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corrupte3d-mindz · 7 months ago

Text

Nocturnal Allies

Thomas Shelby x F! Vampire Reader

Summary: Thomas encounters a new and mysterious presence, an alluring vampire who has taken an interest in the city, along with him.

Wordcount: 18.8k

Warnings:

graphic descriptions, p in v, fingering, (f) oral receiving, dom Thomas?! The smut is really far down and angst if you squint,but please enjoy.

This is/isn’t a one-shot, idk yet because it’s around 18k, but it’s also a series..also I think this counts as necrophilia. It’s in the authors notes. That helps explain it.

The familiar comfort of his surroundings offered little solace as dusk began to roll in, casting long shadows across the room. He glanced at the clock, its ticking a constant reminder of time slipping away.

Unable to quell the unease gnawing at him, Thomas shrugged on his coat and stepped out into the cool evening air. The streets of Small Heath were quieting down, the bustle of the day giving way to the hushed whispers of night. As he walked, the sky deepened into a dark, velvety hue, stars beginning to pierce through the twilight. Tonight, Birmingham's darkened streets awaited him, and Thomas was more than ready to face whatever the shadows held.

The streets of Small Heath were shrouded in the embrace of night, the once bustling alleys now cloaked in a heavy, palpable silence. Thomas moved with calculated precision, his every step resonating softly against the cobblestones. The gas lamps cast a dim, flickering light, elongating the shadows that danced along the narrow pathways. His sharp eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in every detail, every potential threat, with the astuteness of a man who had navigated these treacherous streets countless times.

As he walked, a prickle of unease crept along the back of his neck. Thomas's instincts, honed by years of survival in a world of deceit and danger, alerted him to the presence of another. The soft, almost imperceptible scuff of shoes behind him confirmed his suspicion. With a practiced motion, he unbuckled his gun belt, the weight of his weapon a familiar and reassuring presence. He continued to walk, his senses now hyper-aware, ready to confront whatever menace lurked in the shadows.

But then, a new sound reached his ears— the distinctive click of heels against the cobblestones, a rhythm too refined and deliberate to belong to a common assailant. Thomas's grip on his gun relaxed slightly, and he paused, listening intently. The footsteps grew closer, echoing with a strange mix of confidence and caution. He clasped his gun belt back into place, his mind racing through the possibilities of who might be following him at this hour.

Turning slowly, Thomas called out into the darkness, his voice steady and commanding. "I'm not interested in your services," he declared, the words carrying a weight of authority and disinterest. The silhouette of a woman emerged from the shadows, her figure draped in the elegant fashions of the era. The moonlight caught her features, revealing a beauty both strange and captivating. For a moment, they stood in silence, the air thick with unspoken questions and an undercurrent of intrigue. Thomas's gaze remained steady, his expression inscrutable, as he waited to see what intentions this nocturnal visitor harbored.

"But it will be an experience you shan't ever forget,"

Her silhouette becoming clearer under the pale moonlight, her voice, smooth and sultry, carried the faintest hint of an exotic accent. she purred, her lips curling into a seductive smile. Her eyes, dark and glittering like onyx, locked onto Thomas's with a magnetic intensity. "Come now…darling~"

She coaxed, extending a gloved hand towards him, the invitation laced with both promise and peril. "Let us indulge in a bit of amusement, shall we?" Her tone was playful yet commanding, a tantalizing blend of allure and authority that was impossible to ignore. Her persistence was both surprising and intriguing, a quality he rarely encountered in the women of Small Heath. Her beauty, though unconventional, held a captivating allure, her eyes a mesmerizing shade that seemed to hold secrets untold.

"I take it you've never been told no before," he remarked, his voice low and smooth, betraying none of the curiosity that simmered beneath his steely exterior.

He observed her closely, noting the determination in her stance, the way her chin lifted slightly in defiance. She looked rather pale compared to him, almost like a ghostly white color.

"I don't believe I've ever seen you before," Thomas continued, his tone a mixture of curiosity and intrigue.

As he spoke, Thomas noticed the subtle shift in her demeanor, the way her gaze softened ever so slightly. There was a vulnerability there, a hint of longing that mirrored his own. In that moment, he found himself drawn to her in a way he could not explain. It was a dangerous game they were playing, one that could unravel the carefully constructed facade he had built over the years. Yet, as he looked into her eyes, Thomas knew that he was willing to take that risk.

"Might I have the honor of knowing your name?"

“_______, _______ Everhart….” Pausing for a moment, “Thomas Shelby?”

Thomas's brow furrowed slightly, his curiosity piqued. He had not mentioned his name, yet she spoke it as if she had known all along. "And how, pray tell, do you know my name?" he asked, his tone guarded yet intrigued.

The woman's smile widened, a playful glint in her eyes. "A man of your stature leaves an impression, Mr. Shelby," she replied cryptically. "One that is not easily forgotten." Her words hung in the air, laden with unspoken meaning, leaving Thomas to wonder about the woman who seemed to know more than she let on.

His gaze, sharp and calculating, meeting her gaze with a piercing intensity that bespoke his keen observation. "You speak with an accent that's not from here," he remarked, his voice low and measured, "Are you a traveler?"

She was caught off guard by his sudden questioning of her whereabouts, but she hesitated before responding. “You could say that…does it matter where I’m from..”

"Tell me," Thomas continued, his voice a low rumble that seemed to echo through the dimly lit alley, "What brings you to our humble town? Surely, there are more welcoming destinations for a traveler such as yourself."

"Believe me, there are plenty of welcoming destinations for me," she continued, her tone suggestive yet tinged with a hint of intrigue, "but the atmosphere here is so inviting in the night~"

Her voice was like a siren's song, luring him closer with each alluring syllable. He studied her, his gaze unwavering, trying to decipher the enigma that stood before him.

Her words were a puzzle, a riddle that begged to be unraveled. Thomas could sense the allure of danger emanating from her, a dangerous beauty that drew him in despite his better judgment. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck prickle with anticipation, his instincts warning him of the danger that lurked beneath her captivating facade.

Yet, despite the warning bells ringing in his mind, Thomas felt a pull towards her, a magnetic attraction that he couldn't ignore. He took a step closer, the distance between them narrowing, his eyes never leaving hers. There was a challenge in her gaze, a daring invitation that dared him to delve deeper into the darkness that surrounded them.

His gaze lingered on her lips, in the light from the moon and street lamps he caught the crimson smear, stark against her porcelain skin. It was a sight that would have unsettled most, but Thomas was not most men. His mind, sharp as a razor, immediately began to piece together the puzzle before him. He observed her with a measured gaze, noting the way she tried to conceal the telltale sign of her recent indulgence. The air between them seemed to thicken with unspoken tension, the weight of her secret hanging heavy in the space between them. Yet, there was something intriguing about her, something that stirred a primal instinct within Thomas.

“Is everything alright…?”

He inquired, his voice low and controlled. He could sense her hesitation, the unspoken words that hung on the tip of her tongue. Thomas was no stranger to the darkness that lurked within the human soul, but he felt like she….wasn’t human.

His eye snaked around her features once more as he noticed they now began to take on an otherworldly glow, her eyes shining with an ethereal light that sent a shiver down his spine. The faint, red glow emanating from her gaze seemed to pierce through the darkness, revealing a truth that defied rational explanation. As he observed her, Thomas noticed something that sent a ripple of unease through him. Dark veins, like tendrils of shadow, snaked their way across her delicate features, framing eyes that now seemed to hold a depth of ancient knowledge. His mind raced, searching for a logical explanation, but finding none. She wasn't human, that much was clear, and the realization sent a chill through him.

As Thomas’s keen eyes locked onto the woman before him, he couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that something was amiss. Her smile, once warm and inviting, now held a hint of something more primal, something predatory. Before he could react, her transformation began, her canine teeth elongating into sharp, glistening fangs, a sight that sent a chill down Thomas's spine.

In an instant, the woman's demeanor shifted from benign to menacing. With a strength that belied her appearance, she grabbed Thomas with a fierce grip, slamming him to the ground with a force that left him gasping for air. The impact reverberated through his body, his bones protesting against the unforgiving cobblestone streets of Small Heath, Birmingham. As Thomas struggled to regain his composure, the realization of what he was facing began to sink in. This was no ordinary encounter; this was a confrontation with a creature of the night, a vampire. Despite his fear, Thomas's mind raced, searching for a way to turn the tide in his favor. He knew he was outmatched in strength, but he was not one to be easily defeated.

Before he could gather his wits, she was upon him, her grip like a vice as she yanked his head to the side, exposing his vulnerable neck. In that moment, her eyes, once filled with a strange allure, now gleamed with an otherworldly hunger, devoid of any humanity. This was no ordinary encounter; it was a primal struggle between predator and prey, played out in the shadows of the Small Heath, Birmingham cobblestone streets. Her laughter, sweet and mocking, pierced the night, a chilling soundtrack to the horror unfolding. With a taunting promise of minimal pain, she sank her fangs into his flesh, and Thomas Shelby, a man of power and control, found himself helpless against the onslaught. A scream tore from his throat, a raw symphony of agony and shock, but it was futile, drowned out by the sounds of his own life being siphoned away.

As she drank, her hand cradled his face, a cruel gesture of dominance that bent his neck further, granting her greater access to his life force. The sensation of his own blood flowing into her mouth was surreal, a macabre dance of death that defied comprehension. Thomas felt his strength ebbing away, his very essence being drained by this creature of the night. In that harrowing moment, he faced the stark reality of mortality, a reality that no amount of power or influence could shield him from.

In the dim glow of the moonlight, Thomas lay still; his senses reeling from the onslaught of sensations that had engulfed him moments before. The pain that had coursed through his veins ebbed and flowed like the tides, leaving him suspended in a surreal limbo between life and death. As he gradually regained his sight, the scene before him unfolded with a macabre clarity that chilled him to the bone.

Above him loomed the figure of the enigmatic woman, her features bathed in the ethereal glow of the night. Her countenance, once alluring and mysterious, now bore the unmistakable mark of her recent feast, her lips stained crimson with his blood. Thomas watched in silent horror as the scarlet droplets trickled down her chin, pooling at the hollow of her throat like a perverse necklace of rubies. A soft, mocking laughter escaped her lips, the sound echoing through the stillness of the night like a haunting refrain. Her eyes, glinting with a predatory gleam, locked onto his own with a chilling intensity. With a grip like iron, she seized a handful of his hair, forcing him to meet her gaze in a macabre dance of dominance and submission.

"You taste different," she remarked, her voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down Thomas's spine. "And yet, here you are, the first to survive my embrace." Her words dripped with a sinister allure, her fangs retracting with an almost casual indifference. "Normally," she continued, a twisted smile playing at the corners of her blood-stained lips, "I simply tear out their throats."

