Note from the author: This is a small collection of short stories about some characters in a book series I am writing (which, I am sorry to say, will not be posted on due to my own effort to publish it when the first book is finished). The events depicted take place both before and after major events in the books, though I will not bother to give exact dates. Also, these are not the most key characters in the book series, but secondary characters whom I wanted to tell a bit more about. I hope you enjoy.

Rating reasons: I rated this such because there will be some sexual implications and some sensuality/kissing. Do not fear, for these follow the same rating as I would place upon my book series, which is for teens.

Chapter One: My rain on a summer day

Late 1980’s

A woman stood at an iron balcony, high above the city of Paris where she might look down upon the mortals she deemed inferior. Such delicate lives, all easily shattered by her own hand. Or rather, her own mouth.

The woman was fair tall, and looked to be in her early twenties. She was very slender, save for beautifully rounded hips that she showed off with tight dresses bearing slits up to near her waist. She had flawless skin the color of brown sugar, which let off a faint amber glow. Her mouth was large and very plump, adorned with dark red lipstick. It was obvious at first glance that she was not your everyday woman.

The first unusual thing one would notice was her hair. It was long and sleek, shining with tiny rainbows and had a luster that no human hair could manage, and it was pure white. She did not dye it so, it simply was that color from birth. Her eyes were almond-shaped, a pale electric-blue color that literally glowed, shot with a deeper blue and surrounded by thick white lashes. Her nails were long like claws and painted blood-red, tipped with real silver as sharp as blades. And the most apparent, and intentional, was the inch-long fangs, thin and wickedly curved as a vipers, that she had trained her mouth to keep drawn.

Shirra, queen of the merciless vampires known as Demons, listened to the chatter and snatches of conversation that floated up from the crowd below, though hardly interested in the affairs of these dull mortals. She felt somewhat lonely today, weary of her constant mask of cruelty and indifference. The iciness was, of course, her natural personality, but at times she would feel a momentary weakness, a need to be loved and held, which she dared not show for fear of losing her reputation as evil Demon queen.

Shirra felt a presence behind her, its thoughts and feelings open to her. She had made it her personal business to ensure that all the vampires under her rule, unbeknownst to them, had stunted powers. They could not shield their minds, they could not communicate telepathically, and could not hide their emotions. It was the easiest way for Shirra to know who was trustworthy and who was not.

The presence was cloudy, gentle and soothing, yet potentially dangerous and stormy, like a gray, rainy day, which was Shirra’s favorite weather. She felt slender arms slip around her waist from behind, hair softer than the finest down touch her shoulder as her slave laid his head upon her bare shoulder. A cool cheek, soft as satin and still slightly plump with long lost and yet eternal childhood, pressed her bare skin.

Shirra wanted deeply to sigh and lean back into the comforting embrace of the boy, to just relax and be loved. But no, she could show no weakness, even to this one who tried so hard to make her happy. And so she rubbed her cheek against his hair affectionately, and stayed straight and tall like the cold ruler she was.

This boy, among all the many vampire servants and employees, so to speak, was Shirra’s favorite. He always seemed to know without asking or her showing anything what she was feeling, even without vampire emotion sensing. If she was feeling lonely and needed to be held, he held her, and she did not have to show that she needed it. If she was in a bad mood and wanted to be alone, he kept his distance. Shirra loved him, or as close to love as her withered heart could get.

* * *

Abdul, the captain of the guard, stood at the doors to the throne room, keeping out all who would enter unless the queen requested audience. The beautiful vampire was sitting upon her carved throne, watching him with that glint in her eye. Abdul did not feel flattered that he would most likely share the queen’s bed tonight. He had been with her many a time, she was infamous for sleeping with near all the men under her rule, and cared for none of them.

The only one she seemed to actually care about, Abdul reflected jealously, was Raven Black, Shirra’s slave. Abdul had no idea why she should like him most, since she had shown her preference in big, strong, handsome men, which was opposite from what Raven was. There was nothing special about Raven that Abdul could see.

He was not especially talented, or strong. He was not even very handsome. He was tall, thin as a rail though he did not appear bony, his skin as pale as the snow in winter, and hair as black as his name that fell to near his shoulders raggedly. The only particularly lovely thing about him was his eyes, which were large and shining like a little child’s, though they could hold a chilling merciless light, deep pools of black that glittered with all of a vampire’s eerie beauty and flecked with tiny splashes of silver.

Raven was not treated so kindly among the other Demons, who teased him for being a mere pet and wearing the chains of slavery (literally). But he was afforded some amount of respect; because he could take care of himself when it came to self-defense, and he was the only living fledgling of the queen (which was an immense honor indeed). He was just a child, really, though he could have passed for a man of twenty at most, he had not been half a year into adolescence when he was made a vampire.

Abdul smiled a bit at the queen, who smiled back in her seductive way, fangs looking as dangerous as Abdul knew the queen was. Her eyes glittered, holding a promise of wonderful feelings to come. Abdul found himself wishing feverantly that it was night.

Raven, who as usual was sitting on the steps beside the queen’s throne, saw the flirting going on and looked away. Abdul did admire Raven for his patience. Though it obviously saddened him, Raven never mentioned the unfairness of how the queen was monstrously unfaithful, and yet he was expected to be completely faithful to her, which he was.

Shirra got bored with flirting with the captain, and reached down to stroke Raven’s hair, which she often did absentmindedly, as if he were a cat, which is what had mostly earned him the title ‘pet’. Raven looked up at her, and Shirra said something softly, to which Raven smiled.

Shirra leaned down and kissed Raven’s lips, gently and lovingly, so different from the hungry way in which she kissed everyone else. When she broke the kiss, she pulled Raven into her lap. He slipped his arms around her neck and settled his head on her shoulder.

“My dark angel. You are so beautiful, more so than any other vampire, under my rule or no.” Shirra murmured, stroking his hair.

“Beautiful yes, but nothing more.” Raven said softly, sadly.

“But beauty is everything, my sweet. Beauty and power.”

Raven raised his head and looked at her.

“Do you love me more than any of your other lovers?” Raven asked, knowing Shirra had just basically had told him she loved him, though she would never ever say the words.

Shirra considered.

“I do.”

One could never tell if the queen was lying, twisting the truth, or speaking in the heat of the moment. Raven knew the statement may or may not have been valid, but he hardly cared. The words comforted him.

Raven smiled shyly, lowering glossy black lashes over his dark eyes in an inadvertent seductive way. Shirra caught his chin in her fingers, taking care not to scratch him, and lifted his face. She pressed her lips to his mouth in a kiss, her lips beginning to burn with passion.

As soon as they both needed to take a breath, Raven slipped off her lap, standing up.

“I should go check on things.” Raven said softly, and began to walk away.

Shirra’s eyes burned with need, her eyes following the graceful lines of Raven's form, the way the torchlight of her throne room glimmered off his ebony hair. Licking her lips, Shirra got up to follow Raven. It was a familiar one-sided game of hard to get. One which Shirra always won.

Note from the author: I know this is fairly short as of the moment, but I ended it here because I am planning to switch point of views. Be ready for the next chapter, ‘The chains of love: Raven’s tale’! Whee! Funness!