Chapter 2

Mr. Harris, Miss Vaughn, and the young Pye boy, a tall and sturdy youth on the cusp of manhood, shuffled out of Henri’s room, in the pink of health despite their lowered reservoir of blood. Henri dabbed his mouth and discreetly licked away a few stray drops around his mouth. “Miss Vaughn’s Victoria sponge is exquisite. Would you like a slice?”

Mariana didn’t hesitate to answer this time. “Yes, please!”

“How large a slice?” Henri winked at her and flashed a charming, fanged grin. “I doubt you would enjoy my portions.”

“A slice this big,” she said, holding her finger a few inches apart.

He nodded approvingly. “A good hearty serving. You’re far too thin.”

Her hands suddenly felt cold, and the urge to hide reared its head. This whole situation was madness, but what was especially mad was the way she envied him and wanted to please him. She was too thin, not curvy at all. He must think her unwomanly, dressed in flannels and wool and coarse leather rather than silk and taffeta and kid. Mariana lowered her head and bit her lower lip, stifling her shame, her desire.

“Mariana, dear girl, are you unwell?” This predator, her born and fated enemy, touched her shoulder and spoke with clear concern in his voice.

She shook her head. “No, no, I’m a Slayer. I’m always well.”

He gave her a doubtful look, but said nothing. He handed her the plate quietly, then took the rest of the cake for himself and dove in enthusiastically. Mariana froze as she watched him eat.

Henri ate with the kind of passion she imagined an artist would use to paint or an actor would summon before stepping on stage. His appreciation was musical, a soft symphony of little pleased groans and sighs, and he shut his eyes in delight.

“I’ve never seen anyone enjoy their meal so much. I suppose I never had the kind of food that called for such enjoyment,” she said after a minute or two. Quietly, shamefully, she added, “I suppose that’s why I’m too thin.”

“Happily, that state is easily remedied.” He tapped her cheek, and she looked up at him in surprise. He took the opportunity to put a morsel of pastry to her lips. She accepted it, swallowed it, looking into his gold-flecked eyes. Being fed by him felt unexpectedly intimate, and the thought of feeding him in turn left her feeling fluttery. “What do you think? Lovely, non?” He took a much larger chunk and popped it into his mouth.

“You don’t need to eat at all,” she said abruptly. He nodded and looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to arrive at her point. Mariana’s cheeks heated under his gaze. “Why do you ask for all this? You barely drink enough blood for a brand-new vampire.”

His lips curled into a smile. “Let me show you how I manage that need – as a farmer instead of a hunter.” He stood, and smoothed his fine linen shirt over the huge swell of his belly. “Come along then.”

Mariana fully saw his body for the first time. His gut hung to his thighs, every line visible through his fitted black trousers, and jiggled with every step. Over his shirt, he wore a robe, which strained over the fat of his back. The robe was made of rich burgundy silk or satin – Mariana had little enough experience with either to be certain which it was – and was lavishly embroidered in the style of Chinese art; phoenixes and chrysanthemums dancing over his frame in red, black, silver, and gold. It clung to the bulging fat of his arms, small rolls sagging over his elbows and thick creases across his biceps. His body was baroquely ornamented with flesh, and filled her with wordless longing.

Henri guided Marianna through the darkness of the house, out to the back. A lone cow stood, chewing, half asleep. “One cow a week and a few pints here and there satisfy my need for sustenance. The food satisfies my need for pleasure.” He shot her a glance, and spoke the word ‘pleasure’ with a sinfully inviting edge to his voice.

“Pleasure is a need?” She’d intended to scoff, but it came out almost plaintively.

For the first time in her life, she received a putting look, and it was from a Vampire of all people. “It is more important to me than most, but yes. I believe that pleasure, joy, sweetness, is a need.” The cow lowed softly. “Ha, in a rush, Bessie?”

The familiar soft sound of fangs popping from his gums hissed in the night. “There’s no need to watch this. Go back and enjoy some cake, I will return in a moment and perhaps we can listen to the gramophone.”

In some senses he lived grimly, drinking from livestock, hiding alone in abandoned buildings, in others, he lived in luxury. A gramophone! “I’d like to watch, if you don’t mind,” she said.

“Not at all,” he replied with a small bow. That little gesture made his belly sway fetchingly. He was as round and pale as the moon that lit this little tableau. The cow mooed again and looked over at Mariana with dull, calm eyes.

Henri wasted no time or energy. He didn’t torture the cow or engage in some of the theatrics she’d seen from other vampires. He simply sank his fangs into the animal’s neck and drank. It made a pained sound, but didn’t struggle or protest. Whatever spell Henri cast, it was clearly quite effective on both man and beast.

A dribble of blood fell from the corner of his mouth, but otherwise, he drank neatly. What Mariana hadn’t thought of – though it was obvious in hindsight – was exactly how much blood a cow had. His belly looked fuller with every gulp, and the cow was far from drained.

She thought he would stop once full, but it seemed they had wildly different definitions of what ‘full’ meant. He kept drinking, gorging himself, on blood, and his gut swelled larger and larger. He adjusted his grip as the cow became weak, and fell to his knees next to it.