In that moment, Thomas felt a cold realization wash over him like a tide of dread. He was in the presence of something beyond human comprehension, a creature of the night whose desires and motives remained shrouded in darkness. As he lay there, helpless beneath her gaze, he knew that his fate hung precariously in the balance, at the mercy of a being whose hunger knew no bounds.

Thomas’s eyes lingered once more on her lips, captivated by the softness of her voice and the sincerity in her words. It was a moment of unexpected vulnerability, a crack in the armor of his stoic facade. As she spoke, a strange fluttering stirred within him, a sensation he hadn't felt in years. It was as if a new-found attraction had taken root, blossoming in the midst of chaos and uncertainty.

She rose from his lap with a grace that left him momentarily breathless, "Now, it's definitely going to hurt when you wake up in the mornin'," she said, her words echoing in his ears, "but... I'll be there to help."

She stood before him, looking down at him with a mixture of admiration and respect. "You should be proud of yourself," she continued, her voice soft yet firm, "you were wonderful."

With a groan, Thomas pushed himself upright, his body protesting the sudden movement. He searched for his fallen cap, the tangible symbol of his authority, amidst the scattered remnants of their encounter. As she retrieved it for him, he couldn't help but feel a pang of gratitude, a silent acknowledgment of her unexpected kindness. She offered him her hand.

Reluctantly, Thomas accepted her outstretched hand, allowing her to pull him to his feet with a strength that belied her delicate appearance. For a moment, he felt unsteady, the world tilting precariously on its axis. Yet, as he stood beside her, he found himself strangely reassured, a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that surrounded them. In that fleeting moment, Thomas Shelby realized that he was not alone, that there was someone willing to stand by his side, even in the face of adversity.

Thomas stood before the mysterious woman, her words hanging in the air like a dark omen. The bite on his neck throbbed with a dull ache, a reminder of the danger that was now standing before him. He regarded her with a steely gaze, his jaw clenched in silent defiance.

"The bite will eventually heal but it’s going to be permanent," she stated matter-of-factly, her voice soft yet laced with an unspoken warning. "I’d hide it from the public eye..it’s better that way."

Thomas's gaze flickered to the wound on his neck, a grim realization settling over him. Reluctantly, he reached up and rubbed the tender skin, hissing softly as pain flared up. The woman approached him, her movements graceful yet purposeful, and cupped his face in her hands. His eyes widened slightly at the unexpected touch, a flicker of vulnerability betraying his stoic facade once again.

"I can make it better," she offered, her voice a soothing whisper, "but it’s going to be temporary. However, it’s not a normal way..."

Thomas looked at her, pain and fear shimmering in his eyes. He wanted to refuse, to assert his strength and resilience. "I'll be fine" he managed to utter, though the uncertainty in his voice betrayed his bravado. The woman chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down Thomas's spine. She knew, as he did, that he wasn't going to be fine come the next morning. With a gentle yet firm insistence, she offered her solution once more, her eyes locking with his in a silent challenge.

"You’re going to feel like you're on fire tomorrow morning if you don’t let me fix it," she warned, her voice carrying a weight of inevitability.

Thomas hesitated, the weight of his pride warring with the knowledge that his defiance could lead to consequences far more dire than the initial wound. He knew the risks, knew the dangers that lay ahead. With a sigh of resignation, he nodded, a silent acceptance of her offer.

The dark and silent cobblestone streets of Small Heath, Birmingham was filled with a tense silence as the woman looked at him before letting go of him. She moved her wrist to her mouth and sunk her teeth into her own veins, blood streaming from her wrist as he watched. “It’s going the taste weird but that’s okay..”

She held her wrist up to his mouth and then told him to drink, her method was unorthodox yet strangely effective. Thomas’s eyes were closed tightly as he carefully grabbed her wrist and drank from her and it became a silent testament to his resolve. She felt that he had enough and pulled her wrist away from him and it healed immediately like the blood was magic. Thomas felt better, the pain in his neck was still there but in the background, nevertheless this whole incident was still repeatedly replaying in his head. He nervously spoke out;

“How… how old are you?” he asked, his voice betraying a rare hint of uncertainty.

He could scarcely believe the events of the past few hours. A vampire in Small Heath, and now, this enigmatic woman with her piercing eyes and ethereal beauty.

The woman’s eyes grew heavy with a shadow of pain, the weight of centuries evident in her gaze. “One hundred and sixty-two years young,” she replied softly. “I was born in 1758.”

She paused once more, clearing her throat. “I was 24 when I became what I am today…”

Thomas stared at her, his mind reeling. She was almost two centuries old, yet she looked no older than her early twenties. The sheer impossibility of it all left him in awe. The alleyway seemed to grow colder, the air thick with an eerie stillness. His eyes traced the delicate contours of her face, noting the ageless beauty that masked a lifetime far beyond his own. Her existence defied all logic and reason. He struggled to reconcile the young woman before him with the reality of her ancient past. She was a living paradox, a timeless enigma wrapped in a veneer of youthful allure.

Noticing his newfound bewilderment, the woman offered him a sad, knowing smile. Her lips curved gently, a faint echo of the centuries she had endured. She took a step back, her movements fluid and graceful, like a dancer in the moonlight. The distance between them felt vast and insurmountable, a chasm filled with the unknown. Thomas’s breath caught in his throat as she raised her hand, blowing him a delicate kiss. The gesture was hauntingly intimate, a fleeting connection that left him both entranced and unsettled. Before he could utter a word, she turned and moved towards the nearest building, her every step a testament to her otherworldly nature.

With a final, lingering glance, she leaped effortlessly into the night, her form a shadow against the darkened sky. Thomas rushed to the building she was just at, his heart pounding in his chest. He watched in silent astonishment as she bounded across rooftops, her silhouette darting between homes and businesses with the agility of a creature born to the night. She moved with an elegance that belied her supernatural origins, her figure blending seamlessly with the shadows. The cityscape of Birmingham seemed to blur around her as she disappeared into the inky darkness, leaving him with only the memory of her haunting presence

The night air was crisp and cool against his skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that still lingered from her touch. Thomas leaned against the building’s window frame, his mind a tumultuous whirl of thoughts and emotions. The reality of her existence challenged everything he knew, forcing him to confront the mysteries that lay hidden in the world around him. He could still feel the ghost of her kiss on his cheek, a delicate brush of eternity that left him yearning for answers. The streets of Small Heath were silent, the usual screeching of city life hushed in the wake of her departure. He stood there for what felt like hours, lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts.

Her revelation had changed something within him, igniting a spark of curiosity and wonder. The secrets she carried, the history etched into her very being, beckoned to him like a siren’s call. Thomas knew that his life would never be the same, that the encounter had opened a door to a world he had never imagined. As dawn began to break, casting a pale light over Small Heath, Thomas finally tore himself away from the building’s window frame. He decided it was time to head back home. The events of the night played over and over in his mind, a haunting symphony of mystery and allure. He knew he had to uncover the truth, to understand the enigma that was the woman born in 1758.

With a deep sigh, he eventually returned home; his resolve hardening. The path ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but Thomas Shelby was no stranger to danger and intrigue. He knew she would find him again and when she did, he would demand the answers that he deserved. For now, he had a glimpse of the extraordinary, a taste of the supernatural, and it was enough to set his mind ablaze with possibilities. Thomas made it back home, and to his amazement everyone was sound asleep still. He made his way upstairs to his room, The morning light filtered through the window, casting a soft glow on the papers scattered across his desk. The ordinary world seemed to pale in comparison to the wonders and dangers that lay just beyond his grasp. Thomas sat down, his mind was blank. He needed to get some sleep. For a moment, he closed his eyes and let the memory of her voice wash over him, a haunting melody of time and eternity. The journey ahead was uncertain, but he was ready to face it head-on. After all, Thomas Shelby was not a man easily deterred, and the mystery of the vampire woman was a challenge he could not resist.

As the city of Birmingham awoke to a new day, Thomas was asleep at his desk. The sun was peaking through the curtains, eventually he awoke from his sleep from the sun beaming down into his eyes but as his mind settled he felt sense of purpose burning within him. The encounter from last night had changed him, opened his eyes to a world of possibilities and dangers.

Thomas groaned softly, the dull ache in his neck a stark reminder of the previous night's surreal encounter. The pain was unrelenting, searing through him with each movement, confirming that it was no mere dream. His thoughts were consumed by her – the enigmatic woman whose presence had forever altered the course of his life. If only he could find her, perhaps she could put an end to this torment. Just as the thought crossed his mind, the sound of his aunt Polly's footsteps echoed up the staircase, followed by a firm knock on his door.

"Thomas, get yourself dressed and come downstairs this instant," Polly's voice commanded, brooking no argument.

"I'll be down in a minutee, Pol!" he shouted back, wincing as the pain flared again.

With a grunt of effort, Thomas rose from his desk, the room still shrouded in the afternoon gloom. He moved with deliberate care, his hand instinctively reaching for the tender wound at his neck. Dressing swiftly, he donned his customary suit, the ritual of buttoning up his waistcoat offering a momentary distraction from the throbbing discomfort. His reflection in the mirror revealed a man who had aged overnight, his usually composed demeanor now marred by lines of pain and fatigue.

Descending the stairs, he found solace in the familiar creak of the wooden steps, each one a reminder of the life he had built amidst the chaos of Small Heath, Birmingham. He paused at the bottom, taking a deep breath to steady himself before entering the kitchen where Polly awaited. The scent of freshly brewed tea mingled with the morning air, a small comfort in the midst of his turmoil. Polly stood by the stove, her expression a blend of impatience and concern.

"What's the matter with you this morning?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as she took in his disheveled appearance.

Thomas forced a smile, masking the pain with a facade of nonchalance. "Nothing, Pol. Just a rough night, that's all."

Polly's lips twitched in a knowing smile. "Well, there's a girl here to see you. Claims she needs to speak with you urgently." She paused, a hint of skepticism coloring her tone. "I thought she might be one of those ladies, you know, claiming you’ve gotten her into trouble."

Thomas's heart skipped a beat, but he maintained his outward composure. "Is that so?" he replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil within.

Polly's eyes bore into his, searching for any hint of deceit. "Yes, but I have my doubts. She doesn't look like the usual sort."

Without another word, Thomas strode towards the door, his mind racing. It had to be her – the woman whose bite now marked his neck, whose very existence defied reason. Pushing open the door, he found her standing by the window, bathed in the soft light of dawn. Her presence was both ethereal and haunting, a stark contrast to the mundane world around them.

She turned to face him, her eyes heavy with an unspoken burden. "Thomas," she began, her voice a soft melody that sent shivers down his spine.

He closed the door behind him after stepping outside, the sound echoing through small front room the like a finality. "You-how…how did you find me..?" he said, his tone a mix of relief and apprehension.

