ch33z3grits

[ch33z3grits]

Crimson Obsessions | A Terry Richmond Vampire Series

pairing: Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond x Justine Skye as Camille DeWaterson

warnings: 18+ mdni, heavy angst, parental issues (especially daddy issues), mentions of sexual coercion, description of panic attacks, CRASHING OUT, dark romance, manipulation, possessiveness/obsessiveness, mentions of arson

word count: 11,953

a/n: ngl this part has a lot going on y'all 😭 but stuff is really hitting the fan now! i rushed editing because i'm working for the rest of the night, so pls forgive any mistakesss. Enjoy! Also, shout out to all those who comment and reblog 🥹🫶🏾 i greatly appreciate it

Terry's song: Floor 555-XXXTENTACION | Camille's song: I'm Tired-Labrinth, Zendaya

Pt. Seven

Terry

Terry seemed stoic as he looked around the unassuming bar, but a dull anxiety twisted in his chest. The cryptic message he received the night before, from someone claiming to be a friend, had gnawed at him all day. His mind went through endless scenarios as he sat in back-to-back meetings with Houston's top attorneys. He barely registered the names and faces around him, his thoughts consumed with concern about who he could possibly be meeting. Was it a set-up? Was it just bullshit? He couldn’t wait for 7:00 PM to arrive so he could finally wrap his mind around the situation.

But now, the time had finally come. He slid into a booth, his eyes briefly darting to the clock on the wall. 6:40. Twenty minutes early, just the way he liked it. He didn’t want to walk into any more surprises. To distract himself, he tapped away at his phone. But his attention shifted as he sensed someone approach his table. At first, he glanced up lazily, thinking that it was probably a waiter or another patron. But his eyes did a double take when he recognized the familiar cut of the woman’s hair. His pulse quickened in surprise, but he kept his composure as she slid into the seat across from him.

It was Kali. Camille’s doting, loyal best friend. Someone Terry had crossed paths with only a handful of times. Since receiving that message, Terry had spent countless hours turning over possible identities in his mind, trying to predict who the mystery person might be. But he had never once considered her. Now, as she sat across from him, he couldn’t help the storm of questions flooding his mind: How did she get my number? Why all the secrecy? What does she know about me and Camille?

She gave him a partial smile as she set her bag next to her, prompting Terry to slide his phone into his pocket.

“Terry, it’s good to see you again,” she said, folding her hands in front of her. Terry quickly analyzed her body language and demeanor. Although friendly, she was keeping her guard up. Her no-nonsense attitude was evident in the minor stiffness of her shoulders and the seriousness of her eyes. Her smile was polite, but it also held a quiet intensity. This isn’t just a conversation, Terry thought. It’s an interrogation. He tilted his head, letting his curiosity crack through his facade. “It’s good to see you too, Kali. Forgive me if I’m jumping ahead, but what is this about?”

She drummed her fingers on the table slightly, never breaking eye contact with him.

“I know you're probably wondering why I had to be anonymous when I reached out,” she began. “But I needed to see if my gut was right. I needed to see if you really have feelings for Camille.” She didn’t wait for him to respond. “Honestly, Terry... I just want the best for my friend,” she said, her voice softening. “She’s such a sweet girl who deserves someone who will treat her the way she deserves to be treated. And from what I’ve seen, that might be you.” Terry almost smirked.

“You probably didn’t realize it,” she continued, her eyes narrowing slightly, “but I saw the way you two were at the hospital. The way you looked at each other. All that unspoken tension. I even noticed how you kissed her hand.” She lowered her voice, the words taking on a more confidential tone.

Terry clenched his jaw at the mention of the hand-kissing. He should have been more aware of his surroundings that day, but he was too caught up in his mistake. The memory of that moment, the tenderness in his touch, the closeness between him and Camille, made him feel vulnerable. Please don’t use this against me, he thought.

“That’s how I got your number, by the way,” she added. “You wrote it down on her visitor sheet.” She paused, taking a slow sip of the water a waiter had brought earlier, her eyes still locked on his. 

“I guess what I’m trying to say,” she resumed, “is that I like you for her. But that’s just based on what I’ve seen so far. In reality, I don’t really know you. So I’m here to see if helping you out is worth it. If it’s the right thing for me to do.” 

Terry’s initial surprise morphed into respect. He leaned back slightly in his seat, letting her words settle. She had come at him with such directness, such unflinching confidence. It wasn’t easy to impress him so quickly, but Kali had done it with grace and precision. Terry’s posture softened. He wasn’t worried anymore. He was more than capable of getting Kali’s blessing.

Terry folded his arms across his chest and leaned forward. His voice was calm but laced with a hint of amusement. “I gotta say, Kali,” he began, “I respect your approach.” He leaned in just a fraction more. “Please, ask away. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

Kali hummed thoughtfully. “I’ve done my homework on you,” she said, her tone remaining serious but laced with a hint of admiration. “I know the basics. Your military background, your golden-boy status in the legal world, and the wealth you’ve accumulated from your various businesses. But what really interests me is where your mind is when it comes to Camille.”

She leaned in just a little more. “So, let me ask you this. In a perfect world, where Camille wasn’t engaged to that motherfucker Aston, what would your intentions be with her?”

Terry couldn’t help but let a soft chuckle escape. His thoughts shifted to a world where Camille was free, where no one stood between them. The idea was a fantasy he had imagined more than once.

“In that world?” he began. “My intentions would be exactly what they are now. Instead, I could actually act on those intentions fully. I would court her, take my time, treat her like a princess. And then, marriage would be the end goal.” His words were measured but heartfelt as he watched her reaction. “She’s far too precious to settle for someone so… undeserving,” he grumbled bitterly.

Terry let that sink in for a moment, before continuing. “Not to be cocky, but I know Camille would love being with me. I’d cater to her every whim, she’d never have to worry for any reason.”

He propped his arms on the table, his voice more vulnerable. “But more than that, Kali... I can honestly say that I’m in love with her. I want nothing less than the best for her. I’d move heaven and earth to make sure she never had to feel stressed or unhappy ever again. I would happily give her that life, at whatever cost.” 

Kali practically turned into butter right before him. Her eyes softened with respect and admiration, her shoulders relaxed. Even though she simply nodded, he knew she was impressed by his response. He had her. 

But as much as he enjoyed the feeling of winning her favor, Terry’s mind was already working. He needed to steer this conversation in a direction that would give him something in return. He needed to understand what Kali could offer him at this moment. So he turned to his favorite manipulation tactic: feigning innocence.

Terry offered her the sweetest smile. “I’m hoping I’ve passed your little test, Kali,” he said, his voice laced with deliberate humility. “But now, I have to ask. What do you really think I can do? You see, Camille... she’s just so loyal. Nothing I do gets through to her. Every time I try to suggest that I’m interested, she shuts me out. I’ve been nothing but patient, but her engagement feels like a wall. I don’t think I stand a chance. What could I possibly do to break through that?”

For the first time since she sat down, Kali’s confidence wavered. Her gaze dropped, fingers absently using her straw to stir her water. A heavy sigh escaped her lips before her eyes reluctantly met Terry’s once more.

“Honestly, if you’d asked me this yesterday, I wouldn’t have had an answer. Camille would never have even entertained the idea of leaving Aston. But now…” Kali’s voice faltered, clearly holding back something crucial. Terry sensed her hesitation and silently urged her to open up. She sighed again. Sensing an opportunity, Terry decided to give her a nudge.

“Hey, whatever we talk about here stays between us,” Terry said, his tone both reassuring and insistent. She nodded.

“Not to put her business out there, but something happened last night. I don’t know what exactly, but now she’s actually considering leaving him. Like to the point she’s making plans to move out of their apartment. He’s always made her unhappy since…never mind that…” Kali waved her hand dismissively, making Terry internally groan at her refusal to dive into more details. “But recently, things have been different. And whatever last night was, it might have given her the courage she needed. She deserves so much better, but I know how hesitant she can be when it comes to breaking free from him. So, I was hoping…”

Terry’s blood boiled at the thought of how Aston had been treating his woman and the toll it had taken on her. But Terry’s smile remained soft. “So, you want me to pull her away from him. Be more forward with her about how I really feel? Let her know she has options outside of him?” he chuckled.

Kali bit her lip, a gleam of mischief flickering in her eyes.

Terry nodded, his mind already racing through possibilities. She had just given him the green light, blessed him with her approval. He could work with this, he could push harder now. He would take advantage of the fracture in the relationship. And he would start with the little bits of information Kali casually dropped. By the end of the week, Camille would have no reason left to stay with Aston. He’d make sure of it. Hell, he might even use a particularly important event next Saturday to finalize everything.

Camille

Camille sat on Kali’s couch, her body stiff as the person across from her continued to speak in a distant voice about her return to Aston. Each word barely registered in her foggy mind. The past almost twenty-four hours of drowning in sadness had left her empty and numb. But perhaps, in some strange way, this numbness was a blessing. If she could feel something right now, she wasn’t sure what would happen. The thought of lashing out frightened her, so she sat in stillness, her face unreadable, hoping the emptiness would be enough to hold her together.

Camille couldn’t wrap her mind around it. The man sitting across from her, who just moments ago, listened as she shared what had happened to her the previous night, was now relentlessly urging her to go back to Aston. He wanted her to pretend and put on a mask of normalcy, as if everything was fine. After everything she had shared, all the raw confessions about how miserable she had been, this was his answer? Forgiveness, he said. His words felt like a slap. She couldn’t understand how he could be so insistent.

The man who was supposed to love her more deeply than anyone else, the one she was supposed to look to for guidance and safety. He was supposed to be her protector, the number one man in her life. But now, as she sat there, looking through him, she grew more numb as the seconds passed by. He wasn’t really her father. No, he was a puppeteer. Pulling away at her strings, trying to control the most important aspects of her life. How could he do this? How could he look at her, after everything, and still try to bend her to his will?

“Camille, sweetheart, please, just hear me out,” Colin DeWaterson Sr. said, his voice heavy. He leaned forward, his hands clasped together on the table. “Now, what Aston did, what happened, it was absolutely unacceptable,” he continued, his voice tight. “And I will make sure he gets what he deserves,” he added with a firmness that felt like the faintest attempt at reassurance.

His gaze softened slightly as he continued, his tone shifting to something gentler. “But Camille, this was just a blip in the relationship. A freak accident, something that shouldn’t have happened. Aston’s never hurt you before, right?” His eyes searched hers, seeking any flicker of agreement, any sign that she might see things his way. “He was very apologetic when we talked. I promise, I’m positive this will never happen again,” he insisted, as though his belief in Aston’s remorse superseded her feelings.

Camille forced herself to tune back into the conversation, but her only movement was the subtle shift of her eyes locking onto her father. Her body remained coiled in a protective, defensive posture. Legs drawn up tightly against her chest, arms wrapped around her knees. She wanted to disappear into herself, a small, silent ball, and hide from the world that was pressing in around her.

As he droned on, Camille couldn’t even begin to understand why her mom and dad were there in the first place. Surely, Aston’s father must’ve reached out to them after hearing about his son’s outburst, triggering the DeWatersons to catch the first flight to Houston in some desperate attempt to smooth things over. But how they had gotten Kali’s address was beyond her. She never gave it to them, and she sure as hell hadn’t invited them. But the more she thought about it, the more upset she became, quiet anger rising within her like a slow-burning fire.

Her father hadn’t even bothered to wish her a happy birthday yesterday. But now, here he was, moving mountains to fly all the way to Houston, all because the McCoy family had gotten involved. Aston’s tantrum, Aston’s mistake, Aston’s chaos, that’s all he cared about. The nerve of it. He couldn’t even acknowledge her pain or her needs, but somehow, he found the energy to cater to the McCoy family’s crisis. All she could focus on was the simmering anger building within her, the bitter taste of being ignored and forgotten and used as a pawn.

Camille’s gaze flickered toward her mother, sitting silently beside her father, compliant as ever. She caught her mother’s worried expression. It was a look Camille had seen before, but never like this, not with this intensity. It should have been there. Camille had always gone back to Aston, no matter what he did. Every betrayal, every careless mistake, every reckless act of disregard for her well-being. She had forgiven him time and again, from the cheating, to the times he’d forgotten to pay their rent, to the unforgivable moment when he tried to press charges against Kali. Each time, Camille had swallowed her pride and returned to him, hoping that things would be different going forward.

But now, everything was different. This was the line she would not cross. She was certain. She would not be one of those women who stayed silent, who allowed a man to abuse her and walk away without consequences. The thought of Aston’s hands on her struck her with a cold wave of disgust. She wasn’t going back this time, no matter how many times her parents tried to convince her to forgive him. 

“Camille, sweetheart, can you please listen to me?” Her father’s voice pulled her attention back to him, but she didn’t respond. She just stared at him, cold and unwavering. Her father sighed before he turned helplessly toward her mother.

“Can you please talk to your daughter?” He pleaded as he gestured toward Camille’s unmoving form. Her mother, however, simply bit her lip, as she shook her head and lowered her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Colin…” Her mother’s voice was barely audible. “But you got us into this mess yourself.” She paused, her voice tightening as she met her husband’s eyes. “You tell her what you did. Why we’re here.”

Her father’s shoulders sagged as he exhaled shakily, his fingers tapping nervously against the arms of his chair. He deliberately avoided meeting Camille’s gaze, which had shifted to something more curious now, searching his face with intensity.

“Sweetheart, I-I really messed up, okay?” His voice faltered as he spoke. “Please, try not to hold it against me, okay?” He searched her expression, hoping for some flicker of understanding, of forgiveness, but Camille only narrowed her eyes. Why is he acting like this? she thought, her heart racing. Her father stumbled on, voice trembling. “Camille, I’m sorry…b-but you can’t back away from this marriage–”

Before he could finish, Camille cut him off with a humorless snort, the first sound she had made since their arrival.

He let out an awkward, nervous laugh. But it was her mother who broke the silence next, her patience finally wearing thin. With a sharp sigh, she spoke in a tone so uncharacteristic of her, it made Camille’s brow raise in surprise.

“Colin, hurry up and tell her,” she snapped, as though she had finally had enough of quietly enduring her husband’s decisions. This wasn’t the gentle, reserved woman Camille had always known, and that unsettled Camille more than anything her father had said.

Colin cleared his throat, trying to gather his words. He closed his eyes again. “Camille... this marriage isn’t just about you marrying into a rich family,” he started, his voice wavering but firm. “Hell, it isn’t even about me trying to make this family as socially relevant as possible. It’s because I…I-I made a mistake. Probably the worst mistake of my life. Now, we owe that family a lot of money, enough to destroy us financially if this agreement doesn’t go through. Your inheritance. Your siblings’ inheritances. All of our property... Your mother’s cancer treatments, your brother’s psychiatric care... all of that will be ripped from us if you don’t marry Aston. It's all laid out in a legally binding agreement.”

Camille’s body went rigid as her mind tried to process what he was saying. She sprung up into a sitting position, every muscle in her body tight, her hands gripping the edge of the couch.

“What?” Her voice cracked as she barely managed to squeeze out the word. We would lose everything? she thought.

She had already accepted the fact that she would lose her inheritance, that she could never have the life she had sacrificed so much for if she refused to marry Aston. But her family, they were too dependent on the luxuries they had, too tied to their privileges. Losing everything, their money, their possessions, would send them spiraling into a darkness she knew they wouldn’t survive. And her mother’s treatments, her brother’s care…those were essential for them to keep going. The repercussions would be catastrophic. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, let that happen. She loved them more than anything.

But she couldn’t stop the rage that surged through her. “And you fucking agreed to that?” Her voice shook, unable to comprehend that level of betrayal. “In a goddamn contract?!”

Her chest tightened and her vision blurred as the first signs of a panic attack crept in. Her heart pounded in her ears, each beat growing louder, faster. This isn’t real. This can’t be real. Her stomach churned violently.

“Camille, please... j-just let me finish,” her father stammered, his voice cracking as he gestured with trembling hands for her to calm down. She let out a bitter laugh, one that felt foreign in her own mouth. “Yes, please, continue,” her voice full of disgust, wiping tears from her face. He winced at her tone, a ripple of guilt passing over his face, but he pressed on.

“This whole... fiasco has spooked the McCoys,” he continued, his voice low, almost apologetic now. “They want to add a new clause to the contract, and you’ll have to sign it this time. For us to be released from this debt... you’ll have to marry Aston within the next sixty days, and promise to get p-pregnant before the year ends.” He finished, his chin tucking into his chest as if the shame of it were too much to bear.

Camille’s body began to shake uncontrollably, her ears rang, and her leg bounced rapidly. This was beyond anything she had imagined, beyond a nightmare. She was suffocating, and there was nowhere to run.

A sob tore through Camille as she dropped her head into her hands. This can’t be fucking happening, she thought.

Her father’s voice broke through her spiraling mind. “Camille, I know this is hard to digest, and it’s not fair to you at all! But please... our family has no other way out of this. We need you to reconsider–”

Before he could finish, the creak of the front door opening interrupted him, followed by the sight of Kali standing in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock. But once she saw Camille sobbing uncontrollably into her hands, her surprise turned into fury. Without a second thought, she shoved the door open further, propping it open with her body.

“Kali,” Mr. DeWaterson quickly shifted gears, his voice laced with forced enthusiasm. “It’s lovely to see you again–”

“I think it’s time for you both to leave,” she declared, her tone final. She propped the door open wider, a clear invitation to get out, leaving no room for negotiation.

Mr. DeWaterson paused for a moment, caught off guard by Kali’s assertiveness. But after a brief moment of hesitation, he rose from his chair, knowing that any confrontation right now wouldn’t work in his favor. He straightened himself and quickly walked through the door, avoiding Kali’s cutting gaze.

His wife lingered for a moment longer, her face showing that she was conflicted. Her eyes were on Camille, her heart visibly torn as she watched her daughter crumble. But eventually, she just patted Camille’s shoulder lightly. Without another word, she reluctantly followed her husband. Before stepping out, she gave Camille one last glance, guilt and sorrow flashing across her features. But her eyes landed on Kali’s sneer and the moment was over.

Kali slammed the door before rushing to Camille’s side. Although she didn’t have the words, she wrapped her arms around her trembling friend, trying her best to give her comfort.

A few minutes later, Camille’s tears finally stopped. The ache in her chest dulled. The numbness returned. But something was different about it. This numbness ushered in defiance. Rebellion. She was tired of being suppressed by obligation, tired of doing what others expected of her.

No matter how upset she was, she couldn’t let her family spiral into destitution, couldn’t watch them lose everything they relied on. As much as it tore her apart, she knew what she had to do. She would sign whatever damn contract her father needed her to, no matter how horrible the terms were. She would sign her life away to someone she could barely stand to look at, someone who had already taken so much from her. But for now, she was prioritizing her freedom.

She decided that the next sixty days would be the most liberating of her life. No more playing the dutiful daughter. No more walking on eggshells or adhering to the suffocating rules imposed on her for as long as she could remember. She would finally do the things she’d longed for. And she wouldn’t apologize for any of it. Not to her parents, not to anyone. She was done living for their approval, done trying to meet their endless expectations. No matter the consequences.

And next Saturday? It was the perfect opportunity to start.

Watkins & Grant’s highly anticipated summer gala, an event that raised money for various charitable causes, was just days away. It wasn’t just a night of exquisite food and lavish entertainment, it was an event that could open doors. Known for its exclusivity and opulence, the event would draw in the who’s-who of powerful figures from the legal, business, and philanthropic worlds. Because of that, her father begged her to get them as many tickets as she could. She could only snag two, so her father and mother would be in attendance.

At first, she hated the idea of her parents observing her social mannerisms while she was at a work event. And, of course, Aston’s family would be in attendance too. But she couldn’t care less about that now. Instead, this would be her chance to make sure everyone knew that she was fed up with it all.

Stephanie's song: Toxic-Britney Spears

Stephanie

Stephanie felt like she was on cloud nine as she snuggled into the arm of her date to the Watkins & Grant gala. Being on the arm of Terry, dressed in the finest jewels and most beautiful gown, had Stephanie smiling from ear to ear. It was the perfect ending to a perfect week. Monday had marked Terry’s return to the office after a three-day conference hosted by a rival firm, and Stephanie couldn’t deny the thrill of having him back in the building, giving her some much needed eye candy. Tuesday had brought a delightful surprise: Terry asked her to be his date to the gala. Though the invitation sent her heart racing, she held her excitement back. She was more than ecstatic that he was finally giving her the attention she craved, but Stephanie wasn’t about to make it too easy for him. So, she set the terms: If he spent the night at her place, she'd consider his offer. So she spent Tuesday night with her ankles on Terry’s shoulders, getting the good fucking she deserved. On Wednesday afternoon, Terry had generously offered to buy her a dress for the event. Two hours and $6,000 later, Stephanie walked out of an upscale department store with a new evening gown, a gorgeous clutch, and the most beautiful heels. The price tags were enough to make anyone’s stomach drop, but Terry didn’t flinch. He brushed it off with a nonchalant smile, as though he'd just picked up a quick meal at a fast food place. The indulgence was effortless for him, and she couldn’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction knowing how easily he could spoil her. Thursday, Terry took her out to lunch, letting her feast on the finest sashimi in the city. And Friday, she convinced Mr. Grant to give her the day off to indulge in some much needed beauty treatments. And the cherry on top? Camille, that constant thorn in her side, was nowhere to be seen. Stephanie welcomed the absence of Camille’s insufferable googly eyes aimed at Terry. If it were up to her, Camille would never return. But knowing that her disappearance was likely temporary, Stephanie savored the bit of absence she could get.

She looked up at Terry, who looked edible in his navy blue and black ensemble and wire rimmed glasses, as he led them through the entrance of the event. She bit her lip as she eyed him up and down, sighing as she felt a heat pool between her thighs. He just makes glasses look so sexy, she internally swooned. Stephanie couldn’t help but smile as she soaked in the envious glances and admiring stares that followed them wherever they went. Men and women alike flocked to Terry, eager to shower him with exaggerated compliments, their voices dripping with flattery as they shoved business cards into his hands. Powerful men cast heated, hungry glances her way, their gazes lingering just a little too long, while women studied her with a mix of envy and longing, silently wishing they could be her.

Each look, each gesture, fueled Stephanie's confidence, making her feel invincible. She reveled in the attention. The energy of the night felt electric, as though everything was aligning perfectly. She was certain that whatever came out of this evening would only serve to her benefit, solidifying her future. And it would all be thanks to the small vial tucked away in her clutch.

That aggravating witch had finally gotten back to her Thursday night, letting her know that the love potion was ready. The anticipation had been eating at Stephanie, and she could barely contain her excitement when she made the drive to the shabby building to pick it up. The small, heart-shaped bottle had her in awe. The deep red liquid inside swirled all on its own, moving like liquid fire, full of life and power.

The wait had been exasperating, but she had to admit, it was worth it. Though she would have preferred it to be ready earlier, the timing now felt almost symbolic. Tonight was the night. The gala had become the perfect stage for her plan. Terry, standing at her side, was practically shouting to the world that she was his. This was their moment. Their debut. The world would see them as a couple, and in that spotlight, Stephanie was ready to make sure that they truly were. Once she slipped him that potion, nothing would be the same. He was going to be so wrapped around her finger, he would practically worship her like she was his patron goddess. And she wasn’t going to waste any time making that her reality.

With a soft smile, she unwound her arm from Terry’s and leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek before lightly patting his chest, a perfect display of affection. “I’m going to grab a drink from the bar, baby. Do you want something?” she asked, her voice sweet and innocent. Inside, she silently urged him to say yes, her heart racing with the thrill of what was about to unfold. Please say yes. Please say yes.

He gave a brief nod, his attention mostly on the person’s hand he was shaking, but managed to give her a sideways glance. “Yeah, can you get me a bourbon on the rocks?” he asked. A smirk curled at the corner of Stephanie's lips. The request for dark liquor was the perfect opportunity, just what she had hoped for. She suppressed a chuckle as she replied with a bright smile, “No problem.” With a slow, deliberate sway of her hips, she glided across the polished floor toward the open bar. Everything is falling perfectly into place.

Aston's song: When Will I See You Smile Again?-BBD

Aston

The ride to the gala was silent. Painfully silent. The kind of silence that amplified every unspoken word. Aston didn’t expect the journey to be filled with light conversation or laughter, but the quiet felt suffocating. He sighed and stole another glance toward Camille, who was curled up on the opposite side of the car, her arms tightly folded across her chest, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window. 

They hadn’t spoken at all since her birthday, since things had gone horribly wrong… The tension was palpable and he couldn’t shake his regret. The only reason they were even sharing this ride was because her parents communicated how much was riding on her cooperation, how much was at stake if she refused. Still, even with their pressure, she barely made any effort to go beyond the bare minimum.

Aston’s mind wandered back to that night he lost control. He cursed himself for how he had acted. He had never been like that before, and it sickened him to think back on it. But it ultimately wasn’t his fault. Something had triggered his outburst, whatever shit Terry’s goon had slipped him to heal his injuries. But that wasn’t an explanation he could share with Camille. He could never tell her the truth about his gambling. If she knew, it would ruin him. The engagement was already hanging by a thread, and the last thing he needed was for her to pull away completely. He still needed her to sign that renewed contract, to make everything official.

Aston had no idea what had gotten into his parents. He knew there was a debt involved on the DeWaterson side of the arrangement. But a debt worth everything they own and then some? It was nothing short of egregious. But what really left him reeling was the addition of a pregnancy clause. He doubted Camille would even let him near her for that to become a reality. He would give her the space she needed, though. He would be patient, wait for her to warm up to him again. If it took months, years, he didn’t care. In the meantime, he would satisfy his urges through his old lovers.

His thoughts were momentarily broken when, from the corner of his eye, he caught Camille shifting slightly in her seat. She subtly adjusted her gown, smoothing the rich fabric across her lap, and Aston found his breath catching. She looked stunning. The cobalt blue of her dress clung to her form, the deep hue accentuating the richness of her dark brown skin like it had been crafted just for her. A diamond tennis bracelet glistened on her wrist, its subtle elegance matching the sparkle of the earrings that swayed gently as she moved. Her hair was swept up in a sophisticated updo, exposing the delicate curve of her collarbone. Aston adjusted his growing erection, reminding himself that he couldn’t get lost in her, or any other woman, tonight. He had to remember that he came to this event for reasons beyond networking and elbow rubbing. 

For the past week, aside from bombarding Camille’s phone with messages, Aston had been consumed by a different obsession. Every spare moment was spent scouring the internet, searching for any shred of credible information about vampires. He had hoped for something real, something tangible, but most of his efforts led him to Twilight fanfictions or Dracula essays. Hours wasted on fantasy and folklore. He was about to give up until he stumbled upon a Facebook group that seemed promising.

The group owner was a curious character. His posts were chaotic, filled with disjointed rants and a sense of paranoia. But there was also something oddly compelling. The way he described his encounters with supernatural creatures sent a chill down Aston’s spine, reminding him of the terror he’d felt during his own encounters with Terry. That same paralyzing fear. That same helplessness.

Aston posed a question to the group: How can you kill a vampire? 

The replies started flooding in, most of them dismissive or cynical. Many claimed that killing a vampire was impossible. They could only be weakened, some said, but even that required an absurd amount of effort. It was too complicated. But then, among the sea of useless responses, the group owner chimed in. His reply stood out from the rest.

Aston’s pulse quickened as he read it. The suggestion was exactly what he needed to hear.

Aston’s fingers brushed against the inside of his suit jacket, checking once again that the small glass vial of sulfur was still tucked away in the inner pocket. According to the mysterious group owner, the sulfur could be used as a poison for vampires if administered in the right dose. For Camille’s sake and his own, he prayed that the perfect opportunity would present itself, that he’d be able to slip the sulfur into Terry’s drink. Killing the vampire was the only option he felt would secure their safety, to rid himself of the constant, creeping fear that Terry’s power and influence would one day consume them both.

As he walked inside with Camille, guiding her through the grand entrance of the event, his focus sharpened. She was tense beside him, but her unwillingness to engage or make eye contact was the least of his concerns. His eyes swept across the crowded ballroom, scanning the sea of well-dressed guests, the vibrant chatter and clinking glasses an overwhelming backdrop to his singular purpose. There, at a tabletop near the center of the room, he finally spotted him. Terry. His eyes locked onto the supernatural, and for a split second, time seemed to slow. Terry stood confidently, chatting with a small group, his predatory aura unmistakable even amidst the glittering social scene. But it was the moment when Stephanie handed him a drink that motivated Aston to make his move. Perfect.

Without another thought, he gently detached himself from Camille as he veered off in Terry’s direction.

Terry

Terry gave Stephanie a thin, tight-lipped smile as he took the glass of bourbon from her hand, his fingers brushing hers in a way that could almost be mistaken for intimate, but there was no warmth behind the gesture. His eyes never quite met hers as he accepted the drink. His mind was elsewhere, running through the same thought he’d been repeating to himself all week: She’s a part of your plan. He couldn’t afford to forget that, or else he’d risk losing control. 

Stephanie had been clinging to him all week, her needy presence aggravating him beyond reason. Her incessant chatter, all surface-level and lacking any real substance, got on his nerves. He tried to hold his composure, focusing instead on the endgame, getting back into her good graces long enough to get what he needed. From giving her a minor shopping spree to dicking her down on her apartment’s floor, each move he made this week involving her was calculated to make her feel valued for just a little while longer. She had no idea that she was a pawn in his larger scheme, and that, soon enough, he’d cast her aside. But for now, he needed her compliance.

His patience, however, was wearing thin. The constant attention, the shallow remarks, the way she seemed to think every word out of her mouth was an invitation for him to dote on her, it was all about to make him lose his mind. When she offered to get him a drink, he felt relieved. Finally, a moment away from her. A break from her desperate need to be the center of his world. 

Terry made his way through the crowd, maneuvering with ease as he greeted familiar faces and exchanged handshakes along the way. His destination was the center of the ballroom, where an empty table top awaited him. Once he reached it he scanned the room briefly as he pulled out his phone.

He quickly sent a message to Jabari. ‘Y’all good?’ he typed. Within moments, the reply came: ‘Ready. Just give us the word.’ Terry smirked. He typed back, his fingers quick on the screen, ‘Good. 30 minutes.’ Terry had positioned Jabari and his most trusted subordinates inside Aston’s apartment to create the perfect storm for an “accidental” fire. He had spent days ensuring every element of the setup was precise, no trace of malice, no hint of foul play. The fire had to appear natural, unpreventable, as if it were merely the result of an unfortunate mishap. 

As Terry slid his phone back into his pocket, his mind wandered to Camille. Even though she had moved out of Aston's apartment, he knew she probably still had a few things there, maybe even a few things of sentimental value. It pained him, the idea of her things being a casualty, but he quickly pushed the thought aside, convincing himself it didn’t matter. In the end, he would replace it all for her. New clothes, new furniture, anything she wanted. He’d make sure she had better than what she left behind.

It was twisted, he admitted to himself. But it was for the best. Camille needed to start fresh. The apartment, the remnants of her life there, it all represented a tie to the past, a past he was determined to sever. Once that apartment was gone, there would be no reason for her to ever go back to living with Aston.

He noticed Stephanie making her way back toward him, drink in hand. A low groan rumbled in his chest, but he masked it with a practiced smile. As she neared, he reached for the glass. 

“They recommended this. Tell me what you think,” Stephanie purred as she batted her lashes at him. Terry nodded absentmindedly, lifting the glass to his lips. But just before he could take a sip, his gaze locked onto Aston, who was making his way through the crowd with a determined look on his face, focused on him. Terry smirked as he set the glass down, his hand resting casually on the table as he turned his full attention to Aston’s approach.

Stephanie’s voice faltered. “I-Is there something wrong?” she asked, her eyes darting between Terry and the glass.

Terry didn’t spare her a glance. “Nah,” he said nonchalantly. “But can you do me a favor?” He didn’t wait for her to answer, the words already tumbling out. “Can you grab me some hors d’oeuvres?”

He had no idea what Aston wanted, but Terry wasn’t one to turn down a little entertainment. Whatever the man had to say, Terry would listen, just for the amusement of it.

Terry caught a glimpse of Stephanie from the corner of his eye, watching as her smile faded before she turned and walked off. But he didn’t bother to pay it any mind. His attention quickly shifted elsewhere, focusing on the approaching figure of McCoy.

He tilted his head slightly, studying McCoy as the man closed the distance between them. Aston had been intentionally avoiding him all week. Whenever their paths crossed in the hallway, McCoy had been quick to turn in the opposite direction, his eyes avoiding Terry’s altogether. During team meetings, McCoy kept his gaze trained on the table, never meeting Terry’s eyes, as if silently pleading to be left alone. And then there were the days when McCoy had locked himself away in his office, missing his usual rounds through the building. At first, Terry had enjoyed the absence of McCoy’s presence. He hated seeing the motherfucker’s face.

But then, there was Camille. The more she called out sick, the more Terry began to grow suspicious. Was she really unwell, or had McCoy done something to her? Terry had sent her a quick text to check in, and she had assured him that she was indeed sick, her response laced with just enough sincerity to put his mind at ease. But still, something felt off.

Even now, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. Aston was the type of person that made sure he looked socially presentable at this type of event. And that included having a woman on his arm. And yet, there was no sign of Camille. The absence of her was unsettling, and Terry’s suspicion only deepened.

As McCoy reached him, he broke his chain of thought. “Terry, it’s good to see you!” McCoy’s voice rang out, greeting him as if they were old friends. Terry instinctively raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing McCoy’s every movement. Instead of pressing for answers right away, Terry chose to play along, letting the conversation unfold at McCoy’s pace. Whatever McCoy’s angle was, Terry was certain he'd figure it out. 

“You know, we should talk,” Aston said, still acting as if they were close friends. Terry just narrowed his gaze. “Where’s Camille?” he asked, his words coming out through clenched teeth, though his smile remained perfect. Aston quickly scanned the room, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. “Oh, I’m sure she’ll turn up. She’s probably talking to her parents… or mine,” he added with a nonchalant shrug, as though it were no big deal.

Terry’s heart dropped into his stomach. Her parents are here? He had to meet them. His old research told him that her father was an asshole too absorbed in bootlicking. Her mother, on the other hand, was a pushover, easily influenced, easily won over. The more people in her life I get on my side, the better, he thought.

Aston leaned in closer, his breath warm against Terry’s ear. “I’ve got some new details concerning that contract,” Aston whispered, his voice low as he gave him a knowing look.

Terry’s brow furrowed in confusion. What was he playing at? Aston glanced down at Terry’s glass, his eyes lighting up. “Before we get into that, though, I think I’m gonna have what you’re having,” he said, motioning toward Terry’s drink with a casual nod. “I’ll be right back.” With that, Aston patted Terry’s shoulder before turning and making his way toward the bar.

Terry squinted after him, watching as Aston weaved in and out with ease. There was something off about that whole interaction. Aston had nearly crumbled in front of him no less than a week ago. The man practically pissed himself when Terry ripped another man apart in front of him. Ever since, Aston had been avoiding him like the plague, keeping his distance, hiding in his office, trying to stay under Terry’s radar. But now? Now, Aston was acting like none of that had ever happened.

I’ll play along, Terry thought. It didn’t matter what Aston’s angle was; Terry was ready to match him, move for move. Whatever the man was up to, Terry was more than ready to let him think he had the upper hand. 

Terry lifted his glass once more, the amber liquid catching the light as he brought it to his lips. But this time, his attention was quickly pulled elsewhere, by someone far more captivating. It had been a week since he’d last seen Camille, and the sight of her now stopped him dead in his tracks.

Her hair was styled up, an elegant twist that framed her face perfectly. The makeup she wore was subtle yet flawless, highlighting her natural beauty. And that dress…the deep blue fabric clung to her every curve, hugging her body in all the right places. It was the kind of dress that made heads turn, the kind that made a tent form in his trousers.

His eyes followed her every move. She navigated the crowd with grace, her presence drawing the eyes of everyone around her, but there was something different about how she interacted with them. People approached her, offering polite greetings, extending their hands for introductions. But Camille simply nodded, her responses cordial but distant as she gently but firmly declined further conversation. She moved through the crowd like she was in a world of her own, detached, almost untouchable.

Terry blinked, surprised by her behavior. Camille didn’t strike him as the type to brush people off in a setting like this. She was always charming, always engaging, always making sure she played the part of the graceful socialite. So why is she brushing everyone off? He felt a rush of curiosity and concern.

Terry pushed his way through the crowd, the lively atmosphere fading into the background as his focus zeroed in on Camille. Once he reached her, he gently grabbed her arm, drawing her attention. For a moment, she looked like she was about to brush him off like everyone else. But as soon as her eyes met his, her dismissiveness melted away, replaced by a warmth that made his chest tighten. A soft, breathy giggle escaped her lips, and before he could react, she eagerly pulled him into a hug.

This wasn’t the stiff, churchy side-hug he got from her on several occasions in the office. No, this was something far more intimate. All of her body pressed against his, all of her softness and femininity wrapping around him, dizzying him. Terry instinctively pulled her deeper into his embrace, savoring the feel of her against him. He breathed her in, the scent of jasmine and vanilla enveloping him, groaning as his hardened cock twitched. They swayed gently in each other's arms, the moment stretching out longer than it should have. But Terry didn’t care. He wanted to soak in every second of it. But, as with all good things, the moment came to an end. Camille slowly pulled away, and though Terry silently protested, he let her go too.

“So, you finally feeling better?” Terry asked, his eyes tracing her face and figure, not even bothering to hide his appreciation. Camille smiled softly, her lips hinting at something more.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Terry’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. That’s a strange response, he thought. He parted his lips to press further, but Camille was quicker, her gaze softening as she took a small step back.

“You look so handsome,” she said, her sweet smile deepening. His dick twitched again. I would look even better on top of you, he thought.

“I’d love to stay and chat,” she continued, her tone turning a little more apologetic, “but I’ve already pissed off your girlfriend once. I don’t want to cause any more problems…”

Terry’s mind stuttered, trying to process what she just said. What the hell is she talking about? The confusion was written all over his face as he blurted out, “Wait, what?”

