘I’m supposed to protect my children and I didn’t.’

I caressed his stomach. ‘All the things I know about what goes on in this city and I missed what our daughter was up to. If anyone failed it’s me.’ I kissed his chest. ‘But that wasn’t what I meant.’ I traced his nose with my fingertip. ‘I can read your mind in that regard.’

‘Oh, you meant…’ He blushed and glanced downwards.

I nodded.

He cleared his throat. ‘It seems to be doing the job… isn’t it?’

I kissed him. ‘Most definitely.’

‘It might not work all the time…’

‘Nothing works all the time,’ I said. ‘I just got stabbed in the chest.’

He pressed his face to the top of my head and sighed. ‘I’ll always come when you call me.’

‘I know,’ I murmured. ‘I’ve just got to let myself, in here.’ I tapped the side of my head.

He took my wedding band between his fingers and kissed my knuckle. I smiled at him.

Josef came in. I put my thigh across Bran’s groin but he made no more effort to cover up.

‘Millie’s sleeping, she’ll be fine,’ Josef said. ‘I have no doubt she’ll try it again.’ He pulled his shirt off and got onto the bed behind me. ‘She’s too much like her mother.’

I elbowed him, gently. ‘Shove off.’

He chuckled and kissed my shoulder. ‘You get stabbed in the chest and can still fuck like a piston.’

‘That has to be the least sexually arousing description I’ve ever heard,’ I said.

He snuggled closer and put his arm around us. ‘I had plenty of time to think about it while I listened.’

Bran laughed and smacked his arm. ‘Dick.’

‘A hard one.’

‘Liar.’ I chuckled. ‘Don’t you have a bed to go to?’

‘I like this one,’ he said. ‘I haven’t forgot the promised defilement.’

‘Are you hoping I’ll fuck you like a piston with my magic vagina?’


We all laughed then went quiet. My blood buzz faded and Bran’s fingers caressing back and forth along my thigh lulled me. I laced my fingers with Josef’s and wrapped our arms around Bran, drawing Josef tighter to my back.

‘I’m going to kill Elizabeth for this,’ I murmured.

‘I know,’ Bran said.

Read more episodes of Nine Shillings, or read Lot’s first adventure, Victorian Mistress, here.

Nine Shillings and Victorian Mistress are also available on Wattpad.


Published by Jesse

I'm a writer and academic specialising in fantasy fiction and creative writing theory. I'm allergic to pretentiously talking about fiction and aim to be unashamedly ‘commercial’. Surely all fiction is commercial anyway, or what’s the point in publishing it?

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