The woman regarded him calmly, her expression inscrutable. Without a word, she tilted her neck slightly, revealing the bite wound that marked her pale skin. Her finger pointed to the punctures, a silent testament to the bond they now shared. The realization struck Thomas like a thunderbolt – the bite had linked them inextricably, tying their fates together in a way he had never anticipated. His eyes shuddered at the memory of the previous night, a kaleidoscope of pain and bewilderment. Instinctively, his hand went to the bite mark on his own neck, and he winced as the familiar sting flared up once more. The wound was a constant reminder of the night’s surreal events, an ever-present token of his encounter with the extraordinary.

The woman’s lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile as she stepped closer. Her hand, cool and gentle, brushed his aside, making contact with the bite mark. The relief was immediate and profound, a soothing balm against the relentless throb. Thomas’s breath hitched, a mix of gratitude and unease swirling within him as he felt the pain ebb away.

“Look at me, Thomas,” she murmured, her voice a soft command that brooked no refusal. Her fingers cupped his face, her thumb tracing a gentle path across his cheek. The touch was both tender and possessive, a silent assertion of the power she held over him.

Thomas found himself obeying, his gaze locking with hers. Her eyes held a depth of experience and sorrow that belied her youthful appearance, a centuries-old wisdom that both fascinated and unsettled him. The world seemed to shrink around them, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering tension. “How?” he managed to whisper, the question hanging in the air between them. He needed answers, a way to make sense of the inexplicable. The woman’s presence was a paradox, a blend of allure and menace that defied his usual certainty. She sighed softly, her breath a whisper against his skin. “The bond… is forged in blood, Thomas. Your wound and mine—they tie us together, a connection that transcends the ordinary.” Her words were measured, each one carrying a weight of inevitability.

He swallowed hard, the reality of her explanation sinking in. The implications were staggering, a challenge to his carefully constructed world. But he was Thomas Shelby, and he would not be cowed by fear or uncertainty. He straightened, his resolve hardening even as he acknowledged the truth of her words. Her hand remained on his cheek, the touch grounding him in the midst of his turmoil. “You must understand, this bond is not something to be taken lightly,” she continued, her voice low and insistent. “It brings both power and peril, a link that can be both a blessing and a curse.”

Thomas's gaze hardened, the pain in his neck a constant reminder of the previous night. "Why did you do this to me?" he demanded, his voice edged with a rare vulnerability.

She looked at him with a sense of pain, but she didn’t want him to see it but she believed he already did. “Something in me told me last night to do what I did..”

Thomas nodded slowly, absorbing the gravity of her statement. He could feel the pulse of their connection, a subtle thrum beneath his skin. It was both disconcerting and oddly comforting, a reminder that he was not alone in this strange new reality.

She released her hold on his face, stepping back slightly, though her presence still loomed large. “The pain will return,” she warned, her tone somber. “But I can offer respite, a way to mitigate the worst of it. You must trust me, Thomas.”

Trust. The word echoed in his mind, a concept that had always been in short supply in his world. But looking into her eyes, he saw a glimmer of something genuine, a sincerity that cut through his skepticism. He nodded once more, a silent agreement to this unspoken pact. The minutes stretched on, the silence between them laden with meaning. She moved with a grace that spoke of centuries of experience, a fluid elegance that belied her formidable strength. Thomas watched her, his mind racing as he tried to reconcile the woman before him with the reality of his existence.

“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. It was a statement of fact, an acknowledgment of the extraordinary circumstances that had brought them together.

“No,” she replied simply, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “And you, Thomas Shelby, are not like any mortal I’ve encountered. There is a fire within you, a tenacity that draws me to you.”

The admission hung in the air, a fragile bridge between their worlds. Thomas felt a strange sense of kinship, a bond forged not just in blood but in shared defiance. They were both outliers, navigating the shadows with a determination that set them apart.

The woman before him, a creature of the night, exuded an allure that was as intoxicating as it was dangerous. He knew she could have easily ended his life the night before, yet here she stood, a tantalizing enigma. An overwhelming urge surged within him, a desire that defied all reason and caution.

Without a word, Thomas stepped closer, his gaze locked onto hers. He could see the centuries in her eyes, the weight of time etched into her soul. His hand reached out, cupping her face with a tenderness that surprised even him. Her curly hair framed her face in wild, beautiful disarray. Gently, he brushed the strands aside, his thumb grazing her cheek with a slow, deliberate motion. The softness of her skin beneath his rough fingers sent a shiver down his spine.

The world outside fading into insignificance. All that mattered was this moment, this inexplicable connection. Thomas leaned in, his breath mingling with hers, the anticipation thick in the air. Their lips met in an explosion of passion, a kiss that was both fierce and tender. It was as if the very essence of their beings were colliding, an intimate dance of fire and ice. His free arm snaked around her waist, pulling her closer. He could feel the contours of her body against his, a perfect fit that ignited a primal desire within him. With a careful yet firm grip, he turned her around, pressing her against the cold, unforgiving stone wall of his home. The contrast between the warmth of their bodies and the chill of the wall heightened the intensity of the moment.

Thomas's knee slid between her legs, a deliberate move that elicited a gasp from her lips. The intimacy of their position was undeniable, a raw, unfiltered connection that transcended words. His mouth moved against hers with a fervor that spoke of suppressed longing, a need that had lain dormant for far too long. He could taste her essence, a tantalizing blend of danger and desire. The kiss deepened, their tongues entwining in a dance of mutual hunger. Thomas's hand moved from her face to the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair as he held her close. Every touch, every caress, was imbued with a mixture of reverence and possessiveness. He was claiming her, marking her as his own, even as he surrendered himself to the powerful emotions she stirred within him.

She responded with equal fervor, her hands roaming over his back, clutching at his shirt as if to anchor herself in the storm of their passion. Her nails grazed his skin, sending electric jolts of pleasure through his body. The sensation was both exhilarating and grounding, a reminder of their shared vulnerability in this moment of heightened emotion. Time seemed to stand still, each second stretching into an eternity of bliss. Thomas was acutely aware of every detail: the softness of her lips, the heat of her breath, the rhythm of her heart beating in tandem with his own. It was a symphony of sensations, a harmony of desire and connection that transcended the physicality of nature.

Their kiss was a silent confession, a merging of souls that spoke of unspoken truths and forbidden longings. Thomas could feel the weight of her history, the centuries of existence that set her apart from the mortal world. Yet in this moment, she was achingly human, a woman caught in the same whirlwind of passion and need that consumed him. He pressed her harder against the wall, his body shielding her from the harshness of the world outside. It was a protective instinct, a desire to keep her safe even as he claimed her. The intensity of their connection was almost overwhelming, a force of nature that neither could resist.

As they finally broke apart, their breaths came in ragged gasps, their foreheads resting against each other. The air between them crackled with residual energy, the aftermath of their passionate exchange. Thomas's eyes bore into hers, searching for answers in the depths of her soul. He saw a reflection of his own tumultuous emotions, a mirror of the longing and fear that gripped him. In that moment, he realized the depth of his feelings for her, the undeniable pull that drew him to her despite the dangers. She was a paradox, a blend of light and darkness that fascinated and terrified him in equal measure. And yet, he couldn't deny the bond that had formed between them, a connection that went beyond the physicality of nature.

With a final, lingering kiss, Thomas pulled away, his hand still cradling her face. "We'll figure this out," he murmured, his voice a low, reassuring rumble. "Together."

She nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. The vulnerability in her gaze was a stark contrast to the strength he knew lay within her. In that moment, he made a silent vow to protect her, to face whatever challenges lay ahead side by side. As they stood there, locked in a silent embrace, the world outside continued its relentless march; time had ceased to matter. They were bound by a shared destiny, a path that neither could have foreseen but were now irrevocably committed to walking together.

He glanced at her, her cheeks flushed, eyes bright with the remnants of their passion. Just as he was about to speak, the front door swung open with a force that made both their heads snap toward the entrance. Aunt Polly stood in the doorway, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene before her. The tension in the front door area shifted, charged with the unexpected intrusion. Thomas could see the flicker of recognition in Polly’s eyes, the knowing look that told him she was already aware of more than she let on.

“So, she was telling the truth,” Aunt Polly said, her voice edged with a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “You did get this poor girl in trouble.”

Thomas’s surprise was evident. He had expected a scolding, perhaps even a lecture, but not this sudden acceptance. His mouth opened, but no words came out, as if he had been caught off guard in the middle of a confession. The woman beside him shifted uncomfortably, her previous confidence wavering under Polly’s scrutinizing gaze. Polly’s eyes softened as she took a step forward, her demeanor shifting from stern matriarch to concerned guardian. She reached out and took the woman’s hand, her grip firm but gentle. “Come with me,” Polly said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Let’s get you inside and sort this out.”

Thomas watched in silence, still reeling from the swift change in Polly’s attitude. It wasn’t often that his aunt showed such immediate acceptance, especially with someone who had only just entered their lives. As Polly led the woman towards the house, Thomas found himself following, drawn by a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Pol, you don’t have to do this..”

“Tommy, I’m going to do this because I know you won’t..

Inside the Peaky Blinders’ home, the atmosphere was markedly different. The chaos of the outside world seemed to fade away, replaced by a sense of familial security. Polly guided the woman to a seat by the fireplace, her movements careful and deliberate. Thomas stood by the doorway, his eyes fixed on the scene, his mind racing with questions.

“Sit down, love,” Polly said, her voice soothing. “Tell me everything.”

The woman hesitated, glancing at Thomas for reassurance. He gave a slight nod, his expression encouraging. She took a deep breath and began to speak, her words halting at first but gradually gaining strength. Knowing she had to lie, she couldn’t just say what she was. She spoke of her of the circumstances that had brought her into Thomas’s life, however they were undeniably false, but you were such a good liar Polly herself couldn’t tell the you ‘opened up’ about the complications that had followed.

Polly listened intently, her face a mask of concern and understanding. She asked questions, probing gently but insistently, piecing together the puzzle that was this woman’s life. Thomas watched in awe, realizing just how deftly Polly could extract information without causing discomfort. As the woman’s story unfolded, Thomas saw the tension in her shoulders ease. She seemed lighter, as if a burden had been lifted simply by sharing her troubles. Polly’s acceptance and kindness worked like a balm, soothing the raw edges of her fear and uncertainty.

Thomas gives her a look, like he was saying keep that lie going because Polly’s not going to understand what you really are. That lie was about you meeting Thomas months ago and having an intimate moment a couple of times a week. When she finished speaking, Polly leaned back, her eyes thoughtful. “Well, it seems we have a lot to deal with,” she said, her tone firm but not unkind. “But you’re not alone anymore. We’ll sort this out, together.”

Thomas and Polly stood side by side, their gazes locked on the enigmatic woman before them. Her presence was an unsettling blend of beauty and danger, a stark reminder of the night that had forever altered their perceptions. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken thoughts, the silence punctuated only by the distant hum of Small Heath, Birmingham’s bustling streets.

Thomas and Polly exchanged a knowing glance, each reading the unvoiced questions and suspicions in the other's eyes. They both understood the gravity of the situation, the delicate balance they were now forced to maintain. Polly, ever the practical matriarch, broke the silence with a question that had been lingering in the air.