Camille opened her mouth, but before she could say another word, she was cut off by a squealing voice. “Terry! Terry! There you are!” The sound of Stephanie’s shouting cut through the air, and Terry’s stomach twisted in annoyance.

He turned instinctively toward the voice, his frustration mounting, only to see Stephanie barreling toward him. He simply rolled his eyes and shook his head before he turned back to Camille, but the space where she had been standing was now empty. It was as if she had vanished into thin air. Fuck, Terry thought, clenching his jaw. What the hell is going on tonight?

Stephanie wrapped her arm around his, holding a plate of finger foods up to his face with a bright, expectant smile. Terry barely glanced at it before brushing it aside with a scowl. He couldn’t do this right now. He pulled his arm free, walking away from Stephanie without a second glance, heading straight back toward the table where his drink sat, and where Aston was already waiting.

Stephanie huffed behind him, her annoyance evident, but Terry couldn’t give a fuck. Everyone’s acting weird tonight, he thought, his jaw tightening with each step. And I fucking want to know why. He knew Aston’s slimy ass was probably his best bet, so he slipped back on his professional mask to jump into whatever game he was playing.

“Terry, I leave you for one second, and you just disappear,” Aston chuckled. Terry shot him a tight smile, masking any distrust he felt.

“What can I say? I couldn’t possibly miss out on saying ‘hi’ to Camille,” Terry replied. Aston’s playful demeanor flickered for the briefest moment. But Terry saw it. Aston only chuckled again as Terry reached for his drink.

“Cheers,” Aston said with a grin, raising his glass and clinking it against Terry’s with a quick motion. Aston took a quick sip, his eyes looking at him expectantly. Terry narrowed his eyes, studying him carefully, but he raised his glass to his lips anyway. But, before he could even taste the drink, a burning stench filled his nose. His supernatural senses flared with alarm. He didn’t need to pause to identify it. Sulfur. It was a scent most of his kind were trained to recognize immediately. A substance whose potency was capable of weakening creatures like him. It couldn’t kill him, but it would a bitch to deal with if he ingested it. Agonizing pain that would last for days, leaving him vulnerable.

Terry clenched his teeth, forcing himself to swallow the instinctual hiss that rose in his throat. His eyes threatened to shift, a familiar hunger creeping up. The urge to let his true nature surface was almost unbearable, but something else bloomed within him, a dark sense of amusement that almost made him laugh. The little bitch is trying to poison me, he thought. The realization was almost too rich. Aston’s bitch ass thought he could slip something like that past him. The audacity was laughable.

For a split second, Terry considered acting on impulse, gruesomely killing Aston right there. The idea was tempting. Terry could feel the predator in him stir, aching to lash out. But then, a thought stopped him cold: That wouldn’t be fun. It would give him momentary satisfaction, sure, but it would also expose him. No, Terry realized, I can do something far more entertaining. 

A devious smirk spread across his face as he set down his glass on the table with a soft clink. Panic flickered in Aston’s eyes, a fleeting shift of unease. But Terry remained composed, hoping it would calm him down. 

“Speaking of Camille,” Terry said, his voice casual, eyes never leaving Aston’s, “I want to introduce myself to her parents. Can you point them out?” He spoke, watching as Aston’s eyes flicked to the glass in his hand. Aston shrugged nonchalantly, though his lips twitched slightly. “I mean, they could be anywhere…” He trailed off. Terry’s eyes bore into Aston, leaving no room for argument. Aston exhaled sharply and set his drink down with a small thud, finally turning his attention to scan the room. Terry, however, moved with purpose as his fingers swapped the glasses, eager to see how this would unfold.

Camille

“Young lady,” Mr. McCoy growled through clenched teeth. “This behavior is beyond unacceptable.” Camille just stared at him, her defiant gaze unwavering.

For the past ten minutes, she and her parents had trailed behind Aston’s parents like obedient shadows, compliant as they were paraded around the room. The sight of her father, practically kissing the ground Mr. McCoy walked on, made her stomach twist. He clung to his every word, nodding eagerly as if he were some sort of untouchable god. It was sickening. At every corner, the oil tycoon introduced them to various business partners or old friends. People who neither Camille nor her parents had the slightest real interest in. And yet, her parents threw themselves into practiced introductions with exaggerated warmth, a performance they had long since perfected.

Normally, Camille would have gone along with it, but tonight, she refused. Instead of the rehearsed enthusiasm her parents displayed, Camille gave nothing more than curt nods and stiff, half-hearted handshakes, deliberately distancing herself from the spectacle. Her parents and Mr. and Mrs. McCoy chuckled awkwardly at her behavior. They had tolerated her rudeness up to a point, but Mr. McCoy, clearly losing his patience, had reached his limit.

“Yeah, arranged marriages seem to have that effect,” Camille shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Her mother gasped, sharp and involuntary, while Aston’s mother’s jaw dropped so dramatically that Camille half-expected it to hit the floor.

Mr. McCoy, visibly taken aback, stammered for a moment, his face turning a shade of red that matched his fury. He took a moment, clenched his jaw, then spun on his heel, disbelief etched deeply in his features. His eyes locked onto Colin DeWaterson, and the anger in them was unmistakable.

“Get her under control. Now,” Mr. McCoy commanded. Colin, sensing the pressure, tried to defuse the situation with a weak, nervous smile. He turned his attention to his daughter, his face tightening with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration.

“Camille,” he began, his voice strained, “You’re not doing anyone any favors acting like this.” His tone shifted, becoming more forceful, more authoritative. “Now, if this continues, the McCoys may feel inclined to return to the contract–” 

Camille let out a dismissive scoff. She was done, completely over this suffocating evening. Her frustration was boiling over, and she couldn’t hold back any longer. “Go to hell!” she snapped, her voice loud enough to pierce through the murmur of the surrounding guests, drawing their attention.

Without a second thought, she pivoted on her heels and stormed away. She didn’t need to see their reactions, didn’t want to. All she wanted now was escape. She wasn’t headed anywhere in particular, her legs simply carried her away. The farther she got, the lighter her breath became, but it wasn’t enough. She needed more distance. She needed space to breathe.

And then, her eyes caught a promising sliver of reprieve. The doors to a balcony, barely cracked open, offering a hint of cool, fresh air on the other side. Without a second thought, she moved toward them, the promise of solitude and a few moments of peace waiting just beyond that door.

Camille stepped onto the outdoor terrace and exhaled shakily. The cool evening air kissed her skin. She leaned on the railing as she tried to steady herself, to calm her frustration. Her father’s attempt to scold her still rang in her ears. She blinked rapidly, fighting to keep the tears at bay.

She was grateful that the area was practically empty, save for one event staff member who gave her distance. All she could focus on was the overwhelming weight of it all. The cruel realization that this was her reality. Yet, she had no choice. Another heavy sigh escaped her lips. Her gaze shifted upward, settling on the moon hung in the sky.

“Camille?” A voice whispered her name. Deep, familiar, and impossibly close. It immediately made her nipples harden and heat pulse in her core. She gasped as she turned to the side, finding Terry standing right next to her. His intense, concerned gaze was locked on hers. For a split second, she was frozen, caught in the magnetic pull of his presence. The way he was looking at her, so close, made her aware of how little space there was between them. Instinctively, she took a small step back, trying to put some distance between them. But Terry didn’t look away; his eyes stayed on her, unwavering and full of something that made her pulse quicken.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said softly, his voice rich and soothing. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, the movement momentarily flooding her mind with the dirtiest thoughts. “I just wanted to check on you… you don’t seem like yourself.” The words wrapped around her, an overwhelming ache swelled within her. 

Camille fought the emotions threatening to spill over. She wanted, no, needed, to tell him everything. To pour out her feelings, to tell him how suffocating her life was, how trapped she felt, how disillusioned she was with Aston. She wanted to confess how every glance, every stolen moment with Terry made her heartache in a way she couldn’t explain. But instead, she plastered on the most convincing fake smile she could muster, and turned her face away from him.

“I’m fine, Terry,” she said, her voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts to sound light. “I really appreciate your concern, but like I said, you’re gonna get me in trouble with your girlfriend.” She let out a soft laugh as she looked back at him, hoping it would lighten the mood. But Terry didn’t laugh with her. His expression remained unreadable, too serious for the teasing remark to land. His gaze only made Camille feel exposed.

“I don’t know where you’re getting this from, but I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said, his voice steady and calm.

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What? That’s not what I heard–”

“What you heard was a lie,” he interrupted, his words sharp as he closed the space between them. Camille’s breath caught in her throat. The gap between them was now nearly nonexistent, and with it, the world around them seemed to fade away. All Camille could focus on was him.

“In fact, I don’t have a girlfriend because I’m too interested in the woman in front of me.” He said, placing a hand on her waist. Her mouth went dry. She hadn’t expected that. At all. Her pulse hammered in her ears, the sound deafening, as Terry’s presence overwhelmed her senses. Her eyes blinked rapidly as she tried to process what he said. “T-Terry, I had no idea…”

“And that’s my fault,” Terry began, his voice heavy with sincerity. “I should’ve let you know my intentions a long time ago,” he continued. “But I didn’t want you to think I wanted to mess up your life… or try to sabotage what you’ve got going on here. But I have to be honest, Camille… I want you. In every way you’ll let me have you.”

Everything around her seemed to blur. Her logic demanded she step back, shut it all down, walk away. But in that moment, her resolve shattered. Without thinking, without hesitating, she pressed her lips to his with a sudden urgency that took them both by surprise. The kiss was deep and hungry, as if she were pouring everything—every bit of longing, frustration, desire, and confusion—into that one connection. Terry wasted no time kissing her back. He met her intensity, responding with equal fervor, as if he, too, had been waiting for this moment. He wrapped his arms around her waist, deepening the kiss, dominating the interaction. His lips moved over hers expertly, making her whimper as she wrapped her arms around his neck. It was like they were transported back to that night at Crimson. Passionate, explosive, soul-touching. He was pulling her into a world that she had no desire to leave, happily melting into his arms.

His thick lips sucked her lower lip into his mouth, demanding her to submit to him and open her mouth, which she happily obliged. Immediately, his tongue dived into her mouth, making her moan into his. One hand slid down to cup her ass while the other snaked around the back of her neck, locking her in place. Her eyes became half-lidded as she let herself fall into complete bliss as she let him claim her lips. 

“My goodness!” A shriek rang out from behind them. Camille’s heart skipped a beat as the voice jolted her back to reality. She instinctively pulled away from Terry, her breath coming out in short, uneven gasps, her lips swollen, and her head spinning. Her head snapped toward the source of the outburst, landing on her mother, storming toward them with a furious expression. “Unhand her. Now,” her mother seethed, her voice low but full of wrath directed at Terry. "Mom...please," Camille groaned. Terry’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t argue. He slowly unfurled his hands from around her, his fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary before he released her completely. Without another word, her mother grabbed Camille’s arm, her fingers digging into her skin. “You’re out here acting like you have no sense while Aston’s in there losing his damn mind,” her mother hissed. Camille’s brow furrowed in confusion. Losing his mind? What is she talking about?

Stephanie

Stephanie stumbled backward as she locked eyes with Aston. His gaze was wild, manic, fixated on her and following her every move with an intensity that made her skin crawl. His words spilled from his mouth erratically. 

She was just looking for attention, something to dull the sting of how Terry had brushed her off. Her curiosity burned inside her like a wildfire as she watched Aston and Terry earlier. The two men had always loathed each other. They wouldn’t have engaged in conversation unless it was super important…or it was something about Camille. And she was desperate to know. Once Terry abandoned Aston to go upstairs, she seized her opportunity, trembling with anticipation as she approached Aston.

For the first fifteen minutes, Aston was normal. His words were vague when she prodded him about the conversation with Terry, but he seemed eager enough to shower her with compliments and throw her lustful stares. She basked in the flattery for as long as she could. But suddenly, his demeanor shifted. The compliments grew more intense, his gaze more fixed. As if obsession gripped him out of nowhere. An obsession with her. Aston was acting as though she was the very air he needed to breathe, as though her existence was the singular focus of his mind.

“Stephanie, baby,” he gasped, the sound jagged and frantic, devoid of sanity. His face, trying to decide whether to break into laughter or to drop tears. Stephanie glanced around the room, her gaze darting nervously from one face to the next. Several of her coworkers seemed to be watching them with varying degrees of curiosity. A flicker of relief washed over her. Good, she thought. I have an audience... someone will help me.

He took a stumbling step toward her, his movements uncoordinated and sloppy. “B-Baby, please!” His voice cracked, the words hanging in the air like an unwelcome plea. “Why are you looking at me like that? I-I need you. I love you!” The plea grew louder, more frantic. His voice had risen now and she felt a chill run through her. How could this night have gone so wrong? 

One moment, Stephanie was being paraded around by Terry, being the envy of the night. But now, everything had shifted. The guy she had rejected nearly two years ago was standing before her, snapping without warning. She continued to take slow, measured steps back, every instinct telling her to distance herself. She refused to respond to him. But he just kept talking. Kept pleading. 

“I know I’m engaged and everything,” he said, his voice trembling now, but rising in pitch, “but I can get rid of Camille! Make her disappear!” His eyes widened and tears began streaming down his face. “W-Would you like that?” Stephanie’s stomach twisted. She kept retreating, but it felt like no space was enough, no distance wide enough to escape.

“And, and, and I know I’m not Terry,” he stammered, as if he could make her understand his tortured logic. “I know that’s where your heart really is. But I can love you better than he ever could!” His laugh was sharp, a manic cackle. But Stephanie didn’t laugh. She didn’t do anything but stare at him with terror. His laughter died in an instant, his expression darkening. “Baby, why aren’t you saying anything…” he whispered, his voice barely audible now. He stopped moving for a moment, standing there like a statue, his gaze fixed on her, waiting for a response that would never come. Stephanie’s gaze flitted around the room, looking for any way out. The crowd was thickening, a group of onlookers silently forming a circle around a nightmare unfolding. 

“You fucking heard me,” Aston bit. His eye began to twitch as he resumed stalking her. “I said why aren’t you answering me, bitch!” Stephanie jumped, her body trembling slightly.

“Aston, bud,” Glover, one of their older male colleagues said, approaching Aston cautiously. “Just calm down man. This looks really ba–”

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” Aston let out a guttural scream and, without warning, snatched the nearest flower arrangement from a table, glass and greenery scattering in all directions as he hurled it violently at Glover’s feet. Stephanie and the others nearby screamed before they began to scramble in every direction, desperate to escape Aston’s madness. But Aston moved faster than she could. At an unnatural speed, his body lunged forward, cutting off her only path to safety. Her heart slammed into her chest as he blocked her in, towering over her. His face was inches from hers now, his wild eyes burning with fury. His lips pulled back revealing bared teeth. The predatory intensity in his gaze made her lip tremble. She could do nothing but stare into his face.

“I’ve been the perfect man for you since the day we met,” he gritted. “I could’ve given you everything if you had been fucking patient! But no. You decided that being Mr. Grant’s slut was the better deal…” he said, the last sentence barely above a whisper.

“Fuck you,” she cried, attempting to push him away. But he didn’t budge, as if he was full of demonic strength. He gave her a psychotic grin. “Fuck me, huh?” He whispered, backing away from her slowly, his smile never fading. He turned to the people cowering in different positions around him. Some behind table tops, some behind decorations. Some even behind other people. 

“All of you act like I’m a fucking nobody! Well, go fuck yourselves! I’m the heir to a goddamn oil empire! I deserve some fucking respect!” He screamed. Stephanie’s heart beat pounded in her ears as she slowly began to move from her spot. A small sigh of relief escaped her lips as she saw security approach the area. But the sound of more glass breaking brought her attention back to Aston. He had flipped a floor length flower arrangement,glass shattering as it hit the floor. 

“Instead, you all give your praise and admiration to undeserving fucks like Terry Richmond. He’s a fraud! A fucking freak of nature! He’d tear us all apart if he could! You know why?! Because he’s a bloodsucking, murderous, psychotic vampire!” Stephanie stiffened. How did he know that about Terry? How long has he known that about Terry? Stephanie momentarily slipped into her own head as she thought about what he just said. She thought she was the only one that knew about Terry’s nature.

Stephanie watched him with curiosity as the security team slowly closed in around him. His eyes flashed with defiance as he sized them up. Without warning, one of the security guards lunged, but Aston sidestepped the attack. He rushed towards a second guard, but three of them pounced on him simultaneously, bringing him to the ground. Their collective weight managed to limit his frantic movements. Still, his mouth kept going, a cascade of frantic screams and curses. His body thrashed relentlessly. Slowly, the chaos began to subside as he seemed to wear himself out, his screams growing more hoarse and spaced out. The guards began to drag him away. But something caught Aston’s attention, reigniting his fury. Stephanie followed his line of sight.

There, standing high above them on the second floor, was Terry. His posture was unbothered, leaning casually against the marble as though the chaos below him was nothing more than entertainment. Like he was a king quietly observing a court jester. His face showed indifference. But his eyes flickered with sinister amusement.

Next to him, an older Black woman held an appalled Camille close.

“Camille!” Aston began to shout. “I know I haven’t been who you deserve. I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me! But, please listen to me! Don’t trust Terry! He’s not what you think! He’s not what any of you think! He’s a fucking vampire! Nothing but pure fucking evil!”

His shouts grew fainter as the security team escorted him out of the building. Around her, a buzz of murmurs grew louder, the crowd trying to make sense of the madness they had just witnessed. A few approached her, their expressions filled with genuine worry. “Are you okay?” one woman asked hesitantly. “Do you need any medical attention?”

But Stephanie didn’t respond. Her thoughts, however, were anything but quiet. They kept spiraling back to Aston’s words, those chilling accusations. A bloodsucking, murderous, psychotic vampire. 

She turned her gaze back to the second-floor balcony, her eyes locking onto Terry.

There he was, his eyes trained on Camille beside him. The soft flicker of affection in his gaze was undeniable. The sight burned into Stephanie’s mind, making her blood boil. Something had gone horribly wrong tonight. That much was certain. But she needed answers. And she would get them no matter what.

----------------

@nayaesworld @slvt4her @writingsbytee @notapradagurl7 @23jammy @kaylaahisthebestest- @theogbadbitch @wabi-sabi1090 @hotgyalaroad @nubiagurllll @lovedlover @dimepiece09 @lavaniiii @simplyzeeka @susanhill @next-bex-bet @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @ranikyani @loveschrisbrown20 @daddyslittlevillain @blackchickinthedesert @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @hello-therree @solunaseira @hotebonynearby @key05marie @moebuttta @winorlosetogether @nohatingpplbczhtingpplr @alexinmotion @queencb2462 @kismet83 @bruleecream @playingaymes

[ch33z3grits]

Crimson Obsessions | A Terry Richmond Vampire Series

pairing: Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond x Justine Skye as Camille DeWaterson

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut (bondage, p in v, dacryphilia if you squint, DDLG, edging, breath play, female masturbation), graphic violence (description of murder), domestic violence (verbal abuse, physical abuse), possessiveness/obsessiveness, mentions of blood, HEAVY angst

word count: 10,723

a/n: hi!! so sorry for the late submission this week, I should be back on track to post on Fridays going forward. TRIGGER WARNING: this chapter will have scenes of graphic violence and domestic violence. I will put asterisks (*) at the beginning and end of scenes that some may find disturbing. Summaries of those scenes will be available at the end of the chapter for those who choose to skip.

a/n pt. 2: idk, I'm over writing summaries at the beginning of the chapters. but if y'all prefer them, please let me know! Enjoy :)

Camille's song: Baby Boy-Beyonce ft. Sean Paul | Terry's song: House of Balloons/Glass Table Girls-The Weeknd

Pt. Six

Camille

Camille’s breath hitched as she stood frozen in the doorway. She had walked into her office and found herself utterly speechless. Even though he was out of the office today, Terry had called her moments ago.

“I know it's not one of our rotation days,” Terry had said, a playful note in his tone, “but I want you to stop by your office when you get the chance today.”

Confused, she had furrowed her brow. “Is there something you need me to do?” she had asked, curiosity tinged with a hint of concern.

Terry had laughed softly on the other end, the sound making her lean into the phone even more with a soft smile. “No ma’am, just a little surprise I want you to see.”

He hadn’t given her the chance to question him further, quickly ending the call and leaving her with nothing but anticipation that pulled her toward her office.

And now, she stood there, admiring the unexpected surprise. Her private space had been transformed.

Baby blue and gold balloons floated lazily in the air, some of them bouncing gently against the walls while others hung from the ceiling like clouds. Streamers in similar shades cascaded from every corner. On her desk were four cupcakes, each one delicately frosted, their sugary beauty making them almost too perfect to touch. Next to them, a vibrant bouquet of lilies stood proudly, further adding to the thoughtfulness behind it all.

But what really stopped her was the gold banner draped behind her desk, its letters spelling out Happy Birthday in elegant, bold font. It wasn’t just the decorations or the carefully placed gifts that left her breathless, it was the fact that she felt so seen. It was the thought of someone so special to her, going out of their way to make her feel appreciated.

That morning had begun with an unwelcome jolt from sleep, courtesy of a relentlessly eager Aston. His excitement was palpable, as though he couldn’t wait to see the look on her face, and he made sure he was there to witness it firsthand. Gifts were carefully arranged at the foot of their bed. A dozen shopping bags, each one bearing the logos of high-end brands, lined up like trophies.

She had sat up, trying to mask her grogginess, her eyes scanning the luxury items. Aston had a certain smug satisfaction in his demeanor, as if he expected her to be overwhelmed with gratitude at the sight of the designer items he had chosen for her. Each bags’ contents were extravagant. A sleek black Chanel bag. A pair of pristine white Louboutin heels. Three carefully selected Ralph Lauren dresses. A collection of luxury perfumes and elegant sunglasses followed, each one a symbol of exclusivity. And a delicate lingerie set from a French brand she’d never heard of. It was exquisite, but in a way that felt more about display than desire.

All of it was beautiful. But as Camille lifted each item from its bag, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Each piece was a status symbol. Something to show the world that she was with a man who could lavish her with items meant to impress others. None of them reflected her own tastes. Aston looked down on her love for brands like Le Labo, Aesop, or Anthropologie, so they were never included in his gift-giving. The gifts he showered her with always had his preferences written all over them, as if to remind her, and everyone else, that she existed to be a trophy. She didn’t want to sound ungrateful or bratty. He had worked hard to buy her these things. But the nagging disappointment lingered. She just wished, for once, that he would see the real her when he picked out something for her.

Despite the early rise and the hollow feeling the gifts left behind, Camille’s day brightened from the messages that came through later in the morning. Sweet voice notes from her siblings and heartfelt texts from her mother warmed her heart. Their words were a comfort, a reminder that she was loved. She smiled as she read each message. The thought of the distance between them did feel bittersweet, however.

And although Kali promised to treat her to dinner, she couldn’t make time for that evening due to her late night shift at the NICU. And Aston, absorbed in a pro bono case that had consumed much of his time lately, would be working late as well. Thursday nights had ran over later than usual, and though he insisted it was important, Camille couldn’t help but feel like there was more behind it. But she refused to dwell on it too long. Instead, she accepted the loneliness she believed she would feel for the rest of her 30th birthday. But as she walked through her office at that moment, she felt comforted by the presence of someone who she loved. 

Ever since her fainting spell a few weeks ago, something inside Camille had shifted, and she allowed herself to face the truth. The feelings she tried to ignore, the emotions she brushed aside, had risen to the surface. She was in love with Terry.

There was an almost magnetic pull toward him, one that she couldn’t seem to escape. Every time he entered a room, her eyes followed him. When he spoke, his words seemed to drown out everything else and held her attention like no one else’s. And when his penetrating gaze met hers, her heart would stumble, then race, and then stumble again.

She had no intentions of pursuing these feelings. She knew better. On her end, there was too much at stake, too many layers of complication already woven into her life. Her loyalty to Aston and her commitment to her relationship was unshakeable. On Terry’s end, she understood he could have anyone he wanted. While her boss was sweet and humble beyond words, she could see that he was extremely influential in Houston, maybe in the country.

His accolades and clients demonstrated that the world was practically at his feet. Someone like that wouldn’t settle for her. He probably had dozens of high value women throwing themselves at him. She didn’t stand a chance. So, Camille had come to terms with the fact that her heart belonged to someone she could never have, and she accepted that with a strange mixture of pain and peace.

But there was something freeing about being honest with herself. A clarity that allowed her to focus on her professionalism with even more intention. She could acknowledge her feelings without acting on them, without letting them cloud her judgment. And for the first time, she understood how much she had been missing: the raw, aching beauty of love, the kind that made her feel giddy and alive in ways she hadn’t felt in years. In a way, her love for Terry had become a quiet treat, a secret pleasure that she could hold onto, one that gave her the space to feel without any expectations of reciprocity.

It also gave her the opportunity to savor the moment before her life became completely consumed by being Mrs. Aston McCoy. She couldn’t ignore the growing distance between her and Aston, a gap that seemed to widen with each passing year. The passion they once had was a distant memory, and Camille knew they would never find their way back to it. Because of that, she didn’t judge herself for the love she carried for Terry. And she could bear it because, deep down, she knew it wouldn’t last. Terry would be out of her life in less than a year, and after that, she would return to her world with Aston, for better or worse.

For now, though, she allowed herself this one thing, this secret love. It was a fleeting moment, a brief chapter in the book of her life, but it was enough to make her feel something real again. And that was something she would cherish.

She began to approach her desk, her fingers reaching for the gold envelope wedged between the cupcakes and flowers, her name scribbled across. But just as she picked it up, the clack of heels approaching caught her attention. 

“Wow,” a snarky voice rang out from behind her. Camille immediately closed her eyes, recognizing the voice with a sinking feeling in her chest. She let out a quiet sigh before turning on her heel, forcing herself to face Stephanie. The other woman leaned against the doorway of her office, her gaze sweeping over the room with open disdain. “How sweet of Terry to celebrate you so… impressively. Even in his absence.”

Camille’s jaw tightened, and she bit down on the inside of her cheek, unsure of how to respond. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, but she kept them still, willing herself not to react.

Stephanie’s eyes finally settled on her, a knowing gleam in them as she crossed her arms. “If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought he was your fiancé, not Aston.”

A sudden wave of dread washed over Camille.

“Excuse me,” Camille managed to say, her voice tight, anxiety curling in her chest. Stephanie simply narrowed her eyes and crossed the room, closing the distance between them in slow, deliberate steps.

“I don’t know what kind of hold you have over him,” Stephanie said, her voice lowering, dripping with malice, “but you should probably stop being so friendly with Terry. You wouldn’t want your colleagues to start assuming you’re... fraternizing.”

Camille swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry and her pulse pounding in her ears. She held Stephanie’s gaze, forcing herself to stay calm. “And why would my colleagues ever come to that conclusion?”

Stephanie's lips curled into a wicked smile. “Who knows? Someone might start spreading rumors,” she said, her voice syrupy sweet. “Suggestions about exchanged looks, late nights in the office, or other behaviors that border inappropriate. And then that someone would let other people’s imaginations wander.”

Stephanie’s smile never wavered as she stepped even closer. “You wouldn’t want that, would you? I mean, Terry’s reputation would go unscathed, sure. But you? You would lose your job. Maybe even Aston too.”

Camille stiffened in response. Her mind raced, desperate to find a counter-threat that would shake Stephanie’s confidence, but nothing came to her. She forced a calmness into her voice, her gaze unwavering. “And what would I have to do to keep that someone satisfied?”

Stephanie’s smile stretched, turning into a triumphant smirk. “Simple,” Stephanie purred, leaning in just slightly. “Just keep Terry at arm's length. Make him feel that whatever this little budding friendship you two have is nothing to you. His investment in you takes away his attention from much more important people in his life.”

Camille snorted, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. She can’t be serious right now, Camille thought, the disbelief simmering just beneath the surface.

“And who would those people be?” she asked coolly, her voice smooth, despite her inner turmoil.

Stephanie blinked at her. Then, in an almost mocking tone, she replied, “His girlfriend, silly. Who else would that someone be?”

Camille’s heart skipped a beat, her blood running cold. Stephanie was Terry’s girlfriend? Aston had been right all along? Stephanie’s smile widened, a cruel glint in her eyes. Without another word, she turned on her heel to leave, but then paused, glancing back over her shoulder with a look that sent a shiver down Camille’s spine.

“Remember,” she said, the sweet professionalism dropping away, replaced with something far more venomous, “someone is always watching.”

Then, with a smirk, she reached out, her sharp nail slicing through the air to puncture the nearest balloon. The sudden pop made Camille jump, the silence following suffocating.

As Stephanie walked out of the door, Camille stayed in place, her mind reeling from the encounter. She had to find a way to protect herself from Stephanie’s threats, because she knew that no matter how hard she tried, Stephanie would never be satisfied. 

So for the rest of the work day, she hid in Aston’s office, wondering how to keep her job and engagement safe from Stephanie’s claws.

Aston's Song: Money Trees-Kendrick Lamar

Aston

Aston sat at the lavish poker table in the center of Terry’s grand penthouse apartment, excitement and envy swelling in his chest. For the past three Thursdays, he'd been making his way to Terry Richmond’s apartment, hoping to try his luck at poker. And his attempts have been nothing but fruitful so far. Each time, he walked away with more money than he made in a year. Bigger winnings than he thought possible, big enough to keep him coming back for more. And God knows he needed to keep coming back.

Aston McCoy, one of the heirs to the McCoy oil fortune, was living on the edge of financial irrelevance. He wasn’t poor like the average middle-class American. But among the elite circles he moved in, he was a charity case. And it was all because his father, the great Texas oil giant, couldn’t let go of his conservative values for one minute. Or his need to expand his wealth through marital agreements. 

To access the full $10 million of his inheritance, Aston had a contractual agreement with his father. He had to marry the daughter of whichever business partner he deemed to be the most advantageous. For the first 19 years of Aston’s life, he moved through life unconcerned with an arranged marriage. He was wild, spent money without a care in the world, and felt that his status was secured. But that all changed when his father struck a deal with Colin DeWaterson Sr. The tacky businessman turned refinery owner was desperate to attach himself to an established oil family. So desperate, he had practically sold his soul, and his daughter’s soul, to guarantee such a union.

He had fallen deep into debt with the McCoy family. And the only thing that would satisfy that debt was a marriage that joined the families together. So, at the tender ages of 19 and 17, Aston and Camille were groomed to become husband and wife.

Aston didn't have any particular objections to Camille. She was attractive, intelligent, well-mannered, and came from a respectable family. Everything on paper suggested they’d be a good match. But she failed to elicit any real love from him. He was still young, wealthy, and determined to enjoy life on his own terms. Throughout the early months of their relationship, Aston continued to sleep with other women, assuming that Camille, being just as aware of the nature of their arrangement, would do the same.

However, about eight or nine months into their relationship, Camille discovered his infidelity. The blow was devastating for her, and Aston finally realized that, unlike him, she had been taking their engagement seriously all along. What followed was even more disastrous for Aston: Camille ended their relationship. His father, furious that Aston had jeopardized such a valuable business deal, reacted swiftly and harshly, cutting him off financially.

Gone were the carefree weekends spent partying with his frat brothers. He was evicted from his lavish off-campus housing and his prized sports car was repossessed. Aston was left to scrape by on his own, but he wasn’t ready to give up the lifestyle to which he’d grown accustomed. For months, he begged Camille to take him back, apologizing profusely, but she remained firm, refusing to forgive him.

It wasn’t until three months later, after his father had personally intervened and approached DeWaterson again to smooth things over, that Camille reluctantly agreed to reconcile with him. However, the terms had changed. Aston no longer had the limitless financial freedom he once enjoyed. His father, ashamed of his reckless behavior, set stricter boundaries on his access to his inheritance, and Aston found himself learning the hard way that his wealth was no longer a guarantee, but a privilege to be earned.

The McCoy estate was worth over $90 million, but Aston was left with a measly $300,000 in liquid cash. An amount that would seem like a fortune to most, but was barely enough to keep him afloat in the high-stakes world he dabbled in. To his peers, the money he had was insignificant. It wasn’t nearly enough to maintain the lavish lifestyle he needed to keep up appearances, to keep his friends interested in him. It wasn’t enough to avoid being seen as a loser.

And that was why the poker games, with their promise of quick cash, felt like a godsend. And he didn’t care if he had to swindle some random black guys out of their money. It probably came from selling drugs or fighting pitbulls anyway. It didn’t matter. The kind of money they had, Aston thought, deserved to be in the hands of someone more respectable. Someone who knew how to actually benefit society.

But even as Aston looked forward to those Thursday nights, the thrill of the game, the rush of winning, there was always a bitterness that lingered. A sharp sting in his chest that he couldn’t ignore.

Terry’s lifestyle reminded him of everything he didn’t have. Everything that was always just out of reach.

Terry lived in one of the most expensive and exclusive complexes in the city. The kind of place most people could only dream of. A sleek, modern building with underground parking, a 24-hour doorman, and a concierge who could cater to every whim. But it was Terry’s penthouse that really struck a chord with Aston. Aston could still picture the first time he stepped inside. The crisp, woody scent, the marble floors, the gleaming surfaces. A housekeeper had greeted him at the door, offering a glass of whiskey with a polite smile, taking his coat with practiced hands.

Aston had stepped further inside, the grandeur nearly knocking him off his feet. His eyes had been wide with awe as he took in the soaring ceilings, at least twenty feet high, the opulent space stretching out in all directions. Massive windows stretched the length of the walls, allowing the city’s skyline to pour into the room, like an endless sea of lights and steel. Every corner of the penthouse screamed wealth, sophistication, and power. It was the kind of place people worked their entire lives to get, and still, most would never achieve.

For a brief moment, standing there in that extravagant space, Aston had felt like an outsider. The kind of outsider who might never be able to belong in that world again. And that alienation made Aston’s blood boil, on top of other things.

Terry was a constant annoyance, one that he couldn’t escape, even when he wasn’t around. It wasn’t just the work he did or the cases he handled so flawlessly, it was the way everyone around him adored him. His fellow associates couldn’t praise him enough. Conversations about Terry seemed to seep into every corner of the office. In the break room, in the firm’s kitchen, even in the elevator, it was the same. His colleagues gushed about how incredible Terry was, how lucky the firm was to have him. Everywhere Aston turned, someone had their head up Terry’s ass. And Aston couldn’t shake the feeling that Camille was softening toward him, too.

Aston could sense it, the subtle shift in her demeanor when Terry was around. She was never the same since she found out about his infidelity, Aston knew that. He knew that she would never trust him like she once did, and she definitely wouldn’t love him again. He had come to terms with that, especially since he didn’t love her either. But seeing her respond to Terry with such warmth, with such a quiet affection... it made him jealous. It bruised his pride in ways he hadn’t expected. His ego, already a fragile thing, felt the sting of it every time she looked at Terry like that, her attention completely consumed by him.

But the real sting, the one that gnawed at Aston every day, was seeing how Stephanie fawned over Terry. Stephanie was the most beautiful woman Aston had ever laid eyes on. Her thick, crimson-red hair framed her face like a fiery halo, and her emerald-green eyes held a depth that always seemed to pull him in. Her skin was always kissed by the sun, like she spent every day at the beach. She wasn’t just attractive, she was gorgeous. And she knew it.

Every step she took exuded confidence, and it was as if she knew every pair of eyes in the room was following her. Even though she was just a secretary at Watkins and Grant, she commanded the room in a way that few others could. All the men, including Aston, were tripping over themselves to earn just a moment of her attention. But she didn’t care. She played with them like toys, tossing them aside when they didn’t meet her expectations, moving on to the next.

Aston had spent months trying to win her attention, just to end up frustrated and empty-handed. He tried to be what she wanted, but it was never enough. She had seemed intrigued at first, but when he failed to meet her material demands, her interest quickly disappeared. She moved on as if he were nothing more than another passing distraction. At the time, he’d been disappointed, but now, in retrospect, he couldn’t help but think that maybe it was for the best. Camille might have noticed if things had gone further. 

But what truly hurt was watching Stephanie latch onto Terry like a moth to a flame. The way she practically devoured him with her eyes every time he walked into the room, the way she was always the first to offer help, to show interest. And Terry? He didn’t even seem to notice. He was indifferent to her, completely unaware of the power he held over her. It was the ultimate insult, and Aston could do nothing but watch as Stephanie melted under Terry's indifference, while he couldn’t even keep her attention without buying her expensive bags and shoes. 

So, Austin approached the poker table with one goal: to take everything he could from Terry and his friends. Make them feel as small as he felt.

He glanced around the table, smirking to himself as he took note of the faces he’d become familiar with the past few games. There was Terry of course, glancing at his cards without a care in the world, as if he hadn’t lost over $200,000 in the last two games. Then there was his doctor friend, Elijah, who was always light and jovial despite also losing a substantial amount of money. The other four looked much more stressed, which made sense. They didn’t have affluent jobs like the others. Jabari and Tariq said they were club bouncers, Devon was a firefighter, and Ray worked at an Amazon warehouse. But, to have the funds to participate in the games, Aston was sure that they were involved in something illegal. 

But Aston couldn’t care about that right now. He was winning, he could feel it. The night’s been his, every hand, every bluff, every raise. He’d been untouchable. One more hand, one more victory, and he would walk away with enough money to scale back on his cases at the firm. So he bet everything on this last hand. Everything in his bank account and the $820,000 he got from the past two Thursdays and the previous hands. Once he won, he would be able to go home and do something nice for Camille. It was her birthday after all.

He stared at the cards, the flush staring back at him with promise. Everyone else was nervous and sweating or completely indifferent, but he could see it in their eyes. They knew it was over. And Aston felt invincible.

The cards turned. Aston didn’t even bother to look, immediately dragging all of the chips on the table toward him. Until Terry cleared his throat. Aston’s head snapped towards him, confused. Terry just gave him a light smile, nodding to his cards. Aston followed his glance. His heart dropped to his ass as he looked at the cards. A royal flush.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit!

No, this couldn’t be happening! 

