Chapter 159: Hunger and Rules II
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Wrong because Sekhmet had spent too long learning to keep his body as a fortress. Right because the blood oath wanted closeness. It wanted certainty. It wanted reinforcement.
He counted their swallows.
One. Two. Three.
He could feel their hunger easing. He could also feel the greed behind hunger. Not their greed. Blood’s greed. The ancient instinct that whispered: take more, take everything, fill yourself until you become a storm.
That instinct was what ruined new vampires. It made them feral. It made them careless.
Sekhmet’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"Enough," he said.
It was not a shout. It was not a gentle request. It was a command spoken with calm authority.
Vera and Vela froze instantly.
Their mouths released him with a soft sound, a wet click that made the room feel too intimate. A thin line of blood ran down his neck, warm and bright.
Both twins stepped back at once, breathing controlled, eyes glowing faint crimson in the candlelight. Their lips were stained with his blood.
Vera swallowed once, as if forcing herself to stop thinking about the taste.
Vela’s pupils tightened. Her gaze stayed on Sekhmet’s throat for a heartbeat longer than it should have, not from disrespect but from the simple truth that she had just tasted power and her body did not want to let it go.
Sekhmet lifted a cloth from the desk and wiped his neck calmly. He did not flinch. He did not show weakness. He did not show pleasure.
Then he looked at them properly.
They were not the same girls who had sat behind rune glass like merchandise.
Their skin had changed. It was not pale like sickness. It was pale like marble that had been polished until it reflected light. The candle made their cheeks look smooth and cold, too perfect in a way that made mortals uneasy.
Their eyes were sharper now, the irises holding a red depth that was not human. When they blinked, it was slower, controlled, like predators deciding when to hide their nature.
Their posture had altered too. Their spines were straighter, but not stiff. Their shoulders sat perfectly. Their balance was unreal, like they could move in any direction without shifting weight.
They looked like the kind of beauty that made people forget they were standing near death.
Sekhmet’s voice remained even.
"Your hunger is still there," he said. "It will always be there. But it does not own you."
Vera and Vela spoke together, like they had practiced it.
"Yes, master."
Sekhmet’s gaze sharpened.
"Not outside this room," he said.
They paused, startled for the first time.
Sekhmet continued.
"Inside this room you may speak freely," he said. "Outside this room you will not call me master. You will not call yourselves concubines. You will not show fangs. You will not feed. You will not even look hungry."
Vela’s lips parted slightly.
"But—"
Sekhmet lifted one finger.
Vela stopped immediately, like she had been slapped by the blood oath itself. The oath was not a chain, but it was a weight. It pressed obedience into their instincts.
Sekhmet did not soften.
"You asked for concubine status because you thought it was the only protection," he said. "I agreed because I needed you alive and on my side. But this house is watched. This city is watched. And I do not intend to have you sold again because someone in my kitchen sees your eyes glow and decides to gossip."
Vera’s gaze steadied.
"We will obey," she said.
Vela added, voice quieter.
"We can hide it," she said. "We can pretend."
Sekhmet nodded once.
"Good," he replied. "Because you are not ornaments. You are my foundation."
The word foundation landed hard.
Vera’s breath hitched slightly. Vela’s jaw tightened with pride. Those two reactions were different, but both were loyal.
Sekhmet turned and walked to the window. He did not open it. He did not want the night air to carry scent. He stood close enough to see the courtyard below through a narrow gap in the curtain.
Dawn House slept.
Servants moved softly in distant halls. Somewhere, a floorboard creaked. Somewhere, a door clicked shut. The mansion had its own heartbeat.
Sekhmet did not need Blood Eye to sense it now. After tonight, blood felt louder to him, like the world’s veins had started whispering their locations.
He spoke without turning back.
"You will train," he said. "Every day. I will not hide you forever. But I will not throw you into the streets until you can survive the attention."
Vera’s voice was steady.
"We will become strong," she promised.
Vela’s voice held sharper hunger.
"We will become terrifying," she promised.
Sekhmet’s lips twitched faintly.
"That is acceptable," he replied.
He turned back toward them and pointed at the chairs near the desk.
"Sit," he ordered.
They sat immediately, not slouching, not lounging. They sat like soldiers.
That pleased him more than any flirty obedience.
Sekhmet stepped behind the desk and pulled a folder out of the drawer, one of the merchant ledgers Elena had prepared. He placed it on the desk like a weapon.
"Tomorrow," he said, "you will learn the city."
Vera blinked.
"The city," she repeated.
Sekhmet nodded.
"You will learn routes," he said. "You will learn safe houses. You will learn how to identify assassins who pretend to be merchants. You will learn how to move without being noticed. You will learn who hates me and who smiles while they sharpen knives."
Vela’s eyes brightened.
"We can hunt," she said, eager.
Sekhmet’s gaze turned cold.
"No," he replied.
That single word cooled the room.
"You do not hunt without my permission," Sekhmet said. "This is not the wild. This is a city. Hunting without rules creates chaos. Chaos creates attention. Attention creates death."
Vera bowed her head slightly.
"Yes," she said. "We understand."
Vela swallowed the hunger in her eyes and nodded too.
Sekhmet leaned back in his chair for the first time since the conversion.
The poison was gone now. His body felt clean. His chaos energy flowed steady, not jittering, not clogged.
But he did not relax fully.
Because he could sense something else.
Not in the room.
In the city.
A faint pressure that had nothing to do with the twins.
He had felt it once before.
When he was being watched.
He reached into the desk drawer again and pulled out the communicating stone he kept there, the one he used when Raka needed to report.
It was still cold. No vibration.
Not yet.
Sekhmet placed it down slowly.
"You will sleep," he told the twins.
Vera and Vela looked at each other, then at him.
Vera’s voice softened in a way that did not match her new predatory beauty.
"Master," she said, "will you sleep too."
Sekhmet stared at her for a heartbeat.
He did not answer with comfort. He answered with the truth.
"I do not sleep well," he replied.
That honesty made something shift in their faces. Not pity. Not softness. Determination. The same determination a guard had when the king admitted he was tired.
Vela spoke, voice low.
"Then we will guard," she said.
Sekhmet nodded.
"You will guard silently," he replied.
They both nodded.
Sekhmet stood and opened the door.
The corridor beyond was dim. His steps were quiet.