"Dear, do you have anywhere to stay?" Polly asked, her tone a blend of concern and practicality. "I'm asking since you did say you-you tend to travel."

Thomas knew the answer before the woman could respond. He remembered the fateful night when he had learned of her true nature, the night that had shattered his understanding of the world. She had confessed to him her transient existence, moving like a specter through the city, seeking shelter wherever the shadows fell. Businesses, homes, rooftops – any place that offered a brief respite from the relentless passage of time.

She hesitated, her eyes flickering with an unreadable emotion. Before she could speak, Polly turned to Thomas, her expression resolute. "Thomas, she’ll stay with you in your room," Polly declared, her voice brooking no argument. "Since you got this poor girl in trouble." Thomas felt a surge of unexpected emotion at Polly's decree. He wasn't upset by the prospect of sharing his space with her. In fact, the idea filled him with a strange sense of relief and anticipation. He nodded, his gaze meeting Polly's with a silent understanding.

"Very well," he said, his voice steady despite the tumultuous thoughts swirling in his mind. "She can stay with me."

Polly's lips curved into a satisfied smile, her eyes softening as she looked at the woman. "There, it’s settled then," she said gently. "You’ll be safe with Thomas."

She gave a small nod, gratitude and something deeper reflected in her eyes. Thomas could see the weariness etched into her features, the burden of centuries weighing heavily on her slender shoulders. He felt a pang of sympathy, mingled with a growing protectiveness he couldn't quite explain. As the evening wore on, the tension in the room gradually dissipated. Polly busied herself with preparations, ensuring the woman would have everything she needed for a comfortable stay. Thomas watched her with a mixture of admiration and trepidation, marveling at her resilience and grace despite the extraordinary circumstances.

The night deepened, casting long shadows across the room. Thomas and the woman found themselves alone, the silence between them charged with unspoken words. He could sense her hesitation, the fear and uncertainty that lurked beneath her calm exterior.

"You’ll be safe here," he said quietly, his voice carrying a promise he intended to keep. "I’ll make sure of it."

She looked at him, her eyes searching his for any sign of deception. Finding none, she nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Thank you, Thomas," she replied softly. "For everything."

Thomas felt a warmth spread through him at her words, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness. He knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but he was determined to face them head-on, for her sake as much as his own. As they prepared to retire for the night, Thomas led her to his room, the familiar surroundings offering a sense of comfort and security. He showed her to the small bed nestled in the corner, the sheets freshly laundered and inviting.

"You can take the bed," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "I’ll sleep on the chair."

She started to protest, but he shook his head firmly. "You need the rest more than I do," he insisted. "Please, take it."

Reluctantly, she agreed, settling into the bed with a grateful sigh. Thomas watched her for a moment, his heart heavy with a mixture of emotions he couldn't quite name. He took a seat in the chair by the window, the night air cool against his skin as he kept a vigilant watch over her. As the hours passed, the quiet rhythm of her breathing gradually lulled him into a light doze. Yet, even in sleep, his senses remained attuned to her presence, ready to spring into action at the slightest hint of danger.

The first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. Thomas stirred, his eyes slowly opening to find her watching him with a thoughtful expression. He offered her a small smile, the bond between them strengthening with each passing moment. In the days that followed, Thomas and the woman settled into an uneasy routine. He made sure she had everything she needed, from food and clothing to a sense of safety that had long eluded her. She, in turn, shared fragments of her past, stories that fascinated and horrified him in equal measure.

Through it all, Polly remained a steadfast presence, her wisdom and pragmatism guiding them through the uncertainties. She took the woman under her wing, teaching her the ways of the modern world while offering a mother's comfort. Thomas found himself growing increasingly attached to the enigmatic woman, her resilience and grace captivating him in ways he hadn't anticipated. He knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but he was ready to face them, armed with the knowledge that he was no longer alone.

In the days that followed, it became increasingly difficult to keep her at bay. Her nocturnal tendencies would slip out whenever she was around others, besides for Thomas. He alone knew what she truly was. The ensuing days were fraught with close encounters, particularly with Arthur, John, Finn, and even Michael. Polly, with her uncanny intuition, seemed to sense the truth. Arthur, despite his rough exterior, had taken a liking to her. Her deftness with numbers was a skill he sorely lacked, and she provided invaluable assistance with the books. John had been wary at first, his suspicion evident in every glance. However, her charm and wit gradually won him over because Esme like taking to her so she became a confidante of sorts, a refreshing presence compared to Polly, Linda, or Ada.

Thomas often found her gazing at his neck, her eyes dark with hunger. Each time, they would discreetly excuse themselves, retreating to a private space where she could feed. These moments were a necessary evil, allowing her to maintain her facade of humanity. Her veins, a stark reminder of her true nature, would recede, leaving her as beautiful and composed as ever. One evening, after a particularly tense day, Thomas caught her once again staring at his neck. The need in her eyes was palpable, a silent plea for sustenance. He sighed, his resolve hardening.

"We really need to find an easy solution for you to feed," he said, his voice low. "I'm not saying to stop feeding from me, but it would be nice if it wasn’t up to three times a day or more…”

She nodded, understanding the strain this arrangement placed on him. Yet, the alternative was fraught with danger. Feeding from strangers was risky, and finding willing participants was a challenge. The threat of exposure loomed over them like a dark cloud. Thomas leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. There had to be a way to balance her needs with their safety. He thought of various possibilities, each more outlandish than the last. Perhaps a network of trusted individuals who could provide blood discreetly? Or a special arrangement with a local butcher? The logistics were daunting, but he was determined to find a solution.

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. It was Arthur, his usual bluster softened by a rare moment of vulnerability. He needed her help with the accounts once more. She flashed Thomas a grateful smile before following Arthur, her demeanor calm and composed. As she worked with Arthur, Thomas observed her from a distance. Her interactions with his brother were always professional, but there was a warmth in her eyes that belied her true nature. She was more than just a creature of the night; she was intelligent, resourceful, and kind.

The days passed in a blur of meetings and close calls. Each time she fed, it was a reminder of the delicate balance they maintained. Thomas’s resolve never wavered, but the strain was beginning to show. He needed to find a solution, and soon.

One night, as they lay in bed, Thomas broached the subject again. "There must be another way," he murmured, his voice tinged with frustration. "I can't keep this up, and neither can you."

She sighed, her hand resting gently on his chest. "I know, Thomas. I know. But what can we do? It's not like I can walk into a hospital and ask for blood."

He chuckled at the absurdity of the idea, but the laughter quickly faded. The situation was dire, and they both knew it. They needed a plan, something sustainable and safe. In the quiet of the night, they brainstormed ideas. Some were practical, others wildly impractical. But through it all, there was a sense of determination. They would find a way, no matter how difficult it might be.

The next morning, Thomas gathered Arthur, John, Finn, and Michael for a meeting. He explained that she told him that mixing blood from dairy cows, goats, and bulls would help the horses have a one hundred percent success rate in the races they sent their horses in because it would help them fix races more discreetly, causing them to fly under the raider one hundred percent. Well however, this was a lie. He was making this lie up on the spot, just so she could feed without draining him to death. He needed a source of blood, discreet and reliable. Arthur suggested approaching a local butcher. The discussion was intense, but they all agreed on the urgency of the matter.

Over the following weeks, they put their plan into action. A discreet arrangement was made with a sympathetic butcher, who provided fresh blood on a regular basis. It wasn’t perfect, but it eased the burden on Thomas and gave her the sustenance she needed. Through it all, their bond grew stronger. Thomas marveled at her resilience and strength, while she appreciated his unwavering support. They were partners in every sense of the word, facing the challenges of their unique situation together.

Thomas Shelby found himself observing the strange and unsettling transformation of the woman who had entered his life under such extraordinary circumstances. Her sustenance came from the blood of the dairy cows, the goats, and the bulls from butchers. At first, it seemed a plausible solution to her needs. However, he soon noticed the toll it was taking on her. Despite the nourishment, she grew increasingly frail, her once radiant vitality waning with each passing day. Her temper, too, became as volatile as dynamite, her once placid demeanor now prone to sudden and explosive outbursts.

He had thought this compromise would suffice, yet it was weakening her. Why she did not voice her concerns was a mystery to him. Perhaps she felt it unnecessary to burden him further, perhaps she believed her own well-being less important than ensuring his safety and health. She drained the livestock daily, but only just enough to sustain herself, avoiding taking from him or his family. It was a delicate balance, and one that clearly left her at a disadvantage. Weeks turned into months, and Thomas observed a change. Her body seemed to adapt, much like a human might adjust to a vegetarian diet. She was still getting what she needed, though not to the extent that would fully restore her strength. This was both a relief and a source of anxiety for him. On one hand, she was no longer deteriorating; on the other, he couldn't shake the feeling that this precarious balance was temporary, a ticking time bomb that could detonate at any moment.

Derby Day approached, an event Thomas looked forward to with great anticipation. It was a day he cherished, filled with the thrill of betting and the excitement of the races. Despite his knack for predicting the outcomes, the event never lost its charm for him. In preparation for this special occasion, he had commissioned a dress for her, a stunning creation in ruby red that matched his suit perfectly. The color, he knew, would contrast beautifully with her porcelain skin. As the day of the Derby arrived, Thomas felt a rare sense of light-heartedness. They mingled among the well-dressed crowds, the buzz of conversation and the clink of champagne glasses creating a festive atmosphere. She seemed to blend seamlessly into this world of opulence and excitement, her ethereal beauty turning heads wherever they went. Yet, amidst the revelry, he couldn't shake a lingering unease, an intuitive sense that something was amiss.

During one of the many intermissions, Thomas noticed her absence. He searched the immediate vicinity, but she was nowhere to be found. His heart raced as he discreetly began to look for her, careful to maintain his composure so as not to draw attention. The thought of her losing control and causing harm filled him with dread. He knew too well the precarious nature of her existence and the fragile balance they had tried to maintain. After a frantic search, Thomas discovered her in a secluded area, her lips stained with blood. She had succumbed to her primal instincts, and a young soldier lay at her feet, his life drained from him. His throat was torn open, a gruesome testament to her desperation. The sight confirmed his worst fears: the makeshift diet of animal blood had not been enough, and now a human life had been lost.

He approached her cautiously, his heart heavy with a mix of sorrow and resolve. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a haunting combination of guilt and hunger. Thomas knew what had to be done. They could not continue like this, teetering on the edge of disaster. The delicate balance they had tried to strike was untenable, and he needed to find a better solution, both for her sake and for the safety of those around them. As he led her away from the scene, Thomas felt the weight of responsibility bearing down on him. He could not allow another incident like this to occur. The people of Small Heath, Birmingham had enough to contend with, without the threat of a rogue vampire in their midst. He needed to find a way to sustain her without endangering lives, a way to integrate her existence into his world without the constant shadow of fear and death.