Aston’s gaze snapped back to Terry, his mind racing in disbelief. His chest tightened as he tried to process what had just happened. Terry’s face was unreadable, but the grins that spread across the other players’ faces couldn’t have been more telling. It was as if they had all conspired in some quiet, shared joke that he was the last one to catch onto.

Aston’s lips twitched into a chuckle, but it came out more nervous than amused. He scanned the table, taking in the wide smiles and knowing glances. An anxious snort escaped his nose, his irritation bubbling up as he forced another laugh, trying to play it off. “Alright, guys. Nice try,” he said, his voice tight. “I’ve been winning every game, but now, all of a sudden, I lose when I bet everything?” He scooped up the chips as though he could brush away the growing tension.

But as his fingers closed around the chips, Jabari, who sat to his right, placed a firm hand over his. It was a subtle gesture, almost casual, but it was enough to send a jolt of annoyance through Aston. Jabari’s touch was a quiet warning, one that didn’t sit well with him.

Aston’s glare locked onto him, his brow furrowing. “Seriously, this is too much money to joke about,” he spat, his voice a mixture of frustration and confusion. “I know you cheated to get a cheap laugh, but it's not funny anymore.”

His words fell flat in the charged air. Aston leaned back in his chair, eyes flicking from face to face, searching for some sign that this was just a game, a joke he was missing. But all he saw were those same smug smiles.

“Aston,” Terry called out, bringing Aston’s attention back to him. His strangely colored eyes flickered with something Aston couldn’t comprehend. “You lost. That’s all there is to it.” Aston began to vigorously shake his head. There’s no way he lost. They had to have rigged it somehow, he thought to himself, growing more agitated by the second.

“No…there’s no way. I’ve been winning every hand since I joined. Every. Single. Fucking. One!,” Aston shot back. Terry’s eyebrow raised, but Aston continued to rant. “You sons of bitches might have done something to the deck, but I didn’t fucking lose!”

Jabari leaned a bit closer to him. “Aye man, there’s no need to get loud. Just accept the loss and move the fuck on–” 

Aston jumped from his seat, unable to contain his anger any longer. “This is bullshit!” He yelled as he looked at everyone around the table. But he didn’t like the reactions he saw. No one looked the least bit surprised by his outburst. Gone was the indifference in Terry and Elijah. Gone was the nervousness in the others. Instead, they just looked at him with a strange mix of amusement and irritation.

“Aston, this little tantrum is entertaining and all. But just go ahead and accept the loss so we can all go home,” Terry said softly. The others remained eerily quiet, but Aston couldn’t give a fuck. He was not about to give everything to his name to Terry and his friends of all fucking people.

“Fuck you, Terry!” He shouted, throwing on his jacket. “I didn’t fucking lose. You all are just fucking cheaters. And I’m not going to pay any of you shit. I’m not going to be fucking hustled!” He continued to yell. Terry’s relaxed demeanor disappeared as everyone else at the table stood, chuckling as they walked away from the table. Aston watched as they stood in different corners or the exit, a sick feeling growing in his stomach. He warily looked back to Terry.

“You really think I’m gonna let you walk out of here? And you owe me over $800,000?” Terry scoffed. Aston stared at him for a moment, sweat beginning to collect by his hairline. I need to get out of here, he thought as he resumed collecting his stuff. 

“If you think I’m afraid of you, think again Terry. At the end of the day, you’re probably nothing but some shady drug dealer. And I’ll gladly report this to the police,” Aston scoffed, pulling out his phone, ready to call 911. Terry’s loud laugh cut through the air, sending a chill down his spine.

Just as Aston’s fingers pressed ‘9,’  a cloth bag was thrown over his head from behind him. Blinded and disoriented, he dropped his phone as he clawed at the scratchy fabric blocking his sight. But he only struggled for a moment. A sharp, heavy blow to the back of his head sent a burst of pain through his head as he crumpled to the floor and everything went black.

Aston woke up, his head feeling as though it had been split open and his mouth tasted metallic. He blinked, wincing at the sharp pain at the back of his head, trying to process his surroundings. He realized he was in the trunk of a car, arms, hands, and legs bound and his mouth gagged. Panic consumed him as his eyes tried to adjust to the darkness of the small space. He had no idea how long he had been in there and no sense of when the car would stop. He groaned, leaning his head against whatever surface he could. But he immediately regretted it after as the car rolled over something like a pothole, sending his head slamming into the rough of the trunk.

Stars moved behind his eyes, artificially lighting up the dark space. Before he could even blink them away, the car braked suddenly, making the car come to a stop. His panic spiked, waiting for any sign of movement. 

The trunk of the car popped open, bringing in a rush of light. The brightness magnified the splitting pain of his head, making him whimper and shut his eyes. A pair of hands grabbed him from the trunk with unnatural ease before dropping him on the pavement below. His pained “fuck” was muffled by the rag in his mouth. He was grabbed once more, the mysterious figure carrying him effortlessly, as if he was a piece of luggage. They walked into a warehouse of some sort, which seemed to be in a deserted area.

No one would hear me scream, he thought, his heart dropping. No one would even know I’m here.

He was dropped once again, but this time, he was at the feet of a large figure. He craned his neck to get a good look at them. 

It was Terry, an unamused look on his face, menacing beyond words. Aston shrank from his gaze, moving his eyes to the person who brought him inside. Jabari stood silently from a short distance, his arms crossed. The other poker players didn’t seem to be present. But as he laid at his feet, Aston understood that Terry was running the show. Jabari was just reinforcement.

His attention returned to Terry as he used his booted foot to push him onto his back. He crouched down, pulling the rag from his mouth, his expression never faltering. Aston gasped, the absence of the rage making him notice how dry his mouth was. He winced as he flexed his mouth, dried blood at the corners of his lips cracking the skin.

I need to find a way out of this, he thought, refusing to meet Terry’s eyes. I can get an emergency loan from dad, agree to pay it off within the year. Yeah, I can–

“Fucking look at me,” Terry breathed over him, his tone way too calm for his liking. Aston froze, his gaze snapping to Terry’s, but the moment he locked eyes with him, he instinctively recoiled, pulling his head back as his breath caught in his throat. Yes, it was Terry, but not the Terry he knew. This Terry was something else, something unrecognizable.

Terry’s eyes were now a deep, menacing red, dark and rich like fresh blood. Aston’s pulse quickened, his senses screaming that something was wrong, that this wasn’t just a shift in appearance, but something far darker. Terry’s lips pulled back in a cruel sneer, revealing canines that had lengthened beyond what was natural. The sharp tips of his teeth jutted out menacingly, almost piercing the skin of his bottom lip. This wasn't just Terry, it was a version of him that was far more monstrous and it gripped Aston’s very soul.

“Terry, what… what–” he stammered as the eyes watched him with a predatory glint. “Look, I’ll get you your money by tonight. No explanation needed. W-we can discuss this like gentlemen.” 

Terry just smiled, leaning back as he shook his head. Suddenly, subtle pleas and cries began to approach them from behind. Aston went to roll to face the direction where the sound was coming from. He was stopped by Terry placing a heavy foot on him, keeping him on his back.

The cries grew louder, amplifying Aston’s terror. He was sure that he would have a heart attack the way his chest thundered.

“Terrence, please. I didn’t mean to run them off! I know Crimson has a reputation to uphold, but those girls just got a bit spooked. I just got a little excited!” An unfamiliar voice filled the space next to Aston. His eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to make sense of the words the new voice was saying. 

Without lifting his foot from Aston’s chest, Terry grabbed a stammering man who must’ve been brought in by Jabari. He draped an arm around him as he made him stand in front of Aston. Tears and snot poured down the man’s face, his distress making Aston’s stomach twist even more.

*

“Aston, this is Cole. Cole is going to help me demonstrate what I do to people who fuck with my money,” Terry spoke calmly as he gripped the back of the man’s neck. 

Terry’s hand twitched unnaturally, and in an instant, his nails began to elongate, sharpening into jagged claws before Aston’s very eyes. They gleamed with a menacing sharpness that made Aston’s blood run cold. He tried to twist away, desperate to escape the horror unfolding before him, but Terry’s foot remained planted firmly in place, an immovable force keeping Aston exactly where he was. The pressure of it anchored him down, making it impossible to break free.

Terry’s gaze flickered back to Cole, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. Then, in a blur, his other clawed hand wrapped around the front of the man’s neck, squeezing it dangerously hard. Then, with a flourish, Terry yanked his hand, effectively tearing the man’s throat out. Aston let out a blood curdling scream as blood and tissue splattered onto his face and chest, the sounds of flesh ripping echoing in his mind. Terry remained unphased as he dropped the man’s flailing body next to Aston, pressing his boot further into his chest, forcing him to shut up. Disgust and horror made Aston turn his head, spitting up everything that was in his stomach. He trembled as he turned back to Terry, who brought himself closer to his face, his red eyes seeming to darken. He wiped the bloodied hand he used to kill Cole on the jacket Aston was wearing, making him flinch.

*

The warehouse was unnervingly silent, the only sound being Aston’s ragged sobs that echoed off the cold concrete walls. The sound of his anguish reverberated through the space, but Terry stood unfazed, a deep, resigned sigh escaping his lips as he rolled his eyes.

His once haunting, blood-red gaze slowly shifted to the unnatural blue-green they usually were. His nails began to retract and shrink back into their human form. And his fangs that protruded like daggers, shrank back into his gums. It was almost like watching an illusion dissolve.

Terry’s gaze lingered on Aston, his expression a mix of indifference and distaste. The fearsome being now looked… ordinary.

Aston’s sobs grew more frantic, his chest heaving with each shaky breath as he squeezed his eyes shut. There was no escaping this. He wasn’t getting out of this alive. His thoughts spiraled, each one more hopeless than the last.

Though he wasn’t particularly religious, Aston found himself murmuring a silent prayer, his voice barely more than a whisper. It wasn’t for salvation, it was a plea for mercy. He whispered to no one in particular, hoping that Terry would be merciful, that whatever came next would be quick and final. Aston swallowed hard, his body trembling, as he waited for the inevitable, hoping against hope that it would come swiftly.

Terry began to mockingly shush him, lifting his foot from his chest and moving to crouch down next to him, gripping Aston’s face in his cleaner hand, carefully avoiding the residual puke on his chin. 

“Now… I think you finally understand who you’re dealing with, right?” Terry's voice was a low, ominous murmur, his piercing gaze fixed on Aston with unnerving intensity.

Aston nodded frantically, desperate to avoid Terry’s gaze. Terry’s lips curled into a satisfied hum. He tilted his head slightly, his expression of pure, cold detachment being replaced by a small, unnerving smile.

“Good,” Terry purred, his voice dripping with malice. His next words seethed out with barely contained fury. “Because I want my fucking money.” Terry leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowing as he spoke again, his voice dropping even lower, laced with venom.

“But before that, I need you to part ways with what I want the most,” Terry continued, his smile never faltering. “This whole scheme? It was about much more than money.” His words dripped with dark amusement as he watched Aston’s face falter, Terry’s words slowly sinking in. “I didn’t even want your money to begin with. I have plenty of that on my own. But you’ve been disrespecting me ever since I came to the firm, which I find unacceptable. So now, I have to have everything you have. The money is... nice, I suppose. But it’s not my priority.”

Terry leaned in, closing the space between them with deliberate slowness. His breath ghosted across Aston’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. The words he whispered were smooth and velvety.

“You have someone... much more valuable to me.”

Aston’s face scrunched in confusion, his mind racing to understand what was being said. His heart thudded in his chest as the cryptic words twisted in his mind. And then it hit him. The realization crashed into him, freezing him in place. His blood ran cold as the horror settled over him like ice water.

Camille.

The name ran through his head, making his pulse quicken even more. The room seemed to tilt, his world suddenly spinning. He didn’t love Camille in a romantic sense. But she was still his friend, someone he had shared the last thirteen years of his life with. They had been through too much together to be torn apart by some… money-hungry beast. They had been companions in their shared pursuit of belonging, trapped in a world where power and influence shaped everything.

But beyond all of that, she was good. Pure. Kind-hearted. He felt the need to protect her surge through him. She couldn’t fall into the hands of a monster like Terry. Not when he was capable of doing anything to get what he wanted. A wave of nausea swept over him. But instead of cowering, Aston looked Terry in the eyes, showing that this was where he drew the line. 

“You stay the fuck away from her,” Aston snarled, a burst of courage running through him. Terry just chuckled. 

“Don’t worry, Camille will be well taken care of, well-cherished, and well-fucked,” Terry laughed sinisterly. But his voice returned serious. “But, I need you out of the way. But it has to be subtle. So, if you follow my instructions, I’ll be merciful. But if you try to fuck me over,” he spoke, pulling him up slightly by his collar. “I will make you suffer in every way imaginable.”

Aston sniffled. He couldn’t let him get away with this, but he needed to be smart. He wouldn’t be able to help Camille from the other side of the grave. So he needed to remain in Terry’s good graces until he had a solid plan to navigate the situation. 

“What do you need me to do then?” He gulped as Terry hummed thoughtfully, watching him intensely. 

“We’ll see what works best as we go along. But, your first task will be breaking up with Camille. The little thing loves to stick to her morals, which I admire. But it makes her a bit inaccessible at the moment,” Terry began with a nonchalant shrug. 

Aston’s mind seemed to stutter as he processed everything that was said. No, no, he couldn’t let Camille deal with this predator alone. He needed to buy some time.

“I can break up with her, but her hands will still be tied by the contract,” Aston stated, hoping he was giving him new information. Terry’s jaw clenched but he looked intrigued. “What do you mean?”

“Camille and I have a contractual agreement. The marriage prevents her family from losing everything. Sure, she’ll be covered by you, I’m assuming, but if her family loses everything, their houses, their assets, she’ll be devastated. And her father has placed so much pressure on her to be their savior. If the marriage doesn’t go through, she has no way of preventing them from falling into poverty,” he stammered. 

Terry looked genuinely surprised by the revelation. He released his grip on Aston’s collar, making his head fall back into the hard floor. He groaned, white-hot pain throbbing from the site of impact.

Terry rubbed his chin, his eyes flickering to Jabari, who remained silent and unmoving during this entire exchange. He brought his eyes back to Aston, making him hold his breath.

“Huh, I knew that this engagement was arranged, but I had no idea there was a contract involved…” he whispered to himself, more so than Aston. But his eyes came back into focus.

“Alright,” Terry’s grin returned to his face. “You obviously have valuable knowledge of the situation.” Aston released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“But,” Terry growled, fangs once again appearing from the corner of his lips. “I still want you to end the relationship, sooner rather than later. So once I figure this contract shit out, it better be the first thing you do. For your sake at least.” Aston gave a curt nod. He had no intention of breaking up with Camille when the time came, but he just needed to do what he could to get back home.

Terry rose from his haunches, fully standing over him. 

“Jabari will make sure that any injuries you got from tonight will heal fully before you get home. It’s a drink we make, but it’ll be mixed with a lot of alcohol so you don’t have to remember anything but the most important details of the night. You’ll also need to wash up and freshen your clothes. Once all that’s settled, he’ll make sure to drop you by your apartment.” Again, Aston nodded furiously, just wanting to move on from this moment in time so he could figure out how to protect himself and Camille.

“And, just so we’re clear,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You tell anyone about any of this, especially Camille, I will kill every family member you have in front of you, slowly and brutally, until no one’s left. Then I’ll kill you too.”

With that, Terry stepped over his body to walk out of the warehouse as Jabari lifted him from the floor.

Camille

Camille couldn’t help but pull at the satin restraints expertly tied around her wrists as she writhed with agonizing pleasure. Through a haze of tears, Camille looked up at the hypnotic blue eyes of her captor as he gazed down at her, silently pleading for him to have some mercy on her. But Terry just smirked down at her, his strong thighs keeping her legs pried open as he slowly pulled in and out of her, his length brushing past a spot that made her vision blur with each stroke. 

“Baby…,” her voice barely above a whisper. He hummed, grabbing her leg to place a feathery soft kiss on her ankle. Her toes curled in response and her pussy quivered around him, pulling a satisfied groan from his throat.

“What is it, princess?” he teased before dragging his tongue across her Achilles. “Tell Daddy what you want so I can do it for you. Pussy too good to not let you have what you want.” Camille’s lips quivered as she tried to form words, the delicious pressure in her core too intense for her to think. Her lover placed a few more kisses on her calf, his strokes slowly coming to a stop. Camille’s body throbbed at the absence of his movement, stuck at just the edge of her climax. 

“No, no…no, Terry pleaseeee,” she whined, her hands pulling at the restraints that kept her tied to the bed. She could feel her orgasm retreating with every passing second.

“That’s not my name right now, baby girl,” He purred. He reached down between her legs, his calloused thumb, ever so slowly, circling her bundle of nerves. A chorus of pathetic moans escaped her lips at the friction. “Come on, princess. Just use your words. Tell me what you need.” 

Instead of answering, Camille furrowed her brows in frustration, moving her hips to meet his in an attempt to find some relief. Terry growled, gripping her thighs to hold her still. 

“Uh-uhn. Don’t be a greedy little brat. I already made you cum twice. But now I want you to beg,” his chest rumbled. Camille took a deep breath, finding the strength to voice her desires.

“P-please, Daddy. Please don’t stop,” she whispered. Terry chuckled, nearly pulling out of her completely, before slamming his full length back into her. Camille’s eyes rolled back as his girth stuffed her, nearly knocking the wind right out of her. Terry lowered his body down to hers until his lips were next to her ear, his weight locking her in place. “I can’t hear you, my love,” he mumbled, placing a teasing, sloppy kiss on her neck. 

“Please, Daddy I can’t take it! Just fucking fuck me!” she shouted, a sob shaking her body. Terry laughed, licking a tear from her cheek. “As you wish, baby girl.”

He leaned back, his large hand wrapping around her neck as he plunged in and out of her at the perfect pace. Camille’s back arched off the bed as he fucked the last bit of thoughts out of her head. The light squeeze on her neck. The way he hit her spot. The deep groans and moans tumbling past his lips. It was all too much for her. She couldn’t tell if the man was sending her straight to heaven or dragging her down to hell.

“You’re so pretty when I fuck you like this. All tied up. Begging with those tears rolling down your face. Pure fucking perfection. Of course I have to keep you all to myself,” he chuckled, the hand around her neck going to caress her tear-stained cheek. “Which is why, before I let you cum, we need to get an understanding.” Camille’s pussy clenched in response to his rough, almost animalistic tone. 

“Tell me you will leave McCoy,” he growled, staring down at her, his pace never faltering. Camille’s eyes widened. How could he demand that of her? 

He scoffed at her hesitation, bringing his hand back to her neck. “Camille,” his tone full of warning. “Stop fucking playing with me. He could never fuck you this good. Only I make you this damn delirious. Only me.” Camille bit her lip, feeling a familiar pressure in her stomach. She was almost there…so so clos–

“Camille!” Terry growled. 

“I’m yours, only yours Terry!” Camille screamed, her orgasm crashing over her. Stars and fireworks flashed in her vision as her legs shook uncontrollably. “I’ll always be yours!”

He chuckled darkly, licking his lips. “That’s right, Mrs. Richmond.”

Camille jolted awake, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. Her chest heaved as she scanned the room, the light from the nearby buildings and billboards bathing it in a faint red glow. 

It must be late, she thought, trying to distract from the wetness between her legs and the heat radiating off her body. She turned to Aston's side of the bed, searching for comfort. But his side of the mattress was as empty and cold as it was hours ago.

Confused, she reached for her phone on the nightstand, unlocking it. The screen lit up, and her eyes darted to the time. 11:49.

Where could he be at this hour? The thought spun in her mind urgently. Is he okay?

Aston's pro-bono work had always kept him late, but it was rare for him to be gone past 9:00 PM. She’d become accustomed to his late nights, but this felt different. A knot of anxiety twisted in her stomach. She dialed his number, her pulse quickening with each ringing tone. One, two... then a click switched to a voicemail prompt. 

Where is he?

She didn’t hesitate to type out a text, her fingers moving almost automatically. Is everything ok? It’s pretty late.

She hit send, then waited, watching the “delivered” before it flipped to “read.” Her chest tightened as the seconds ticked by. No response came. 

A hollow feeling settled deep inside her as she locked her phone, placing it back on the nightstand with a resigned sigh. Her shoulders slumped forward, the emptiness of the room closing in on her. She couldn’t stop the feelings that flooded in, unloved... unimportant. Her mind spiraled. What else could he be doing right now? The question echoed in her mind, but no answer came. Tears threatened to spill, stinging the corners of her eyes. She closed them tightly, biting her lip as a soft sniffle escaped her. Maybe Kali had been right all along. Aston had never truly changed. But what was she supposed to do with that truth? What could she possibly do now?

She needed to distract herself. Do something to keep the hurt from boiling over. The throb in her pussy began to gnaw at her more and her eyes landed on the nightstand. She reached into the drawer, fishing her hand around until she brushed against the silicon of her rose toy. Rolling onto her back, she switched on the toy and stuck it between her legs. As she positioned it perfectly over her clit, she rolled her head back, letting her imagination run wild as her mind shifted from her sorrows and focused on the sensations.

She could see the scenes clearly, as if she were dreaming again. Strong arms wrapping around her. Thick lips parting to stick a dominating tongue into her mouth. Hands pulling on her hair. Loving kisses pressed against her collarbone. 

Just a bit more, she thought as her orgasm approached. Then, she’ll be able to lull herself back to sleep. It didn't take long for the wave to crash over her, a name unconsciously slipping past her lips. “Oh, Terr-”

Camille was cut off by the apartment front door slamming open. She screamed, tossing the toy away from her in surprise. 

“Fuck! Fuck, Fuck, FUCK!” Aston’s screaming reverberated off the wall. Camille quickly sat up, pulling her robe around her trembling body. She stumbled out of the room, gasping as she entered the living area. Aston was a storm, a whirlwind of fury. His movements were erratic as he thrashed at anything within reach. His fists pounded into the walls, leaving deep, jagged dents, while shards of glass crunched beneath his feet, scattered across the floor from glasses he was throwing. A barstool lay overturned, its legs splintered. He screamed again. Camille’s breath hitched in her throat, terror clawing at her chest. His eyes snapped to her, pausing his rampage. His chest heaved as he ran a hand through his hair as he looked around at the damage he caused. He started to stumble toward hers, his steps uncoordinated. She recoiled in fright, pressing herself against the wall. But then she caught a whiff of him. He smelled like he fell out of a whiskey bottle. 

She froze. He had been drinking. Aston never drank. 

“Millie… baby. I’m sorry, i-if I woke you–”

“Aston… What the hell is going on?” Camille’s voice cracked.

“Nothing, baby, nothing. We just need to talk,” Aston panted, struggling to catch his breath. His chest heaved and he collapsed onto one of the barstools, his hands shaking. “You have to quit working for Terry. Probably quit working for the firm altogether.”

“What?!” Camille’s voice shot up, disbelief flooding her. “Why? Why would I do that?!”

Aston sneered, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Wow, you can’t even think about it? Can’t even consider it? As my future wife, I thought you’d have more respect for me.” His eyes were filled with frustration, but Camille only felt more lost.

“You’re seriously angry at me because I don’t want to quit my job?” Camille’s voice quivered, her heart pounding as the fear inside of her slowly became anger. “Do you hear yourself right now?” Her mind raced from the absurdity of it all.

Aston threw his hands up, eyes rolling in dramatic frustration. “Do you think I’m fucking stupid, Camille? Do you think I’m just saying this for fun?!” His voice cracked as he yelled, amplifying the chaos between them.

Camille blinked rapidly as hot, silent tears spilled down her cheeks. She couldn’t even tell if they were from fear or from anger. All she could hear clearly was her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. “Aston,” she whispered, her voice barely steady. “I’m not having this conversation with you unless you calm down.”

Aston’s expression faltered, his anger momentarily replaced by something softer. Exhaustion, maybe, or regret. But it didn’t last. He stumbled toward the sectional a few feet away, sinking into the couch, his hands buried in his hair as he sniffled, the tension still coiled in his body. “Baby, I can’t tell you what happened tonight, okay?” His voice cracked. “Just… just know that Terry is fucking dangerous. He’s fucking evil. And I can’t, I can’t let you be around him, alright?”

“What do you mean you can’t tell me what happened?!” Camille shot back, her voice cracking in frustration. She moved closer to him, careful not to step on the broken glass scattered on the floor. “You come in here, drunk as hell and wrecking our home. You scare me half to death. And now you’re telling me to stay away from my boss for some unknown reason? Or is it just your jealousy?!” The words exploded from her before she could stop them, her anger raw and untamed. But as soon as she said them, her eyes closed momentarily with regret, knowing that her words were unnecessary.

**

Aston’s head snapped up, his eyes filled with hurt and something much darker. The venom in his gaze sent a chill down her spine. He glared at her, his voice lowering to a dangerous edge. “You think you know everything, don’t you? You think Terry’s better than me? Of course you do. You look at him as if he hung the moon,” His words hung in the air, cold and accusing.

She gasped, feeling as though she was one in the wrong and not him. “Aston,” she whispered, her throat tight. “You’re talking crazy. Terry isn’t better than you. Is this still about him making partner—”

“No, you fucking bitch!” Aston shouted, cutting her off, making Camille flinch. “It’s not about that, Camille! Why can’t you just listen to me?!” His eyes burned with anger, and in a split second, he shot up from the couch, his body towering over hers as he advanced. Camille’s chest tightened with panic as she instinctively stepped back.

Aston followed her, relentless. “That guy is out to get me, Camille. And you have no idea how much danger you’re in. That’s all I can say. Tomorrow, you will put in your two weeks’ notice. And then I'm putting you on a plane to somewhere safe,” he demanded, his voice low and deadly.

Camille’s breath hitched in her throat. Despite the fear that gripped her, she would not let Aston take one of the last things that made her happy away from her. She shook her head defiantly. “I will do no such thing,” she whispered.

His anger felt thick and suffocating as it surrounded them. Aston's face twisted in frustration as he stared at her, his fists clenched at his sides. The room was silent except for the harsh sound of their breathing. But then, he walked closer to her, attempting to close the gap between them. Camille retreated until she felt her back hit the wall of their living room.

He slammed his hands on both sides of her head, leaning in close enough for her to smell the alcohol on his breath. “You ungrateful bitch!” Camille, terrified, tried to move away from him. But his hands moved to grip her forearms, with enough force that she was sure he left bruises. “You are fucking quitting tomorrow! Do you fucking hear me?!” He jerked her body harder than he intended, slamming her into the wall behind her, leaving a dent. She cried out in pain, falling to the floor as he dropped her. He looked down at her with horror.

“Millie… baby,” Aston's voice trembled as he reached out for her, his hand shaking in the air, desperate to touch her.

“Don’t. Touch me!” Camille sobbed, her voice cracking. Aston flinched as though she had slapped him, his face contorting with shock and hurt. He froze in place, his arms hanging uselessly at his sides, as she stumbled back to a standing position, using the wall for support to keep her upright. The tears flowed freely, but she couldn’t stop moving. She had to get away. She had to get somewhere. Anywhere but here.

**

Her legs barely held her up as she wobbled toward their bedroom, but just as her hand reached the doorframe, Aston appeared in front of her, blocking her path. 

“Baby, please… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it! Please, I swear, I didn’t mean it,” his voice desperate. He reached for her again, but she shoved past him with all the strength she had left.

She headed straight for the closet, her hands moving frantically as she yanked clothes off the hangers, shoving them into an overnight bag. She couldn’t stop, couldn’t even think straight as she stuffed her shoes and jewelry in without care. 

Aston followed her, his voice pleading, but she couldn’t hear him anymore. His words were drowned out by the deafening roar of her own heartbeat. Tears blurred her vision as she moved through the motions, grabbing her toothbrush, her contact lenses, her makeup case. She refused to stop. 

When she finally turned to face him, Aston was on his knees, his face streaked with tears and snot, his chest heaving with sobs that shook him to his core. His gaze locked with hers, desperation and agony showing.

“Millie, please,” he begged, his voice hoarse, almost broken. “Please don’t go. I swear I didn’t mean it… I’ll do anything… just… please.”

She looked down at him, her heart aching, and for a moment, she wondered if she should stay. If he was really apologetic. He does seem sorry, she thought. But I can’t stay. The pain at the back of her head flared again, sharper this time, and she fought to keep herself steady. The thought of his hands on her, his rage, the way he just tore everything apart… it was too much.

She stepped past him, deciding not to take the risk. She pulled her robe tighter around herself. She didn’t look at him again, stepping into her house slippers and making her way toward the door.

“Millie… please, Millie!” Aston’s voice cracked behind her, but she wouldn’t look back. She couldn’t afford to.

She opened the front door, her hand shaking as she pulled her phone from her robe’s pocket. She needed to get away, go somewhere she could breathe and process how her world just fell apart.

She nearly fumbled her phone as she dialed Kali’s number, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. It rang twice before her friend’s voice came through.

“Cammieeee! Hey birthday girl!” Kali’s voice chirped cheerfully, but Camille could hear the shift in her friend’s tone as she sobbed into the phone, her voice cracking in a way she never allowed Kali to hear before. “Kali, I’m so sorry to call and ask so late. But can I please stay the night? Please.”

The moment Kali heard her desperation, her voice softened, concern bleeding through. “Oh my God, Camille… absolutely! I’ll get everything ready for you. Don’t worry, it's not a problem at all!”

“Thank you,” Camille sniffled, the words barely escaping her as she wiped away the last of her tears. She hung up the phone abruptly, barely even hearing the final words Kali had spoken as she stepped into the elevator.

Terry

Terry stood before the altar in his bedroom, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on the walls. He stared as the flames danced, tall, vibrant tongues of orange, red, and pink that swirled and shifted with a powerful potency. His love spell was working. Every flicker of the flame seemed to confirm it, she was in love with him and ached to be his. 

His gaze lingered on the sacred space until a sudden vibration from his pocket broke his focus. His fingers twitched as he reached down, wondering who could possibly be texting him this late. He hoped it wasn’t Jabari telling him he ran into any problems.

He glanced at his phone screen, expecting a mundane message. But, the number was unfamiliar. A stranger. Curiosity mixed with unease as the message popped up:

Terry. I know what you want. And I want to help you get it.

His brow furrowed. The words were too cryptic for his comfort. He stared at the screen for a long moment, wanting to delete the message altogether. He wasn’t in the mood for any bullshit. But a voice in his head urged him to engage. Shaking his head, Terry quickly typed out a response:

Who the hell is this?

He waited, and soon enough, the chat bubble appeared, followed by a cryptic reply:

A friend. Someone on your side.

Terry’s patience was thinning. He didn’t have time for this. Impatiently, he typed:

Tell me what this is about or stop playing on my phone.

Just as he was about to toss his phone back in his pocket and re-focus on the altar, the response appeared startlingly quick:

Camille. You want her to be yours, right?

Terry’s heart skipped a beat, his blood turning to ice. His fingers froze over the screen as a cold sweat broke out across his brow. Before he could type another message, another response came:

We should meet up. Come here tomorrow night @7.

A location pin was sent before the chat went completely silent. Terry took a labored breath. This could be trouble. After a long pause, Terry shoved his phone back into his pocket. He would go to this meeting, see who this person was. If they were a threat, he would deal with them swiftly. But if they wanted to support him, he would gladly accept the help.

*: Terry murders a man in front of Aston

**: Aston hurts Camille, prompting her to leave their apartment

--------------

@nayaesworld @slvt4her @writingsbytee @notapradagurl7 @23jammy @kaylaahisthebestest- @theogbadbitch @wabi-sabi1090 @hotgyalaroad @nubiagurllll @lovedlover @dimepiece09 @lavaniiii @simplyzeeka @susanhill @next-bex-bet @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @ranikyani @loveschrisbrown20 @daddyslittlevillain @blackchickinthedesert @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @hello-therree @solunaseira @hotebonynearby @key05marie @moebuttta @winorlosetogether @nohatingpplbczhtingpplr @alexinmotion @queencb2462 @kismet83 @bruleecream

[ch33z3grits]

Crimson Obsessions | A Terry Richmond Vampire Series

pairing: Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond x Justine Skye as Camille DeWaterson

summary: Terry scrambles to correct himself for a massive slip-up concerning Camille, seeking help from one of his most trusted sources. Camille begins to feel scrutinized by Aston, making her wonder just how well she’s hiding her feelings towards Terry.

warnings: 18+ mdni, mentions of sexual situations, dark romance, manipulation, obsessiveness/possessiveness, mentions of blood, mentions of violence, mentions of accidental death, angst

word count: 8266

glossary:

Indulgences: human beings that vampires deem romantically and sexually desirable

Shifting: the ability for supernaturals to change between their human-presenting form and their true appearance

Ambrosia: an aphrodisiac and euphoric substance that makes humans more open to the propositions of supernaturals

a/n: so i definitely planned to post this yesterday, but my wi-fi went out in my apartment 🙃 so posting this from work (where of course, today of all days, everyone wanted to look over my shoulder). hope y'all enjoy!

Terry’s song: Dark Red-Steve Lacy | Camille’s song: Love on the Brain-Rihanna

Pt. Five

Terry

Fuck.

Fuck!

Terry stared down at Camille's unconscious form, the weight of the moment crashing over him. Everything happened so fast, so fucking fast. One moment, she was looking through her purse. The next, she pulled her hand back, a trail of blood catching the light in a brilliant splash of red.

She hurt herself.

The blood was blindingly bright and had magnified her intoxicating scent: a rich blend of vanilla and jasmine that swirled through the air like an ethereal perfume. The droplets fell against the asphalt with a soft, melodic rhythm, like wind chimes. That was all it took for his carefully constructed resolve to break, the sharp pang of hunger shooting through him like wildfire.

His composure shattered in an instant. The discipline he had so carefully cultivated, the iron control that kept his primal instincts chained, snapped. It was only a few seconds, but that was all it took. His hunger consumed him, his drive to take. By the time his mind could even process what was happening, he had taken two desperate gulps of her blood, too much too fast. 

Blinking rapidly, he forced himself to focus. His tongue, still coated in her delicious life force, reached out to lick the wound he had made on her neck. He watched as the marks began to close, the flesh knitting itself back together under his touch. He gathered her body into his arms and, with hurried movements, rushed to his car. He flung open the passenger door and gently laid her in the seat, securing the seat belt around her. He sprinted to the driver’s side, the engine roaring to life beneath him as he sped away without so much as a glance at his blind spot.

His hands shook slightly as he fumbled with his phone, dialing a number he called frequently, but never for anything related to this. "Come on, come on," he muttered under his breath, frustration building with every passing second. The phone rang, the seconds stretching into eternity, until a familiar voice finally broke through, calm but laced with concern.

“Terry? Everything okay?” the voice of his close friend and fellow vampire, Elijah, came through. Terry’s chest tightened, and for a moment, he couldn’t find the words. It felt like everything was falling apart. “You working today?” he forced out, glancing at Camille slumped in the seat beside him.

“Yeah, why?”

“I need help,” Terry’s voice raw with guilt and fear. “I... I lost control.” He could hear Elijah’s sharp intake of breath on the other end.

“How many pints?” Elijah asked, his voice low and measured, trying to keep the conversation as discreet as possible.

Terry’s heart ached as the reality of the situation sank in deeper. “Like one and a half, maybe two. She’s knocked out.”

“It’s going to be okay,” Elijah’s voice was calm again. “Just get her to the hospital now.”

“Yeah,” Terry replied, the words feeling like lead in his mouth. “I’m on my way now.”

He accelerated, his eyes locked on the road ahead, but his mind was still reeling, still trying to process what had just happened.

He didn’t mean to drink from her. He didn’t mean to siphon off a little bit of her life force. Not yet, at least. That was supposed to come later, far later, after he had her completely, utterly, helplessly in love with him. So deeply, that the revelation of his true nature would only cause her temporary horror. He would coax her into forgiveness, into a sense of security that made her feel safe with someone as deadly as him. And once she got comfortable, he would show her just how pleasurable and rewarding it would be to offer him her vein. He would make love to her, slow and deliberate, to put her mind at ease and relax her enough to get her blood rushing for the perfect bite. Let her cum a few times so her mind would be open to him taking her. Then, his fangs would sink into her as he plunged into her depths, letting her pussy clench around him as he sent her to a place beyond euphoria. And he would feast on her slowly as she cried over how good he made her feel. Camille would be hooked, eagerly offering herself to him as much as he pleased.

But in a moment of weakness, he lost it. Jeopardized his whole plan. His future with Camille. All because of one unexpected cut. He looked over to her once more, checking on her state. She was still unmoving. He reached his right hand over to her, placing it over her nose lightly. His body relaxed a bit, feeling her breath hit his fingers. But, they were shallow. 

“Almost there, baby,” he whispered, extending his reach to stroke her hair. “Almost there.”

After recklessly weaving in and out of traffic and through red lights, Terry finally came to a halt in front of St. Joseph’s Medical Center, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t give a damn that he parked his Lamborghini Urus in the area designated exclusively for ambulances. This wasn’t just an emergency; it was his emergency. 

Elijah was already there, standing at the curb with a gurney and two nurses already in position. They rushed to the passenger side, opening the door and swiftly pulling out Camille’s limp body. The nurses worked with practiced precision, their faces a blur of focus and urgency as they wheeled her away, the wheels squealing against the pavement.

Terry attempted to follow, but Elijah moved quickly, stepping directly in front of him and placing his hand firmly on Terry’s chest, blocking his path. Terry’s body stiffened, and his eyes blazed with fury. He shot Elijah a murderous glare, but Elijah met it without flinching.

“Terry,” Elijah said, his voice calm but firm. “I understand, but you need to calm down—”

“Man, get the fuck out of my way,” Terry growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Elijah didn’t budge. Instead, he raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Terry, I know you’re basically made of money and power, but there’s no amount that’ll save you if you shift in front of all these people. Don’t expose yourself.”

Terry’s chest rose and fell sharply as his brain processed Elijah’s words. He was right. Shifting in a busy area would be disastrous. There would be too many consequences to count. His grip on his control wavered, and his instincts screamed at him to act, to run after Camille, to make sure she was okay, but Elijah held him in place.