A ripping sound caught Mariana’s ear. She stepped closer and saw his shirt, his fine, soft linen shirt, worth more than her whole wardrobe, ripping down the center. His fat pale flesh bulged through the gap, bursting over the waistline of his pants like rising dough. Her heart pounded. His trousers looked so tight! She wouldn’t be able to slip a finger betwixt the fabric and his flesh, but by God, she’d love to try.

His belly hypnotized her, and it kept growing. The muscles of his throat worked constantly, gulping down the beast’s lifeblood, while the heavy boulder of his gut hung lower. The vampire made a low, growling groan of satisfaction, a sound that made Mariana shudder. A hunger of her own surged.

The cow was unconscious and close to death. Henri redoubled his efforts and sucked deeply at the animal’s neck. As he swallowed the last of it, the buttons of his pants gave way, freeing his huge belly entirely. It fell, round as a pumpkin, pale as cream, and softer than a cloud, onto his thighs.

He fell back on his haunches, his legs wide to accommodate how swollen he was, bloated as a tick. He sighed happily, and rubbed his overstuffed belly with a contented smile. Blood smeared his chin, and dribbled down his bare chest, over his lush breasts, and onto his mountainous gut. His fangs slipped back into his gums, looking once again like merely sharp canines.

It was half-again as big as it had been before this course of his evening meal, a massive taut sphere. Mariana felt as if she couldn’t breathe. Every moment of her life prior to this felt unimportant, no matter how many lives she’d saved, vampires she’d killed, anything and everything was merely a prelude to this moment.

Was this joy? Was this pleasure? Was it lust, or love, or something else entirely? Her whole body pulsed with desire, and she felt so dizzy she might also fall to her knees. Nothing she’d learned or experienced had prepared her for this.

Henri seemed to be oblivious to her state. He struggled to his feet, burdened by the condition of his gut, grunting as he rose. “Delicious,” he said, swaying slightly, blood drunk and truly sated. “Not elegant, but a fine meal.” He took a step and stumbled, laughing. Mariana’s arm shot out to catch him, a Slayer steadying a vampire, preventing harm.

His warmth and the supple softness of his fat made her consternation worse. He stumbled against her, his full, bloated weight crashing against her slight frame. Her strength held them both up, but he was so close, too close!

Not close enough.

Henri’s head lolled forward, toward her, and she heard him sniff at her, once twice, and then, to her horror, the sound of his fangs emerging once again.

“Ma chére, that was uncouth of me,” he said, suddenly sober and full of concern. He took a step back and covered his mouth. His hands warmed her shoulders, and though she couldn’t raise her eyes, she could feel his gaze. “Here I am, behaving like a callow youth just turned.”

She trembled, not from fear, and peeked up at him through her lashes. “I liked it when you fed me,” she said. “I could feed you. If you’re not too full.”

A chubby finger lifted her chin so he could look her in the eye. “I don’t know that I’ve ever been too full. You don’t mean the cake upstairs,” he said quietly. She shook her head. A small smile blossomed on his face. “Do you truly mean it?”

She nodded, whispering, “Yes.”

His arms, strong and fat, pulled her against him in a lovers’ embrace, and he gently, tenderly, tilted her head to rest on the plump swells of his chest. Her bare throat felt chilly when he swept her hair back, but his lips felt warm. He kissed her jaw, once, twice, then plunged his teeth into the flesh of her neck.

It hurt. That didn’t surprise her – she’d been bitten before – but she didn’t expect a rush of bliss. It was as if his mouth was pressed not to her neck, but between her thighs. She cried out in surprise and wrapped her arms as far as they could go around him, sinking her hands between the lush rolls of his sides.

Then, he stopped. His eyes were closed and he wore a serene expression as he licked his lips clean of her blood. “Thank you, ma chérie, you are exquisite and so generous,” he said, tracing a looping line over her cheek. “It was not too painful? Did it satisfy your curiosity?”

“It wasn’t.” He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “It wasn’t too painful and… I didn’t ask out of curiosity.”

Henri gave her a knowing grin. “Did you find it pleasurable?” Mariana’s nod was barely perceptible. His arms tightened around her, pressing her into his bulk. “A Slayer’s life has so little pleasure, noon?”

“I’ve eaten better in the past day than I ever had before. Did you know that I can’t remember if I ever had cake before last night?”

His expression was open horror. “Ma petite douce, that is a far grimmer existence than I had imagined.” He caught one of her hands and kissed the back. “Come back upstairs. Let me give you sweetness upon sweetness.”

All of this was so far from everything she’d known. Her mortal enemy was promising her happiness and showing her tenderness that her Watchers and guardians had denied. Mariana was destined to be a killer, not a fine maiden fated for love and joy. She almost shook her head, almost took to her feet to flee, but if this was wrong, why did it feel more right than anything else?

He took a step toward the building, holding her hand in his plump palm. She froze for another few breaths, then took her first, faltering step after him.