He wanted to take her home, to lock her away from this brutal world, to shield her from the dangers that lurked in every shadow. Yet he knew he couldn’t. She was not human, despite her semblance of humanity, and every being deserved the right to live, to exist. This sentiment was a strange one for Thomas Shelby, a man who rarely gave a damn about anyone outside his tight-knit circle. But there was something about her that stirred an unfamiliar protectiveness within him.

Thomas knew they had to leave, and quickly. The backlot part of the Derby was too exposed, too vulnerable. Any moment now, someone could stumble upon the scene and scream bloody murder, literally. The thought of the scandal, the chaos that would ensue if they were discovered, made his blood run cold. He had to think fast, to act even faster. His eyes darted around, searching for something, anything, that could help him stage the scene. He needed to make it look like she had acted in self-defense, that the soldier had attacked her and she had no choice but to kill him. But how? How could he possibly explain the horrific wounds, the blood that stained her lips and skin?

“Right, listen,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “We need to get you cleaned up. Can’t leave any trace of this on you.”

She nodded, her eyes wide with understanding. Thomas grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket, wet it with the water from a nearby puddle, and began to gently wipe the blood from her face. His touch was surprisingly tender, careful not to hurt her. She winced slightly but did not pull away, trusting him implicitly in this moment of crisis.

“We’ll say he attacked you,” Thomas muttered, more to himself than to her. “You fought back in self-defense. Need to make it look believable.”

He glanced around, trying to find something that could plausibly explain the horrific injuries. But there was nothing. No weapon, no sign of a struggle. Just the lifeless body of the soldier and the damning evidence of her nature. Time was running out, and Thomas knew he had to act quickly. With the blood mostly wiped away, he took her hand and led her out of the backlot. They moved swiftly, shadows among shadows, making their way to a safer location. His mind raced with plans, contingencies, ways to protect her from the inevitable fallout. As they walked, he kept a firm grip on her hand, guiding her through the labyrinthine parts of Derby. The night was eerily silent, the usual sounds of the city muted by the tension that hung heavy in the air. Thomas’s senses were on high alert, every sound, every shadow scrutinized for potential threats.

Finally, they reached a secluded spot, a small, abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of where the Derby was held. It was a place Thomas knew well, a safe haven in times of need. He pushed open the creaky door and ushered her inside, closing it firmly behind them.

“Stay here,” he instructed, his voice a mix of authority and concern. “I need to make sure no one followed us.”

She nodded, her eyes still wide with fear and confusion. Thomas stepped back outside, scanning the area for any sign of movement. Satisfied that they were alone, he returned to her side, his mind still racing with plans. Thomas scanned the area, his sharp eyes darting around the deserted warehouse. The windows, shattered and grimy, offered little visibility, but he saw enough to be certain. No one had followed them here. The only footprints in the thick dust were theirs. Satisfied but still on edge, Thomas turned back to her.

When he laid eyes on her again, a sense of disbelief washed over him. She looked far worse than when they had first met. Back then, she had been a vision of cold, detached beauty, her emotions carefully concealed. Now, she was the very picture of despair. The veins near her eyes were stark and prominent, her pallor deathly. It was as if the life had been drained from her, leaving behind a fragile shell on the brink of collapse. Thomas felt a rare surge of helplessness, a feeling foreign to him. Normally, he prided himself on his composure, his ability to control any situation. But this time, it was different. This time, it was personal. He had done everything in his power to help her, given her everything she needed to survive, yet it never seemed to be enough. His frustration boiled over, an emotion he struggled to suppress.

“What am I doing wrong?” he muttered to himself, though the words came out louder than intended.

He stepped closer, his face a mask of frustration and confusion. She stood there, trembling and broken, and for the first time, Thomas felt truly powerless. He had faced death countless times, both as a soldier and as a gang leader, but this was different. He cared for her, in a way he hadn’t cared for anyone in a long time. And it was tearing him apart to see her like this. Thomas clenched his fists, his knuckles white with tension. He had seen men break under pressure, had watched the life drain from their eyes as they took their last breath. But this… this was something else entirely. This was a nightmare he couldn’t wake from.

“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL AM I DOING WRONG?” he shouted, his voice echoing through the cavernous space.

The outburst startled her, her eyes widening in fear and pain. He had never raised his voice at her before, had always been the one to offer comfort and support. But now, his own emotions had taken control, and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of rage and despair. “I never wanted to be like this,” she spat, her voice raw and broken.

The words cut through him like a knife. He had always known that she struggled with her nature, but hearing it spoken aloud made it all the more real. She was a creature of the night, cursed to live in the shadows, and there was nothing he could do to change that. The realization hit him like a sledgehammer, leaving him reeling.

“I’ve done everything I can,” he said, his voice quieter now, laced with a desperation he couldn’t hide. “I’ve tried to help you, to give you what you need. But it’s never enough.”

She shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You don’t understand. You can’t understand. This… this hunger… it’s not something you can fix with kind words and good intentions. It’s a curse, and it’s tearing me apart.”

Thomas took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Then tell me what to do,” he pleaded. “Tell me how to help you.”

Her eyes met his, a flicker of hope mingling with the pain. “You can’t,” she whispered. “No one can.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of her words sinking in. Thomas felt a knot of anger and helplessness tighten in his chest. He had always prided himself on being a man of action, someone who could solve any problem. But this… this was beyond him. The vast emptiness of the abandoned warehouse echoed with the weight of their silence. Each footfall of Thomas was deliberate, careful not to disrupt the stillness that cloaked them. The moonlight filtered through broken windows, casting ghostly shadows that danced on the cold, concrete floor. He advanced with a quiet determination, inching closer to her until he could feel the warmth of her breath mingling with his.

With a tenderness that belied his hardened exterior, Thomas cupped her face, his roughened hands gentle against her porcelain skin. He gazed into her eyes, eyes that had become a familiar haven amidst the chaos of his life. His breath was heavy, laden with the weight of unspoken vows and desperate resolve. He refused to give up. Somewhere, somehow, there had to be a way to save her, to keep her by his side. Thomas was not a man known for sentimentality. He had long since buried his heart beneath layers of steel and resolve. Yet, for this woman, he would do anything. His voice trembled as he spoke, each word a struggle against the dam of emotion threatening to break.

“I-I please... j-just tell me what I need to d-do for you. I’ll do I-it... I’ll take the lives o-of men for you... name it and I-it’s yours.”

His thumb brushed over her cheek, a touch so intimate it almost broke him. His voice, usually so commanding and unyielding, now teetered on the brink of tears—a vulnerability he would never show to another soul. But her, he was different with her, he could be raw and unguarded. Drawing her closer, Thomas slid his hand to the back of her head, fingers entwining in her hair. The kiss he bestowed upon her was fervent, filled with a passion that transcended words. Their lips met in a desperate dance, a clash of longing and hope that seemed to stretch into eternity. For a moment, the world ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them lost in each other.

When they finally parted, Thomas’s breath was ragged, his chest heaving with the intensity of their shared moment. He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch lingering on the softness of her skin. In the dim light, he noticed the subtle shift in her features. The feral intensity of her vampiric nature seemed to recede, giving way to a semblance of tranquility. He couldn’t help but wonder at the change. She hadn’t fed, yet something about their connection was calming the beast within her. His mind raced, trying to piece together the mystery. Was it possible that his love, his unwavering commitment, could sustain her in ways he had never imagined?

Thomas stepped back slightly, his eyes never leaving hers. “You... you’re different,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. “What’s happening to you?”

She looked at him, a mixture of sadness and affection in her gaze. “Love..” she whispered. “It does something to me, Thomas. It soothes the hunger, if only for a while.”

His heart clenched at her words. How could his feelings, so fierce and consuming, have such an impact on her? It was a revelation that filled him with both hope and dread. If love could sustain her, even temporarily, then perhaps there was a way to save her from her eternal curse.

Thomas took her hand, their fingers interlocking in a silent vow. The warehouse around them faded into insignificance, the shadows retreating before the light of their shared determination. They would face whatever came next side by side, bound by a love that defied time and circumstance. He led her to a small, makeshift bed in a corner of the warehouse. It was far from luxurious, but it offered a semblance of comfort in an otherwise desolate place. Thomas sat down, pulling her gently to sit beside him. The silence between them was heavy with unspoken words, each lost in their own thoughts.

After a long moment, Thomas broke the silence. “You never told me how it happened,” he said quietly, his eyes searching hers for answers. “How you became... this.”

She sighed, the weight of centuries evident in her gaze. “It was long ago, in a time and place far removed from here. I was young, naive. I didn’t know the danger until it was too late.”

Thomas listened intently, his heart aching for the pain she had endured. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “For all you’ve been through.”

She reached out, her fingers brushing his cheek. “It’s in the past, Thomas. What matters now is the present, and the future we can create together.”

He nodded, his resolve hardening. Whatever it took, he would find a way to protect her, to give them the chance at a life free from fear and darkness. “We’ll find a way,” he repeated, more to convince himself than her. “I promise.”

The hours passed in quiet contemplation, the bond between them growing stronger with each passing moment. Thomas knew the road ahead would be perilous, filled with challenges and sacrifices. But for her, he would face it all. As dawn approached, they lay down together, their hands still entwined. Thomas closed his eyes, allowing himself a rare moment of peace. He knew the battle was far from over, but with her by his side, he felt a glimmer of hope. In the soft light of the coming day, they found solace in each other’s embrace. The world outside was harsh and unforgiving, but within the walls of the abandoned warehouse, they had found a sanctuary. And as they drifted into a restless sleep, Thomas held onto the promise of their shared future, determined to defy the odds and protect the woman he loved from the darkness that threatened to consume her.

Thomas stirred awake to the unforgiving glare of the morning sun, its rays slicing through the fractured glass of the abandoned warehouse’s lone window. Somehow, amidst the vast expanse of shadowy corners, they had managed to rest in the one spot where the sunlight could find them. The beams burned into their closed eyelids, dragging them from the depths of sleep in a groggy haze. She stirred beside him, her eyes opening to meet his. They both looked as though they had been through hell and back, their clothes rumpled and faces drawn from the trials of the previous day. Thomas, ever the stoic leader, offered her a small, weary smile. He reached out, cupping her face with a rough, yet gentle hand, and placed a quick kiss on her lips. It was a brief moment of solace in the midst of chaos, a silent promise of solidarity.

The events of yesterday were undoubtedly splashed across headlines not just in Small Heath, Birmingham, but throughout the UK, and possibly even the US. They had been at the center of a storm, a whirlwind of violence and mystery that left them both bruised and weary. Thomas knew it would be prudent to lay low, to weave a tale of getting lost in the crowd, a story that would keep them out of the immediate line of fire. Upon returning home, the need for a hot shower and clean clothes was palpable. The grime of the warehouse clung to their skin, a tangible reminder of their ordeal. Yet, as Thomas unlocked the door and stepped inside, he was met with an unexpected sight. The entire family, along with his business partners from the betting shop, were gathered in the living room, their faces etched with concern and curiosity.