Terry inhaled sharply, his breath ragged as he squeezed his eyes shut, grounding himself. Elijah stood silently beside him, offering no judgment, just the quiet reassurance of his presence. “Focus, make sure your eyes are back to normal,” Elijah said softly.

With deliberate effort, Terry forced himself to take a few deep breaths. The scent of Camille’s blood, still clinging to his lips, made his mouth water, but he pushed it aside. Slowly, painfully, he concentrated on his usual form. His human facade. And when he opened his eyes again, he could tell that they were back to blue.

Elijah gave him a long, appraising look before nodding. “Alright, you’re good. Follow me.”

The two men hurried into the hospital, navigating the sterile white hallways with precision. Terry kept his head down, forcing himself to stay calm as the air around him buzzed with the sounds of chattering voices and beeping medical devices. His mind was on Camille, her pulse, her breath. She’s alive, she’s alive, he repeated to himself silently. After a series of twists and turns, they arrived at the room where Camille laid.

Terry let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. The sight of her, although still unconscious, hooked up to a heart monitor and an IV drip, brought him a sense of relief that almost made his knees buckle. 

He leaned against the doorframe, letting the steady beeping of the monitor wash over him. His chest eased.

“She’s stable,” Elijah said, his voice softer now, but his gaze still sharp, measuring Terry. “But we should probably talk once she’s discharged. This isn't like you at all.”

Terry nodded, his eyes fixed on Camille. His guilt was only growing stronger. This wasn’t just a slip-up. It was a failure. He had always been unshakable and indestructible. He had always been able to control himself, especially under pressure. But Camille had obviously become his weakness. He was better than this. He had to be. If he was going to have her in his life, he had to stay composed. He couldn’t slip into some ferocious, lust-fueled hunger every time she got an injury.

“Hey,” Elijah's voice was gentle as he placed a reassuring hand on Terry's arm. “She’s going to be alright. Don’t be too hard on yourself.” With those few words of comfort, he gave Terry a firm nod before turning and heading down the hall, leaving Terry alone.

Terry exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face as his mind raced. He couldn’t allow self-pity to sink in. Camille needed him to have everything under control by the time she woke up, so she wouldn’t be burdened with any more worries than necessary.

First, he called the office, alerting HR to the fact that Camille had a medical emergency and wouldn’t be returning to work for the rest of the day. Next, he dialed up an associate who dealt with scenes related to these types of incidents. They would be able to retrieve her car, delete any video footage of what happened, and make sure any witnesses didn’t remember what happened. Finally, he sent a brief text to Elijah, requesting that he bring some ambrosia to Camille’s room. She would need to drink it soon in case her memory returned and she remembered anything about him…attacking her.

Terry let out another sigh, his body sinking into the chair beside her bed. He reached out and took her hand in his, gently lifting it to his lips and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her knuckles. "I’m so sorry, Camille," he whispered, his voice barely a breath. His thumb brushed tenderly against her hand, the softness calming his thoughts.

As he returned her hand back to her side, the door burst open with surprising force. Terry’s head snapped up, eyes widening as a woman stood in the doorway, clearly breathless. It was Kali. Her wide eyes darted between him and Camille, her shock palpable.

"Terry?" she asked, her voice thick with confusion.

"Kali?" he replied, his voice coming out a little strained. "You work here?" He raised an eyebrow, trying to mask his unease, but the wariness in her gaze made him anxious. Did she see me kiss her hand? He thought. Nah, she definitely would’ve mentioned something. Just stay cool.

"Yeah," Kali responded, smoothing her scrubs as she took a step closer. "I’m an RN in the NICU. Why are you here?" Her eyes narrowed slightly, still scanning him with suspicion.

"She fainted at a work event after cutting her hand," Terry said, his voice calm and controlled. "I brought her here. Didn’t want her to be alone." He gave her a reassuring smile, hoping that would ease her. Kali’s guarded expression softened, his explanation seeming reasonable. 

"Oh, God," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She crossed over to Camille’s side, placing the back of her hand gently against her forehead, her face filled with concern.

After a moment, Kali turned back to Terry, gratitude flickering in her eyes. "Thank God you were there," she murmured, her voice tinged with relief. "Who knows what might’ve happened."

 She wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me, he thought. He forced a weak smile, nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, I'm glad too," he said quietly, his eyes falling back to Camille. He cleared his throat. "The doctor said she was gonna be okay?"

Kali immediately moved to the wall, pulling the chart that hung there. She scanned it quickly, her brow furrowing as she read over the details. She glanced up at him.

"Yeah, it says she lost a fair amount of blood, but not enough to be in hypovolemic shock," Kali muttered, her voice trailing off. She looked back at Camille, the confusion growing in her expression. "But that’s strange. She should be awake by now..."

Terry’s pulse quickened. Fainting is common for humans during their first few feedings, he reminded himself.

Before Terry could respond, a soft whimper filled the room. Instinctively, both Kali and Terry turned toward Camille as her eyelids fluttered. Terry’s chest tightened as he watched her stir, a lump forming in his throat.

She’s waking up, he thought urgently, his telepathic message reaching Elijah. That ambrosia—still on the way?

Be there as soon as I can. It’s still mixing, came Elijah's response.

“Terry?” Camille’s voice broke through, fragile and hoarse, her gaze locked onto him. His heart skipped a beat as he leaned closer to her. “Hey, Camille,” he said. “How do you feel?”

She blinked, disoriented, her eyes trying to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings. “Umm… a little lightheaded. What happened? Where are we?”

Terry opened his mouth to answer, but before he could find the right words, Kali spoke, her tone warm yet tinged with relief. “You’re at the hospital, babe.”

Camille’s head shifted to the other side of the bed, her gaze landing on Kali. The confusion in her eyes deepened. “Kali?” she whispered, obviously shocked. “You work almost forty minutes away from me. How’d I end up here?”

Terry hesitated, knowing he needed to stay as vague as possible. He spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. “You cut yourself,” he explained gently, motioning toward the bandaged finger on her hand. “You brought something from the office to me… but you lost a lot of blood and fainted pretty soon after you got there.”

Confusion continued to cross her face as she struggled to remember. “What?” she whispered again, her voice laced with disbelief. “I don’t even remember leaving the office…”

Kali's voice was soft but filled with gratitude. “Thank goodness Terry was there,” she said, her eyes never leaving Camille. “He acted so quickly… this could’ve been much worse.” Her gaze finally shifted to Terry, a silent thank you.

Camille’s eyes also returned to Terry’s, her expression both apologetic and touched. “Terry…thank you so much,” she said, her honey-like voice making Terry’s heart, and dick, jump. “I’m really sorry this interrupted your day…”

Terry shook his head, crouching so they were eye to eye. His hand gently brushed hers, a quiet reassurance. “Don’t apologize, Camille,” his words steady but filled with unspoken emotion. “I’m just… really glad you’re okay.”

They exchanged a look and it lingered a moment too long. A look that shouldn’t have been shared, too warm, too soft. But before that gaze could settle, the door to the room creaked open, and the moment disappeared.

“Camille, I came as soon as I got the call,” Aston’s voice broke through the room, panting hard as if he rushed to get here. Terry nearly growled with irritation. Kali visibly stiffened, her entire demeanor changing as she watched him walk further into the room.

Hmmm, Terry thought. I wonder what that's all about.

“Baby, are you–” Aston’s words cut off abruptly when his eyes landed on Terry. A flicker of confusion flashed across his face, followed by irritation that was quick to harden into something sharper. Terry’s lips curled into a smirk, his gaze unwavering as Aston’s discomfort grew.

“Terry,” Aston greeted through clenched teeth. “What are you doing here?” Terry tilted his head slightly, amused by the way he reacted to him. He could practically taste his wariness. He wanted to be an asshole and say something slick, but for Camille’s sake, he just smiled politely. But before he could say a word, Kali’s voice cut through the silence, her tone full of venom.

“He’s making sure Camille is well taken care of,” she said, her eyes locking onto Aston with a cold, calculated gaze. “Which makes me wonder, why weren’t you here?” Aston’s eyes snapped toward her, a flash of disdain crossing his face. His lips curled into a slight frown as his dislike of her, clearly mutual, seemed to fill the room.

“Kaliyah,” he grumbled.

“Aston,” she shot back just as tightly, emphasizing the syllables of his name as if giving him a discreet warning. Her eyes narrowed in challenge.

Terry raised an eyebrow as they stared each other down.

Camille attempted to break through the rising tension. “Guys, please–”

Aston cut her off, his focus solely on Kali. “Since you must know, Kaliyah,” his voice bordered a snarl, straining to hold onto whatever composure he had left. “I was on the other side of town. For. Work.” Kali’s eye twitched, the tightness of her jaw telling Terry she was close to snapping.

Camille shifted in bed, the effort pulling Terry’s attention back to her. He moved instinctively, reaching out to steady her, to help her sit up. Aston’s eyes flicked over, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes. Terry just shot him a harmless grin as he rubbed Camille’s forearm soothingly. 

“But I do find it strange that you’re here, Terry.” The sharpness in Aston’s voice was enough to make Terry’s eyebrow raise again, his eyes narrowing slightly. Don’t start something you can’t finish nigga, he thought. He kept his calm, but the tension in the room was thick, the air hanging heavy with animosity.

“I brought her here—”

Aston cut him off, his voice raising. “And how were you able to do that if she was in the office and you weren’t?” His challenge hung in the air, mocking. Terry’s smile faltered. The mask he wore slipped for a fraction of a second, his expression turning cold and dangerous.

Aston faltered, shrinking under Terry’s glare. It was dark and unblinking, like a predator assessing his prey. Terry slowed his breath as his fingers flexed at his sides. 

“Aston, this is not an interrogation.” Camille’s voice, low and firm, cut through the charged silence. Between her tone and the icy glare from Terry, Aston’s jaw tightened, but he fell silent.

Just as the room seemed to suffocate under the pressure, the door swung open once again, grasping everyone’s attention. Elijah entered, his presence immediate and commanding. A nurse followed closely behind, balancing a tray with a cup of nearly golden liquid. The sight of it made Terry’s pulse quicken and he let out a quiet, imperceptible sigh of relief—finally.

His body, which had been coiled tight with tension, seemed to relax for the first time since stepping into the room. About damn time.

Elijah’s eyes swept the room, brow quirking at the unexpected number of visitors. “Oh, there are more parties here than I expected,” he remarked, his tone light but observant. “Hello, everyone. I’m Dr. Elijah Baptiste.” His gaze softened as it landed on Camille, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Camille, glad to see you’re awake. Would you like everyone to stay while we discuss your diagnosis?”

Camille opened her mouth to answer, but before she could speak, Aston cut her off—again.

Damn, this nigga can never shut up, Terry thought, irritation running through him. 

“Nope, just me will be fine,” Aston said, his words dripping with possessiveness, a clear attempt to reassert his control. Rage pulsed through Terry. His jaw clenched tightly as he fought the urge to lash out.

Elijah glanced at Terry, confusion momentarily flickering in his eyes, before turning back to Aston with a steady professionalism. “And you are…?” he asked.

Aston’s nostrils flared as though the question itself offended him. “I’m Camille’s fiancé,” he stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “The hospital called me when she was admitted. They’re not related to her. He’s just a coworker. And she’s just a friend,” he stated, his voice taut.

Elijah nodded slowly, his gaze shifting back to Terry.

I thought she was your Indulgence, Elijah’s telepathic voice rang out in Terry’s mind.

It’s fucking complicated, he thought back, the statement fueling his irritation.

“Well, thanks for coming in,” Elijah said, his tone clipped as he nodded toward Aston, subtly signaling the conversation was moving on. He turned to Terry and Kali. “If you all don’t mind…” His voice trailed off, signaling for them to leave.

Kali moved first, still visibly disturbed by Aston’s presence. She leaned over the side of Camille’s bed, giving her a gentle hug. She whispered something in her ear that Terry couldn’t catch. When she straightened back up, she met Terry’s eyes, her smile faint but sincere. “Thanks for looking out for her,” Kali said quietly. Terry gave a small nod, the tightness in his chest easing slightly. “Of course, it was no problem.”

Kali then turned to Aston to roll her eyes before she moved past Elijah and the other nurse, vanishing into the hallway.

Terry lingered for a moment, his eyes locking with Camille’s as he squeezed her hand gently. She looked at him, her eyes almost pleading, like she wanted him to stay. But Terry knew better. If he stayed, Elijah would have to peel him off of Aston. And he didn’t need her to see that.

“Get some rest, Camille,” he said softly, his voice steady but edged with a quiet affection. “I’ll see you when you’re okay to come back to the office.”

He held her gaze for one last moment before reluctantly tearing his eyes away to give a subtle nod to Elijah and walked out of the room.

Camille

Camille watched Terry walk out of the hospital room, a heavy ache settling in her chest as she reluctantly let him go. His touch had been so soft, so full of care that seemed to linger even after he had pulled away. She wished that moment could stretch on forever. But the quiet of the room quickly brought her back. She took a slow, steadying breath, pushing the feeling deep within her, regaining her composure. Aston’s gaze pressed against her skin but she refused to meet it. Instead, her eyes fixed onto Dr. Baptiste. Dr. Baptiste gave her an amused look, making her wonder if he observed the moment she shared with Terry. But he just brought his chair closer to her bedside.

 “Camille, how are you feeling?” Dr. Baptiste’s voice was calm as he leaned back in his chair, clipboard resting casually on his knees. She offered him a faint smile, her mind still struggling to shake off the thick fog clouding her thoughts.

“I’m okay,” she replied, her voice lacking conviction. “I just… wish I could remember what happened.”

Dr. Baptiste nodded sympathetically, his expression softening. “Terry and I go way back. He told me the details. Apparently, you cut yourself on something sharp in your purse. It was a deep wound, considering all the blood you lost.”

Camille’s forehead creased slightly, her mind reaching for fragments of the missing pieces. “Yeah, but…” She paused, uncertainty threading through her words. “I don’t know. I feel like there was more to it.”

For the briefest of moments, Dr. Baptiste’s gaze shifted, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. It was gone before Camille could fully process it, his calm demeanor returning instantly.

“Well, maybe this will help jog your memory,” he said smoothly, nodding toward the nurse who stood by holding a tray. On it was a small cup filled with what appeared to be apple juice with an almost unnaturally golden hue. “Just a little juice to boost your blood sugar. Down it as fast as you can.”

Still feeling disoriented, she adjusted herself, reaching for the cup. The moment the liquid touched her tongue, her brows knit together in surprise. It was… amazing. The sweetness was rich, more satisfying than any drink she ever had. She swallowed eagerly, but as the taste lingered, something about it gnawed at her memory, a sense of familiarity.

“Well, what if she’s right, Doc?” Aston's voice broke through her haze, his eyes tracking her movements as she drank. “What if Terry didn’t tell us everything? Maybe there’s more to this.”

Dr. Baptiste gave him a look, half dismissive, half irritated, before responding.

His tone was steady but had a subtle edge. “Like I said, Terry and I go way back. He’s not the type to leave things out. I’m sure he wouldn’t have withheld anything, especially not from Camille. He cared enough to bring her here.” His eyes flicked back to Camille, something underlying his gaze.

Aston looked dissatisfied, but he kept quiet, his gaze flickering back to Camille.

“You’ll be fine, Camille,” Dr. Baptiste said, his voice gentle now. “Just a couple more hours here to stabilize your blood levels. But you’ll need to take the next two days off from work. Just to get your strength back up.” 

Camille nodded slowly, noticing how exhausted she felt. For a moment, she surrendered to the pull of sleep, but a shift in the room brought her back. She opened her eyes just as Dr. Baptiste rose from his chair.

“Thank you so much, doctor,” she murmured with gratitude.

Dr. Baptiste paused, flashing her another kind smile. “You’re very welcome, Camille. I’ll check in on you again in about an hour.” With that, he gave a curt nod to Aston, who stood silently near the door, before heading down the hallway, his footsteps fading into the distance.

Camille felt Aston’s gaze bore into her. She tilted her head, confused. “Aston, what's wrong?” she asked, her voice sincere.

He crossed his arms tightly, his jaw clenched in frustration. “Why’d you leave the office in the middle of a critical deadline?” His voice sharp and accusing. “What could Terry have possibly needed that was so urgent?”

Camille’s mind scrambled, but the haze still clouded her thoughts. She struggled to recall, everything feeling distant and blurred. “I’m sure it was important,” she said quietly, “but I can’t remember exactly…”

Aston let out a frustrated huff, his expression darkening as he moved to sit in the chair Terry had occupied earlier. “I wonder why that is,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with suspicion, before his attention shifted to his phone.

The silence between them stretched. Camille shrank back against her pillow, his unspoken judgment making her feel small. She sighed, her body surrendering to the overwhelming exhaustion, her eyelids heavy once more. As Aston’s fingers tapped furiously on his phone screen, her mind drifted into the comfort of sleep, thoughts swirling around the unease she felt, not just about the day, but about Aston’s reaction.

Terry

Terry’s leg bounced slightly, the restless motion contrasting the stillness of his sprawled position on his couch. His fingers curled around the glass of bourbon in his hand, the amber liquid swirling in a slow, lazy circle as he gazed out at the Houston skyline against the starry sky. It was nearing the time Elijah had promised to come by to talk to him about the events of the day. A talk Terry had been dreading since he left the hospital, yet knew he couldn’t avoid.

He had originally wanted to cancel. It would only flame his feelings of failure. But the memory of his actions with Camille, the aggression, the lack of control… it nagged at him. He had always been a strong proponent of proper vampire-human interactions—he prided himself on being an enforcer of those boundaries. Yet, here he was, having crossed one of the most sacred lines in their world. And for what? A brief taste of her? A moment of weakness, a lapse in judgment? It was unacceptable. He’d never had an incident like this, ever, and the self-loathing that followed was starting to suffocate him.

But Terry had spent the entire evening lost in his thoughts, replaying the events of the day over and over again, so he knew he needed to hear whatever Elijah had to say. Partnering with an Indulgence is something he never had before. Of course, he had plenty of flings, plenty of fleeting romances with Indulgences. But nothing that he wanted to last forever. Camille was the first to draw him in to the point that he happily wanted to fall head over heels in love. She was everything he wanted and then some. But today showed him that he needed some help, some serious guidance. His bloodlust and sexual attraction were blurring into each other, making Camille enticing in more ways than one.

It was an experience not unfamiliar to supernaturals who chose to partner with humans, but it was always a fine line to walk. He knew what could happen if he wasn’t careful—the rare, horrifying instances when a vampire’s desire for their human partner spiraled out of control and led to injury, or worse, death. Terry shuddered at the thought, gulping down another sip of bourbon, the burn oddly soothing him. He closed his eyes for a moment.

Camille’s safety had to come first. He couldn’t afford to let this spiral into something darker.

That was why, despite his bruised ego, despite his embarrassment, he couldn’t refuse Elijah’s help. He needed Elijah. He was a rare case in their world, an anomaly that everyone aspired to. He’d been married to his Indulgence for over sixty years. Their relationship was something Terry could only dream of—blissful, serene, and above all, stable. It was the kind of union that Terry wanted with Camille. But today showed him that he might not be ready. He needed advice from someone who knew how to keep their desire in check, how to keep things from unraveling in a way that could cause irreparable damage. Elijah had the answers, and Terry was desperate to have them before he made anything worse.

A request for the penthouse elevator, a soft chime that echoed through his home, pulled Terry from his thoughts. He pulled out his phone and opened the surveillance app, checking that the request was coming from Elijah. The screen showed his friend casually pacing in the lobby, prompting him to approve the request. He stood from the couch, finishing his bourbon as he walked towards his front entrance. Just as he placed his glass on his island counter, a knock came from his door. He took a deep breath, further bracing himself before opening the door. Elijah stood behind it, greeting him with a small smile. 

“Terry,” Elijah greeted as Terry moved to let him inside. “It’s good to see you again.” Terry chuckled as they dapped each other up and made their way to his central sitting area. “Yeah, it’s like I haven’t seen you since this morning,” he joked back, their laughter filling the space. Their conversation was light for the first thirty minutes. They vented about their jobs, the latest updates in the supernatural world, and everything in between. But, Terry shifted the conversation as he poured him another glass of dark liquor. 

“So about today…,” he trailed off, sliding the glass to Elijah. Elijah nodded with a knowing look. “I really fucked up.”

Elijah gave him a sympathetic glance. “Look Terry–”

“I mean, you know me man. I’ve never done some shit like that before,” Terry continued, exasperated. 

“Terry–”

“Part of me wants to cut ties and… j-just let her go, but I'm way too fucking obsessed–”

“Terry,” Elijah repeated, his voice calm but firm. Terry’s jaw tightened, his fists clenched at his sides. The interruption was maddening, but Elijah was one of the few he actually respected. So, he swallowed the growing rage and kept his mouth shut.

“It happens,” Elijah continued. “We hate when it happens, but it does.”

Terry swallowed the lump in his throat. He could feel the heat rise in his chest, his breath shallow. He couldn’t look at Elijah. Not now. Not while the guilt seemed to consume him. 

"The important thing," Elijah went on, his voice softening with a touch of understanding, "is that you stopped yourself. Camille was discharged just fine and will have a reason to have a few days off from work, which she seemed excited about. It worked itself out, so you can’t beat yourself up about it forever."

The words hit Terry like a slap. He blinked rapidly, the sting of unshed tears blurring his vision, his hands shaking at his sides. 

Terry’s teeth ground together as the words spilled from him, a low, guttural hiss. “Don’t try and pretend you know how I feel right now,” he spat, but Elijah remained unphased by his crackling fury. “You have no fucking idea.”

Elijah’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t flinch. He set his glass down, his fingers lingering on the rim for a moment before he leaned forward, elbows pressed against his knees. 

“You’re right,” Elijah said calmly. “I don’t know how you feel, man. I don’t know at all. But I do know how you would feel if it had been worse.”

Terry’s eyebrows knitted together. “What are you talking about?” Elijah dragged a hand over his face, turning to look out of the huge windows. 

“My first Indulgence…I had killed her. Accidentally, of course.” Terry’s eyes grew huge, his anger disappearing as his stomach fell.

“Yo, Elijah man…,” Terry began, “I-I didn’t kno–”

“It was in 1894. A Juneteenth celebration…her name was Violetta…,” he trailed off, as if he was no longer talking to Terry but more so talking to himself. “We had just made plans to get married. And…and I had gotten too excited. And before I could even process it, my teeth were already in her neck.” Elijah turned his attention back to Terry, a single tear sliding down the side of his face. Terry stared back at him, not knowing what to say. He was too mortified.

“She ran away from me, screaming the most heart-wrenching things. I didn’t get a chance to seal the wound, so she just bled out as she ran.” A silent sob shook his frame. “I tried to kill myself so many times, but you know we can’t do that. Then I tried to pay others to kill me, but they turned me down out of pity. So I punished myself the best way I could for over seventy years,” he let out a sad chuckle. “But then, I met Dolores. And I kept trying to run from my feelings. Run from our nature. But after she expressed her feelings for me, I realized that I’d been given a second chance. A fresh start.” Elijah scooted a bit closer to Terry, looking him dead in the eye.

“So yeah, you slipped up today. There’s no doubt about that. But I saw the way y’all looked at each other. That love…it’s real, and it don’t come too often for our kind. So get all your feelings out tonight. But tomorrow and going forward, take advantage of the second chance you’ve been given.” Elijah gripped Terry’s shoulder. Terry nodded, letting out a light sniffle. 

“Alright,” Elijah sighed, leaning back and wiping a hand across his face, clearly done with the heaviness of the moment. “Enough of this sad ass shit.” His playful tone pulled a much-needed laugh from Terry. As Terry reached for his drink again, Elijah spoke again, but his tone now full of mischief. “So tell me, how you gonna get rid of that stuck-up white boy? You didn’t tell me she was engaged…and not to you.”

Terry’s eyes flicked to him, a smirk widening on his face as he took a slow sip of his drink. “He’s not gonna be a problem much longer,” Terry said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. The thought of the pending $80,000 in his account made his lips twitch upward. Courtesy of Aston McCoy himself. It was all falling into place.

"Hmmm...I hope so," Elijah continued. "Because I thought you had gotten soft." Terry cocked an eyebrow.

"What makes you say that?" Terry spoke, his voice laced with irritation. Elijah just cracked a small smile.

"Aye man, I'm not tryna doubt you or nothing. But your woman had to go home with another nigga today. The Terry I met back in Harlem all them decades ago? He would've never let that shit happen."

Terry's jaw clenched, feeling his eyes shift out of anger. "I can't just approach this like some fucking savage. This new era, all the fucking cameras, all the fucking eyes on you," Terry gritted.

Elijah's smile just grew. "Yeah, I know. But you might want to speed up this plan of yours...it's been three months. And that white boy seems to be onto you. He might just speed up this marriage thing."

As much as Terry wanted to argue, a quiet, reluctant truth settled deep within him. He couldn’t deny Elijah’s point. He was being too soft. Too cautious. He had been holding back, afraid of causing too much turmoil in Camille’s life. But now, maybe a little disruption was exactly what was needed to finally have her, all to himself. The realization sent a thrill through him.

As Terry and Elijah continued their conversation, the words a dull hum in the background, Terry's mind began to shift. He couldn’t stay in the shadows any longer, playing it safe. His thoughts spiraled toward something darker, more sinister. The idea took root: what if he took his plan to another level? It might be riskier. It might paint him as the villain. He would do whatever it took to make Camille forgive him, to make her see that he was worth the chaos. No matter how far he had to push, no matter how much he had to break along the way.

Stephanie’s song: I Put A Spell on You-Nina Simone

Stephanie

Stephanie eyed the small, weathered shack before her. A chill ran down her spine as she studied the door. Everything about the place felt off. Yet, she knew the answers she sought and the solutions she desperately craved were waiting for her behind the door. But still, hesitation gripped her in a way that was unfamiliar. And that was the last thing Stephanie Hodges was used to. She never hesitated.

She was THEE Stephanie Hodges. A woman who always got whatever she wanted with a mere flutter of her lashes, the curl of her lips, or the perfect, calculated glance. She never needed to beg. She took, without a care of who it impacted. And yet here she was, standing in front of this dilapidated little botanica. It was infuriating. Everything had been within her grasp, except for one thing. One damn thing. 

The man vampire, Terry Richmond, had entered her life a little over two months ago. Yet in that short time, he’d completely consumed her. She had never believed in love. She only believed in lust, scheming, and social climbing. But Terry... Terry had undone her. The second he’d walked into her office, she knew she had to have him. His presence radiated with an undeniable allure, an intoxicating blend of power, wealth, and dominance. He was everything she’d ever fantasized about and more.

It didn’t matter that she had been entangled in an affair with her older, established boss, Mr. Grant. Terry’s entire being eclipsed everything. She didn’t just want him; she needed him. So, when he’d fallen into her seductive web within the first week of their interactions at the firm, she’d assumed he would be as simple as her other conquests. Easily secured, just like everything else in her perfectly controlled life.

But then... weeks had passed, and Terry’s interest in her seemed to fade. Slowly at first, but it was undeniable. He stopped asking her out for lunch. The flirtation that had once been so effortless between them had evaporated. She’d tried everything. Subtle touches, lingering glances, suggestive comments. But nothing seemed to reach him. He had pulled away leaving her confused and frustrated. And their sexual relationship had nearly slowed to a stop. During his first few weeks, he was dicking her down on every surface in his office, leaving her on cloud nine every night she went home from work. Now, he only entertained quickies every few days. And while the sex was always enjoyable, it wasn’t as intense and mind-numbing like it was before.

For weeks, Stephanie had turned the puzzle of Terry Richmond over in her mind, studying him from every angle, trying to determine how to draw him back to her. Every attempt to rekindle the spark between them had failed miserably. At work, when she tried to entice him, he would skillfully sidestep her advances, actively avoiding her. And then there was Camille, the ever-present distraction, the woman who seemed to effortlessly claim his attention.

Camille had a way of slipping into his world, always there for lunch, always showing up at work events, always the one to share private moments with him while Stephanie had to watch from afar. It drove her crazy. Stephanie’s mind replayed the countless times she’d seen Camille admiring Terry when he laughed or giving him a look that lingered too long during a conversation, her hand brushing his arm in a way that made Stephanie’s blood boil. Camille seemed to savor every moment of his attention, putting on a coy act while Stephanie’s needs went unnoticed, unfulfilled. 

The thought of it had pushed Stephanie to a breaking point. That was why, when she saw Camille eagerly rushing to meet him, she knew it was time to act. To take matters into her own hands. Following Camille that day had been an attempt to put her in her place and make her understand that no one could come between them. But what she had learned about Terry had changed everything. The revelation had shaken her, leaving her reeling with more questions than answers, and suddenly, her approach felt naïve.

At first, she had a clear plan: blackmail him with the video that so clearly demonstrated his otherworldliness. She would use it as leverage, threatening to expose his secret and shatter his reputation, bending him to her will in the process. It seemed foolproof, until doubt crept in. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she had no real grasp of who he was or what he was capable of. He wasn't just a wealthy and well-connected attorney. He was something else entirely that added a chilling layer of complexity. With his power and resources, he could easily erase her from existence without leaving a trace.

At the office, he was always calm, collected, and polite. A perfect picture of composure. But she had learned enough to know that such flawless self-control could easily mask something far more dangerous. His demeanor might very well be a carefully crafted facade, hiding a cold, calculating demon underneath. 

So, Stephanie turned to her roots, seeking refuge in the power of her Cuban ancestry. It had been years since she had practiced Santería, so she didn’t dare to try to do anything on her own. Stephanie knew she needed the advice of much more seasoned brujas who could tell her how to tame someone so powerful. They knew the supernatural secrets that could bend even the strongest will. Stephanie had always prided herself on being the one in control, the one who got what she wanted, no matter the cost. And that included embracing something far beyond her own understanding. 

Taking a deep breath, Stephanie entered the dimly lit shop with her head held high, her signature arrogance in every step. The walls, lined with eclectic trinkets and dusty shelves, felt beneath her. She sneered inwardly at the ragged curtains and the cobwebs hanging from the cracked ceiling. The thick, pungent scent of burning incense hit her nostrils, making her frown and raise a hand to cover her nose, as if she could ward off the fragrant earthy smoke. The shop was a far cry from the sleek, polished spaces she was accustomed to, but she wasn’t here for aesthetics. She was here for something far greater.

Not to be deterred by the establishment, she continued forward, going straight to the back room that had a single tarot card taped to it: The High Priestess. She didn’t bother to knock, the woman should already be expecting her.

The room was nothing like she expected. Dozens of flickering white candles, their flames dancing in unison, covered every inch of the space except for a narrow path leading to a small, unassuming table in the center. Sitting there was a woman who seemed to be both ageless and elderly. She looked her up and down, nonchalantly, as if Stephanie was unimportant. Stephanie huffed, tossing her hair. Bitch, she inwardly grumbled. The woman cocked an eyebrow in silent acknowledgement, as if she heard the thought.

A sudden slam of the door behind her sent a jolt through Stephanie’s body, and she muffled a startled shriek. The woman only tilted her head slightly, her voice soft but commanding.

“Sit down, mija,” the woman said, her tone almost too light, as if she found Stephanie’s discomfort amusing.

Stephanie hesitated, a flicker of doubt passing through her. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she was in over her head. But she shook the thought off instantly. I have to have Terry, she reminded herself, her resolve hardening. By any means necessary.

With slow, deliberate steps, she maneuvered through the maze of candles in her red-bottomed heels. She eased herself into the chair across from the woman, setting her Birkin bag on the table with a haughty flourish, casting the witch a glance that screamed unimpressed. The woman didn’t even blink, rolling her eyes in response, a gesture that only deepened Stephanie’s irritation.

“So…dearest Stephanie,” the woman began, her voice both silky and sharp. “Our mutual connection told me you’re seeking the devotion of a supernatural being, un vampiro? Is that correct?”

Stephanie nodded, her lips curling into a cunning smile. “He’s everything I’ve ever wanted and more,” she purred. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make him mine. Name your price.” She reached into her bag, pulling out a thick stack of cash with a dramatic flair, slamming it on the table between them.

The witch’s lips twitched upward, but she didn’t pick up the money. Instead, she stared at it as though it were as simple as a dollar bill. “To give you a fair estimate of what this will require,” she said, her voice as smooth as honey, “I need to know what kind of man he is. Can you give me a description of him?”

Stephanie grinned darkly. “I can do you one better.” She chuckled to herself, her fingers flying across her phone screen as she dug through her photo gallery. She found the video she was looking for. Terry, feeding from Camille, the raw, primal nature of it making her shiver. She slid the phone across the table, the screen illuminating the witch’s face.

The woman didn’t touch it. She simply peered down at the video, an impressed glint in her eye. “Ahhh,” she murmured, “So you want to claim one of the highest in the vampire world.”

Stephanie’s eyes narrowed. “You know Terry?” she asked.

The woman looked up from the phone, her eyes locking onto Stephanie’s. “Is that what he calls himself now? I come from a time where he was known as Isaac. I understand the attraction. He’s quite handsome and his connections and wealth were far-reaching when I first came across him. I can only imagine what they are like now.”

Stephanie’s heart fluttered at the thought of Terry at her feet, bound by whatever spell this woman could cast. She imagined a life of opulent shopping sprees, private jets to Aspen, Dubai, and the Maldives, every whim catered to. Her smile widened, lips curving in a predatory smirk as she pulled her phone back into her hands.

“So, are your services good enough to get me Terry?” she asked, her tone dripping with challenge. The woman let out a breathy laugh, her amusement ringing through the space like the toll of a bell. “Of course, mija. I’m the best at what I do.”

Stephanie’s gaze flickered briefly to the shabby surroundings, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows on the cracked walls. Then why do you work out of such a raggedy store, Stephanie thought. The woman’s laughter ended abruptly. Fuck, I forget she can hear thoughts. 

The witch’s eyes flashed with a cold knowing. “But,” the woman continued, her voice returning to its unnervingly calm cadence, “Let’s not focus on my skills. Let’s focus on closing this arrangement. You’ll get the powerful assistance you desire, and I’ll get the money I’m owed. Do you have everything you were supposed to bring?”

Stephanie reached into her bag, placing them on the table. A small vial that held her feminine juices. A jar of honey she had spit in. And one of Terry’s hairs that she had found in his office. The woman nodded, pulling the items close to her. “Now we just need one more thing,” she stated, pulling out a sewing needle. Stephanie eyed it curiously. The woman gestured for her hand. Stephanie reluctantly placed her right hand in the woman's palm. With quick precision, the woman stuck her, a droplet of blood pooling at the tip of her ring finger. She brought a dish under her hand, squeezing the finger until several drops hit the dish’s center. 

“Now this’ll take time, at least several days. This man…he also dabbles in the dark arts and keeps himself well-protected. I will have to maneuver around the rootwork he has established. Because of that, it’ll be $20,000, and I’ll need half up front.”

Stephanie’s eye twitched as she carefully counted out ten thousand dollars, the stacks heavy in her palm before she slid them across the table. Her fingers lingered on the edge of the money for just a moment before she pushed it forward. “Pleasure doing business with you,” she said as she stood from her seat. The transaction was done, and now all she had to do was wait.

But just as she turned to leave, the woman’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “Before you go, I must warn you. This love spell will be extremely powerful. It should be handled with utmost care because the consequences could be dire. If consumed by the wrong person, they could become violent—”

Stephanie’s mind began to drift, her focus fading with each word. Her gaze wandered absently around the room, the words a blur as she tuned out the endless lecture. She didn’t need a lecture on the consequences of magic; she came for one thing and one thing only: to secure the perfect, tall, dark, and impossibly handsome man.

She envisioned it already. A life of unparalleled luxury and a doting, well-endowed husband who would spoil her in every possible way. Camille, Mr. Grant, all the little nuisances that stood between her and Terry, they meant nothing now. Once Terry was under her spell, not a single inconvenience stood a chance.

a/n: imma be honest, pt. six might be a little late next week because I'm in the middle of midterms😃 But! I might drop 2 parts the following week😌💅🏾

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Crimson Obsessions | A Terry Richmond Vampire Series

pairing: Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond x Justine Skye as Camille DeWaterson

summary: Camille tries to push away her feelings as she navigates her hesitation surrounding her engagement. Terry lays the foundation for the most important part of his plan so far.

warnings: 18+ mdni, dark romance, manipulation, obsessiveness/possessiveness, stalking, angst, mentions of blood and violence, fluff

word count: 7700

a/n: as promised, posted a day early 🙂‍↕️ (only roughly edited tho lolll) lmk what y'all think of the new POV 👀

Camille’s song: You Right-Doja Cat | Terry’s song: I Luv Your Girl-The Dream

Pt. Four

Camille

Camille woke up feeling refreshed, an undeniable excitement flowing through her. It had been about a two months since she started rotating between Aston and Terry, and the difference in her energy and happiness was stark. And it was all thanks to Terry, the man who made every week vibrant for her. He had a way of making each day feel full of purpose—whether it was high-energy and spontaneous, or laid-back and easygoing. He knew how to balance it all, and Camille found herself eagerly anticipating whatever he had in store next. One day, he was patiently showing her how to swing a golf club as they entertained his clients at Top Golf. The next, they were hunched over case files, dissecting old archives over a quiet lunch. He had a way of seamlessly blending work and play, of making everything feel interesting and engaging.

On other days, he would take her to community events, like mentoring young Black men eager to get into law. Or they would spend hours tracking down secondary sources to support a particularly tricky case. With Terry, even the most mundane tasks became something she looked forward to.

And with each passing rotation, Camille could feel herself slipping further into the pull of her crush on him, which she still refused to fully acknowledge. It wasn’t just his gorgeous face, his sharp intellect, or his easy confidence that captivated her. It was the way he made her feel valued and understood. She felt safe in his presence. And, there was an almost cherished feeling that washed over her when he looked at her, as if she were more than just a colleague to him.

