James POV
I stood in the grand blood throne chamber, the heavy oak doors sealed behind me, and savored the midnight silence broken only by the flicker of dozens of black candles.
The gothic estate had always been our sanctuary, its stone walls draped with ancient family tapestries that depicted our twisted bloodlines which included unions of siblings, fathers claiming daughters, empires built on forbidden seed.
At thirty, I was the undisputed patriarch, tall and muscular, my body honed by discipline and dominance. My piercing eyes swept over the two women who knelt before me, waiting.
I am James. This is my blood empire.
"Strip," I commanded, my voice low and resonant. "Everything. Then kneel side by side."
Lydia, my twenty-eight-year-old wife, obeyed instantly. Her curvaceous body