Polly was the first to break the silence, her eyes flashing with anger and worry. “You think it’s all fun and games to leave half of your family at the Derby and not let anyone know where you were? So, Thomas, where the fuck were you?”

Thomas felt the weight of her words, the disappointment and frustration that lay beneath them. He scrambled to piece together a plausible lie, something that would placate the rest of the family. He spun a tale of getting lost in the chaos of the crowd, a story woven with just enough truth to make it believable. Polly, however, could see right through him. Her eyes narrowed, but she held her tongue, sensing that there was more to the story than he was willing to share. He appreciated that about her. Polly had an uncanny ability to sense when a topic was better left untouched. It was one of her greatest strengths, her intuition a sharp blade that cut through the layers of deception and half-truths.

John spoke up next, his voice tinged with the thrill of the macabre. “Some soldier got his fuckin’ throat ripped out. The townsfolk have gone mad, saying it’s a creature of the night, like a vampire or a witch. They’re losing their bloody minds.”

Thomas exchanged a glance with his woman, the memory of the previous night’s events still fresh and raw. They had witnessed something extraordinary, something that defied explanation. The whispers of a vampire wasn’t far-fetched at all, considering he was standing right next to one, one that he was undoubtably infatuated with.

Arthur leaned forward, his expression a mix of skepticism and curiosity. “So, is it true then, Tommy? Was it some beast of the night, or just a madman with a taste for blood?”

Micheal chimed in, “They said there wasn’t a drop of blood left in that soldier’s body.” Those words echoing through the living room.

Thomas took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “It was… complicated. Whatever it was, it wasn’t human….. from what we heard.”

His words did little to quell the unease that rippled through the room. Polly’s eyes bore into him, seeking answers he wasn’t ready to give. He could feel the weight of her scrutiny, the silent questions that hung in the air.

Ada broke the tension, her voice soft but firm. “Whatever happened, it’s over now. We need to focus on keeping the family safe. We can’t afford to let this get out of hand.”

Finn spoke right after Ada, “They know that the Shelby family was there… they might think we played a sick joke.. which we are known of doing.”

Thomas nodded, grateful for his and her support. “She’s right. We need to lay low for a while, let things calm down. The last thing we need is more attention.”

The family slowly began to disperse, the tension easing but not completely dissipating. Thomas could feel Polly’s eyes on him as he made his way upstairs, his woman close behind. She didn’t say anything, but he knew the questions would come eventually.

Once they were alone in the privacy of their room, She let out a weary sigh. She turned to Thomas, her eyes softening. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

He shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. “We’re in this together, _______. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He reached out, taking her hand in his. The simple touch was a balm to his frayed nerves, a reminder that he wasn’t alone. They had faced the darkness together and come out the other side. Whatever lay ahead, they would face it together. The events of the previous day might have left their mark, but they were survivors. They would find a way to navigate the storm, to protect their family and each other. As they finally parted, preparing to face the day, Thomas felt a renewed sense of determination. They had weathered the storm and come out stronger for it. Whatever the future held, he was ready to face it, one step at a time.

The house slowly came to life around them, the sounds of family and business filtering through the walls. Thomas glanced at his companion, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

The following days were arduous, particularly for her. The necessity to keep a low profile, combined with her unique dietary needs, posed a significant challenge. Yet, Thomas, ever resourceful and protective, had devised a plan. Instead of making her to feed from the livestock—cows, goats, and bulls—he decided it would be safer for her to feed directly from him like she did before. The scrutiny from the police was intense, and the sudden drop in livestock could raise suspicions. The Shelby family, already under the watchful eyes of the authorities in Small Heath, Birmingham, couldn't afford any additional attention, especially for something as unusual as “feeding blood to their horses.”

Thomas had made the decision with calculated pragmatism. He knew that any odd behavior could tip off the police and endanger not only the family but also the precarious peace they had managed to establish. He understood the risks and was willing to bear them, if only to ensure her safety and well-being.

In the dim light of his bedroom, Thomas sat on his bed, his posture relaxed yet attentive. She was in his lap, her body fitting perfectly against his. Her need had grown dire after weeks of abstinence from his blood, and he could see the hunger in her eyes, a hunger that only he could satiate. This feeding was different from the quick, perfunctory ones of the past. It was intimate, lingering, a connection that went beyond mere necessity. She leaned into him, her breath warm against his neck. He felt the sharp, familiar sting as her fangs pierced his skin. The initial pain quickly gave way to a strange, almost pleasurable sensation as she began to feed. Her hands rested on his shoulders, her grip firm yet gentle. He could feel the tension in her body slowly ease as she drank, her hunger sated by his blood.

Thomas’s hands moved to her waist, holding her steady as she fed. He could feel her heartbeat through their close proximity, a rapid rhythm that gradually slowed as she took what she needed. The room was silent except for their mingled breaths, Thomas’s low groans that almost sounded like moans and the faint, almost imperceptible sound of her feeding.

After a while, Thomas broke the silence, his voice low and husky. “You know, it’s becoming very intoxicating seeing you straddling me every time you need to feed,” he murmured, a hint of amusement in his tone.

She pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting his. There was a glint of mischief in her gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the intimacy they shared in these moments. She licked the remaining blood from her lips, a gesture that was both alluring and predatory.

“Is that so, Thomas Shelby?” she replied, her voice soft and teasing. “I must admit, I find it rather... pleasurable myself.”

Thomas chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through his chest. “Aye, it’s quite a unique arrangement we have,” he said, his hands gently stroking her back. “But necessary, given the circumstances. We can’t have the livestock dropping dead and raising suspicions.”

She nodded, understanding the gravity of their situation. “I know,” she said quietly. “I appreciate your sacrifice, Thomas. More than you know.”

He shrugged, downplaying his own discomfort. “It’s a small price to pay for your safety,” he said. “We’ve got enough enemies as it is. We don’t need the police sniffing around for any reason.”

She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. The weight of their shared burdens hung heavily in the air, but in these moments, there was also a sense of solace. Thomas held her close, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on her back. He could feel the exhaustion in her body, the toll that her hunger had taken. He wished he could do more for her, but for now, this would have to suffice.

“Rest, love,” he whispered, his voice a soothing balm. “You need your strength.”

She nodded again, her eyes drifting closed as the weariness overtook her. In his arms, she felt safe, protected from the outside world and its dangers. Thomas watched her, his heart swelling with a mixture of affection and resolve. He would do whatever it took to keep her safe, no matter the cost. As she drifted off to sleep, Thomas continued to hold her, his mind racing with plans and contingencies. The world outside was fraught with peril, but within these walls, they had carved out a sanctuary. For now, that was enough. The room grew quiet, the only sound the soft, even breaths of the woman in his arms. Thomas Shelby, the unflinching leader of the Peaky Blinders, allowed himself a rare moment of vulnerability. He kissed the top of her head, a silent promise of protection and devotion.

Thomas Shelby sat at his desk in his office of his betting business, his sharp eyes scanning the array of papers strewn before him. The weight of his responsibilities bore down on him, a relentless pressure that never seemed to abate. Yet, as he glanced up, he noticed you staring intently at his neck, her gaze unwavering and intense. He returned his focus to his work, but the look in her eyes lingered in his mind, a silent plea that gnawed at his thoughts.

With a sigh, he pushed his papers aside, acknowledging that he, too, needed a reprieve from the ceaseless demands of his life. Rising from his chair, he crossed the room with purposeful strides, his footsteps echoing softly in the dimly lit office. He reached her, and for a moment, simply stood there, observing the telltale signs of her thirst. Her veins, prominent and pulsing, betrayed the inner struggle she fought to contain.

Thomas’s eyes softened, a rare tenderness breaking through his typically stoic demeanor. He bent down, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. The gesture was both commanding and gentle, an unspoken assurance that he understood her need. Settling into the chair you had occupied, he positioned her carefully on his lap, his hands steady and sure. Thomas’s eyes softened, a rare tenderness breaking through his typically stoic demeanor. He bent down, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. The gesture was both commanding and gentle, an unspoken assurance that he understood your need. Settling into the chair she had occupied, he positioned her carefully on his lap, his hands steady and sure.

He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch delicate against her cool skin. The intimacy of the moment was profound, a silent communion that spoke of trust and acceptance. His lips pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, a gesture imbued with a depth of feeling that words could scarcely capture. Thomas then undid the collar of his dress shirt, the fabric rustling softly as he loosened his tie. The vulnerability of the act was not lost on him, nor on her. He looked into her eyes, giving her the silent permission she sought. The look he gave was one of calm resolve, an invitation to proceed despite the lingering fear that shadowed his gaze.

She watched as his expression shifted, the determination in his eyes mingling with a flicker of unease. Her own transformation began, her teeth elongating, becoming the sharp fangs that had first marked your encounter with him. His breath hitched slightly, a sound almost imperceptible but laden with the weight of his recollections of that night. As her fangs sank into his neck, Thomas gasped, the sound a mixture of pain and acceptance. The initial sting of her bite was a sharp contrast to the soothing rhythm of her feeding. His pulse quickened under her touch, a steady beat that thrummed in harmony with the primal act the both of you were engaged in.

The sensation of her lips against his skin, the warmth of her breath, created an intimate connection that transcended the boundaries of the physical world. Thomas closed his eyes, his mind drifting back to the night you had first met, when her transformation had both terrified and fascinated him. The memory was vivid, a tapestry of emotions woven into the fabric of his being. With each draw of blood, he felt a mixture of pleasure and pain, a duality that mirrored the complexity of his own existence. The office, with its austere furnishings and muted light, faded into the background. The only reality that mattered was the bond between her forged in blood and sustained by an unspoken understanding.

His hands, resting gently on her back, felt the tension in her body slowly ebb away. The act of feeding, while primal, held a strange, almost sacred quality. It was a ritual of trust and necessity, a lifeline that connected the both of you in ways that defied simple explanation. Thomas’s mind wandered to the consequences of this bond, the way it had changed him, altered his perceptions. He had always prided himself on his control, his ability to command and conquer. Yet with her he had discovered a vulnerability that was both humbling and enlightening. The minutes stretched on, each one an eternity of sensation and emotion. When she finally withdrew, the loss of contact was almost jarring. Thomas opened his eyes, his gaze meeting hers with a mixture of relief and lingering awe. The wound on his neck throbbed, a stark reminder of the bond you both shared.

She looked at him, her eyes reflecting a multitude of emotions: gratitude, concern, and a trace of guilt. Thomas offered a small, reassuring smile, his hand moving to caress her cheek. The blood that had sustained her now coursed through his veins, a testament to the unspoken agreement between the both of them.