Now, of course, she knew that wasn’t the case. He had plenty of people fawning over him in the office. Especially Stephanie, who hovered around him, doing whatever she could for his attention. Stephanie’s beauty and sex appeal was unmatched in the office. So Camille knew that she didn’t stand a chance. Besides, she couldn’t be with Terry anyway. She needed to finally get her father’s acceptance and protect her family’s financial security. A one-sided crush couldn’t get in the way of that. 

The best part of finally feeling rested was that Camille had the energy to dive back into the things she truly loved. The first thing on her list was the early morning yoga sessions led by her best friend, Kali, every Saturday. The classes were always a space where they could reconnect. 

Camille and Kali had met during their freshman year at a Black Student Union meeting. They quickly became inseparable, their bond growing stronger with every shared experience, every late-night conversation, and every laugh that made their sides ache.

When Camille moved to Houston three years ago, she was gripped by a crushing homesickness that left her feeling isolated and making friends seemed impossible. It didn’t help that her job at the time was draining her spirit. Each day felt like a struggle to just get through.

She poured her heart out to Kali about how difficult it had been to adjust. Without hesitation, Kali packed up her life and moved to Houston a month later. When Kali’s father, who raised her by himself, passed away the following summer after a battle with lung cancer, Camille became Kali’s rock. She stayed at her apartment for weeks, helping her with chores, managing her commitments, and comforting her through the grief overall. 

Through all the highs and lows of their twenties, they had always been there for each other, whether it was celebrating achievements or pulling each other out of the darkest moments. But as time passed, life got busier. Camille’s career demands intensified, and the frequency of their interactions dwindled. Weekends that used to be filled with laughter and long talks now felt like rare treasures.

So, Camille had been counting down the days to this Saturday, eagerly anticipating the chance to spend time with her best friend again. It had been too long, and she was ready to pick up where they left off, to feel that comforting sense of sisterhood again.

Camille got to the studio right at 7 AM, jumping into Kali’s arms as soon as they saw each other. “Bitch, I’ve missed you soooo much,” Kali shouted as Camille pulled away. “We have so much to catch up on. Especially whatever this tea is you could only tell me in person.”

Camille hadn’t yet told her, or anyone for that matter, about Terry working at her firm and the feelings it brought about for her. It was the kind of thing that she was too afraid to discuss over the phone, just in case Aston was in earshot. Since they hadn’t seen each other since Chloe’s wedding, she had nearly three months of stuff to tell her about. 

She buzzed with anticipation as the class came to a close. As she wrapped up her yoga mat, Kali waved bye to her last client before turning back to Camille. They squealed, hugging each other once more. 

“Cammie, I’m just so happy to see you! It’s about fucking time that Aston gave you a damn break,” Kali scoffed. Camille sighed. Kali had witnessed the entirety of Aston and Camille’s relationship. She was there for her when Camille first found out about him cheating. She was her shoulder to cry on when she went through the heartbreak. When they got back together, she was very vocal about her dislike for him. And she still can’t stand him, even all these years later. It’s gotten to the point that Aston and Kali aren’t allowed to be in the same room, due to Kali throwing a drink on him at Camille’s graduation party. Camille had to beg him not to press charges and Kali had to promise to skip future functions that included him, unless it was their wedding.

But it worked out for Camille in the end. She never had to worry about Aston tagging along to their outings, so she could be as unfiltered as she wanted to be around Kali. No code switching. No tone policing. Just her being herself.

They chatted about minor things as they walked to a nearby coffee shop. They wanted to have their matcha lattes in hand and start their walk in the park before getting into the juiciest updates in their life. Once they got to the park, Kali immediately got down to business.

“Alright, Cam,” Kali said, sipping her drink. “What’s got you glowing?” 

Camille smiled shyly. “I kinda have a new boss now. Working with him has been such a relief. I still get cases from Aston, but I don’t work with him as much–”

“Thank. God,” Kali cheered, making Camille playfully roll her eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Camille started again. “But that’s kinda the problem. My new boss has been…somewhat of a distraction for me. You remember the guy I danced with at that last club we went to for Chloe’s bachelorette party?” 

Kali’s eyes lit up. “That fine ass nigga with the braids? Who looked like he was gonna fuck you in front of everybody?” 

Camille’s cheeks heated up. “Yes, him,” she nodded. Kali gave her a look. “What about him?” 

Camille sucked in a breath, “He’s my new boss.”

Kali’s jaw dropped, stopping in her tracks. “That man who owned the club? He works with you?!” Camille nodded, biting her lip. Kali slapped a hand over her mouth, bursting into a fit of laughter.

“Omgggg, Camille! I fucking love this for you!” she shouted, prompting other park goers to look their way. Kali calmed down a bit before grabbing Camille’s hand, pulling her close. “Please, Camille. Please tell me you’re fucking him,” Kali whispered excitedly. 

Camille's eyes widened with a mix of disbelief and shock. "Kali! Don't say that! I'm in a relationship," she protested, her eyes scanning the park for anyone who might know them.

Kali wasn’t deterred by Camille’s protesting. Instead, a sly grin played on her lips. “Yeah, and I absolutely hate the relationship. But that nigga from the club?! I’d support that ‘til the day I die.” 

Camille groaned, her fingers running through her hair. “I really wish you wouldn’t say things like that,” she muttered.

“Too late, I already did," Kali shot back with a shrug, clearly unbothered. “Now tell me more. Are you at least going to try to take him to bed? Has he tried to make a move on you?”

Camille shook her head quickly. “Not at all. He’s been very sweet about the situation. He pulled me aside to tell me he would keep everything between us. He’s been nothing but professional.” She tried to keep her voice even, despite her cheeks warming from Kali’s lewd suggestions. 

Kali’s shoulders slumped, a disappointed frown curling on her lips. “So he hasn’t given you any hints? Nothing?!” She raised an eyebrow.

Camille chuckled softly, shaking her head again. “No, Kali. He’s just been a perfect boss. I’ve been working on some of his cases for over a month now, and honestly, it’s been amazing. Everything’s interesting, there’s no pressure, just the best balance.” She smiled, the words coming from a place of genuine satisfaction. Camille’s stomach dropped as an amused, knowing look crossed Kali’s face.

She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing with a teasing glint. “And how do you really feel about him, Cam?”

Camille shifted awkwardly, looking down at her hands, and mumbled, “I think… I think I have a crush on him.” She couldn’t help but shrink into herself, afraid of what she had just confessed.

Kali’s laughter rang out loudly. “So there’s still hope! Y’all are gonna fuck, I just know it!”

“Kali–”

“Yeah he’s just frontin’ ‘cause y’all are at work, but that man was all over you at his club. You give him the green light and I’m sure he’ll have you folded like a pretzel in no time.”

“Kali…please. I’m engaged. Can we please respect that?” Camille’s voice trembled slightly, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of her cup. Kali rolled her eyes in the dramatic way only she could. “Camille, it’s never too late to back out of that arrangement. I want you happy more than anything. And I don’t know… maybe your new boss is like a wake-up call or something? I mean, a stranger you had so much chemistry with coming into your life again? That could be your way out. Or at least a little opportunity to get back at Aston?” Her eyes searched Camille’s face for a reaction.

Camille’s fingers froze on the cup, her heartbeat thumping in her ears. She stared back at Kali, unsure of how to respond.

Kali’s eyes softened, though her voice still held a firm edge. “I get it, okay? You’ve made a commitment to your family, and I respect that. But an arranged marriage is a big deal, Camille. You have one life. You can’t just walk down the aisle because it’s expected of you.”

The silence between them stretched out as Camille struggled to find her words. 

“I’m not saying you should act on whatever you’re feeling, or that it's all about getting back at Aston,” Kali continued, her voice lowering. “But maybe it’s time you started thinking about what you want, and not just what Mr. DeWaterson wants. His world won’t end if you don’t go through with it. And if it does… I don’t give a fuck. You’re my friend, not him.” 

After a few beats, Camille spoke, her voice low. “I don’t know if I can just walk away from it, Kali. It’s been planned for so long... My family, his family, everything... I’ve spent years trying to make this work in my head.” She shook her head, her voice cracking slightly. “But when I’m with my boss—his name is Terry by the way—it’s like... I’m able to escape reality and hope for something different. Something more loving, more passionate…,” Her eyes met her friend’s. “But like I said, he’s only been professional. There’s no chance of us getting together. I mean, he’s already sleeping with someone at the office. I can’t–”

“Wait, what?!” Kali nearly choked on her sip of matcha. “He’s that out in the open with it?”

Camille paused, thinking over the interactions he’s seen between Stephanie and Terry. There really wasn’t anything sexual about them. Stephanie definitely liked him and flirted with him all the time. But he just reacted with a cool amusement, nothing that really hinted at something going on outside of that.

“Well…no. I haven’t seen him do anything that hints at that. But Aston said he saw–”

“Fuck him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s probably jealous of him and doesn’t want you to get too comfortable with him,” Kali stated with a definitive nod.

Camille’s heart began to race again. Was Aston just making things up? Was he lying to make sure I keep Terry at arms-length?

“Kali, I don’t think he would do that–”

“Camille? That you?”

The deep, familiar voice called out, washing over Camille like a wave. She froze in place as her mind scrambled to determine where it was coming from.

A tall, muscular figure jogged towards them. Though his face was momentarily obscured by the distance, the deep baritone of his voice, the bronze sheen of his skin, and the way his perfectly sculpted six-pack glistened in the sun made it unmistakably clear. It was Terry.

Camille’s gaze swept over him as he got closer, everything seeming to move in slow motion. Sweat trickled down his torso and his ocean-blue eyes crinkled at the corners. His full lips parted, a flash of white teeth widening with recognition. The sight of it all sent an unexpected flood of heat to Camille’s core.

Terry came to a stop right in front of her and Kali. His presence seemed to fill the space between them, his masculine scent drifting into the air. Camille snapped out of her daze, blinking rapidly.

“Hey, Camille,” he said, licking his lips.

Camille cleared her throat, fighting to regain composure. “Terry,” she managed to say. “How are you?”

“I’m doing fine. How ‘bout you?” Terry’s voice was smooth, his words rolling off his tongue with effortless ease. His eyes traced every curve and line of her figure in a way that made her skin hot. She suddenly felt aware of every inch of her skin, regretting the choice of just biker shorts, a sports bra, and an open hoodie.

She shifted, feeling self-conscious under his gaze. “I’m pretty good,” Camille replied, her voice catching slightly, betraying the flutter of nerves she felt.

They stood there, locked in a moment that stretched on too long. Their eyes held each other’s, the air thickening between them with an unspoken charge. The silence grew heavier, each second stretching taut like a wire ready to snap. Just as Camille opened her mouth to speak, the sound of a throat clearing beside her shattered the bubble between them.

Both Camille and Terry’s eyes snapped to Kali, who stood there with a smirk on her lips, clearly amused by the tension in the air. Camille's cheeks burned with embarrassment, but a part of her couldn’t help but feel relieved. The moment had been too electric and she was grateful for the interruption.

"My fault," Terry chuckled, the rich sound of his laugh wrapping around Camile like a blanket. He extended his hand toward Kali. "I’m Terry. You look familiar."

Kali, smirked and took his hand, giving it a firm shake. “I’m Kali! Yeah, I was at that club with Camille that one time,” she said with a playful gaze that flicked to Camille, her lips curling into a bright, teasing smile. Camille felt a chill of dread settle in her stomach. Please don’t embarrass me, she silently pleaded.

Terry’s eyes lit up, a flicker of recognition crossing his features. His grin spread wider. “Oh shit, that’s right! I’m sorry y’all’s night had to end like that," he said, his tone laced with playfulness and a touch of sincere remorse.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Kali replied breezily. "I think something amazing came out of that night. Right, Camille?" She glanced at Camille, her eyes twinkling mischievously. 

Terry’s attention shifted back to Camille, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh, word?" he chuckled. "You’ll have to tell me about that." His eyes locked with hers, making her gulp.

Kali continued with a sly grin. "Are you visiting from New Orleans?"

Terry shook his head with a light chuckle. "Nah, I only check on that place sometimes. But I don’t live in New Orleans. I work here now, with Camille."

Kali’s smile broadened. “Really?! What a lovely coincidence—”

“Right,” Camille quickly interrupted, her voice almost too sharp. “It’s just crazy how small the world is.” She shot Kali a glance, her eyes filled with an unspoken warning. Kali merely smirked, unfazed by the stare. “But don’t let us hold you up from your run,” Camille added, eager to wrap up the conversation that she knew her friend would take too far.

“Nah, y’all not holding me up,” Terry said with a relaxed shrug. "But I’ll let y’all get back to y’all’s girl talk. It was nice meeting you, Kali." He flashed them both a grin before turning, jogging past them to continue on the trail.

Both Camille and Kali stood in silence for a moment, their eyes following his retreating form. Kali was the first to break the stillness, her teasing smile returning in full force as she glanced sideways at Camille. “That little moment y’all had? Oooo, bitch! I thought he was about to turn you every way but loose.” She let out a mock swoon, dramatically fanning herself.

“Kaliiii,” Camille whined as she resumed her walk, trying to brush off the flurry of emotions that had hit her all at once. Kali, unrelenting, fell into step beside her.

“Did you see how he looked at you?” Kali’s voice lowered to a conspiratorial tone. "Girl, he would devour you if you let him." "Ughh, not this again," Camille groaned, her mind spinning. But, was he looking at me like that? Or was Kali just being funny? She couldn’t quite shake the image of his gaze locked on hers, how it had made her feel exposed, yet... alive.

"Okay, okay, I’ll give it a rest," Kali sighed dramatically, making a show of looking away. But her smile didn’t fade. “But... I think you should try to entertain Mr. Terry. Who knows? The universe might be giving you an out from becoming Mrs. McCoy.”

They continued their walk, abandoning any discussion of Terry for other updates in their life. But in the back of her mind, Kali’s suggestion echoed. Was Terry’s sudden reappearance a sign? A chance at real love? Her mind kept circling back to Terry, the way he’d looked at her, the tension between them. Was she making a mistake, choosing to put her family’s expectations and her fiancé’s needs above her own desires? Her chest tightened with uncertainty, the thought of her impending wedding now feeling more like a weight she wasn’t sure she could bear.

Terry

Terry sat in the parking deck of Watkins & Glen, patiently waiting for the arrival of a particular colleague. Terry knew if he came to the office at the early hour of 6 AM on a Monday, only two people would be there: him and Aston. Terry couldn’t believe he showed up at that time every day. No wonder he wasn’t moving up the ladder. His ass-kissing was too obvious. 

To keep his mind occupied, Terry thought about how getting closer to Camille these past two months had been absolute bliss. Each moment alone with her was intoxicating, as though it was just the two of them, suspended in their own little universe. She captivated him so effortlessly. Her curiosity, the way she dove into everything with passion, it was all alluring. He found himself lost in the grace with which she moved, always so composed and beautiful, yet there was an unspoken vulnerability that made her even more magnetic.

Her shyness had slowly dissolved, giving way to a new, playful side of her, one that seemed to emerge more and more as they spent time together. It was in the way her eyes lit up when she laughed, in the subtle teasing that had become a part of their easy rhythm. Every time Camille smiled at him, his heart stumbled, driving him further into his obsession. 

And Camille, she was falling for him too. He knew it by the way her breath would catch when he was close. Sometimes, when she thought he wasn’t looking, he would catch her staring at him, her eyes soft with affection. And her voice—oh, her voice. It took on that sweet, innocent tone when she spoke to him, like she couldn’t help but let the warmth slip through.

But beyond all of that, what made his heart swell the most was the happiness that seemed to radiate from her more and more each time they were together. He had become her quiet gardener, nurturing her little by little, seeing her blossom with every passing rotation. A flower he was allowed to water, watching her unfold more beautifully with each moment they shared. And for Terry, that was everything.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he caught a glimpse of a familiar Porsche Cayenne rounding the corner of the deck. It reversed into a spot right next to the elevators. Terry’s jaw clenched as he saw Aston open the door of the car.

He had often thought about just killing him to speed up his plan. Tear out his throat or rip out his lungs. Let dogs feast on his remains. It would save Terry a lot of time and energy. But he had no idea how Camille would react to Aston’s death. Terry didn’t think she loved Aston. At least…not in that way. But he couldn’t risk her slipping into a depressive episode. Especially if he wouldn’t be able to properly comfort her. So he refrained from causing him any physical harm. But, Terry was more than willing to cause psychological harm. 

He got out of the car, shutting the door softly so Aston wouldn’t notice him yet. He quickly approached the elevator, Aston’s back still turned. Quietly, he peered over his shoulder as Aston looked at his phone. He was already checking betting apps. Terry smirked.

“Morning,” he spoke. Aston’s body jerked, turning to face him with wide eyes. Genuine surprise flickered across his face before quickly being replaced by that fake ass smile he always pulled. “Terry, morning…I didn’t even hear you.” The elevator softly dinged and Terry smoothly stepped past him, making his way inside. “Yeah your head was pretty stuck in your phone so I’m not surprised,” Terry returned, barely containing the smugness in his voice. He didn’t miss how Aston’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly with irritation. God I just want to knock his fucking head off, Terry thought as the elevator doors closed. “I get it though! I used to be on the apps all the time.” 

Aston blinked, confused and a tad bit embarrassed as he looked at Terry. “What do you mean?” Terry just smiled and gestured to his phone. “The betting apps. I used to be on those all the time. But now…” Terry paused, letting the silence stretch to add to Aston’s anticipation. “Now, I prefer the stuff that gets you real money.” Aston tapped his finger lightly against his phone, trying to interpret what he was saying. Terry could almost see the gears turning in his head. “Well, the parlays I’ve hit are pretty huge,” Aston stated arrogantly. Terry nearly rolled his eyes. But instead he just shook his head with a chuckle. “Nah, man. I’m not talking about the $2000 here, $6000 there. I’m talking about the shit that could be a down payment for a house.”

Aston laughed in disbelief, “What kind of stuff gets you that kind of money?” Got him, Terry thought, fighting a smirk. “Between you and me,” he lowered his voice, leaning in just enough to make Aston feel like he was getting an exclusive secret. “I host some underground poker shit on the side.” Terry watched his eyes widen, his mouth opening subtly. “Woah…really? Terry, you just don’t seem like that kind of guy.” Terry shrugged nonchalantly. “That makes it even easier for me.” Terry took a few steps back to lean against the elevator's walls. “But, you should see some of the stuff I’ve walked away with. One night, I made three hundred grand.” Aston’s pupils widened. He tried to find words to react, but the elevator dinged. Terry would make sure he had the last word. “But like I said, I host. So let me know if you ever want to play.” He smiled, patting Aston’s arm before stepping out of the elevator.

Terry knew he had him. Aston was a man choked by his addiction, and it was only a matter of time before he took the bait. And take it, he did. A little over an hour later, with the office still empty for the most part, Aston came knocking. A soft, hesitant tap at the door. Terry’s lips curled into a sly smile as he greeted him, his eyes glinting with a mix of satisfaction and cold calculation. I’ll let him bring it up, Terry thought. Let him think he's still in control.

Aston awkwardly coughed, swinging his arms nervously as he approached Terry’s desk. His eyes were shifty, and just the slightest bead of sweat slid down his forehead. He was nervous, desperate. Damn, he must need this money more than I thought. He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous tick that only deepened Terry’s amusement. The guy was unraveling right in front of him.

“So, uh…” Aston’s voice cracked slightly as he spoke, betraying his nerves. “About those games you were talking about? How do they really work?”

Terry leaned forward, folding his arms across his chest, his eyes narrowing just a bit as he studied Aston. 

“It's pretty simple,” Terry said, his tone casual but low. “I host them every Thursday night, just me and a few other guys. You send a deposit to lock in your spot, and you’re in for four games. All winnings remain confidential. No IRS. No paperwork. Everything under the radar. Real simple.”

He paused, letting the words sink in, watching Aston’s eyes flicker with a mix of curiosity and unease.

Terry’s voice dropped an octave, darker, heavier.

“But—” He began, fixing Aston with an intense stare. “Anything that goes on there, stays in there. Understand?”

Aston shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, his eyes flicking away to the floor. The words settled in the air, adding to his unease.

“Yeah,” Aston muttered, his voice tight. “Yeah, seems straightforward enough…how much is the deposit?”

Terry let out a soft, humorless sigh, his eyes never leaving Aston’s face. “$30,000,” he said flatly. “And you gotta put up another $50,000, at least, to play.”

Aston’s face drained of color. His eyes went wide, as if the numbers hadn’t fully registered. He took an audible breath, his hand coming up to tug at the collar of his shirt.

“That’s…that’s a lot man…” Aston trailed off. He was visibly rattled now, his composure slipping away. Terry smirked, watching the man squirm.

“Yeah, bruh, no pressure. I know it might be out of the budget for an associate.” Terry’s tone dripped with sarcastic sympathy. Aston’s expression visibly changed. His jaw tightened, his nostrils flared slightly, his gaze hardened. There it was. The envy, the bitterness. Terry could see it clearly. 

Terry leaned back in his chair, letting the silence stretch for a few moments, savoring the tension. He had him.

“No,” Aston said, his voice more relaxed, but with a razor-sharp edge. “That’s not a problem. I’ve got more than enough to cover that. I’ll even send it today.” The words came out through gritted teeth, a mixture of pride and barely-contained frustration.

Terry’s smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. Perfect.

“That’s great, man!” Terry said, his tone suddenly light and jovial. He slid a notepad and pen across the desk. “Just write down your number, and I’ll send you all the details.”

Aston paused for a fraction of a second, but he wrote his number down anyway. As Aston slid the notepad back, Terry’s eyes caught the brief flicker of hesitation in his gaze. But it was fleeting, gone before it could become a problem.

Aston turned to leave, his body language still tense. But just before he opened the door, he paused to look over his shoulder back at Terry. “And Camille… she won’t find out about this, right?”

Terry froze, the name making his heart beat just a touch faster, but his face never betrayed him. He kept his expression casual, his voice smooth.

“Nope, not at all,” Terry said, his words dripping with casual assurance. “Not from me. Not from you.” Aston nodded, his lips pressed thin as he stepped out the door.

Camille

Camille took her time walking through Watkins & Grant. Not only was it Monday, it was the start of a two-day rotation with Aston. She was ready to dive into the day’s work, but if she were honest, she’d much rather be working with Terry. Despite her newfound enthusiasm for the job, working with Aston was still…draining. His demeanor had softened since her rotations began. He was less snippy and wasn’t as strict with deadlines. But his animosity towards Terry had only grown, a simmering resentment that Camille couldn’t ignore. Initially, she’d thought his sharp comments and tense glances were the result of him still grieving over not making partner, a bitter disappointment he hadn’t quite come to terms with. 

But as the weeks passed, she realized his feelings had shifted into an intense, unrelenting jealousy. Aston’s eyes would narrow into icy daggers whenever Terry entered a room. Whenever the team celebrated one of Terry’s achievements, Aston’s hands remained firmly by his sides. It was as if his pride couldn’t bear to acknowledge Terry’s success. And every time Camille spoke about him, even in passing, Aston couldn’t help but drop snarky comments. His disdain was impossible to miss, and though Camille was determined to focus on work, she couldn't shake the discomfort it caused her. But outside of that, Aston was still pretty pleasant. So she just let the whole envy thing roll off her back.

Camille pushed open the door to Aston’s office, expecting to greet him with a simple “good morning.” But as soon as she stepped inside, her words caught in her throat. Aston was sitting at his desk, but he looked nothing like the put-together man she was used to. His usually sharp appearance was now disheveled, as though he’d been awake for far too long. His eyes were unnaturally dilated, the pupils wide and unblinking, while his leg bounced erratically beneath the desk. His hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat, and he was completely unaware of her presence.

A wave of concern washed over Camille as she took in the scene. “Aston?” she called out gently, her voice tinged with worry. “Are you doing alright?”

His head snapped up in an instant, his gaze locking onto hers in a way that startled her. He had a frantic, almost fearful look. But he quickly wiped his hand across his face, as if trying to reset his expression.

"Morning, Millie," he said, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat and forced a strained, dry laugh. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Camille didn't buy the forced cheerfulness. She took a step closer, setting her bag down on her desk slowly. "Are you okay? You don’t look so good," she asked, her concern deepening.

Aston waved off her concern with a flick of his hand, his smile stretched thin. “Me? Oh, I’m doing great!” he said too quickly, too brightly. “I mean, my stocks went down a little, but it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

She nodded slowly, but her suspicion lingered. Aston was obsessed with his stocks, always checking the market, always fretting over numbers. But there was always something that told her that there was more to it than stocks. Something more risky that had him far too invested and far too tense. She couldn't shake the feeling that he was hiding something.

At that moment, their finances remained separate. Camille paid her half of the rent, her share of the groceries, and contributed to other household bills, but there was no blending of accounts, no pooling of resources. She never had the intention of opening a joint account with him. There was something about the idea that didn't sit right with her. Whatever financial turbulence he was navigating, she hoped it would be sorted before their wedding day. 

Aston, eager to steer the conversation elsewhere, cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "You ready to get started, babe?" he asked, his tone brisk as he passed her a thick stack of papers. Camille glanced down at the pile, already estimating that it was at least 150 pages. She nodded as he continued. “Great. I need you to proofread these contracts. Can you do that by COB?”

Camille flicked through the papers, her brows furrowing as she flipped page after page. She could feel the weight of the task sinking in. Who could possibly get through all of this in a single day?

“That’s a pretty tight deadline...,” she breathed. Aston’s face fell for a moment, a brief flash of disappointment. But he quickly masked it, offering a small, almost apologetic smile.

“You know what, don’t even worry about it,” he said. “Just do the best you can.”

Camille returned a small smile, but her mind lingered on the sheer volume of work. She let out a quiet sigh before sinking into her chair.

“Oh, by the way," Aston’s tone shifted, a strained undertone creeping back into his voice. "I can’t go to lunch with you today. I’ve got a meeting across town that’ll run from 11:00 to 3:00." His words were casual, but there was a subtle edge to them, as if he were trying to brush off a reason he didn’t want to share.

A cold knot twisted in Camille’s stomach at the change in his voice, but she pushed it aside, choosing not to press. "Okay," she murmured, her eyes focusing on the highlighter in her hand. 

Around 10:40, Aston sprang from his chair with urgency, his movements frantic. She couldn’t help but watch, her eyes following him as he muttered a hurried “bye” under his breath, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

Something’s not right, she thought, the feeling settling into her gut. The thought crossed her mind before she could even stop it: follow him. Her eyes narrowed as she mulled over the possibility. But that would be crazy, she reasoned. What good would it do to sneak after him? Whatever she found out wouldn’t change anything anyway. And yet, the nagging curiosity to uncover just a sliver more about this mysterious meeting gnawed at her.

But before she could dwell on it further, the blare of her phone ringing pulled her from her thoughts. She glanced down, surprised to be getting a call so early on a workday. Terry’s name flashed across the screen, making her heart skip a beat. A smile instantly tugged at her lips as she scrambled to answer the call, her fingers fumbling with the screen in her haste.

“Hello,” she said, doing her best to sound casual, though her voice betrayed the excitement bubbling inside her.

“Hey, Camille, sorry to call right now. You got a minute?” Terry’s voice washed over her, rich and smooth. She felt an instant flutter in her stomach.

“Yeah, sure! What can I do for you?” she replied, her voice coming out girlier than she intended.

“I left a file I need for this presentation I’ve got in the top drawer of my desk. I won’t be able to make it there and back in time. You think you could drop it off?” he asked.

Camille hesitated, torn between her professional obligations and her personal desire to see him. Helping Terry would mean taking time away from her assignment, something that would surely upset Aston. But the thought of seeing Terry, especially after missing their usual morning exchange, was hard to resist.

“Of course! Just send me the location,” she breathed, her voice catching slightly, a soft smile creeping onto her lips as a deep chuckle echoed in her ear.

“Thanks, Camille. I appreciate it. I’ll send a pin now.”

“Okay, see you soon!” she said, her voice practically bubbling with excitement. Slightly embarrassed at how eager she sounded, she quickly hung up the phone, grabbing her bag with haste. She made her way toward Terry’s office, the joy of hearing his voice still hanging in the air.

But before she could reach the door, Camille was stopped in her tracks. Stephanie appeared out of nowhere, stepping directly into her path with a forced smile plastered on her face.

"Hey, Camille. You know Terry’s not in the office now, right?" Stephanie’s voice came out with an odd, strained edge. Camille blinked, taken aback by the abrupt question. 

“Oh, yeah. He just called me! He left something in his office and wants me to bring it to him,” Camille replied, keeping her voice polite. She moved to step around Stephanie, but Stephanie sidestepped, once again blocking her path.

“Really?” Stephanie said, her tone dripping with a sickening sweetness. “I can do it for you if you’d like. Aston mentioned that you had a lot of work to do.” The suggestion hung in the air, as if she were doing Camille a favor. Camille’s brow furrowed, her confusion deepening. Why would Aston mention that to her? 

Camille let out a weak giggle to break the tension. “That’s alright, he’s already expecting me,” she said, her voice firm but laced with the tiniest edge of irritation.

Stephanie’s smile faltered just a fraction, the expression slipping for a moment as she frowned slightly, her eyes flickering with something Camille couldn’t quite place. But after a beat, she stepped aside, finally allowing Camille to pass.

Weirded out by the whole interaction, Camille quickly walked through Terry’s office, grabbed the file and made her way towards the elevator. The feeling of Stephanie’s unblinking stare burning into her back the entire time.

That was odd, Camille thought, as she slid into her car. She grabbed her phone, pulling up the directions Terry had sent her. The map loaded slowly, and she took a deep breath, letting it steady her as she clicked her seatbelt into place. Once the directions finally pulled up, she reversed out of her parking spot and navigated the car out of the parking deck, her thoughts drifting as she hit the road.

Twenty minutes later, Camille pulled into a packed parking lot, her eyes scanning the area until they landed on the only figure outside. Terry stood near the entrance, his silhouette framed by the soft glow of the morning sun. He wore a deep purple shirt and well-tailored black slacks, and for a moment, Camille was entranced by the way the colors seemed to highlight the goldeness of his skin. She sighed softly, a wistful smile tugging at her lips as she gazed at him from a distance, glad she made the drive.

I can’t have him, she thought, her heart aching slightly, but it doesn���t hurt to look. To admire. She pulled into a parking spot adjacent to him and watched as he turned toward her car, his smile confident and inviting. She didn’t want to acknowledge her feelings for him, but in moments like this, it was impossible not to.

“Hey,” he greeted as she stepped out of the car and made her way over to him. She gave him a bright smile. “Hey!” she replied, passing him the file. “This is the one, right?”

 He smiled down at her, grabbing the file.

“Yes ma’am. Thanks for taking the time to come down here,” he spoke. “I owe you.” Camille’s heart fluttered at the sincerity in his voice. “Don’t mention it, happy to help,” she replied softly, trying her best to not giggle like a schoolgirl. “Have a great presentation,” she said, turning back towards her car. 

“Hold up,” he called. Camille brought her attention back to him. “McCoy got you that busy? I was thinking I could treat you to lunch after this? It’ll only take an hour.” 

Camille hesitated, chewing on her lip. She really had to get back to work. Terry fake pouted, tilting his head. “Please, Camille,” he pleaded softly. “Like I said, I owe you one.”

Her chest tightened. He really wants me to stay! She thought. And Aston would still be gone by the time I got back…

“Okay,” she said, “Since you asked so nicely.” It’s just a harmless lunch. “I’ll just grab my phone out of the car.

She reached down into her purse as she walked back towards her car, her fingers brushing through the clutter in search of her keys. As she rummaged, her hand brushed something sharp. An unexpected jolt of pain shot through her, forcing her to yank her hand back. It felt like a scalpel had sliced her skin. A deep gash ran across the pad of her index finger, and bright red blood began to bead up, dripping down in fast, heavy drops onto the dark asphalt below. She stared down at the wound in confusion, the sharp sting still pulsing through her hand. 

“Huh,” she muttered softly to herself, not fully processing what had just happened. “I must’ve cut myself on my key–” 

Suddenly, a new, much sharper pain pierced through her neck, cutting off her train of thought. It sank deep, the sensation burning through her like fire, making her yelp. A split second of agony. Then, as quickly as it had come, the pain was replaced by an overwhelming, mind-numbing euphoria. Her senses were flooded with a pleasure and delight that seemed to drown out everything else. Every nerve in her body seemed to hum with a strange, fulfilling electricity she couldn’t comprehend.

Her vision blurred, the world around her tilting to the side. Her legs felt weak, and she stumbled, her body swaying like a leaf caught in a breeze. She had to fight to keep her balance, but it was a losing battle.

Although her strength faltered, firm arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, steadying her body. The warmth of the figure against her sent another strange thrill through her, though she couldn’t focus enough to make sense of it. She could feel the strength of the mystery person, his body solid and real against hers, but the haze of pleasure and confusion made it hard to think.

"T-Terry?" she whispered, her voice coming out weak and shaky, her boss’ name the only thing slipping through the fog in her mind. She reached up, her trembling hand brushing against the chest she was pulled into in a futile attempt to ground herself in something familiar. But the world was slipping from her grasp too quickly, her vision swimming in and out of focus. Before she could say another word, everything went black. The strange sensation she was feeling was her only comfort as darkness consumed her.

Stephanie’s song: Streets-Doja Cat

Stephanie

From the concealed safety of her car, Stephanie watched with a mixture of horror and fascination as the scene unfolded before her. Terry, the man who had her completely under his spell, suddenly and violently sank his teeth into Camille’s neck. The act was so swift, so shockingly predatory, that it left Stephanie frozen. Camille, with a look of confusion, had pulled her bloodied hand from her bag. Then, moving with unnerving speed, Terry was behind her. His teeth punctured her skin with an animalistic precision. Camille yelped in pain, but the sound quickly faded as her eyes fluttered and began to droop. Her body swayed as if she was in slow motion, and she crumpled in Terry’s grasp.

When Stephanie had first decided to follow Camille nearly thirty minutes ago, she had envisioned a confrontation, a way to make her intentions clear. She could see how Camille had developed a crush on Terry. The way she always looked at him coyly. How she would act so clueless to get him to treat her like some fragile puppy. It was a constant reminder that he didn’t belong to Stephanie, even though he's what she craved most. Terry and Stephanie weren’t a couple, but that would change. She would make sure of it. Stephanie could admit it without shame: she would do anything to have him. And that included scaring off the paralegal who had feelings for him. She had to mark her territory, to make Camille understand that she had no place in his world.

But this… this was beyond anything she had ever anticipated. The man she lusted after, the man she wanted with a ferocity she couldn’t control, was something more than human. Some sort of… supernatural creature. Stephanie’s pulse quickened, her chest tightening, but instead of revulsion, an overwhelming wave of attraction surged through her. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the way Terry’s strong arms wrapped around Camille’s collapsing body, how his mouth moved with such raw intensity against her neck. The sight stirred something dark and primal inside her, making her pussy throb.

God, that’s so hot, she thought, her breath catching. That should be me. The raw power, the dominance in the way he held Camille, it wasn’t terrifying—it was an erotic fantasy come to life.

In a daze, she reached for her phone, her fingers trembling with excitement. She quickly pressed record, capturing the moment as Terry’s fangs withdrew from Camille’s skin, leaving behind two circular wounds. He blinked down at her in shock, his eyes flashing with panic. In a frenzy, he licked the blood from the puncture, as if to somehow erase the evidence, before he swept Camille up in his arms, cradling her against him.

Stephanie’s lips curled into a sinister smile, her heart racing. She stopped recording and sank lower into her seat, knowing that the shadows of the car would keep her hidden. The weight of the discovery settled over her darkly.

I know your secret, Mr. Richmond, she thought, her mind spinning with possibilities. Let’s see how I can use it to my advantage.

------------------

@nayaesworld @slvt4her @writingsbytee @notapradagurl7 @23jammy @kaylaahisthebestest- @theogbadbitch @wabi-sabi1090 @hotgyalaroad @nubiagurllll @lovedlover @dimepiece09 @lavaniiii @simplyzeeka @susanhill @next-bex-bet @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @ranikyani @loveschrisbrown20 @daddyslittlevillain @blackchickinthedesert @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @hello-therree @solunaseira @hotebonynearby @key05marie @moebuttta @winorlosetogether @nohatingpplbczhtingpplr

[ch33z3grits]

Just a little appreciation!

Hi, angel babiesss!

Thank y'all for showing my terry series some love! I'm still figuring out tumblr so please forgive me if I'm not using the proper etiquette. But fr, I appreciate all the interactions, they really make my day (Y'all are FUNNY ASF). Shout out to @theogbadbitch for giving me some tips about formatting! So going forward, posts should be better. 🙂‍↕️ Still working out the reblog thing tho😭😭

[ch33z3grits]

Crimson Obsessions | A Terry Richmond Vampire Series

pairing: Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond x Justine Skye as Camille DeWaterson

summary: Terry shamelessly gathers allies and information to pursue Camille behind the scenes. Camille, no matter how hard she tries, can't help but develop a crush on Terry.

warnings: 18+ mdni, dark romance, manipulation, smut (male masturbation and p in v), obsessiveness/possessiveness, mentions of witchcraft, angst if you squint, stalking, breaking and entering, mentions of drugs and alcohol, AAVE, use of n-word

word count: 7,778

a/n: thanks again for all the comments and reposts on the last part! The reposts are fucking hilarious but idk how to respond to them if I even can 😭😭 but I appreciate the interactions fr. Ngl this is long lolll but enjoy :)

glossary

The Veil: the dark magic that enhances supernaturals’ ability to manipulate the human world

Terry’s song: No Heart-21 Savage | Camille’s song: Next Lifetime-Erykah Badu

Pt. Three

Terry

Terry had forgotten how annoying popularity could be. It had only been two weeks since he first onboarded with Watkins & Grant, yet he was already the firm’s shining star. His work ethic was constantly praised, as was his effortless charm when conversing with anyone. Every day, without fail, someone would drop by his office to shower him with compliments. He would laugh, a practiced chuckle that never failed to sound genuine, and put on an act of humble appreciation, making sure to make them feel special in return.

