I can smell him. Thirty minutes upstairs in the loft where Jack lay sprawled with out a box – devoid of life, just death odor - which I easily recognize, I know an underlying scent. I can smell – HIM, and this was no underlying scent. I grabbed the opening of my blouse; seemingly in uncertainty, surely in an attempt to hide cleavage, but mainly to steady myself. The scent grew stronger; I was dizzy with the must of strong Alpha male. I just don’t run into these kinds of vampires often.
Clutching my blouse, I could feel my nipples tighten, and for a moment I’m excited. I made my way down the stairs that I would never walk again, past the decorative sconce, fine copies of medieval art, down the carpet in the middle of the stairs. It might as well have been a gloved hand that pulled gently on my wrist. I am in control, yet I allow the raw, fierceness of Vampire Lord atrocity to have its way with the moment … to quicken my blood within my being, push out goose bumps, sweat upon my brows, face aglow, knees shivering, fangs glowing, breathing trapped, heart hammering, having lost my mind … I was mesmerized by the aroma in the corridor … the boy just had it going on like that … and I am in control of the moment.
The smell was overwhelming, it beat out death, and the doorway ahead signified the night and the hunt. I inhaled one long breath and opened the double paned security door.
The first thing that hit me … HIM. The second thing was the sight of the girl seated on my bench. With her head lowered she appeared to be studying her fingers. I approached her, slowly, unsteadily, still dizzy from the sexual impasse that was with me in the corridor. Still she did not move.
I walked right up to her and put my hand through his aura that surrounded her. I’m loathing of Vampire’s claim on a gift, or otherwise. I raised her up, ignored her stench and focused on the glaring puncture marks on her pale neck. My eyes roved over the teeth indentations barely raising her skin. I could see the whelp his tongue left, the silver lace of his saliva and his lips must have stopped right there and there – and Oh my gawd, I wanted her, not her, but where he was with her. I commanded her to look at me … her eyes, ebony, tingled.
I ache.
She demurred as I bent towards her, licking her lips as she waited. I waited. Controlling the beast, I was pulled to her – I might have squeezed her too tightly. My lips quivered as they grew closer to her, dripping saliva, whispering heat – I might have scratched her quite deeply. My mouth’s mold would mark her, over his, both of us, just me. Darting my tongue across her raised tissue, I tried to become his fangs, wanted to be part of this child, tried to get in her, wanted to be her – I might have frightened her badly. I made no new marks except for where my bottom teeth held her in place and I took from her, gave to her – I might have killed her slowly.
She dropped from my embrace, snapping like an accordion; knees hit first, waist bent, bosom reached forward. And then I saw the card. Jack of Hearts, poor Jack.
Clutching my blouse, I could feel my nipples tighten, and for a moment I’m excited. I made my way down the stairs that I would never walk again, past the decorative sconce, fine copies of medieval art, down the carpet in the middle of the stairs. It might as well have been a gloved hand that pulled gently on my wrist. I am in control, yet I allow the raw, fierceness of Vampire Lord atrocity to have its way with the moment … to quicken my blood within my being, push out goose bumps, sweat upon my brows, face aglow, knees shivering, fangs glowing, breathing trapped, heart hammering, having lost my mind … I was mesmerized by the aroma in the corridor … the boy just had it going on like that … and I am in control of the moment.
The smell was overwhelming, it beat out death, and the doorway ahead signified the night and the hunt. I inhaled one long breath and opened the double paned security door.
The first thing that hit me … HIM. The second thing was the sight of the girl seated on my bench. With her head lowered she appeared to be studying her fingers. I approached her, slowly, unsteadily, still dizzy from the sexual impasse that was with me in the corridor. Still she did not move.
I walked right up to her and put my hand through his aura that surrounded her. I’m loathing of Vampire’s claim on a gift, or otherwise. I raised her up, ignored her stench and focused on the glaring puncture marks on her pale neck. My eyes roved over the teeth indentations barely raising her skin. I could see the whelp his tongue left, the silver lace of his saliva and his lips must have stopped right there and there – and Oh my gawd, I wanted her, not her, but where he was with her. I commanded her to look at me … her eyes, ebony, tingled.
I ache.
She demurred as I bent towards her, licking her lips as she waited. I waited. Controlling the beast, I was pulled to her – I might have squeezed her too tightly. My lips quivered as they grew closer to her, dripping saliva, whispering heat – I might have scratched her quite deeply. My mouth’s mold would mark her, over his, both of us, just me. Darting my tongue across her raised tissue, I tried to become his fangs, wanted to be part of this child, tried to get in her, wanted to be her – I might have frightened her badly. I made no new marks except for where my bottom teeth held her in place and I took from her, gave to her – I might have killed her slowly.
She dropped from my embrace, snapping like an accordion; knees hit first, waist bent, bosom reached forward. And then I saw the card. Jack of Hearts, poor Jack.
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