Thomas Shelby the indomitable leader of the Peaky Blinders, found himself enraptured by the sight of her after she had fed from him. It was a twisted form of devotion, one that painted her in a light of almost divine perfection. Her eyes glowed with satisfaction, her lips slightly parted as if she could still taste him. In those moments, she seemed the epitome of ethereal beauty and raw power, and he was spellbound by her. He had never imagined that such an intimate act, fraught with pain and vulnerability, could stir such deep and conflicting desires within him. As he watched her, a possessive thought took root in his mind. He imagined her, heavy with his child, a living testament to their union. The idea of her carrying his offspring, of her body nurturing a life they had created together, stirred something primal within him. He could see her, round with pregnancy, a visible symbol of his mark upon her, his own mark like she left upon him.

Though he never voiced these thoughts aloud, he sensed that she knew. There was a certain look in her eyes, an awareness that mirrored his own. She could feel his arousal, the intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain that her feeding elicited in him. It was a strange, almost masochistic delight, one that he both craved and loathed. The bite hurt, but the pain was a reminder of her presence, of her need for him, and that made it bearable, even desirable. The act of her feeding had become an intimate ritual between them. Her bite was both an offering and a demand, and he met it with a complex blend of dread and longing. The physical pain was sharp, but the emotional and sensual connection it forged between them was unparalleled. It was an experience unlike any other, one that left him feeling more alive and more entwined with her than he had ever felt with anyone else.

With time, he grew bolder in expressing his desires. He began to hint at his fantasies, the dark and passionate thoughts that consumed him. There was a thrill in speaking these desires aloud, in watching her reaction. He wanted to bind her to him even more deeply than she already was, to make her the mother of his child, to see her walking the streets of Small Heath with his baby growing inside her.

One evening, after she had fed and he lay beside her, the words slipped from his lips, unbidden but fervent. "Bet you'd look good carryin' my baby," he murmured, his voice husky with lingering arousal. "Everyone would know I fucked you senseless to get it there."

She turned to him, a small, enigmatic smile playing on her lips. Her eyes held a glint of amusement, but also a depth of understanding. She said nothing, but her silence spoke volumes. It was a challenge, an acknowledgment, and perhaps even a promise. Thomas found himself drawn deeper into this web of passion and pain. Each feeding session left him more entranced, more addicted to the peculiar mix of sensations. He would watch her as she fed, feeling the sharp sting of her fangs, the pull of her lips, and the intimate connection that flowed between them. It was a ritual that left him both weakened and empowered, a paradox he was beginning to cherish.

In the quiet aftermath of their encounters, he would trace the mark she left on him, feeling a strange sense of pride. The bite was a symbol of their bond, a testament to the unique and profound connection they shared. He never tried to hide it, even though she had advised him to keep it from the public eye. He wore it as a badge of honor, showing it off like it’s just a normal bite of a human; a silent declaration of their intertwined fates. She, in turn, seemed to grow more attached to him, her eyes softening whenever she looked at him. There was a tenderness in her touch, a possessiveness that mirrored his own. They were bound together by something deeper than blood, something that transcended the physical act of feeding. It was a love that defied explanation, a bond forged in the crucible of pain and pleasure.

This fateful evening was steeped in a thick fog, the kind that clung to the cobblestones and seeped through the cracks of old buildings in Birmingham. It was the kind of night where the ordinary collided with the extraordinary, and in the dim light of the office at Shelby Brothers Limited, something extraordinary was about to unfold. Thomas Shelby, ever the meticulous businessman, sat at his desk, the weight of the day's burdens resting heavily on his shoulders. The woman with him, a creature of the night, had become an integral part of his world—a world already teetering on the edge of the ordinary and the surreal. As the clock ticked closer to the appointed hour, Thomas glanced at her, noting the subtle shift in her demeanor. It was almost time. He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out his silver pocket watch, the soft click of the clasp echoing in the quiet room. Yes, it was that time.

Setting aside his papers, he gave a subtle, familiar signal. A gentle pat on his lap, a silent command that she had come to understand. He watched her closely, his keen eyes missing nothing. Tonight, however, there was something different about her. The way she moved, the intensity in her gaze—it all spoke of a deeper hunger, something beyond the mere sustenance of blood. Her steps were deliberate, almost predatory, as she crossed the room. The flickering light from the gas lamps cast shadows on her face, highlighting the ancient secrets hidden behind her youthful appearance. Thomas could feel the anticipation building within him, a strange mix of fear and desire that sent a shiver down his spine.

“Come ‘ere, sit on my lap,” he said, his voice a low, rough murmur. “Be a good girl.”

She smiled, a slow, knowing smile that sent his heart racing. There was a power in her, a magnetism that was impossible to resist. As she settled onto his lap, her presence was both a comfort and a challenge, a reminder of the dangerous game they were playing. Her fingers traced a path along his collar, the touch both tender and possessive. He could feel the coolness of her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of his own. There was an intimacy in the moment, a shared understanding that went beyond words.

“You know what I need,” she whispered, her breath cool against his ear. “But tonight, it’s not just your blood I crave.”

Thomas’s heart pounded in his chest. He had known this moment would come, had sensed the shift in her desires. The tension between them was palpable, a living thing that crackled in the air. He tilted his head, exposing the vulnerable skin of his neck, a silent offering that spoke of trust and surrender.

“I know,” he replied, his voice steady despite the rush of adrenaline. “Take what you need.”

Her lips brushed against his neck, a feather-light touch that sent a jolt of electricity through him. He could feel the sharpness of her fangs, the promise of pain and pleasure intertwined. She hesitated, just for a moment, her eyes meeting his with a question unspoken. Thomas already had a hard on, he was thick.. The bite was sharp, a sudden pain that quickly morphed into a strange, intoxicating pleasure. Thomas closed his eyes, surrendering to the sensation, his hand tightening on her waist. He could feel the pull of her, the connection that went beyond the physical.

Thomas sat back in his chair, the dim light casting long shadows across his office. The whiskey in his glass barely touched his lips as he tried to focus on the paperwork before him. But tonight, his thoughts were not on business or the Shelby empire. No, they were wholly consumed by the enigmatic woman sitting on his lap before him. Her presence was intoxicating, a heady mix of danger and allure that left him in a state of constant anticipation. She moved with a grace that was almost otherworldly, every step a silent promise of the pleasures and perils to come. As she approached, he felt a familiar stirring, a need that burned with the intensity of a thousand suns.

Thomas groaned softly, his trousers betraying his arousal. The fabric strained against the growing pressure, a testament to the desire that throbbed beneath. She could feel his cock, a throbbing force that radiated from him like heat from a furnace. With a wicked smile, while she straddled him, her body pressing against his with deliberate intent. The sensation was electric, every touch sending shivers down his spine. He needed her, craved her with an intensity that bordered on desperation. It was a life-or-death situation, a primal urge that demanded satisfaction.

Her voice, when it came, was a low, commanding purr. "Ah, you're such a dirty boy, Thomas."

His breath hitched at her words, his mind a whirlwind of lust and submission. "Ye-yeah, I fucking am," he managed to reply, his voice rough with need. "It's hard not to be when I keep imagining fucking your cunt while you feed from me."

Her laughter was a dark, seductive sound, a melody that danced around the edges of his sanity. She leaned closer, her breath hot against his ear, whispering words that sent a jolt of pure desire through his body. "Then fuck me in my cunt while I feed from you."

The command was a spark to the tinder of his need, igniting a fire that consumed him utterly. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, forcing him to meet her gaze. Her eyes burned with a predatory hunger, a mirror of his own desperate desire. The pain of her grip only heightened his arousal, each tug a reminder of her dominance.

Thomas’s hands moved to her hips, pulling her closer with a rough urgency. The sensation of her body against his, the heat of her skin, was almost too much to bear. He groaned again, the sound raw and primal, as she ground against him, stoking the flames of his need. The room seemed to close in around them, the outside world fading to a distant memory. There was only her, only this moment of intense, almost unbearable desire. His fingers dug into her flesh, desperate to feel every inch of her, to claim her as his own.

She moved with a sinuous grace, her body a tantalizing dance of flesh and heat. Every movement was designed to drive him closer to the edge, to push him past the point of no return. Her dominance was absolute, her control over him total and complete. His breath came in ragged gasps, each one a struggle against the overwhelming need that coursed through him. She was a siren, a seductress whose every touch was a promise of pleasure and pain. He was lost to her, a willing captive to her dark desires.

Her voice, when it came again, was a low, sultry whisper. "Do you want me, Thomas?"

"Yes," he breathed, his voice a mere shadow of its usual confidence. "God, yes."

"Then take me," she commanded, her tone brooking no argument. "Take me and make me yours."

He needed no further encouragement. With a growl of pure desire, he carefully pushed her off of him and shoved her against his mahogany desk while still facing him. He chuckled and leaned to whisper in her ear.

"You’re gonna wake the whole town, cus’ you’ll be screamin’ my name eh’?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.

With a firm yet gentle grasp, Thomas reached out and took hold of her hips, his touch possessive yet tender. He couldn't help but marvel at the perfection of her curves, the way her body seemed to fit so seamlessly against his own. Her hips, in particular, drew his gaze, their graceful curve hinting at a strength and resilience that spoke of generations past. As he rolled up her dress to her waist, his eyes caught sight of the delicate lace of her underwear, a tantalizing glimpse of what lay beneath. His breath caught in his throat as he beheld her, the sight of her already damp arousal stirring something primal within him.

"You already want me so much, don’t yeah," he murmured, his voice a low rasp that betrayed his own desire. He couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction at the sight of her flushed cheeks and dilated pupils, evidence of the effect he had on her.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Thomas slid her black lace panties down, watching as they fell to her ankles in a pool of fabric. The sight of her dripping wet cunt, glistening with moisture, only served to fuel his own arousal. He smiled, his fingers tracing the curve of her inner thigh as he teased her with the promise of pleasure yet to come. With a confident ease, Thomas pressed a single finger against her slick folds, relishing the sensation of her warmth and wetness enveloping him. He savored the way she trembled beneath his touch, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he teased her with slow, deliberate strokes.

His gaze never wavered from hers as he slowly inserted his finger into her cunt, feeling her slick walls clench around him in response. The sight of her pleasure, writ plain on her face, was a heady intoxication that fueled his own desire. With a deliberate motion, he inserted another finger into her dripping wet center, eliciting a low moan that broke the silence like a symphony of desire. Her pleas for more only fueled his own desire, a primal instinct that he found intoxicating.

"You love feeling my fingers in your cunt, don't you?" he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. "You're such a slut, but you're mine."

His movements were steady and deliberate as he increased his speed, each stroke driving her closer to the edge of ecstasy. He reveled in the sight of her squirming beneath him, her body a testament to the power he held over her. And yet, his cock remained untouched, a promise of pleasures yet to come. With a deft touch, his thumb traced circles around her clit, the sensation sending shivers of pleasure coursing through her body. He varied the pressure and tempo, keeping her on the edge of anticipation with each unpredictable movement. The sounds of her wetness filled the room, a symphony of lust that echoed in his ears like a siren's song.