But as the days passed, Terry found himself increasingly irritated by the constant recognition. His colleagues, eager for his attention, bombarded him with social requests. Happy hours, family dinners, sporting events, casual coffee chats… invitations were always extended to Terry. He knew the drill all too well. Terry had mastered the corporate dance long ago, and he understood that maintaining these social ties was essential for his professional image. But despite the strategic benefits, the sheer volume and frequency of all those social engagements were draining his patience.

What bothered him most, though, was the growing realization that these endless interactions weren’t getting him any closer to the one person he actually wanted to see, the one who mattered far more than anyone else in the office.

In the past few weeks, Terry's interactions with Camille had been way too brief and far too professional. When she got in, she would quickly pass him in the hallway, squeaking out a small but warm "good morning" before Aston would lock her away in that fucking office of his. Their exchanges always left Terry feeling hungry for more. When those tiny moments weren’t enough to satisfy his craving for her, he’d find some bullshit excuse to walk down to her side of the office—grabbing a snack from the kitchen, admiring a different angle of the building’s view, or simply claiming he needed to stretch his legs. Each time, he’d sneak a glance into Aston’s office, and there she would be. Head down, furiously typing away or scribbling notes, working far too hard for Terry's liking.

Meanwhile, Aston would be making his rounds around the executive wing, greeting everyone with a hollow smile and kissing everyone’s ass but Terry’s. Terry wasn’t offended at all. The less he had to see the motherfucker’s face, the better. But he was going crazy trying to survive off his little interactions with Camille, watching as her professional life consumed her. Terry had to find a way to get some more time alone with her. Which is why a few days after he started, he was staying after hours to bend Stephanie Hodges, the secretary for Mr. Grant, over his desk.

After observing the social dynamics of the office, Terry discovered that Stephanie was one of the most influential people at the firm. At first, her interactions with Mr. Grant appeared strictly professional, nothing more than typical, formal exchanges. But Terry’s keen perception saw the subtle signs that hinted at something far more… inappropriate beneath the surface. He watched closely, noticing how Grant’s gaze would linger on her just a bit too long whenever she was near. Terry caught how Grant sniffed the air whenever she walked by, as if intoxicated by her presence. And whenever Stephanie wanted something, all she had to do was bat her lashes and throw a flirtatious smile at him. Every time ended with her getting exactly what she wanted and she would walk away with a triumphant smirk.

The professional relationship between Grant and Stephanie was nothing more than a carefully constructed facade. On Grant’s end, he was having an affair. On Stephanie’s end, she was enjoying a sugar baby arrangement. This knowledge solidified Terry’s understanding of her power and potential value to him, which he could leverage to his advantage. All he had to do was pull her into his orbit, which didn’t take much. Stephanie made her intentions very clear. She would come by his office every morning, making unnecessary small talk in a sultry tone. She would bend over to give him a perfect view of her ass or she would shove her cleavage in his face when she needed to show him something. Terry wasn’t particularly interested in fucking her. Stephanie was attractive, but office hook-ups often got messy, and Terry couldn’t afford the drama. But, Terry had no problem obliging her if it got him closer to his end goal. So if he had to fill her up with dick after everyone went home for the day in exchange for a few changes around the office, that didn’t bother him one bit.

“T-Terry, oh fuckkkk. F-Fuckingg...cu....c-cumming again,” Stephanie whimpered, her face pressed against the Mahogany wood of his desk. Terry rolled his eyes as he pumped his full length in and out of her with punishing strokes, feeling her pussy clench around him. She had came for the fourth time and all she could do was moan, shriek, and babble out incoherent sentences. The experience was much more than he intended. He didn't mean fuck her this good for this long. But his nut was taking longer than expected due to Stephanie’s high-pitched moans irritating the fuck out of him. And she kept fucking squirming. Frustrated, he firmly slapped her ass, causing her to cry out as the sound echoed through his office. “Stay still,” he hissed. “Damn!” 

He closed his eyes, trying to think of a way to make this more satisfying for him. An image of Camille bloomed in his mind, her face slack with pleasure, her mouth forming an ‘O’ shape. “Mmmm Terry, please.” The imaginary Camille moaned. “Please, please cum for me.” 

That got Terry across the finish line. His hips stuttered as he thrusted into Stephanie to the hilt and barreled into his orgasm. "Fuckkk," he groaned, pushing Stephanie flatter against the surface as he emptied his load into his condom. He pulled out of Stephanie quickly, the absence of his cock nearly making her slip onto the floor in a dick-drunk daze.

Good, he thought. Just how I need her to be. He discarded the condom in a nearby trash bin before sitting in his desk chair. He pulled her into his lap to soothe her as she caught her breath. She panted as she stared at him, a lazy smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

“Where have you been all my life?” She giggled, running a finger over his chest. He internally cringed, but his exterior played into her ego. “I could ask you the same,” he chuckled. She flipped her fiery red hair and laid her head on his chest, pleased by his comment.

“You know,” he started, choosing his words carefully. “I’ve been watching you since I first started here and I’ve noticed that you’re the only one who gets everything they want. I mean, it's no surprise considering how beautiful and magnetic you are. But, how do you do it?” She laughed, shifting herself on his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Well Mr. Richmond, I’m not afraid to ask for what I want.”

“Is that so? I need to learn your ways. Because there is something that I want. Well, someone rather,” Terry let out a defeated sigh. Stephanie stiffened in response, making him smirk. “Wow, Mr. Richmond, someone else has caught your eye already?” Terry clutched his chest, feigning shock.

“You’re mistaken, Stephanie. I don’t mean it in that way.” He stated, looking into her eyes and petting her hair. He watched as her jealousy transformed into curiosity. “I guess you could say that I’m dealing with a little professional jealousy.”

Stephanie raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What do you mean?”

“Camille's work ethic...I’m seriously impressed. The way she handles McCoy’s caseload, how she keeps the whole thing from collapsing under the weight of it all, it's something else. I don't have it as bad as he does, but I wouldn’t mind a little of that magic working for me. But…McCoy likes to keep her close. I mean, I get it, she’s his fiancée, after all." Terry tried to keep the bite out of his voice as he mentioned Camille’s engagement status. "But still, it feels a little…unfair, don’t you think? An associate gets to keep a paralegal like that all to themselves, and here I am, a visiting partner, left to do it all alone. I’d ask Grant or Watkins about it, but the whole ‘fiancée’ thing just makes it…tricky.”

He watched as the gears practically turned in Stephanie’s head, hoping he planted the right seeds. She tapped her fingers against his chest as she continued to think. “Well, I could always bring it to Mr. Grant’s attention. You’re right, it doesn’t make any sense for Aston to have more privileges than you.” Bingo.

Terry held back a sinister smile. “Really, you would do that for me? Would that even work?”

Stephanie’s cocky smirk returned. She sat up in his lap, her green eyes staring into his. “Of course! You said it yourself. I can get anything I want around here. Let’s test that theory.” She leaned in for a kiss, which Terry rewarded her with.

Hours later, just past 2:00 AM, Terry stood in the shadows outside of the luxury apartment building where Aston lived. On one of the rare nights when his colleagues hadn’t asked him out for drinks, he had followed Aston home, committing the address to memory. He returned the night after to watch the building closely, noting every detail. The concierge’s shift changed at exactly 2:00 AM. A handful of residents would collect late-night food deliveries until about 2:30, and the custodial staff took smoke breaks sporadically throughout the night. He had studied the rhythm of it all. Terry knew the patterns, knew the cracks in the schedule. He just needed the right window to slip through.

Tonight, he was prepared. Dressed head to toe in black, he ran his fingers over the leather gloves and ski mask tucked in his pocket. He wouldn’t need them just yet. But soon enough, they’d serve their purpose. For now, all he had to do was wait for the door to open. His eyes snapped towards the front entrance as he heard the grand door creak open. A cleaning lady, holding a pack of cigarettes, looked around momentarily. Convinced that no one was there, she grabbed a stone from a nearby bush and tucked it between the door and door frame. Then she walked a few feet in the direction opposite Terry, lighting a cigarette. Terry silently stalked towards the door, watching to make sure she didn’t turn around. He quickly slid through the open door, making sure it was propped open just like the woman had left it.

Once inside, he walked confidently over to the concierge sitting at the front desk. The man, who was busy doing crossword puzzles, stopped momentarily to see who was approaching him at such a late hour on a work night. Terry flashed a casual smile. “Hey, how are you doing tonight,” he spoke, placing his forearms on the marble counter separating them. The older gentleman looked at him with slight suspicion, but still engaged. “I’m fine, how about yourself?”

Terry let out a concerned sigh. “Actually, I'm not doing too well. My friend called me earlier, said he had a little too much to drink tonight and got himself into some trouble! I was just trying to check on him, but he won’t pick up. He only gave me the access code to the building, but I don’t know which room he’s in.”

The concierge paused, eyeing Terry with suspicion.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the man stammered. “But there’s nothing I can do.”

Frustration buzzed beneath Terry’s calm exterior, but he kept his voice steady, leaning in just a fraction closer. "Are you sure? I’d really hate to think something bad happened to him…” His words hung in the air, sharp with unspoken pressure.

The man’s gaze flickered, unease creeping into his eyes as his focus faltered. Terry inwardly groaned, knowing he would have to take matters into his own hands. He leaned in further, his fist tightening subtly, his focus sharpening. Swiftly, he conjured up the dark magic of The Veil, feeling it unfurl around him.

Terry watched with dark satisfaction as the man’s pupils dilated, his posture straightening rapidly. All emotion drained from the man’s face, signaling to Terry that he had control now. “That’s better,” Terry chuckled. “Now, bring me the master key and tell me what unit Aston McCoy is in.” Without a word, the concierge turned around and stumbled towards a room behind him. After a few moments, the concierge, moving like a brainless zombie, brought him a golden key fob and a slip of paper with ‘Aston McCoy, 608’ scribbled across it. Stuffing the items in his pocket, Terry gave the concierge another glance. “Stay right here and don’t talk to anyone.” Then, he pivoted towards the elevators.

Once inside, he slipped on the ski mask and gloves before using the key fob to get access to the sixth floor. He smiled when the doors slid open and stepped out into the hallway. Conveniently, the unit was only a few paces from the elevator. After approaching the door that displayed ‘608,’ he held the fob over the door’s keypad, and stepped inside once the door softly clicked.

Terry knew it was twisted. Breaking into his colleague's apartment to find the best, most personal way to ruin his life was abhorrent by human standards. But he wasn’t human. He hasn’t been human for centuries. So he didn’t give a fuck. Aston McCoy was the one thing standing in the way of him getting his hands on his prize.

Holding her.

Taking care of her.

Fucking her.

Worshipping her.

He vowed to move heaven and earth to have Camille all to himself. So if he had to pursue a little breaking and entering to set his plan into motion, so be it.

Terry's footsteps were silent to the average ear as he sauntered around the luxurious loft. He gazed at the expensive minimalist furniture, carefully curated wall decor, and the artificial plants that were strategically placed in the living area. The entire space lacked any trace of personality. Sterile, boring, and safe. The signs of a young white man who desperately wanted to be taken seriously and belong in the upper echelons of society. Terry smirked and shook his head. Throughout his long, long life, Terry had run into men like Aston at every turn. It was pathetic how they shaped their entire lives around getting more power, more status. Slave owners, military officials, mob bosses…white men who had the world at their feet but were always at the risk of slipping and falling. All it took was one blow from Terry and they were tumbling to the ground. Aston McCoy would be no different.

Although he found the apartment amusing, Terry grew irritated as he stalked through the space. Every drawer he opened, every closet he rifled through, only deepened his frustration. There were no signs of the vices he’d come to expect. No bottles of liquor tucked away in hidden corners, no baggies of coke stashed carelessly in drawers, no anonymous flash drives filled with illicit secrets. Nothing. Terry scoffed, feeling his eyebrows push together as he approached the last doorway in the apartment. McCoy’s bedroom. He entered the room lazily, expecting further disappointment. But his eyes widened as they settled on the central point of the room: the bed. On the left side, McCoy was bundled under a mountain of covers, his hair peeking out at the top being the only indication that it was him. But on the right side… laid Camille, looking like an absolute angel. Her body was completely exposed due to her fiancé's selfish hogging of the covers. McCoy’s actions at any other time would have Terry seeing red. But instead, they accidentally gave Terry the most pleasant and mouth-watering surprise he could have hoped for tonight.

Camille laid flat on her back, the side of her face perfectly highlighted by the moonlight pouring in as she snuggled into the crook of her arm. Her gorgeous dark brown skin seemed to glisten in the moon’s glow, asking, begging to be licked and sucked and marked. She was mostly bare, wearing nothing but a satin hair scarf and a satin nightgown that dipped dangerously low into her cleavage and hiked around her waist. Terry's focus on the task at hand faltered as his dick turned to stone. His tongue darted out of his mouth to moisten his lips hidden under his mask. Desperate to give himself some form of relief, he palmed his growing bulge through his sweatpants as he moved closer to Camille’s side of the bed. With a better view of the slumbering princess, Terry's eyes wandered to Camille’s pussy, tucked away from his sight by a lacy white thong, a present he ached to open. As if in a trance, Terry crouched down to run his gloved thumb over the waistband of Camille’s panties, careful not to awaken her.

You have no idea what you do to me, he thought, hooking a finger into the lacy fabric. His eyes snapped toward her face as he began to slowly tug the garment down. He was halfway down her thighs when she stirred, whimpering lightly. Everything in him froze except his dick. His dick jumped as the sweet sound echoed in his head. Camille’s brows furrowed momentarily, but her face relaxed and her eyes remained closed. Terry waited a beat to make sure she was still asleep. But his cock, heavy with excitement, beckoned him to continue removing her panties. So as swiftly as he could, Terry pulled the small fabric over her knees, down to her ankles, and then carefully slipped them past her feet. In a frenzy, Terry tugged the ski mask below his mouth and pulled the souvenir to his nose, inhaling deeply. Drool slid past his lips as he breathed in her scent. He held back a feral rumble in his chest, feeling his eyes flicker from their usual blue-gray to a deep red. Now isn't the time to lose control, he thought, suppressing the darkest parts of himself. With a shake of his head, he tucked Camille’s panties into his pocket, sending another shockwave through his lower region.

He backed away from Camille’s side of the bed, his eyes never leaving her enchanting face. He was just about to cross the bedroom’s threshold to walk back into the living area. But he heard the slightest vibration from the left side of the room. Terry cocked his head to the side and zeroed his focus on the phone on McCoy's nightstand. What kind of notifications could he be getting at two in the morning? He swiftly moved towards the phone, gently picking it up. He flipped it so the screen faced him and began to read the series of notifications. Banners from DraftKings, FanDuel, Prizepicks and other betting apps displayed several different messages:

Bet $20 and get 3x back on earnings!

Hurry now to get $1000 in casino bonuses!

Bet now, get instant deposit on all earnings!

Terry chuckled lightly, his eyes flickering to McCoy and Camille to briefly check if they heard him. They hadn’t. So you’re a gambling addict huh? He grinned widely as he glanced down at Aston. I can definitely work with that. Terry carefully returned the phone to its original position. Then he crossed the room once more, returning to Camille's side. He hummed slightly as he softly gripped her right leg, adjusting it to give him a perfect view of her now exposed pussy. Camille sighed slightly, shifting onto her side, unknowingly moving closer to Terry. Terry smirked, kneeling so his head was at the same level as hers. “You’ll be all mine soon enough,” he whispered, hoping that his words slipped into her dreams. She sighed in response, still in a deep slumber. With a final scan of her face, Terry pulled his ski mask back over nose, shoved his hands into his pockets, and turned to leave the bedroom. He grinned wildly as he began to conjure up the most sinister and wicked ideas to get Camille into his arms and into his bed.

He exited the apartment, carefully locking the door back into place. As he rode down the elevator, taking off the gloves and ski mask, he slightly chastised himself for not already knowing that they lived together. He guessed it never crossed his mind considering that they drove separately. And the address on her driver’s license didn’t match this building. Maybe she moved in with him recently, he thought.

Once the elevator doors opened, he looked toward the concierge’s desk, seeing that the man remained in the exact same spot. Terry approached the desk, placing the key fob in front of him. He would discard the paper with the apartment's information later. “You’ll be released from this spell in about ten minutes and you won't be able to remember the events of tonight. But before then, I need you to put this back exactly how you found out, and delete the security footage from the past hour once I walk through the front door. Understood?” The empty shell of a man nodded, already reaching for the master key. Terry turned toward the door and walked out, not bothering to look back.

Rather than feasting on one of the blood bags that stocked his fridge or sinking his fangs into one of his casual partners to end his night, Terry sat in his king-sized bed as he gripped his heavy dick, Camille’s thong hanging halfway out of his mouth. The garment muffled the groans in the back of his throat as his right hand jerked up and down his shaft and his left hand held his phone displaying a picture of Camille he found on her sister’s instagram. She stood in a bathroom, wearing nothing but a white robe and silver jewelry. One side of the robe hung off her shoulder, giving a teasing view of a breast he desperately wanted to lick. She looked up at the phone provocatively, her tongue peeking between her lips.

Terry was practically choking his cock as his hand gripped up and down his length, lotion and precum mixing together to give him the perfect amount of slickness. His hips bucked as he imagined her tongue dragging over the length of him from base to tip, flicking over the slit of the mushroom head. And the residual taste of her essence flooded his taste buds, making his head damn-near spin. With a few more thrusts into his fist, he released a guttural moan as warm, thick ropes of cum landed on his torso and hand. He panted softly, chest rapidly rising and falling as he came down from his high.

He pulled her panties from his mouth, using it to clean up his seed, before placing the fabric on the altar sitting across from his bed, which held an intense love spell he had been meticulously maintaining for weeks. Framed photos of her, capturing moments of her beautiful smile and radiant laughter, were abundant. Beside them, candles glowed softly, their wicks anointed with domination and seduction oils, each deep red flame flickering with an almost sentient desire. Protection wards, drawn in ancient symbols connected to The Veil, surrounded the space like a silent, invisible force, ensuring her safety from any harm. The display was an intricate ritual, a carefully crafted tribute to Camille, meant to pull her closer, to weave her into the very fabric of his world. Every detail was deliberate, every element chosen with painstaking care. All of this—his devotion—was for her, and her alone.

He gazed at the picture on his phone once more and shuddered, his semi-erect dick standing at attention once again. But even though his mind beckoned him to masturbate once more, his supernatural hunger gnawed at him. He had been ignoring his desire to feed for the past few days, prioritizing more pressing matters. But now, he was almost at a point where he could lose control. And he couldn’t go into work tomorrow and accidentally feast on a coworker. So, with a final glance towards his magical workings, he pulled on a pair of pajama pants and stalked towards the supply of O-Negative waiting in his fridge.

Camille

Camille woke abruptly from the sound of her alarm, groggier than usual. She already wasn’t looking forward to the day, considering that it started poorly. Aston woke her up around 4 AM, horny and in the mood for a quickie, which she reluctantly gave in to. He had already taken her panties off anyway. But it was rushed and unfulfilling. Aston had rolled after two minutes, falling back to sleep after reaching his peak. But Camille wasn’t so lucky. She tossed and turned for hours, her dissatisfaction keeping her alert. And of course, her vibrator was dead, leaving her with nothing to get her off.

Before her mood could sour even more, she threw off her covers and headed for the bathroom. Dreading the work day ahead, she went through her morning routine. It wasn’t just the workload that was getting to her. Ever since Aston found out he didn’t make junior partner, he’s been…stricter. Meaner. A tad bit bitter. He’d grown increasingly harsh with her work, constantly second-guessing her decisions, and questioning the few moments she took to breathe between the demands. And it wasn’t just the office that had become tense. At home, the smallest things seemed to set him off. Camille chalked it up to him having residual disappointment from Terry having the role he wanted, which she completely understood. She saw how he poured his blood, sweat, and tears into Watkins & Grant, yet it didn’t seem to be paying off. And although she gave him grace, she couldn’t deny that he was hurting her feelings often and she was beginning to burn out.

Giving herself one last look in the mirror, Camille hoped that something good would come out of the day. Something to break up the monotony.

At least, she thought with a small sigh, there was Terry.

She hadn’t fully admitted it to herself, but Camille was developing a crush on the new addition to the firm. And she often fixated on their interactions. Their exchanges, though brief, had become the highlight of her mornings. The way he would give her a quick, almost nonchalant ‘good morning,’ accompanied by that wide smile. It was nothing out of the ordinary. He offered the same greetings to everyone else in the office. Yet, every time their eyes met, her heart would skip a beat.

Once she got to the office, that moment she always looked forward to happened like it always did. Terry passed her as she came into the office, giving her that signature smile and quick ‘good morning.’ Camille savored the moment briefly, inhaling his passing trail of cologne. But she refocused and continued to Aston’s office, mentally preparing herself for the tasks she had to handle by close of business. She pushed open the glass door and made her way to her desk, feeling Aston’s eyes track her, his phone pressed to his ear. When his call ended, he softly called out to her. “Good morning, Millie.”

“Morning,” Camille replied, refusing to look up. Aston sighed, sitting back in his chair.

“Look baby, I know I haven’t been the best company these past few weeks. And, I’m sorry. It’s not fair to you at all.” This made Camille look up, meeting his gaze. “And I know the work has been hard. I… I’m just going through something, baby. And while that’s no excuse, I want to thank you for being so patient with me.”

Her eyes softened. “It’s okay, baby. We all have our off moments,” she said, sympathy laced in her tone. He smiled and blew her a kiss, making her giggle.

“You mind us taking a long lunch today? We can go get your favorite,” he suggested, making her perk up. Camille rarely got to go to O-ku, an elevated Asian fusion spot about twenty minutes from the office. She felt a little bit of her stress melt away, feeling moved by his apology. “Yea,” she smiled brightly. “I’d love that, Aston.”

“Great,” he returned, leaning deeper in her direction. “Let me make a reserva–” An abrasive knock on the door interrupted him. Camille’s eyes dragged towards the source. Mr. Grant, not waiting to be invited in, stepped inside.

“Aston, Camille. I’m glad I caught you two,” he said curtly, shutting the door behind him. Aston sat up straighter at the arrival of their guest. Of all of the executives, Mr. Grant was the harshest, and he was rarely impressed. As a result, he always had Aston on edge when he was around.

“Now I know this may be a sensitive topic, and honestly that’s because Charles and I let it go on for far too long,” Mr. Grant said definitively. Aston and Camille exchanged a glance, neither of them having a clue what he was talking about. Aston cleared his throat. “I’m sorry sir, but what are you referring to?” Aston asked.

Mr. Grant sighed, looking around the room awkwardly. “It’s time for you two to start separating.” Camille swallowed. Aston clenched his jaw. “With all due respect sir, Camille and I, we have a good system in pla-“ Mr. Grant cut him off promptly.

“I’m aware, Aston. And the firm appreciates how well you two work together. But this arrangement…it looks unfair to the rest of the team.”

Camille knew that working together would eventually come back to haunt them. They only got away with it for so long for three reasons: One, Aston was notorious for taking on more cases than anyone else, making extra help a necessity. Two, the McCoy family had contributed generously to Watkins & Grant charity events, which kept the firm a little more lenient on their setup. And three, Mr. Watkins, a hopeless romantic, had been all too eager to make sure their relationship survived in the high-pressure world of law.

For the past two years, their colleagues had turned a blind eye. But it was clear now that the situation had become an issue for others. Mr. Grant continued, “Charles and I talked it over this morning and we agree that it’s time for the distribution of the paralegals to become more equitable.”

Mr. Grant's focus shifted solely to Camille. “Now Camille, we don’t want to thrust you into a completely different workload, so we’ll just put you under one other colleague for now, just so you can get your feet wet.” Camille nodded, honestly feeling a little excited.

“But, we still want to push you and make sure you remain challenged, so we’re not going to put you under another associate. Instead, you’ll be working under Terry,” he stated.

Camille’s heart felt like it might jump out of her chest. She was going to work with Terry? She didn’t know if she’d be able to take it. What if I embarrass myself in front of him? What if I mess up his cases? Aston interjected, displeasure obvious on his face. “Mr. Grant, she's never worked with high level cases before or a different portfolio. Don’t you think this might be too big of a leap.”

Mr. Grant flicked his hand dismissively. “She’s been stellar so far, I can’t see her falling too far away from that. And don’t worry, we’re going to add another paralegal to your rotation,” Mr. Grant was obviously not going to be swayed. He turned back towards Camille. “Camille, quickly gather your things. We’re going to hop on over to Terry’s office and see if we can finalize a new schedule for you.”

Aston looked at her, visibly upset. But what could she do? Say no to their boss? She put her laptop and notepad in her work tote, then stood to follow Mr. Grant out the door. She walked quickly to keep up with him as they moved through the office. Once they got to Terry’s door, Mr Grant's demeanor did a 180. His no-nonsense pout turned into a small smile as he knocked on the door.

“Come on in,” that velvety voice made Camille’s thighs clench. Mr. Grant stepped inside with a bright smile, Camille following closely behind. “Terry!” he exclaimed joyfully. “Working hard or hardly working?”

Both men shared a laugh as Terry rose from his desk. They continued to joke amongst themselves as Camille swayed nervously, looking everywhere but at Terry. Their laughter died down and she could feel both of their eyes on her.

“How you doing, Camille?” Terry chirped, forcing her to meet his gaze. His head was cocked to the side, a playful gleam in his eyes. “I’m doing fine Terry. How are you?” She responded, unable to help her smile.

“I can’t complain, I can’t complain,” he said, staring at her intently and biting his lip absentmindedly.

Goodness, she thought. This man is going to be the death of me.

“It’s good to know you two are acquainted,” Mr Grant starts. “Terry, I wanted to drop by with a proposition. We know that you’re doing just fine on your own. But Charles and I wanted to give Camille an opportunity to work on some higher level cases and experience some topics outside of McCoy’s portfolio. Do you mind taking her under your wing?”

Terry’s eyebrows raised, his smile deepening. “Not at all. I’d be honored.” Camille quietly let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Mr. Grant chuckled at his response.

“Well great! I was thinking about her rotating between you and McCoy. Is three days with you and two days with him alright?” Terry nodded. “Absolutely, as long as Camille doesn’t mind.” They turned to her expectantly. Her cheeks burned as she spoke up. “That sounds great!” She said. Aston is not going to like this...at all, she thought.

“Great,” Mr Grant finalized. “I’ll leave you two to work out the details,” he said, backing towards the door. “By the way Terry, are we still on for golf on Sunday?”

Terry chuckled, leaning against his desk. “Yes sir, I wouldn’t miss it.” Mr. Grant smiled again, chuckling as he walked out of the room. As the door shut, Camille watched as Terry’s eyes focused on her, as if he was studying her.

“Damn, I don’t think I’ve seen you for more than five minutes since my first day,” Terry said, crossing his arms with a playful smirk. Camille felt a flutter in her chest but masked it with a grin, shrugging her shoulders. “What can I say? I’m always pretty busy.”

“Oh, I know.” Terry pushed himself off the desk, his eyes never leaving hers as he stalked toward her. Camille froze, the warmth of his proximity hitting her like a wave. Focus, Camille. Focus. His scent lingered in the air, making it hard to think. “Every time I pass McCoy’s office, you’re always buried in work.”

Camille let out a soft sigh, averting her gaze. She envied how her coworkers could wander the office freely while she seemed chained to her desk. “Yeah, it does get a little overwhelming sometimes.” She glanced back to find Terry watching her intently, an unreadable expression in his eyes. Sympathy flickered there, but something else too.

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that with me.” His voice softened, the smile that spread across his lips sending a shiver down her spine. “I promise to keep your workload interesting, but light. That’s why your first task will be spending a day out of the office… on the firm’s dime.”

Camille’s breath hitched, her pulse skipping a beat. He can’t possibly be serious. But when he reached into his wallet and pulled out the Amex card that Watkins & Grant only gave to its partners, she knew he was.

“Terry, that’s… that’s so sweet,” she murmured, her voice betraying her. She shifted on her feet, feeling conflicted. “But I can’t accept that.”

“Really?” His voice dipped, teasing, but his eyes never left hers—holding her in place. “Should I tell Grant you’re already giving me problems?” The playful edge in his tone made her stomach flutter, and despite the tension in her chest, she bit her lip, trying to maintain control.

“I just… I would feel guilty. I’m supposed to be helping you, not taking time off,” she said, her words softer than she intended.

Terry tsk’d, stepping closer, holding out the card toward her like a quiet challenge. “But you are helping me,” he said with a wink. “You’d be clearing your mind, so you’re ready for my cases.” Camille swallowed hard, knowing he had her cornered. No matter how she tried to protest, he’d always find a way to turn it back on her. With a reluctant sigh, she reached out and took the card.

“Okay,” she murmured. “But what am I supposed to do all day?” Terry shrugged casually. “Whatever you like. But if you need to feel productive, you can always swing by the Law Library and do some light research on intellectual property or impact investing cases.” His gaze lingered on hers just a moment too long.

Camille chewed her lip momentarily. “Alright, that sounds good.” Terry leaned back, a triumphant expression crossing his already smiling face. “Great. Before you go, you want to set anything down in your office?”

Her office. Not just a small corner like in Aston’s room, but a full, independent space all for her. Camille’s lips curved into a grin as she allowed herself to feel the thrill of this new chapter. Terry led her across his large office towards a door on the far side of the room. His hand reached out to press it open, holding it wide for her to step inside.

A soft gasp escaped her lips as she entered. The room was everything she hadn’t realized she was hoping for. Bright and spacious, equipped with a sleek wooden desk that already had a desktop on it. Behind the desk, a plush-looking office chair awaited her, a welcome contrast to the aesthetically pleasing yet stiff chairs in Aston’s office. Around the room, a few plants and decor added life and personality, filling the space with a sense of freshness—giving the room an almost personal touch.

“Do you like it, Camille,” Terry asked, her name rolling off his tongue almost making her swoon. She gazed up at him with a grateful smile. “Oh, I love it, Terry,” she gushed, stepping into the office further. He let out a deep chuckle, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m glad that you do. I’ll let you get settled. I’m gonna join a call soon, so you can just step out when you’re ready to go.”

“Okay,” Camille said, still admiring the room. With a final sigh, she placed her work bag in the office chair and grabbed her wristlet from the inside. She carefully placed the company card inside and grabbed her keys. As she left her new sanctuary, Terry silently waved her over to him, his phone pressed to his ear. He handed her a piece of paper with a number scribbled across it. “Call or text me if you need anything,” he whispered, before returning to his call. She grabbed the paper with a smile, noticing that her grumpiness from earlier had completely disappeared.

Terry

Terry had to give Stephanie credit. She worked fast. He didn’t expect Camille to be moved to work under him the very next day. But he definitely wasn’t complaining. When Grant brought her into his office, Terry’s heart skipped a beat, a momentary jolt of surprise. She entered the room like a breath of fresh air, her presence enough to make everything feel lighter. But Terry quickly masked his reaction, his cool demeanor slipping back into place.

As much as he wanted to keep her in his presence for her first day with him, he could tell she was feeling drained. Her shoulders curled forward. Her blinks were longer, more fatigued. And her smiles weren’t reaching her eyes like they usually did. Terry felt a need to take away that burden, if only for a day. He wanted to give her a chance to breathe, to relax without the pressure of deadlines. No work. No stress. And definitely nothing related to Aston. Just a day to herself. He would make sure of it.

Her reaction to her first work “assignment” kept replaying in his mind. She was so reluctant at first, probably thinking that a day out of the office with his business card blurred the lines of professionalism. But with some pressure, she gave in, letting excitement overtake her. It was precious.

It had only been three hours since she left, so when a knock on his door pulled him from his thoughts, he arched an eyebrow. Is that her? Back already? He called out, “Door’s open,” getting ready to tease her for returning so early.

But the guest at his door was the person he least expected to see: Aston McCoy. He entered the office with a tight-lipped smile, closing the door behind him. Terry returned a similar expression.

“Terry, good to see you!” Aston appeared genuine, but Terry knew better. “Aston, long time no see. What can I do for you?”

Aston’s eyes darted around the room, clearly searching for someone. Terry watched him with quiet amusement, knowing exactly who Aston was after.

“Is Camille around?” Aston asked, his voice dripping with false casualness. Terry grinned, picking up the small ball on his desk and tossing it from hand to hand.

“Nope,” he said nonchalantly, “She’s been out for a while on her first assignment. Probably won’t be back for a few hours.” Aston’s expression flickered for just a moment, confusion clouding his features.

“Her first assignment… outside the office?” he asked, clearly caught off guard.

Terry’s response was a lazy nod, his tone condescending as he addressed Aston like a child. “Mmhm, I thought it would be good for her. Camille looked so tired today. I'm sure you, of all people, noticed.” He watched with satisfaction as Aston’s eyes narrowed just slightly.

“Yeah,” Aston muttered, “I guess she was. She’s been working really hard lately.” Because you’re incompetent as fuck, Terry thought bitterly, but kept his face pleasant.

“Exactly,” Terry said, his grin widening. “So I figured she deserved a little break. A real one, not one of those quick lunch-hour escapes.” The air between them thickened, the underlying animosity barely hidden.

Aston's forced smile returned. “Well,” he said. “Did she mention anything to you about lunch? We were supposed to go together.”

Terry's chest tightened, a twinge of jealousy going through him. He leaned back in his chair, still tossing the ball casually. “Nah. You should probably call her.”

Aston hummed, a low, almost frustrated sound as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” he muttered, shifting his gaze to the office, looking around with wonder. “You know, this is a really amazing office,” he sighed.

Terry leaned forward slightly, taking the opportunity to be petty. “It really is! Maybe one day, you’ll have one like it.”

Aston visibly stiffened, his smile cracking, just for an instant. Terry resisted the urge to laugh.

Aston opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Terry’s door opening. Stephanie waltzed in like she owned the place, her eyes settling on Terry. “Aston,” she greeted dismissively, not even bothering to look in his direction. “Terryyyyy, are we still going to lunch?”

Terry nodded, feeling annoyed by her flirty tone. “Yes ma’am.”

He gave Aston a final look. “Anything else I can help you with?” he asked sarcastically. Aston gave him another forced smile. “No, that’s all.” Terry grinned, “You have a great day then,” dismissing him.

Terry watched as he turned on his heel to walk past Stephanie and finally leave his office. Bitch ass nigga.

Camille

Camille let out a contented sigh as she drove home from work and reflected on her day, feeling better than she had for a long time. After leaving the office, she started at the law library, eager to dive into research and take her time with it. She moved leisurely through the shelves of law books and case archives, feeling the rare luxury of not being rushed. The peace of it all was almost meditative, and she reveled in the quiet rhythm of flipping through pages and making notes.

But after two hours, she'd exhausted all the references she could find. Knowing Terry wouldn't be pleased with an early return, Camille decided to take a break at a nearby park. She settled onto a bench, letting the crisp air declutter her mind.

When she grew hungry, she texted Aston, suggesting they meet at O-ku. After forty minutes of silence, she figured he'd probably gotten caught up with something. No matter, she would enjoy her own company. She treated herself to a happy hour special, savoring each bite and sip as she gazed out the window. It was then that her eyes caught a glimpse of a charming flower shop across the street. The idea struck her suddenly, some fresh flowers for her office would be a nice touch. But would it be appropriate to buy herself flowers using her boss’ card? Technically, she thought, they wouldn’t be from Terry, they would be from the firm.

With a gorgeous arrangement in hand, she had made her way back into the office, feeling lighter as she set the flowers on her desk. Terry noticed her good mood when she returned his card.

“That's the Camille I like to see,” he chuckled, warming her heart.

As she walked into her apartment that evening, she felt as though the day had ended perfectly. Until she was met by Aston’s scowl when she entered the kitchen.

“Hey…,” she started cautiously. “Is everything alright?”

His lips tightened. “Something about that Terry asshole doesn’t sit right with me.” Camille’s jaw dropped. What could’ve happened at work today that would prompt him to say that?

“Woah, Aston. Let’s just take a deep breath, okay? What happened today?” she said, sliding into the barstool next to him. He glanced at her before glaring off into the distance. “He separated us on purpose.” His tone was definitive. Sharp like a razor. But despite his seriousness, Camille couldn’t help but let out a breathless laugh. His eyes snapped to hers, narrowing. Her smile faltered, and she instantly regretted it. She hadn’t meant to make light of it.

“Baby, that’s a little absurd, don’t you think? What would Terry even do that for?” she asked, confused on how he came to that conclusion. She rubbed soothing circles into his back. He placed his chin in his hand, looking deep in thought.

“I don’t know why, but I-I know he’s behind it,” he muttered, as if he was speaking more to himself than to her. “At first, I thought it was because he had a crush on you. But I went by his office and saw Stephanie drooling over him and how he entertained her. The way they were acting, they’re obviously sleeping together.”

Camille’s stomach dropped. Terry and Stephanie were seeing each other? How long had that been going on? A cold wave of shock and an unexpected rush of jealousy filled her chest. But these feelings were quickly followed by guilt. How can I feel this way? I'm literally talking to my future husband. I shouldn’t be jealous of a single man dating whoever he pleases, no matter how big of a crush I have on him.

To distract herself from her inner turmoil, Camille ended the evening trying, with no luck, to get Aston to abandon his theory about Terry. He couldn't possibly have been behind their new workflow, right?

------------------

@nayaesworld @slvt4her @writingsbytee @notapradagurl7 @23jammy @kaylaahisthebestest- @theogbadbitch @wabi-sabi1090 @hotgyalaroad @nubiagurllll @lovedlover @dimepiece09 @lavaniiii @simplyzeeka @susanhill @next-bex-bet @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @ranikyani @loveschrisbrown20 @daddyslittlevillain @blackchickinthedesert @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @hello-therree

lmk if i missed you!

[ch33z3grits]

Crimson Obsessions | Masterlist

pairing: Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond x Justine Skye as Camille DeWaterson summary: After a steamy encounter with a sinfully handsome man in New Orleans, Camille DeWaterson returns to her life as a soon-to-be-married paralegal in Houston, Texas. But the incident becomes difficult to forget when the otherworldly stranger waltzes into her law firm, bringing a series of strange and enticing events with him. Terrence “Terry” Richmond, is an incredibly disciplined, calculating, and ambitious individual, at least… that’s what he is to the average mortal. But in reality, he’s a bloodthirsty supernatural with a keen interest for money, power, and beautiful women. When the gorgeous Camille DeWaterson slips from his grasp one fateful night in New Orleans, he vows to track her down and make her his bride. It doesn’t matter to him that she already has a fiancé or a commitment to join two families together. He isn’t going to rest until she belongs to him… body, mind and soul.

a/n: hello! below are the links to my first (and probably last lol) series on Tumblr. If you love supernatural story lines, the villain gets the girl trope, black ocs, or Aaron Pierre in general, I hope you'll enjoy this piece! updates will be every Friday :)

(also will be including a running playlist to much the chapters)

preview | pt. one | pt. two | pt. three | pt. four | pt. five | pt. six | pt. seven

playlist:

Drugs-UPSAHL

She-Tyler, the Creator

Can't Get You Out of My Head-Kylie Minogue

Excitement-Trippie Redd

No Heart-21 Savage

Next Lifetime-Erykah Badu

You Right-Doja Cat

I Luv Your Girl-The Dream

Streets-Doja Cat

Dark Red-Steve Lacy

Love on the Brain-Rihanna

I Put A Spell On You-Nina Simone

Baby Boy-Beyonce ft. Sean Paul

House of Balloons/Glass Table Girls- The Weeknd

Floor 555-XXXTENTACION

I'm Tired-Labrinth, Zendaya

Toxic-Britney Spears

When Will I See You Smile Again?-BBD

[ch33z3grits]

Crimson Obsessions | A Terry Richmond Vampire Series

pairing: Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond x Justine Skye as Camille DeWaterson

summary: Camille attempts to return to her usual life in Houston, trying her best to forget the club owner that stays on her mind and in her heart. But a new member of her firm shows her that she won’t be forgetting that night anytime soon. Terry has used the time since the bachelorette party to find the best way to insert himself in Camille’s life. Taking advantage of a chance opportunity, fate if you will, he starts to put his plan into motion.

warnings: 18+ mdni, dark romance, manipulation, obsessiveness/possessiveness, mentions of sexual acts, mentions of BDSM, cyberstalking

word count: 6,624

a/n: thank you all for the feedback on the last part! This part is definitely less spicy... BUT, it does give a lot of background that's necessary for the rest of the story. Hope you all enjoy :)

Camille’s song: Can’t Get You Out of My Head-Kylie Minogue | Terry’s song: Excitement-Trippie Redd

Pt. Two

Camille

Camille was pulled out of her sleep by the soft harping of her alarm. Groggily, she blinked the remnants of her dream from her eyes. It was a dream similar to the ones she’s had every night since she had returned from New Orleans. The mysterious club owner, on his knees with her legs draped over his shoulders, slurping her dripping pussy like it was his last meal. Or he would be folding her like a pretzel, digging her out until she saw stars. Or he would press her into a wall, thrusting into her from behind. He would tell her she was being such a good girl for him. His eyes would bore into hers as he relentlessly sent her over the edge multiple times. She would be trapped in his gaze until her alarm came to her rescue every morning.

Like usual, her fiancé’s side of the bed was already empty. Aston McCoy was determined to make junior partner early at the law firm they both worked at. To show the leadership at Watkins & Grant that he was the perfect candidate for promotion, Aston would arrive at the office an hour and a half earlier than everyone else. His early arrival required that he leave the apartment they shared at 5:30 AM to get to the office by 6:00 AM.

Camille didn’t mind waking up to an empty bed every weekday morning. In fact, she looked forward to it. Don’t get her wrong, she enjoyed Aston’s company. But these quiet mornings were slowly becoming the only moments she had where she was away from him. After moving into his apartment three months ago, Camille realized that his presence consumed every part of her life. They worked together, lived together, ate together, shopped together, went to events together. And they always seemed to only do things he wanted to do. Camille couldn’t help but feel like she was losing her life and getting absorbed by his.

She threw off the comforter and stood from the bed, trudging towards the bathroom to begin her daily routine. After brushing her teeth and doing her skincare, she turned the shower on to let the water warm up as she walked into the closet to pick out her outfit for the day. Like her father, Aston was very concerned with image. Because of this, he always encouraged her to wear things that “whispered wealth.” He bought her expensive work dresses from brands that his old money friends mentioned. He encouraged her to keep her nails short and neutral. And he always wanted her makeup and hair to be feature enhancing, free from any distracting colors or textures. For the most part, Camille didn’t mind because she naturally went for the look that Aston wanted. But whenever she did drift outside of her comfort zone, it was always met with displeasure.

Camille reached for a black turtleneck sweater, a black maxi skirt, and nude pumps. The Houston weather had been all over the place. Even though it was mid February, the temperature climbed to 70 degrees some days then dropped into the 40s right after. Today was one of those 40 degree days, so Camille hoped her outfit was enough to keep her warm. She laid the clothes on the bed, then proceeded to strip and get in the shower. After washing up, she stepped out to apply her lotion and perfume. For her makeup, she took her sweet time at the vanity space, savoring the still morning. Once she applied the finishing touches, she returned to the bed to pull on her outfit. Lastly, she pulled her silk pressed hair into a sleek bun.

Same old same old, Camille thought, bracing herself for the somewhat stressful day. When she first took the paralegal job at Watkins & Grant that Aston helped her secure, she was beyond excited. She envisioned herself working with a diverse team of attorneys, diving into a variety of cases and tackling a wide range of legal issues. But Aston had other plans. He convinced his managers to funnel all his cases her way, effectively monopolizing her workload. Every once in a while, one of the other associates would pass along a case that sparked her interest—like something in Environmental Law—but those moments were rare. Most of the time, Camille was buried in Aston’s Property and Financial Assets portfolio. She appreciated the privilege of her position, she knew how fortunate she was. But working for her partner wasn’t easy. He ran a tight ship and his workload was more than average, meaning hers was more than average too.

After checking that everything was in her work bag, Camille moved towards the large apartment’s front door. I’ll get breakfast at the office, she decided as she rode the elevator down to the parking deck. She slid into her Lexus, placing her bag on the passenger seat. Aston preferred that she came to work with him in his Porsche Cayenne. But she loved the Lexus that her dad bought her after she graduated from college. Besides, she wasn’t waking up three hours early just so her coworkers didn’t see her older car.

Camille’s guilty pleasure, the NASA Curious Universe podcast, got her through her 30 minute commute to the office and her search for a parking spot in the packed deck. With a final sigh, she grabbed her bag and stepped out of her car.

“Good morning, Mr. Pat,” she waved to the security guard who watched the deck most days. Mr. Pat waved back, giving her a warm smile she didn’t know she needed. “Good morning Ms. Camille,” he replied. “Don’t work yourself too hard today!”

“I’ll try my best,” Camille called back with a giggle. But she knew that today would be like every other work day. Aston would pile on the work, she'd eat lunch at her desk, and stay late to finish it all. But she couldn’t complain. After their honeymoon, Aston wanted her to stay at home, which she didn’t mind at all. Though she dreamed of using her Economics degree to become a florist and open her own shop, staying home was still better than being Aston's glorified personal assistant.

“Good morning, Mr. Watkins. How was your weekend?” She said as she stepped into the elevator with one of her bosses. Camille always greeted the senior partner of the firm, Mr. Charles Watkins. He always extended kindness to her and often tried to get Aston to lighten her load. “Camille, how’re you doing?! My weekend was just perfect. The missus and I tried to go sledding in North Dakota with our grandkids. It was a disaster because of my bad knee,” he laughed. “But going anywhere with Mabel is always a great time for me.” Camille smiled brightly as he babbled on. Mr. Watkins always spoke highly of his wife of thirty-six years, Mabel. Maybe one day, if their love evolved beyond fulfilling their familial duties, Aston would talk about her like that. But for now, she settled for the mutual respect and attraction they had for each other.

In college, Camille had fallen deeply in love with Aston when they got together sophomore year. But two years into their relationship, she discovered he’d been cheating on her for eight months. The betrayal shattered her. They broke up, despite his protests, and Camille wasn’t swayed by his desperate attempts to win her back. Their fathers had to step in, reminding them that their relationship was never about love—it was a business arrangement. “We’re not here for love, Camille. We’re here to merge Texas oil with Louisiana oil refining,” her father had said. So, Camille and Aston reconciled in their senior year, but Camille kept her heart locked away, vowing to never to be as open with him, or anyone else, as she once had been.

“Oh Camille, by the way. Will you be in the office around 11:00 AM today? Grant and I have an announcement to make and we want to make sure the whole team is present.” Camille started to nod. Of course she would be, she never had time to leave the office.

“Yes sir, I’ll be there. Will the announcement be in the conference room?”

“It sure will be! You’re always one step ahead of me, Camille,” he chuckled as the elevator finally paused on their floor. “Well, I’ll see you then. Tell McCoy I said good morning.” With that, Mr. Watkins walked out of the elevator and rounded the corner towards his wing of the office.

Camille walked in the opposite direction towards Aston’s office, smiling politely at her coworkers along the way. The glass walls of Aston’s office showed him already hard at work. A coffee cup and an open Celsius sat on his desk, hinting as to why he had so much energy already. She knocked lightly on the glass door before letting herself in. He rose from his desk as a smile spread across his face.

“Morning baby!” He greeted with his Texas drawl. Camille couldn’t help but return his smile. Despite his past discrepancies, and some of his overbearing and superficial ways, he was a genuinely pleasant person. He maintained a positive attitude and he could always brighten up a room. He was like a golden retriever.

“Good morning,” Camille giggled back. “You seem to be in a really good mood. Did I miss something?” Camille said, placing her stuff on the desk in the corner of his office.

He bit his fist, laughing softly. “Baby… I think today’s the day. I think they’re going to announce that I’m the new junior partner!” Camille gave him a warm smile. “I’m so proud of you! Look at you, all of your hard work is paying off and ahead of schedule,” Camille stated, walking around his desk to give him a hug. He returned the hug with enthusiasm, rocking her back and forth in his arms. “Thank you, baby.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “You know what this means? No more early mornings! We’ll be able to come into the office together.”

Camille nodded, a pang of guilt going through her. She didn’t want to give up her mornings alone…

“Wow, I mean who would’ve thought that he would be making junior partner before his 35th birthday,” Aston sighed, looking at the picture of himself that sat on his desk. He was standing in the DKR stadium at their Alma mater, the University of Texas, his arm extended with his hand in a “hook ‘em Horns” gesture.

Camille smiled at his silliness and patted his torso before pulling away from their embrace. “Mr. Watkins or Mr. Grant hinted at it or something?” She asked.

“Yea, Grant was in the office early today and he swung by to tell me that they’re making a big announcement today that I’m going to be very pleased with.” Camille didn’t think his smile could get any wider, but it did. “Well I’ll be sure to be the first one in the conference room to get a good seat, so I can get a good picture of you,” Camille said, feeling a bit better about the day.

“Thanks for being so supportive, Millie,” Aston sighed happily. Camille inwardly cringed at the nickname she never had the heart to tell him that she hated. “But,” he continued, his tone getting more serious. “We gotta make sure this chapter of my career ends productively. You ready to do one final sprint, babe?” Camille nodded with a closed mouth smile as he dropped a thick stack of papers on her desk. She knew she would be glued to her desk until it was time to go to the conference. Bracing herself, she opened the file and got to work.

Two hours later, she sighed with relief as Aston’s watch went off, signaling that it was fifteen minutes until 11 AM. She rolled her wrist to bring her cramped hand back to life. Aston rose from his desk and began to pace between his office mirror and his coat hanger that held his suit jacket.

“What do you think baby? Should I wear the suit jacket or does it look too formal?” He asked, nervously looking at her through the mirror as he adjusted his tie. “The suit jacket,” she said. “It screams junior partner.” He smiled in agreement. He threw it on and gave himself one final look.

He opened the door for Camille and they headed down the hall to the grand conference room. Once inside, they sat near the head of the table, eagerly awaiting the good news.

Within the next five minutes, dozens of other employees began to file into the room. The early birds were able to grab seats at the long table, while those who dragged their feet had to find standing room. At around 10:57, Mr. Watkins and Mr. Grant walked in, quieting the chatter that filled the space. Aston squeezed Camille’s thigh under the table with excitement.

“Thank you all for making it to this meeting! We've been excited to share this announcement for some time now, but we had some logistical issues we had to work out,” Mr. Watkins proceeded after clearing his throat. “Since we started this firm, Tom and I have always been careful in our selection of partners. As the face of the firm, they had to be exceptional. We wanted a partner who is disciplined, innovative, and exceeds expectations. And we are glad to say that we found that partner. From the moment we met him, we knew that this young man would go far, farther than either one of us.” Aston’s grip on Camille tightened. “He’s so promising, that even at his age, he’s going to be made a partner instead of a junior partner. But before we dive into his bio, let’s introduce you all to our newest member of the Watkins & Grant family, Mr. Terrence Richmond.” Both Camille and Aston stiffened, his hand slowly loosening from her thigh. Camille looked at Aston from the corner of her eye, seeing shock cross his face.

Oh no, she thought as she joined the resounding applause that filled the air. She hadn’t yet looked at the large figure entering the conference room, instead focusing on Aston’s shifting expression. And he was so excited… the poor thing.

“Oh my God,” Stephanie, Mr. Grant’s secretary, whispered to her friends. “I’d love to ride that pony!” That statement made Camille’s attention snap to the newcomer. As her eyes landed on his face, her applause faltered and her stomach dropped. It was him. The man who had been consuming her mind since Chloe's party. The man who haunted her every fantasy, lingering in her mind when she least wanted him to. The man she’d been desperately trying to forget, to quiet the guilt that gnawed at her every night as she laid next to Aston.

Even with subtle changes, he was unmistakable. His cornrows had been replaced by a low, curly fade. His face was now clean-shaven, except for a sharp goatee and thick, commanding eyebrows. The gold chains were gone, replaced by a sleek silver watch. Despite these shifts in appearance, he was undeniably the same man she had danced on with four weeks ago, the one who still burned in her memory.

If he recognized her, he didn’t show it. His eyes only lingered on hers for a second before shifting to another person. Camille quickly regained her composure and resumed clapping. Maybe he doesn’t remember me, she thought. He’s probably gone through enough women by now that he’s forgotten my face. Camille relaxed slightly. Yea, there’s no way he remembers me.

“Mr. Richmond is an excellent attorney who, after a lot of begging on our end, has agreed to a one year rotation as a partner with us,” Mr. Grant, who never speaks highly of anyone, chimed in. “His portfolio will cover intellectual property, government contracts, and impact investing. Some of our associates, like Aston McCoy, have been trying to get us to add intellectual property and impact investing to our services for years. Now that we have Terry, we’ll be able to expand our reach in the world of law, and interested associates will be able to work under him.” Mr. Grant nodded in Aston’s direction. Aston gave him a tight-lipped smile as he continued. “Prior to law, Mr. Richmond served in the United States Marine Corps for seven years, where he was a MCMAP instructor while simultaneously earning his bachelor’s in civil engineering. After exiting the service, he attended Florida A&M University’s College of Law where he graduated top of his class. Out of several offers, he chose to work with the prestigious Washington D.C. firm, Cravath. Under Cravath, he worked with clients like the Department of Defense and Microsoft with cases surrounding crypto, AI, and energy systems. Now, Cravath is letting us borrow him for the year as a part of a national attorney swap program.” Mr. Grant paused to lead everyone in another round of applause. “Mr. Richmond, is there anything else you’d like to share with us?” Mr. Grant asked.

Terrence Richmond smiled brightly. “Mr. Watkins and Mr. Grant, thank you for such a lovely and thorough introduction. And thank you all in advance for welcoming me to your team. I hope I’m able to learn a lot from you all and hope that you all find that my presence adds value here. Please feel free to drop by my office at any time, I’m always happy to chat. And please,” he added, the entire room hanging on his every word. “Just call me Terry.”

A fresh wave of enthusiastic applause rippled through the conference room, signaling the end of the formal meeting. The room buzzed with energy as people eagerly swarmed Terry to introduce themselves. Camille wished she could melt into the wall, desperate to slip out unnoticed. But before she could formulate a plan, Aston was already on his feet, pulling her toward a door on the opposite side of the room, away from Terry. As they made their escape, Camille couldn't resist a glance over her shoulder. Everyone was too absorbed in fawning over Terry and his impressive resume to notice them leaving, except for one person.

Terry.

His eyes locked onto her like a hawk and he flashed her a sly smile that sent a wave of heat through her. She quickly looked away, heart racing. She still wanted to believe he didn’t remember her, but that look left her uncertain.

Aston continued to drag her into his office, closing the door once they were inside. Camille watched as he paced the room, thinking of the best way to calm him down. She swallowed. “Bab–” he cut her off swiftly.

“What the hell was that?! Are they fucking kidding me,” he yelled, making Camille wince. “I’ve been busting my ass for the past three years here and they just let this new guy waltz in and become, not even junior partner, but partner?! Well, fuck me in the ass,” he grumbled.

“Language Aston, please,” Camille sighed.

“No Millie. This isn’t fucking fair. I mean, who even is this guy? Should’nt he still be in the fucking Marines! What the hell is he practicing civilian law for?” He continued to pace. “And what school is Florida A&M? I’ve never heard of it. I went to Yale for Christ’s sake! Did they really think I’d be happy about this? Just because he expands our portfolio in the way I suggested?!”

Camille placed her hands on his shoulders, attempting to soothe him. “Baby, please. I know you’re upset and disappointed, but you can’t react like this. At least not here.” Aston pinched the bridge of his nose and took a few deep breaths. “What if someone sees you?” She whispered. He froze momentarily, glancing at the office’s transparent walls.

“You’re… you’re right, babe. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for cursing. Come on, let’s just get back to work,” he walked away from her and plopped down behind his desk. Camille released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She knew he didn’t feel any better, but he put on a relaxed face anyway. That would have to be good enough for now. She slowly walked back to her desk, returning to the thick stack of documents. The office was silent except for the clacking of Aston’s keyboard and an occasional click of a mouse. But a few minutes later, Aston started back up again.

“I mean, where’d they even find this fucking guy!” He quipped. Camille groaned, dropping the highlighter in her hand.

“He’s on the goddamn MCMAP Wikipedia page. Watkins & Grant can’t let some damn jiu-jitsu instructor represent them. They–”

He was cut off by a knock. Camille and Aston’s head snapped to the door. Behind it stood Mr. Watkins… and the devil himself. Aston plastered on a fake smile and waved them in enthusiastically. “Come on in!”

“McCoy, Camille. You both rushed out of that meeting like two bats running out of hell. But I know how y’all like to keep yourselves busy. Just wanted to stop by so Mr. Richmond could meet you two,” Mr. Watkins explained as they stepped inside. Terry let out a deep chuckle, sending a ripple of pleasure through Camille.

“Please, just call me Terry.” He said, extending his hand to Aston. Aston’s fake smile twitched. “Great to meet you, Terry. Welcome to the firm!”

“I appreciate it,” Terry returned, his eyes settling on Camille’s. He licked his lips as his eyes swept over her figure, but the other two men didn’t notice. “Ms. Camille, a pleasure to meet you as well.” Camille gulped as she grasped his large, extended hand. She tried to pull away after a brief shake, but he gripped her hand just a little bit tighter, his thumb tracing light circles on the back of her hand. She shuddered. Shit, he does remember me. And he isn’t going to pretend like nothing happened between us.

“Nice to meet you too, Terry.” She looked away from his unyielding gaze.

“Now Terry, I told you plenty about McCoy on our walk over here. But not nearly enough about Camille! She’s the greatest paralegal that the associates have, but McCoy here likes to hog her. But I guess that’s to be expected of her future husband.”

“Future husband?” Terry interjected. “Y’all are engaged?” He asked casually, turning his attention to Aston.

Aston nodded vigorously. “Yep, for the past four months.”

Camille’s stomach sank as he looked back at her and gave her a predatory smile. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” she squeaked, feeling like a lamb in the jaws of a wolf.

“But we’ve gotta split these two up eventually, it’s only fair.” Mr. Watkins chimed in. “Camille will start having more diversity in the cases she helps with. So if you ever need a hand, Terry, please feel free to reach out to her.”

“Oh, I will. Most definitely,” Terry purred, causing Camille’s face to heat up.

“Great! Well, we will leave you all to it. Don’t forget to take your lunch,” Mr. Watkins called out, holding the glass door open for Terry. Terry gave Camille one last heated stare, before turning to walk out of the office.

Terry

Terry chuckled to himself as he thought about how Camille reacted to him walking into the conference room. Her fine ass looked exactly how he wanted her to. A doe caught in the headlights. Her dark brown eyes widened and her mouth fell agape comically. He had to hold in his laugh so he could give the rest of her colleagues a polite introduction.

When Terry pulled up her LinkedIn the day after she left Crimson, a satisfied grin tugged at his lips when he saw her listed as a paralegal. Fate was definitely on his side. Over the years, Terry had cycled through countless careers and identities, always one step ahead of those who might start asking too many questions or notice that he doesn’t really age. While he was deeply involved with Crimson and other ventures catering to the supernatural, he had also kept a foot in the legal world, practicing law on and off for the past four decades. He would spend years establishing himself as a sought-after attorney, only to disappear and reinvent himself in a new city when the time was right. Currently, he was one of the most respected lawyers in Washington, D.C. Last year, he joined a nationwide network of top-tier lawyers, offering their expertise to other firms. Firms across the country had courted him, but none had been as persistent as Watkins & Grant. So when Terry saw that a particular paralegal worked there, he decided to finally accept their generous offer. A few weeks later he was sitting in an opulent executive suite with his name on the door and his beloved Camille only a stone’s throw away.

Of course, Terry didn’t stop at Camille’s LinkedIn. After much digging, he found her social media handles, as well as the ones that belonged to her friends and family. Hundreds of pictures, tweets, videos, and articles helped him piece together her life. Camille was the second child of Colin and Anastasia DeWaterson, a business executive turned oil refinery owner and a celebrity costume designer. While Anastasia came from wealth, Colin came from humble beginnings. A country boy from Alabama who climbed the ranks of Georgia Power after gaining a business degree from Morehouse. The couple married in their early twenties and welcomed their first child, Colin DeWaterson Jr., after two years of marriage. One year later, they had Camille. Three years after that, they had their second daughter, Chloe. Their fourth and final child, Cole, came almost eight years after. 

The DeWatersons main residence was originally in Jonesboro, Georgia. But the children were rarely there. Colin Jr. was overseas in a German boarding school specializing in math and technology. Camille and Chloe were a bit closer to home attending a boarding school in Virginia. And Cole was in California at a school with a top-ranked basketball program. But in Camille’s sophomore year of high school, Mr. DeWaterson relocated his family to Louisiana after a distant relative passed, unexpectedly leaving him ownership of a few oil refineries in the state. From then on, Mr. DeWaterson attached himself to every wealthy family he could. And his connections seemed to pay off. The DeWatersons grew in popularity and became pinnacles of Black excellence in Louisiana.

But as time went on, the family seemed to attract scandals at every turn. A few years ago, rumors began to circulate that DeWaterson Sr. had an affair with a secretary, resulting in a baby. Although he denied the claims, he supposedly refused to participate in a DNA test and gave his secretary an undisclosed amount of money. Mrs. DeWaterson, battling stage three breast cancer, refused to make public appearances with her husband for over a year. At the same time, the youngest DeWaterson daughter began acting out. She dropped out of her Ivy League school to run off to LA with her then-boyfriend, a rising fashion designer. She got into a physical altercation outside of a LA nightclub, which was highly publicized. And she decided to go skinny dipping in a fountain at a well attended charity event. The DeWaterson sons also made headlines. During a sermon at his great uncle’s church, Colin Jr. came out to the entire congregation with his boyfriend. And Cole was accused of arson at his high school in Louisiana shortly after he transferred.

The only person who remained blemish free since the DeWatersons rise to notoriety was Camille. No scandalous articles, messy drama, or embarrassing incidents about her came to the surface as Terry continued his thorough search. Only mentions of her various awards, philanthropic acts, and social outings. But one particular article really piqued Terry’s interest. “The McCoy and DeWaterson Ties are Binding in More Ways Than One: The Engagement of the South.” The webpage outlined how the children of business partners Richard McCoy and Colin DeWaterson Sr. were soon to be wed. The author also accused the couple of joining together not for love, but to secure another level of wealth for their families. And Terry couldn’t agree more. As he analyzed the relationship further, he concluded that this was all orchestrated by their fathers. Camille would do anything to please her father and protect her family’s name. Even if that meant she had to sign her life away to some entitled white boy.

Terry let out a pleased sigh when he finally ended his investigation into Camille DeWaterson. It appeared he had a sweet, obedient, good girl on his hands. Women like her were always the most satisfying challenges. He was going to enjoy stealing Camille away from her fiancé and turning her into his personal slut. Overstimulation, edging, sensory deprivation, primal play, shibari… he would introduce her to it all. He would ruin her over and over and over again, breaking her down until she was a slutted out, cock-drunk mess. And when she breaks, he will gladly put her back together again. He would nail her to the cross just to resurrect her so he could be at her beck and call. She’d be his pampered sex kitten that he would spoil rotten, happily giving her the life that she deserved and freeing her from the exhaustion of being Little Miss Perfect. A kept woman who wouldn't have to do anything but love him.

But accomplishing this would require more than just working at Watkins & Grant. Terry would have to do much more to reel Camillle in and push McCoy out of the way. And he had to start now.

He opened the new laptop on his desk that was provided to him earlier that morning. All of the necessary accounts and applications had been installed and downloaded by the IT department. He only cared about one app at the moment, though.

Teams.

Every employee was just one message away. He scrolled through the names until he found Camille’s. He let out a ‘hmmm’ when he saw the green dot next to her name. She was available and online, prompting Terry to send her a quick, straightforward message.

Camille

Camille’s heart thumped loudly at the message that flashed in the corner of her computer screen.

Come here. We need to talk.

The devil was beckoning her to his office, and she had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The man could easily reveal what they did a few weekends ago to Aston, and her life would go up in flames. He could dangle that night over her head for the next year if he wanted to. He wants to blackmail me, Camille thought as she chewed on her lip. Why else would he be giving me those taunting looks? What other reason would make him call me to his office?

Camille desperately wanted to decline, knowing that any interaction with him could only lead to trouble. But what choice did she have? Avoiding him might piss him off. And who knows what he’ll do if that happens.

OK.

She sent the response and immediately shut her laptop. He couldn’t make any more demands of her if she couldn’t see them. Aston paused briefly at the sound of her device closing. “You going to lunch now?” he asked. “Yep,” she responded. That’s the perfect excuse, she thought. “Where are you going?” he pushed further. Camille chewed her lip nervously. She was always a bad liar. “I’m not sure yet. I’m feeling a little spontaneous.” She grabbed her bag and moved towards the door to avoid more questions.

“Wherever you go, can you get me something with chicken?” She grimaced. Now, she actually had to leave the building. “Sure, babe. I’ll be back soon.” And with that, she began her journey to Terry’s office.

His office sat within the executive wing of the floor, where the top employees got to enjoy the best views, the sleekest offices, and their own personal bathrooms. Terry’s new office had sat vacant for months and was often visited by Aston when he made his rounds in the morning. “This’ll be mine one day,” he would tell Camille from time to time. She understood his admiration of the space.

The office featured twelve-foot ceilings with floor-to-ceiling windows offering an unobstructed view of the Houston skyline. The space was fully equipped with the latest technology: a sleek smart screen, a modern kitchenette, and remote-controlled blinds. While the walls were glass like the other offices, a simple press of a button gave the glass an opaque frost, instantly giving the occupant privacy. It even had a connecting room, dedicated for a personal assistant. All in all, the room exuded a sense of sophistication, making it a space where work and luxury effortlessly coexisted. Any other time, Camille would be excited to take a trip to the executive wing. But this time, she was terrified.

She softly knocked on the door bearing the plaque “Terrence Richmond,” still trying to think of a way to get out of this situation. But the butter smooth voice that said “Come in” on the other side of the door told her that there was no escaping. Camille quickly stepped inside and shut the door behind her. Tucking her hands nervously behind her back, she watched Terry lazily toss a mini Houston Rockets basketball up and down, up and down. One of his welcome gifts from Mr. Watkins, she assumed. She couldn’t help but admire the beautiful man for a moment. His perfectly chiseled face. His plump lips. The way his muscles flexed beneath his clothing. He was like a dream come true. But Camille knew she had to wake herself up, because he could easily make her reality a nightmare. She cleared her throat, snapping herself out of the trance.

“You wanted to see me?” She asked quickly, just wanting to get this over with. He gave her a cheeky smile, making her knees buckle momentarily. “Hello to you too, Camille.” Her cheeks heated up as she mentally chastised herself. That was a little passive aggressive. She let out the breath she had been holding and approached his desk. “Look Terry, I know you probably want to make this as torturous for me as possible. But can you make this little game of yours quick, I have to get to lunch.”

Terry’s smile faded into confusion, his tossing coming to a stop. “What are you talking about?” Camille forced herself not to roll her eyes as she sat in the plush leather seat across from him. “You have some leverage that you can use against me. So what do you want? Let’s not dance around this.”

“Woah, woah, woah.” He threw his hands up innocently. “Honestly Camille, I called you in to say that if you stay cool, I’ll stay cool. I don’t want to make any problems for you.”

Her chest tightened as she searched his eyes for any insincerity. She didn’t find any. Shit. Camille had completely miscalculated his intentions. And had the nerve to accuse him of messing with her head! That whole interaction they had in Aston’s office was probably meaningless. She was the pervert for thinking that the looks he gave her or the tone he had were sexually charged. She slumped in the chair, upset that she had jumped to conclusions. With a shaky sigh, she said, “Terry, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come for you like that. It’s just that…when I saw your message, I-I panicked-”

“Camille.” He interrupted gently. “You don’t have to apologize. This is exactly why I wanted to talk. I don’t want you to think that I would try to hurt you or your career. I was serious when I said that what happened would stay between us.” Terry’s words soothed her frayed nerves, but intensified her guilt. She was the one who risked her relationship and made him out to be the bad guy, but he was handling her like an innocent puppy.

“So do we understand each other?” Terry asked, his voice soft with an authoritative edge. She nodded. “Yea…thanks for addressing this, Terry. Can we just start over?” His dazzling smile returned, and she swooned internally.

“Yes ma’am.” he chuckled. “You can start by telling me a little bit about yourself.”

Terry

Ignoring the erection painfully brushing against his boxers, Terry nodded politely as Camille gave him a brief, humble introduction. Her feisty little attack when she first came into his office almost made him lose his cool demeanor and devour her right then and there. Terry knew that his Teams message would get a reaction out of her. And he needed to see it to understand where her head was at. Did she feel guilty? Was she worried that he’d tell her business? Would she try to avoid him? The way she pounced on him told Terry that the answer to all of his questions was yes.

He swelled with pride as she attempted to put him in his place. Her face was all serious and she puffed her chest out a bit. It was absolutely adorable and a turn-on at the same time. Terry was glad to see that she wasn’t a doormat and could handle some confrontation.

Though she wasn’t sharing anything he didn’t already know, Terry couldn’t help but ask more about her life—why she moved to Houston, how she met Aston, what she enjoyed doing in her free time. He wanted to savor every moment with her, to stretch the time they had together. After all, it was the first time he had seen her in person since the incident at Crimson. For the past month, he had to survive off her pictures and videos to satisfy his need to see her face. But they only fueled the sexual dreams that have been plaguing him since their last encounter. Dreams where he would have her pressed into his bed with her ankles by her ears. Or she would be bent over his kitchen counter with his fangs in her neck. Or his tongue would be slipping through her folds and sucking on her sensitive bud. Each dream would end the same. With her wetting up his dick, those pretty brown eyes clouding over with pure ecstasy.

His fist and imagination hadn’t been enough to satisfy him most nights. So he would invite women who were more than happy to please him over to his place a few times a week. But still, they couldn’t fulfill his deepest desires. He knew he wouldn’t have what he truly needed until he was between the legs of the gorgeous, intelligent, and sweet woman who sat before him.

As they spoke, he couldn’t help but observe the little details that made her so captivating. The way her eyes lit up when she mentioned her family, the subtle shift in her gaze when their eyes lingered too long, the warmth of her voice that seemed to wrap around him. He even noticed the delicate crinkle of her eyes when she laughed. Each small gesture, every word she spoke, was seared into his memory. As she shared a story about her favorite class from undergrad, her gaze drifted to the clock on the wall of his office. Realizing the time, she jumped to her feet. It had been twenty minutes.

“Oh, I completely forgot I had to go get lunch,” she said, shooting Terry an apologetic smile. “I hate to cut this short, but…” she trailed off. Terry quickly concealed his displeasure at her leaving. “Don’t worry about it, we’ll find another time.” She gave him a small wave as she opened the door. “Bye, Terry.” He waved back, groaning slightly as his dick jumped from his name slipping off her tongue.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. From his brief exchange with Aston, it was clear he’d have to tread carefully with Camille—at least for the next few months. Terry could tell that the motherfucker didn’t like him, and the feeling was mutual. But he would stay civil, for now. He couldn’t risk Aston getting pissed off and discouraging Camille from building a friendship with him.

His strategy would take longer than he liked, but Terry was willing to be patient. For Camille’s sake, everything had to feel effortless, natural, like it was always meant to be. He would play the long game, staying under the radar, making sure nothing disrupted her world. He would start subtle, appearing as nothing more than a friendly colleague. But slowly, he would weave himself into her life like a shadow she won’t be able to escape, but will eventually begin to crave. This next year, patience would be Terry’s virtue. Because there was no way he was returning to D.C. without Camille on his arm.

----------------

@nayaesworld @slvt4her @writingsbytee @notapradagurl7 @23jammy @kaylaahisthebestest- @theogbadbitch @wabi-sabi1090 @hotgyalaroad @nubiagurllll @lovedlover @dimepiece09 @lavaniiii @simplyzeeka @susanhill @next-bex-bet @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @ranikyani @loveschrisbrown20 @daddyslittlevillain @blackchickinthedesert

i think i added everyone this time!

[ch33z3grits]

Crimson Obsessions | A Terry Richmond Vampire Series

pairing: Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond x Justine Skye as Camille DeWaterson

summary: The usually reserved and responsible Camille DeWaterson celebrates her sister's final moments as a free woman in the streets of New Orleans . After stumbling into a club that promised temptation and decadence, she’s drawn into the clutches of a true predator who wants more than a simple dance. Terry Richmond, a vampire with unimaginable power and connections, has used his club to draw in unsuspecting victims for decades. But when he gazes upon Camille DeWaterson, an obsession immediately begins. And he doesn’t want to just feed and fuck. He desires something much more sacred and permanent.

warnings: 18+, dark romance, obsessiveness/possessiveness, mentions of drugs (weed) and alcohol, intoxication, mentions of sexual acts, graphic violence, AAVE, light smut? (dry humping)

word count: 7,258

glossary:

Indulgences: human beings that vampires deem romantically and sexually desirable

The Veil: the dark magic that enhances supernaturals’ ability to manipulate the human world

Ambrosia: an aphrodisiac and euphoric substance that makes humans more open to the propositions of supernaturals

Camille's song: Drugs-UPSAHL | Terry's song: She-Tyler, The Creator

Pt. One

Camille

Camille DeWaterson was beginning to have doubts about letting loose for her sister’s bachelorette party. As she looked at the lacy outfit her sister demanded she wear, Camille inwardly groaned, thinking that nothing good would come from tonight. Just as Camille was about to step away from the full length mirror, her sister came behind her and looked at her through the mirror with big, drunken puppy dog eyes.

“Pleaseeee, CamCam,” Chloe DeWaterson slurred, snaking her arms around her sister’s waist. “Remember, you promised me.” Camille sighed. She did promise her sister that she would leave her responsible, goodie-two-shoes nature in Houston so she could fully enjoy the revelry of their seven days in New Orleans. For the first two days, she had been able to unwind during the spa trip, the wine tasting, and the afternoon tea. But as the girls’ night approached, her relaxed attitude began to fade.

As the eldest daughter of the DeWaterson family, Camille was raised with one clear expectation: perfection. Her father drilled into her the importance of a flawless social image, and to earn his approval, she shaped her life around his vision of what was best for her. As a top student at her prestigious boarding school in Virginia, Camille had secretly longed to attend the charter school back in her Georgia hometown. She enrolled at the University of Texas to be closer to the boy her father had chosen as her future husband, despite begging him for permission to attend Spelman. Camille dutifully attended social events alongside other women, all of them under pressure to climb the social ladder—though those gatherings often left her with little time for the friends who truly understood her. Since she could remember, Camille had been striving to uphold her Black American Princess image, a role she knew all too well but one that often left her feeling unfulfilled.

In contrast, her sister Chloe was constantly rebelling. She dropped out of Dartmouth to pursue fashion school in New York City, ran off to Los Angeles to live with her ex-boyfriend, and once stripped naked and leapt into a fountain at a charity event their mother had organized. Chloe embodied the essence of a free spirit, her laissez-faire attitude both something Camille admired and envied. Yet, despite her rebelliousness, Chloe still allowed their father to shape the most important aspects of her life—including her marriage. In an effort to refine her image, Colin DeWaterson Sr. orchestrated his daughter’s marriage to Simon Chazal, a longtime family friend. He argued it would offer Chloe the stability she needed, while also providing him the coveted connection to a wealthy Creole family—something he’d been angling for since moving the family to New Orleans when Camille was a sophomore in high school.

Although Chloe fussed for months about the arrangement, she eventually agreed once Simon voiced his true feelings for her. Chloe didn’t feel the same romantically, but she deeply cared for the man who was one of her closest childhood friends. She knew he would never hurt her, and he always supported her creative outlets. Besides, denying the union would put Chloe’s inheritance in jeopardy. And even though she was doing more than fine financially with her clothing line and YouTube channel, she had grown accustomed to a lifestyle that only a DeWaterson fortune could support.