She spoke in hushed tones, her words punctuated by moans of pleasure. "I'm gonna come, Thomas," she gasped, her voice trembling with desire

Thomas felt a surge of satisfaction at her admission, knowing that he had brought her to the brink of ecstasy with his touch alone. He continued his ministrations, each stroke driving her closer to the edge of release. The anticipation hung heavy in the air, a palpable tension that electrified the room.

As her moans grew louder, Thomas felt a surge of desire course through him. He was determined to push her over the edge, to make her succumb to the pleasure that only he could provide. With a final, decisive stroke, he felt her body tense beneath him, her climax washing over her in waves of ecstasy. She cried out his name as she reached her peak, her body writhing with pleasure. Thomas watched her with a sense of satisfaction, knowing that he had brought her to the heights of pleasure with his skilled touch.

Thomas’s lips curled into a soft smile as he withdrew his fingers from her dripping core, his gaze locked onto hers with a hunger that burned deep within. With a deliberate slowness, he brought his fingers to his mouth, savoring the taste of her essence as he licked them clean. His eyes never left hers, a silent promise of the pleasures yet to come. "I need a better taste of that cunt of yours," he murmured in a low voice, his words laced with desire and anticipation. With a deft movement, he lifted her slightly and seated her on his desk, his actions confident and deliberate. He loosened his collared dress shirt and tie, his focus solely on the task at hand.

Bending down on his knees before her, Thomas wasted no time in delving into his feast. His tongue traced slow, languid circles along her slick folds, relishing in the heady taste of her arousal. His free hand found its way around her waist, holding her steady against the polished wood of the desk. With each flick of his tongue, he teased her clit, coaxing sweet moans from her lips. As he explored every inch of her with a fervent hunger, Thomas's fingers joined the fray, slipping effortlessly into her welcoming warmth. He moved with a precision born of experience, his movements fluid and confident. His fingers danced over her sensitive flesh, setting her alight with pleasure as he expertly sought out every hidden pleasure point.

The room was filled with the heady scent of desire, the air thick with the sounds of their shared passion. Thomas's tongue worked tirelessly, driving her to the brink of ecstasy with each delicious stroke. Her body writhed beneath his touch, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she surrendered to the pleasure he offered. With each passing moment, Thomas's resolve only grew stronger, his determination to bring her to the heights of pleasure once more. He teased and tantalized, his ministrations driving her ever closer to the edge. And when she finally reached the pinnacle of her desire, he was there to catch her, his fingers and tongue working in perfect harmony to send her spiraling into oblivion.

As she melted in his hands, her body trembling with the force of her release, Thomas's lips curved into a satisfied smile. He had fulfilled his promise, his skill and expertise leaving her trembling with pleasure in the aftermath of their shared passion. And as she lay there, spent and sated, he knew that their encounter was far from over.

Thomas allowed a rare, wolfish smile to spread across his face as he withdrew his fingers from her dripping and aching core. He stood up, his movements deliberate, and undid his pants, the belt coming off with a swift, practiced motion. With a sense of controlled urgency, he let them fall to his ankles, much like he had done with her delicate undergarments. The thin fabric of his boxer briefs did little to conceal the formidable arousal straining beneath.

In a voice that blended both care and authority, he murmured, "I'll be gentle at first, but once I'm in, there's no telling what I might do. Feed from me if you must, while I take you."

With a deft motion, he unleashed his formidable erection, standing fully erect and imposing. He had to be at least eight inches in length, with a girth that promised to stretch and fill her completely. He smiled, a dark promise in his eyes, and pulled her to him, positioning her so she straddled him while he remained seated on the desk. Leaning over her, he was intent on witnessing every nuance of her expression as he slowly began to enter her. Thomas was meticulous, savoring each inch as he pushed into her tight, wet heat. Her breath hitched, and she groaned with every inch he claimed. Two inches turned to four, and four soon became eight. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and her body arched towards him, completely at his mercy.

"Bloody hell," he rasped, his voice rough with desire, "You're so tight, gripping my cock just right, love."

Her response was immediate and visceral; she sank her fangs into his neck, and a shudder of pleasure and pain coursed through him. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced, a heady mix of agony and ecstasy. It had to be her, he realized. No other woman could make him feel this way. For the rest of his life, it would be her and only her.

Their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them. They were connected on a different plane of existence, their pain and pleasure intertwined. Thomas continued to move within her, each thrust deliberate and powerful, driving her closer to the edge. His breathing grew labored, matching the rapid, messy rhythm of hers. As he approached his climax, he quickened his pace, his thrusts becoming harder and faster. He was relentless, driven by an almost primal need to possess her fully. The intensity of their union reached a fever pitch, and with a final, powerful thrust, he spilled into her. The warmth of his release flowed through her, a tangible symbol of their connection.

"Magnificent," he breathed, his voice hoarse with exertion. The sensation of filling her, of marking her as his own, was beyond anything he had ever known. He held her close, their bodies still entwined, his seed seeping into her, a promise of potential new life.

They remained like that for a moment, suspended in time, their breaths mingling. He could feel the bite of her fangs still in his neck, a reminder of their bond. It was a strange, beautiful pain, one he would not trade for anything. He kissed her deeply, a silent vow that this was only the beginning.

The room around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, locked in an embrace that was as tender as it was fierce. Their connection was undeniable, a force of nature that neither could resist. Thomas knew that this was his fate, to be bound to this extraordinary woman for the rest of his days. He whispered her name, a reverent prayer on his lips, and she responded with a soft, contented sigh. They were bound together, not just by the physical act of their union, but by something deeper, something ancient and unbreakable.

As they slowly disentangled, he felt a profound sense of completion. He had found his match, his equal in every way. She was his, and he was hers. The world outside might be filled with danger and uncertainty, but here, in this moment, they had found a sanctuary. Thomas helped her to her feet, his hands gentle on her waist. He could see the marks of their passion on her skin, and it filled him with a fierce pride. She was his, marked and claimed, just as he was hers.

As Thomas and his woman descended the creaking wooden stairs of the house, their footsteps echoing in the early morning silence. The family had gathered in the parlor below, their conversation halting abruptly as the pair came into view. Polly, Michael, John, Arthur, Finn, and a few of Thomas’s business partners turned their attention toward them, expressions ranging from curiosity to amusement.

Polly’s sharp eyes assessed them, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “Thomas,” she began in a deceptively calm tone, “I forgot something important at the business last night. I took Michael along to fetch it with me. Was surprised that I heard you two fucking? Not at all.”

The room erupted into chaos. John, Arthur, and Finn, along with a couple of Thomas’s business partners, either spat out their tea or coffee in shock and amusement. Michael, his face a mix of embarrassment and resignation, added his own remark.

Michael then said; “I don’t think I’m ever gonna get those sounds out of my head,” he said, his voice tinged with a blend of horror and humor

This only served to heighten the hilarity. Those who had just spat out their beverages now let out hearty, unrestrained laughter, their mirth filling the room. It was an out-of-pocket comment, utterly unexpected, yet undeniably amusing in its blunt honesty.

John, ever the joker, seized the moment. “What we all want to know, Tommy,” he said, his grin wide, “is if she’s a permanent partner of yours. We’re not exactly expecting a wedding, but we just want to know if you’re serious about her.”

Thomas stood at the foot of the stairs, his expression a blend of irritation and amusement. He was a man of few words, his actions often speaking louder than his speech. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room, taking in the familiar faces of his family and closest associates. The woman beside him, graceful and composed despite the scrutiny, glanced up at him with a mixture of curiosity and support. She understood the gravity of the moment, the significance of his answer not just to his family, but to her as well.

Thomas took a deep breath, his jaw tightening. “Yes, John,” he said finally, his voice steady and resolute. “She’s with me. Permanently.”

A murmur of approval and understanding rippled through the room. Polly’s expression softened, a rare hint of genuine approval in her eyes. Michael looked relieved, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Arthur and Finn exchanged glances, nodding slightly in silent agreement.

John, never one to let a moment pass without a jest, raised his cup in a mock toast. “To the new addition, then,” he declared, his tone half-serious, half-teasing. “May she bring Tommy some much-needed happiness.”

Thomas allowed a rare smile to tug at the corners of his lips. “Thank you, John,” he replied, his voice carrying a note of genuine appreciation. “That’s enough now. We’ve got business to attend to.”

The conversation gradually shifted back to the matters at hand. Discussions of shipments, alliances, and the ever-present threats that loomed over their operations filled the air. Thomas, ever the leader, guided the conversation with his usual efficiency, his mind a constant whirl of strategies and contingencies. Throughout it all, the woman remained by his side, her presence a silent testament to their newfound bond. She listened intently, absorbing the dynamics of the Shelby family, the intricacies of their world. Her gaze occasionally met Thomas’s, a silent communication passing between them, a promise of shared strength and mutual respect.

As the meeting drew to a close, Polly approached Thomas’s woman, her demeanor softer than usual. “Welcome to the family,” she said, her tone sincere. “It’s not an easy life, but you seem strong enough to handle it.”

The woman nodded, her eyes meeting Polly’s with determination. “I’ve faced worse,” she replied, her voice calm and steady.

Thomas watched the exchange, a sense of pride swelling within him. He knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but for the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of hope. With her by his side, he believed they could face anything. As the family began to disperse, Thomas turned to her, his expression softening. “You handled that well,” he said quietly.

She smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “I’ve dealt with worse interrogations,” she replied, her tone light.

He chuckled, a rare sound that seemed to lighten the weight of the room. “I believe you,” he said, his hand finding hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s get on with the day, then. There’s always more work to be done.”

They moved together, a united front in the face of whatever the world might throw at them. The bond they shared was still new, still fragile, but it was real. And in the tumultuous world of the Peaky Blinders, that was more than enough. As they stepped out into the streets of Small Heath, Birmingham, the early morning sun casting long shadows on the cobblestones, Thomas felt a renewed sense of purpose. With her by his side, he was ready to face the challenges ahead. The future was uncertain, but together, they would carve their own path, one step at a time.

Author’s Notes:

Yooooo this is like the longest thing I’ve written so far and guys I freaking love the way I wrote it..like it’s perfect in my eyes!! I hope y’all loved it as much as I did!! I can’t believe I wrote smut while eating Froot Loops..anyways!!!P.S I HAVE A TENDENCY TO REPEAT THE SAME THING LIKE FORMAT!! YOU CAN DEFINITELY SEE IT IN THIS STORY IF YOU LOOK FOR IT!!!

The reason why counts is necrophilia is because technically the reader is dead, when they did die when they turned into a vampire kind of like the interview with the vampire type shit. So technically this does count as necrophilia. Thomas is a fucking freak.

Also apologies if the settings are a bit wacky lolz also i’m a say his desk was made out of mahogany wood because I can’t find anywhere else where it was made out of a certain type of wood so leave me alone. I don’t even know if you cared probably not but I just wanted to put that out there.

Credit for the little sparkle smol divider: strangergraphics-archive

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