So, she was getting married in two days to a man she didn’t love in the middle of her 20s. Although she had accepted her fate, she wasn’t going down without a fight. Chloe was determined to have a bachelorette party that she would never forget.

Full of decadence, empty of decorum.

And to make that happen, she made her good girl older sister promise to do everything she said. Which is why Camille was wearing a racy black catsuit that could double as a mosquito net.

“You look sooooo sexy, CamCam,” her sister continued, rubbing her cheek on Camille’s shoulder. Camille’s face grew hot as she stared at her reflection. She couldn’t deny that she looked like she had stepped out of a man’s fantasy. But how could she focus on the group’s wellbeing and make sure no one wandered off if she was constantly getting approached, which her outfit would no doubt cause. She looked around the room at the group of women who ranged in age from 24 to 27, carelessly pouring dark liquors down their throats and passing a perfectly rolled blunt between each other. As the 29 year-old, Camille felt compelled to be the protective, sober one for the night. The mom.

As if reading her mind, Chloe spun Camille around to face her. “Cam, I’m serious. You never get the chance to let go. Please just be tonight. We’re all grown. We’re not your responsibility.” Before Camille could protest, the rest of the bridal party chimed in with a variety of agreements, the loudest of which came from Camille’s best friend, Kali.

“Cammie baby, pleaseeeee throw that good girl shit out of the window. We love you for it, but it’s time for a break, sweetheart,” she exclaimed, passing her a shot of Don Julio. Camille took the small glass, feeling the weight of the expectant eyes watching her. Fuck it. When was the last time she was able to get drunk with her girls? In her picture perfect life, these opportunities didn’t come around often. So Camille took a deep breath and downed the shot, leading to an echo of cheers from the rest of the women in the room. Kali proceeded to pour chaser in her mouth as Chloe giggled in her ear. “Who knows, maybe you’ll meet a big, strong man you can ride. All. Night. Long.” Camille chuckled, playfully nudging her sister. She held up her left hand and shoved the heavy engagement ring in her sister’s face. “I’m pretty sure this’ll keep all the big, strong men away from me,” she fired back.

Chloe grinned, showing off an equally impressive engagement ring. “Well I guess I have to take this off because there’s no way I’m not getting any dick tonight.” Camille gasped while her sister just laughed, pulling her out of the room, the group making their way to their Uber Black.

Three hours later, Camille drunkenly stumbled through the streets with her friends, carefree and lost in the thrill of the night. After three daiquiris and four shots, she couldn't have cared less about anything beyond the present moment. Bouncing in and out of bars and clubs, she felt like she was on cloud nine, and there was no part of her that wanted to come down anytime soon.

“Oooooo, let’s go there next!” Chloe exclaimed, pointing to a building with traditional New Orleans architecture draped in Spanish moss. At first glance, the building itself looked unassuming. But the red lights pouring through the windows and entrances hinted that it was a club. And the line of people that snaked around the block hinted that it was a really popular club. One that they couldn’t possibly pass up. Chloe and her entourage headed towards the building. But the closer Camille got, the more something felt… off. An undeniable pull, a magnetic force drawing her toward the building. She didn’t mind it, not really; she was all for making a great night even better. But the strange sensation sent a shiver down her spine, heightening her senses and making her more alert than she’d been all evening. She tried to slow her steps, to pause for a moment to gather her thoughts, but her legs moved on their own, carrying her forward like she was being guided by some invisible hand, trailing behind her sister.

Three bouncers casually stood at the entrance, ignoring the pleas and bribes of the people at the front of the line. But their heads snapped towards them when Chloe approached.

“Excuse me,” Chloe started, turning on her signature innocent and coy act. “We don’t want to be unfair to everyone who’s been waiting, but do we have to stand in such a long line?” Chloe batted her lashes up at them, smoothing her hand over her white ‘Bride’ sash. The one closest to her leaned forward with a smirk, causing a soft gasp to ripple through the entire group.

He was beyond gorgeous. Deep dark skin, sparkling white teeth, a full beard, and expensive gold jewelry. Camille knew that her sister probably experienced love at first sight.

“A lady as pretty you should never have to wait for anything, and neither should your friends,” his Southern drawl rang through the air as he stared into Chloe’s soul. “But we got rules here, baby girl.”

Chloe visibly shuddered, stepping closer to the Adonis. “What do I– I-I mean, what do we have to do to get around these rules?” Chloe panted. The bouncer exchanged a look with the two others, who watched the group intensely… almost hungrily. His eyes shifted back to Chloe’s, glinting with something mischievous. “Tariq, you got any more of them special wristbands?” The bouncer on the far left pulled a set of wristbands from his pocket. They were such a bright red, they seemed to glow in the dark. He pulled a small bundle from his pocket and handed over seven. The lead bouncer looked back at all of them, his lips turning up to show off his perfect teeth. “Now I can get y’all in here right now with these wristbands, but y’all gotta understand that they come with a lot of responsibility. These are only for the ladies that can be the life of the party. Can y’all promise that?” The women nodded eagerly, but Camille’s nod carried some hesitation. The bouncer noticed, making a mental note that he would relay to his friends who were waiting inside.

“Anything for you, daddy,” Kali said, earning a sharp glare from Chloe. All three of the bouncers laughed at Kali's bold comment. “Well since that was such a convincing yes, all I need to see is some ID and y’all can go ahead. Be sure to put them wristbands on though… wouldn’t want to miss out on free drinks and plenty of company.”

The group squealed, practically throwing their driver’s licenses at the three men. They ignored the groans of protest from the people still waiting in line as they put on the red bands. Chloe excitedly moved towards the front door, but was stopped by a strong hand softly grabbing her arm. “One more thing,” the fine ass bouncer stated coolly.

“Yea, sure. Anything…” Chloe let out in a breathy tone. The man gave her a wicked smile. “Save me a dance, baby girl.” Chloe practically turned into a puddle. A shy, smiley puddle. “Yes, sir.” Chloe giggled softly, her gaze lingering on his. That was Camille’s cue to separate the two. She could see it in her sister’s eyes. She was five seconds away from letting that man bend her over in front of everyone. And she just couldn’t let something that scandalous happen on her watch.

The group descended down a wide, dimly lit staircase, its shadowy corners tightening around Camille’s nerves. But as they stepped into the heart of the club, her breath caught in her throat. The scene that unfolded before her was nothing short of electrifying. Red lights bathed the room in a seductive glow, casting sharp contrasts against the sleek black couches and the sea of gyrating bodies that seemed to go on for forever. Couples grinded against each other, lost in the pulse of the music, while women danced on every available surface, adding to the wild, carefree atmosphere. Bottle girls weaved through the crowd, effortlessly balancing trays of shots, bottles, and sparklers, contributing to the chaotic glamour of it all. The music throbbed through the air and vibrated through the walls and floor. It was overwhelming, all-consuming, and Camille knew she'd have to shout just to make herself heard. “Damn, we should’ve started here first,” Kali yelled, doing a 360 to get a full view of the place. Camille nodded, awe slowly replacing her unease.

Suddenly, a stunning bottle girl, who seemed to appear out of thin air, stood in front of the group with a tray full of shots. “Ladies, welcome to Crimson, and thank you for being our very special guests,” she spoke, momentarily glancing at their wristbands. “Can I interest you all in free ambrosia shots?” Something was off about her smile. It seemed too… eager. The alarm bells returned for Camille. Just as she was about to politely decline and guide the group to a more tame section of the club, Kali reached out and grabbed one. She downed it before Camille could object.

“Damn, this is good as fuck! You can’t even taste anything, it’s like juice!” She gave the rest of the bridal party an encouraging smile, before turning her attention back to the smirking bottle girl. “Can I get, like, two more of those?” She asked, already reaching for the tray again. The bottle girl smiled brightly. “Absolutely! And feel free to put any empty glasses back on the tray.”

Camille noticed the way she emphasized empty as the rest of the women reached for their own shot. Chloe threw her head back in a swift motion, a shocked look passing across her face. “There’s no way there’s alcohol in these,” she giggled, placing the empty shot glass on the tray and picking up another one. “Here, Camille, try one!”

Camille almost protested, her instincts screaming to back away. The vibe of the place had her on edge, and she didn’t trust the girl handing out free shots, her smile too wide, too mischievous. But then she remembered her promise to Chloe—and she couldn’t let her down. Camille took the shot from Chloe’s hand and threw it back, hoping the act would be enough to satisfy the bottle girl and move them along. But as the liquid burned its way down, something unexpected happened. The sweet strawberry and honey taste lingered and an insatiable craving for more swept over her. Without a second thought, she grabbed the last shot on the tray and sipped it greedily, the flavors dancing on her tongue. Within moments, a wave of euphoria crashed over her, sweeping away any remaining caution. Like a freight train, the carefree attitude she'd left behind the moment she stepped into Crimson hit her again—but this time, it wasn’t just cloud nine. Instead, she soared to cloud one hundred. Whatever she just drank was far beyond ordinary alcohol. But in that instant, Camille couldn’t have cared less. The rush, the high, it was too intoxicating to question. She was going to chase it, as far and as fast as it would take her.

The cackling of her friends began to fade as a new song caught her attention. It was sultry and fast-paced, and it beckoned her to the dance floor. Her legs carried her to the center of the club, directly under its beaming red lights, giving the crowds in the balcony levels a perfect view of her. And she let herself get carried away by the music. She didn’t know how long she danced for. She just knew that her waist, her ass, and her legs moved to everything that poured out of the speakers. She felt like a butterfly flying freely, untethered. Until two large hands gripped her waist, pulling her back into a broad, warm chest and a thick, long, twitching bulge.

Terry

Terry spotted her as soon as she entered his establishment, his dick immediately standing at attention. A lace-clad goddess who decided to grace the venue with her presence. Although she was leading a group of gorgeous women, her beauty outshone them all—no contest. Not even the shorter one who shared her skin tone and some of her features that she pulled along with her. Sisters, Terry concluded. Although the smaller one, clearly a bride-to-be, was meant to be the star—draped in a form-fitting white dress, crowned with a glittering tiara and veil, Terry’s eyes could only focus on the woman guiding her through the sea of people. He leaned forward in his seat on the fourth-level balcony, subtly tapping the two women on his lap to signal for them to move. They pouted and muttered as they reluctantly stood, but Terry’s attention remained fixed, unaware of their protests. His focus was entirely on the woman below, and he couldn’t look away.

“Boss, we got a few more Indulgences coming in right now. The best group of the night. But the one in the lace might be a problem. I think she can kinda see through The Veil.”

Terry didn’t bother to respond. There was always one human who felt a little more wary when they approached Crimson, the city’s most exclusive club and a hedonistic sanctuary for the wealthiest vampires in the country. It wasn’t uncommon for humans to be drawn to the club’s magnetic pull, an irresistible force that lured them in without them even knowing why. Most would fall victim to the allure, standing in outrageously long lines for the mere chance to step inside. But then there were the others—those with a natural wariness, a sharp intuition that hinted at the dark magic just beneath the surface. They could sense something off, something they couldn’t quite put their finger on, but it was enough to make them hesitate.

In those rare cases, Terry knew exactly what to do. If they were enticing enough for his clients, he made sure they got through the door and stayed for as long as he needed them to. After getting the heads-up from Jabari, Terry had already made his move. Amber, one of his most trusted bottle girls who frequently quenched his thirsts, was dispatched with a tray of ambrosia shots, ready to meet the group of women and pull them deeper into the club’s intoxicating web. A simple push, a little encouragement.

Terry observed as the group warily watched Amber. The first one to accept her offer was a thick, lighter woman with a bob who seemed to be full of personality. One by one, they consumed the golden liquid and he watched them all fall victim to the euphoric feeling that ambrosia brings about. The beauty who caught his eye was the last one to drink after some convincing from the soon-to-be bride. She gave her a weak smile and tossed it back, momentarily exposing her slender neck. Time seemed to slow as she gulped down the liquid, her tongue absentmindedly licking the remainder from her perfectly glossed lips. Terry groaned, imagining those same glossed lips wrapped around his length, leaving stains around his dick as she gagged around him. Fat tears spilling from her big, pretty eyes as he used a fistful of her hair to keep her in place and fuck her throat.

As his latest fixation reached for another shot, this time with enthusiasm, he mentally expressed satisfaction in Jabari’s picks for the night. The whole group exceeded the standards of what an Indulgence should be. From the corner of his eyes, he could see a few of his clients watching the group, their bright red wristbands giving them the greenlight to approach them. As the best supernatural sanctuary in the country, Terry had a reputation he had to maintain. And that included keeping a steady stream of the best Indulgences walking through the doors of Crimson.

The practice of supplying Indulgences had evolved quite a bit since Terry turned hundreds of years ago. In the old days, Indulgences, the breathtaking humans that were deemed desirable enough to feed from and fuck, were a rarity. The lack of modern technology and medical care led to most humans being sickly and in a constant state of survival. Therefore, Indulgences were limited, and most were often fought over or accidentally killed. But as the standard of living increased, they became more plentiful. Vampires noticed and began to invest heavily in the wellbeing of humans. Better farming techniques, improved access to education, innovations in science and technology. All of these things were investments vampires were willing to make so their precious humans would become better off. Now, it’s gotten to the point that Indulgences could be found anywhere. But they couldn’t be approached anywhere. Humans, especially women, were particularly cautious. They often denied the company of vampires in ordinary settings, and their denials were respected under supernatural law. So vampires like Terry had to create spaces that connected Indulgences with vampires, lowered their inhibitions, and motivated them to freely offer their veins, their bodies, and their hearts.

Crimson had been known for the best Indulgences since the 1940s and tonight, Jabari ensured that the reputation continued. Terry made a mental note to reward Jabari for his good judgment. His eyes continued to follow the pretty little thing as she made her way to the dance floor, her barriers lowering with every step she took. Once she got to the center of the club, Terry knew that all supernatural eyes were on her, so he spoke telepathically.

Mine.

One word was all it took, and instantly, everyone knew she was off-limits. Terry was more than just a club co-owner. He was a king in his own right, ruling an empire of power, wealth, and influence that stretched far beyond Crimson’s doors. Decades older than any vampire in the room, his presence commanded a respect that no one dared to question. He was one of the first to utilize The Veil, the arcane system of magic that allowed supernaturals to bend the mortal world to their will. Over the course of his long life, he had slaughtered countless creatures—vampires, goblins, lycans—all without a flicker of hesitation. He was a monster in the truest sense of the word, and only a fool would dare to challenge him.

So, as his clients swarmed the other women eagerly, Terry’s word hung in the air like an impenetrable shield. She remained untouched and unbothered, and no one would dare lay a finger on her.

As the mystery woman swayed seductively to the beat, Terry began his descent to the ground level of Crimson. Humans and supernaturals alike scurried out of his way as he stalked his unsuspecting prey. Growing closer to her, he watched as she threw her arms above her head, flaunting her red wristband. He smirked, knowing she had no idea what was in store for her. He stopped behind her, taking the time to appreciate her body and inhale her scent. Her Coke bottle shape was barely covered by the black lace outfit that showed off her black thong. Intoxicating notes of vanilla, jasmine, and lavender fluttered around her, making his mouth water.

Terry gripped her waist firmly, tugging her back into his chest and her ass into his hard on, causing her to gasp softly. She paused her sexy little whining to look at Terry, craning her neck to get a good view of his 6’3 frame. He smirked as her jaw dropped as she examined his face. Still in a euphoric haze, her eyes began to swirl with lust, awe, and need. Terry grinned down at her, wrapping his arms around her even tighter. She whimpered lightly, rubbing her ass against his print, causing a deep rumbling in his chest. He leaned down, placing his mouth next to her ear. “What’d you stop for, princess? You were giving me such a nice show,” he purred, licking the shell of her ear. A moan passed her pretty ass lips and her head lolled to the side, giving Terry full access to her neck. He chuckled, watching the light thump of her jugular under her skin.

“Come on, baby girl,” he groaned, tracing the major vein with his tongue. “I came all the way downstairs to dance with you, don’t stop now.” She giggled sweetly, looking back at him with a naughty glint in her eye. Then, she began to work her magic. Bending over and placing her hands on her thighs, she expertly rolled her hips to the music, grinding her plump ass further into his dick. Terry bit his lip at the sight, matching her sensual movements, the world disappearing around them. To Terry, it was only him and her left in existence. Twisting, grinding, and rolling against each other. As the song came to an end, she rose to lean back against him, peering at him over her shoulder. Terry decided that he let her have enough fun taking the lead. He had to show her he was a man of control. He spun her around to face him, pulling her dangerously close to him.

She gulped as he pressed the entirety of his covered length against her torso. Gripping her ass, he captured her mouth in a dominating kiss.

Camille

Camille’s breath hitched as the unreal stranger placed a heated kiss against her lips, slipping his tongue into her mouth. If she were sober, she wouldn’t believe that she was making out with a random man whose name she didn’t even know. Especially a random man that looked like him. His broad, muscular frame loomed over her effortlessly, even with the four-inch heels adding height to her 5'7" stature. Dressed in sleek black slacks and a casual sweater, his ensemble was effortlessly cool, paired with two gold chains that gave him a smooth, 90s vibe. The combination of his honey-brown skin and understated wealth gave him an undeniable magnetism. The sweet, woody scent of his cologne washed over her senses, an intoxicating blend that mirrored the raw masculinity oozing from him. His dark hair was pulled back into neat cornrows, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the meticulously groomed facial hair that framed it. His full, luscious lips curled into a smile—slow, deliberate, and full of promise. And then there were his eyes. Those eyes. They were the kind that could pull you deeper under his spell with every glance. They promised nothing but a night fulfilling her most carnal desires.

A man this handsome could only be the devil.

His hands moved from her ass to her thighs as he effortlessly picked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist, their kiss never breaking. His tongue mercilessly sucked on hers, making her breathless and delirious. Camille tried her best to keep up with the man but he was insatiable. His lips skillfully moved over hers, making her eyes droop and heat pool in her most intimate areas. There was nothing she could do but submit to him and his passion. So she wrapped her arms around his neck and let him lead the head-spinning exchange, which pulled the most lewd sounds from the back of her throat. He shifted her slightly in his arms, making his dick rub directly against her throbbing clit. “Fuck,” she yelped, throwing her head back at the burst of pleasure the movement gave her. The stranger didn’t stop his onslaught of kisses, his mouth nipping and sucking at her jaw, her neck, and her collarbone, continuing to grind his pelvis into hers. Camille sucked in a sharp breath, feeling a delicious tension build in her pussy. The man’s hands gripped further into her flesh and he chuckled in her ear. “If you keep making those pretty little sounds, I’m gonna make you nut on this dick all fucking night,” he growled before he shoved his tongue back into her mouth. His raunchy promise and dominating tongue sent Camille toppling over the edge. With a pathetic, needy moan into his mouth, she shuddered in his arms, a blinding orgasm rippling through her body.

He pulled away from her, watching as she convulsed in his arms. His eyes, which seemed to shift between steel blue and hazel green, stared directly into her soul, making another pitiful moan pass through her lips. As she slowly descended from her high, their gazes locked, their breath heavy and unsteady. In that moment, something passed between them. Something unspoken, something more profound than lust or two horny bodies grinding on a dancefloor. It was an electric undercurrent, too elusive to define, but too powerful to ignore. Was it tenderness? Devotion? Whatever it was, Camille felt it course through her like wildfire, a quiet intensity that seemed to vibrate in the air around them. And from the heat in his eyes, she knew he felt it too. That look, their connection—intense, undeniable—was all it took to jolt her back to reality.

This has gone way too far, Camille thought. She shook her head lightly, trying to break herself out of the trance she was under. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered to the gorgeous man she was clinging to. His eyebrows furrowed, his grip tightening as she attempted to get out of his hold.

“Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?” His deep, rich voice asked her sincerely and she blinked slowly as her pussy throbbed, begging to be stuffed by the hard on that was still pressed into her crotch. Fuck, this was so wrong. She was a taken woman. “No, no you didn’t do anything wrong,” she smiled down at him shyly. “It’s just that… I-I shouldn’t have done this and I don’t want it to go too far.” He laughed.

“We’re grown, baby girl. What happens beyond this stays between us.” He stated, placing an open-mouthed kiss on her jaw, making her squirm against his bulge.

“That’s the thing,” she sighed, raising her left hand to display her ring. “An engaged woman shouldn’t have even let it get to this point.” The stranger’s hypnotizing eyes moved from hers to the band around her left ring finger, which he stared at for a second. Disappointment, and another feeling that she couldn’t place, flickered across his expression. Then his eyes shifted back to hers and he nodded in understanding, gingerly placing her back on her feet. He kept a hand on her waist, his confident smile returning. “Thanks for the dance, Ms…” his voice trailed off expectantly. Camille opened her mouth to respond, but was swiftly interrupted by her best friend’s yelling.

“Cam! Cam! Come on, we gotta go! Some weirdo tried to like, I don't know, eat Chloe!” Kali yelled frantically, tugging Camille. “What!? What are you talking about? Where is she?!” Camille ran behind Kali, completely abandoning her momentary lover. She and Kali ripped through the crowded dance floor and rushed to a set of stairs that led to the second story of the club. Chloe sat slumped against the banister, sobbing into her hands as the rest of the group and the bouncer from earlier tried to console her. “Chloe, baby are you okay?” Camille’s little sister shot up at the sound of her voice, throwing herself into her arms.

“Oh Cammie, it was awful,” she sobbed as Camille held her. “Some guy and I were dancing but he wanted me to do coke with him so I tried to get away from him. But then he started trying to fucking bite me and-and–” Chloe sobbed harder. Camille turned to the bouncer. “Where is he? Did he get away?” There’s no way the club would let him get away with something like that, right?

“No ma’am, we’ve got him in custody upstairs. He won’t be able to hurt anybody else.” He reassured Camille, but his eyes remained on Chloe.

“Cammie, I don’t want to stay here if he’s still here,” Chloe hiccuped, holding onto her sister tighter. Camille stroked her cheek, guilt consuming her. She should’ve stayed with her sister. She never should’ve wandered off! She wouldn’t have gotten hurt if she wasn’t getting tongued down by a man she just met.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to stay here any longer,” she sighed, kissing her sister's forehead. The fun, tipsy, and carefree Camille was gone. The rigid and responsible Camille returned as she ordered the rest of the bridal party to make their way to the entrance.

“Is everything alright over here?” The smooth, deep voice made Camille shiver. She knew who it belonged to immediately, but she refused to face him, embarrassed of how she behaved a few moments ago. He must've followed her when she ran with Kali. She could feel the heat rolling off of him, letting her know that he stood dangerously close to her. But she couldn’t focus on the Casanova that made her cum from simply grinding and kissing. She needed to focus on her sister.

“A patron tried to fee– bite one of the ladies in this group, boss. I rushed to help her once I heard screams. We got him upstairs,” the bouncer replied hurriedly, his eyes trained on the man behind Camille. He grunted in response.

“Ladies, I apologize for this encounter. Crimson takes great pride in vetting its patrons and it's unacceptable that a character like this slipped past us. He will be taken care of,” her mystery man spoke with authority. Camille glanced at him in shock as she rocked her sister, who was now only sniffling. Did he own this place? Who really was the man she dry fucked danced with tonight?

He gazed back at her for a moment, but turned his attention back to Chloe’s knight in shining armor. “Jabari, please escort these ladies out and ensure that we get them the best transportation back to their accommodations.” Jabari nodded, helping them get their bearings. As Camille prepared to turn on her heel, soft, thick lips quickly pressed against her cheek. “Get home safe.” The mystery man gave her one final glance before swiftly climbing the stairs. She stared after him, her heart, and her pussy, aching from the fact that she would never see him again.

Camille felt so disappointed in herself as Jabari ushered them into a sleek, black Cadillac Escalade. Her sister’s night was ruined because she slipped up and left her alone. She should’ve never let her guard down. She should’ve never taken those shots. And she definitely shouldn’t have given that man a dance. Because that’s all she could think about.

How her body molded into his. How she responded to his touch. How he gazed into her eyes. How wet she got for him. And that orgasm… she couldn’t even remember having one that good before… especially not with her fiancé. It felt as if she had found her soulmate, only to be torn away from him, her chest aching with every passing second.

Camille shook her head, a desperate attempt to clear her thoughts. She shouldn’t be thinking like this. Not with her sister’s head in her lap as their driver pulled off towards their hotel. Kali and the rest of the girls chattered quietly as Camille stroked her sister’s hair. Hopefully the one hour at Crimson didn’t overshadow the entire night for her.

Camille sighed and leaned her head against her seat’s window. I just need to get back to Houston, she thought. And then I’ll be able to forget about him and put this night behind me.

Terry

Terry’s jaw clenched as he peered out of the window, watching Jabari get the group of women into the luxury SUV. Jabari closed the front passenger door as the last one put on her seatbelt. He then jogged to the driver’s side and briefly spoke to the chauffeur. After a tap on the hood, the driver sped off in the direction of Bourbon Street. Terry stepped away from the window and turned to look at the center of the room. A man dangled from a meat hook attached to the tall ceiling, thrashing in the chains used to restrain him. Terry’s blood boiled as he watched him struggle, muffled pleas trying to pass the gag in his mouth. His face was barely recognizable, but Terry knew it was Justin Grey. The 20-something year-old son of some Hollywood executive who was turned six months ago. Terry knew he was too young and immature to behave himself around Indulgences. But his business partners thought otherwise. Justin’s $5,000,000 donation was just too enticing to pass up.

Both of Justin’s eyes were nearly swollen shut. Bruises bloomed across his face and neck. His nose was obviously broken. A gash on his cheek leaked blood onto the floor. Although the man’s vampire status would’ve dulled the pain of a human’s attempt to hurt him, the ass whooping he got from his fellow supernaturals had him writhing in agony.

Terry shook his head as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. If it wasn’t for this motherfucker, he would be in one of the private rooms upstairs with his recent dance partner, letting her ride his face and his dick until the sun rose. But no. He had to deal with this bullshit. Bullshit that ran seven perfect Indulgences out of his club. It wasn’t the end of the world, his clients would still be satisfied. There were about fifty men and women walking around Crimson with the red wristbands. Only fifteen clients were present today, so they had plenty to choose from. But he could tell that the bachelorette party was a fan favorite, since most of his clients eagerly joined to beat the man who ran them off. They circled Justin’s upside down form, waiting for Terry to give them the greenlight to finish him off.

Terry sipped the dark liquor slowly, savoring the burn in the back of his throat. He walked over to Justin and crouched down near his face. Justin took labored breaths, flinching as Terry’s hand reached for the gag in his mouth. In one fluid motion, Terry yanked the rag out of mouth, sending blood and teeth scattering across the floor. Justin cried out. Terry just stared, giving him a sarcastic smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Friends, guests…,” Terry started as he slowly rose to his feet. “What is the single most important rule when handling Indulg–”

“Terry, man come on. I-I didn’t… I j-just got a little carried awa–” Justin began to beg.

“Shut. The Fuck. Up,” Terry gritted. No one moved, no one dared to reply, so Terry began again. “Indulgences should never… ever… be forced to do anything. No matter what. It is our responsibility to convince. To seduce. Our interactions with humans, especially Indulgences, are meant to be mutualistic. We give as much as we take. If we go around abusing them and acting entitled, we’ll eventually lose access to them. And if we lose access to them, our chances of survival get real fucking slim.”

Terry took another slow sip of whiskey, his expression calm, but his words laced with venom. Contrary to popular folklore, vampires didn’t loathe humans, they thrived on them. Humans were their life force, their source of entertainment, their companions in an otherwise meaningless existence. They brought color to the gray monotony of their extended lifetimes. Disruptions to this delicate, symbiotic bond were rare, but when they happened, they were never taken lightly. Terry and other vampires had spent centuries cultivating these relationships, and this small transgression was a threat to that hard-won balance. What made it worse was that the woman who had captured his heart was entangled in this mess. But despite the simmering rage beneath his calm exterior, he refused to let this minor setback derail his evening. He was still going to put someone through a mattress tonight, so he was going to make this quick.

Jabari walked into the room, nodding towards Terry to confirm that the women were heading back towards their hotel. He nodded back, taking a final sip of whiskey before placing the glass on a nearby surface.

“Everyone, please don’t let the foolish actions of one ruin your night. When you’re ready, return to the main area and have your fun,” Terry spoke diplomatically. Then he turned his attention to Jabari, who glared menacingly at Justin.

“Jabari,” Terry called calmly. Jabari’s eyes snapped in his direction.

“You were interested in the girl that Justin attacked, yes?” Jabari simply nodded. Terry hummed in response. “Will you do the honors and kill him? Try not to be too loud, we don’t want to disturb the rest of the club.”

Jabari grinned, shifting into his supernatural form as he stalked toward Justin.

“No, NO! Terry please, I-I-I learned my lesson! It won’t happen again!” Justin cried out as Jabari’s eyes shifted to a deep red, his canines elongating and his nails sharpening.

Terry drowned out Justin’s screams as Jabari's claws pierced his flesh, ripping him apart. He knew Jabari would finish the job right, so he made his way towards the door without looking back, pulling his business phone out of his pocket. Now that the situation was handled, his mind could return to more pressing matters. The lovely little vixen who put him under her spell in less than twenty minutes. He swiped through the electronic records that another bouncer, Tariq, sent him. They displayed copies of all of the driver’s licenses that were scanned that night. He searched through dozens of photos before he landed on one that made his heart skip a beat.

Camille DeWaterson.

04/26/1995.

Houston, Texas.

Each passing second that Terry’s eyes lingered on the photo solidified his decision. The decision he made when she had rushed off to tend to her sister now felt inevitable—he was going to pursue her with everything he had. The moment they shared on the dancefloor wasn’t just a fleeting connection; it was raw, too real to dismiss. When she had looked at him, there had been something in her gaze, something that bordered on reverence. As if he had become her anchor in a world full of uncertainty. He couldn’t shake the intensity of it, the desire to see that look again, to make her feel that way once more. And the way she came undone in his arms? It was so fucking erotic. If she writhed against him like that just from some kissing and touching, how would she act underneath him as he stretched her out. Would she scream his name? Would she beg him to let her cum? Would she wet up his sheets? He was determined to find out. And once he did, he would never let her go.

Besides, she obviously needed to be saved from her engagement. No properly satisfied woman would have acted how she did. It was practically a cry for help. A bat signal that said she needed someone to take care of her body, mind, and soul. And Terry knew he would be the best person to do so. Not the lame ass nigga she was with now.

He took a screenshot of the driver’s license and tucked the phone back into his pocket. Tomorrow, he would dig through the internet for everything linked to his new obsession. But right now, he needed to find some relief and bury himself in some pussy. He was still hard from the dance he got and Camille’s ID picture only made the tightening in his groin worse. He waved over Amber as she headed in his direction. Once she stood in front of him, he wordlessly threw her over his shoulder, hauling her upstairs towards the private rooms.

-----------------

@nayaesworld @slvt4her @writingsbytee @kaylaahisthebestest @notapradagurl7 @23jammy so sorry if I missed anyone, please comment so I can add you for next week!

[ch33z3grits]

Crimson Obsessions | A Terry Richmond Vampire Series

(coming soon) summary: After a steamy encounter with a sinfully handsome man in New Orleans, Camille DeWaterson returns to her life as a soon-to-be-married paralegal in Houston, Texas. But the incident becomes difficult to forget when the otherworldly stranger waltzes into her law firm, bringing a series of strange and enticing events with him. Terrence “Terry” Richmond, is an incredibly disciplined, calculating, and ambitious individual, at least… that’s what he is to the average mortal. But in reality, he’s a bloodthirsty supernatural with a keen interest for money, power, and beautiful women. When the gorgeous Camille DeWaterson slips from his grasp one fateful night in New Orleans, he vows to track her down and make her his bride. It doesn’t matter to him that she already has a fiancé or a commitment to join two families together. He isn’t going to rest until she belongs to him… body, mind and soul.

pairing: Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond x Justine Skye as Camille DeWaterson

a/n: hi :) I saw a request for a vampire Terry Richmond fic where Terry is a home wrecker. I waited and waited for someone to pick it up but no one has so I said let me give it a try lmaoo. I’m fairly new to tumblr and I haven’t written on here before, so please be gentle with me. I’ll try my best to include the right warnings and tags. Also, I haven’t written a fanfic in over 8 years 😭 so again, please be kind. This is just something I want to do to have an outlet during my last semester of grad school. A few heads up for this story:

it will be at least 15 parts

I plan to update every Friday

each part will be long (5k+ words)

the story will have dark themes, including dark sexual themes. This is for 18+ audiences only

For now, here is a snippet of the story. I hope you all enjoy :)

warnings: stalking, breaking and entering, light smut? (panty stealing, panty sniffing), mentions of alcohol and drugs

Terry knew it was twisted. Breaking into his colleague's apartment to find the best way to ruin his life was abhorrent by human standards. But he wasn’t human. He hasn’t been human for centuries. So he didn’t give a fuck. Aston McCoy was the one thing standing in the way of him getting his hands on his prize, Camille DeWaterson.

Holding her.

Taking care of her.

Fucking her.

Worshipping her.

When Terry first placed his eyes on Camille during her sister’s bachelorette festivities in New Orleans a month ago, he vowed to move heaven and earth to have her all to himself. So if he had to pursue a little breaking and entering to set his plan into motion, so be it.

Terry's footsteps were silent to the average ear as he sauntered around the luxurious loft. He gazed at the expensive minimalist furniture, carefully curated wall decor, and the artificial plants that were strategically placed in the living area. Sterile, boring, and safe. The signs of a young white man who desperately wanted to be taken seriously and belong in the upper echelons of society. Terry smirked and shook his head. Throughout his long, long life, Terry had run into men like Aston at every turn. Slave owners, military officials, mob bosses… white men who had the world at their feet but were always at the risk of slipping and falling. All it took was one blow from Terry and they were tumbling to the ground. Aston McCoy would be no different.

Although he was amused by the pathetic apartment, Terry grew irritated as he stalked through the space. There were no signs that McCoy had a vice as he rummaged through drawers and closets. No bottles of booze. No baggies of coke. No anonymous flash drives. Nothing that could be easily used against him. Terry scoffed, feeling his eyebrows push together as he approached the last doorway in the apartment. McCoy’s bedroom. He entered the room lazily, expecting further disappointment. But his eyes widened as they settled on the central point of the room: the bed. On the left side, McCoy was bundled under a mountain of covers, his hair peeking out at the top being the only indication that it was him. But on the right side… laid Camille DeWaterson, looking like an absolute angel. Her body was completely exposed due to her fiancé's selfish hogging of the covers. McCoy’s actions at any other time would have Terry seeing red. But instead, they accidentally gave Terry the most pleasant and mouth-watering surprise he could have hoped for tonight.

Camille laid flat on her back, the side of her face perfectly highlighted by the moonlight pouring in as she snuggled into the crook of her arm. Her gorgeous dark brown skin seemed to glisten in the moon’s glow, asking, begging to be licked and sucked and marked. She was mostly bare, wearing nothing but a soft white satin nightgown that dipped dangerously low into her cleavage and was hiked up around her waist. Terry's focus on the task at hand faltered as his dick turned to stone. His tongue darted out of his mouth to moisten his lips hidden under his black ski mask. Desperate to give himself some form of relief, he palmed his bulge through his black sweatpants as he moved closer to Camille’s side of the bed. With a better view of the slumbering princess, Terry's eyes wandered to Camille’s pussy, tucked away from his sight by a lacy white thong, a present he ached to open. As if in a trance, Terry crouched down to run his gloved thumb over the waistband of Camille’s panties, careful not to awaken her.

You have no idea what you do to me, he thought, hooking a finger into the lacy fabric. His eyes snapped toward her face as he began to slowly tug the garment down. He was halfway down her thighs when she stirred, whimpering lightly. Everything in him froze except his dick. His dick twitched as he replayed the sweet sound in his head. Camille’s brows furrowed momentarily, but her face relaxed and her eyes remained closed. Terry waited a beat to make sure she was still asleep. But has dick, heavy with excitement, beckoned him to continue removing her panties. So as swiftly as he could, Terry pulled the small fabric over her knees, down to her ankles, and then carefully slipped them past her feet. In a frenzy, Terry tugged the ski mask below his mouth and pulled the souvenir to his nose, inhaling deeply. Drool slid past his lips as he breathed in her scent. He held back a feral rumble in his chest, feeling his eyes flicker from their usual blue-gray to a deep red. Now isn't the time to lose control, he thought, suppressing the darkest parts of himself. With a shake of his head, he tucked Camille’s panties into the pocket of his sweatpants, sending another shockwave through his lower region.

He backed away from Camille’s side of the bed, his eyes never leaving her sweet face. He was just about to pivot to walk back into the living area. But he heard the slightest vibration from the left side of the room. Terry cocked his head to the side and zeroed in his focus on the phone on McCoy's nightstand. What kind of notifications could he be getting at two in the morning? He swiftly moved towards the phone, gently picking it up. He flipped it so the screen faced him and began to read the series of notifications. Banners from DraftKings, FanDuel, Prizepicks and other betting apps displayed several different messages:

Bet $20 and get 3x back on earnings!

Hurry now to get $1000 in casino bonuses!

Bet now, get instant deposit on all earnings!

Terry chuckled lightly, his eyes flickering to McCoy and Camille to briefly check if they heard him. They hadn’t. So you’re a gambling addict huh, he grinned widely as he glanced down at Aston. I can definitely work with that. Terry carefully returned the phone to its original position. Then he crossed the room once more, returning to Camille's side. He hummed slightly as he softly gripped her right leg, adjusting it to give him a perfect view of her now exposed pussy. Camille sighed slightly, shifting onto her side, unknowingly moving closer to Terry. Terry smirked, kneeling so his head was at the same level as hers. “Don’t worry, baby. You’ll be all mine soon enough,” he whispered, hoping that his words slipped into her dreams. She sighed in response, still in a deep slumber. With a final scan of her face, Terry pulled his ski mask back over nose, shoved his hands into his pockets, and turned to leave the bedroom. He grinned wildly as he began to conjure up the most sinister and wicked ideas to get Camille DeWaterson into his arms and into his bed… forever.