A Vampire's Kiss

The vampire growled in ecstasy as his fangs sunk deeply into his victim. A thousand years and he still felt like a fledgling every time he tasted the sweet blood of a mortal. A sharp twist of his head and it was over for this one, their eyes staring blindly, face twisted in silent agony. Purring savagely, he licked the blood off of his lips, savoring the sweet, metallic taste of the crimson liquid.

How he loved the hunt, the surge of adrenaline as he stalked his prey. He was the hunter, they were nothing but animals to him. An inferior species that should be squashed like a beetle. In his heart he was as dead as the victims he left behind. His heart was cold from the abuse that had led him to where he was now.

Sighing, he shook the cobwebs of memories from his mind. They would serve him no purpose now, they were just weaknesses in the structure of his superiority. He laughed, seeing the blind, staring eyes of his victim. Another boy, so young so full of the flame of life, only to have it extinguished within a moment’s time. The vampire looked down into mortal eyes, not unlike his own unfeeling eyes of a haunting ice blue.

He turned to see a woman standing behind him, her body encased in red and black silks and lace. He froze, half expecting her to scream and run for the police, but instead she stood there watching him with a haunted expression on her face. Not the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but perhaps one of the most alluring little vixens of the generation.

Long curls hung to her waist, half tied back with a scarlet ribbon, leaving tendrils of ebony to frame her heart-shaped face. Eyes the color of the blood he craved for existence stared at him with the curiosity of a mortal, but the dull lifelessness of the living dead. The dress she wore did anything but coincide with the era, combining a form-enhancing bodice with a long draped skirt that reminded him of a gypsy witch he had once had the pleasure of disposing of. Sleeveless as it was, the ensemble revealed a tantalizing view of creamy, white flesh, whereas in other places it was covered with an eye-catching amount of black lace. To top it all off, she wore a long cape whose darkness matched her hair and billowed softly in the fall breeze.

He couldn’t help but gaze in awe as she took a step forward, and her face was bathed in moonlight. Full, sensuous lips curled back revealing canine teeth of an enticing length. A vampire, he thought with a sinister smile.

“Yes, Adrien. Another immortal, damned to the same fate as you. A vampire, if you will,” she laughed softly. His smile faded and his eyes grew wide with astonishment.

“You can read my thoughts?”

“Yes. Can you not read mine?” she smiled, cocking her head to one side in amusement.

“Um...no...” he stuttered, still watching the crimson-eyed vampire that was watching him with a playful look in her eye, like a cat would a mouse.

“Ah well. The Dark Gift affects us all in a different manner. For some it is the gift of Sight. Others are as I am, doomed to hearing the thoughts of others. Horrible for being in crowds, if I may say so,” she said, shrugging her shoulders so that the moonlight was reflected off of her glossy curls.

He watched her glance behind her, almost as casually as one would look at a watch. She turned to face him again, her eyes searing his soul with their scarlet gaze. “I must go, Adrien. May it be that the gods grant us the fortune of meeting again,” she said, turning to fade into the shadows that enveloped the streets of Paris.

“Wait! Who are you? What is your name?!” he shouted, running after her retreating silhouette.

She paused for a moment and sighed. “Perhaps, one day, we will both know.”

---

The Saga Continues

What can she say about him? She loves him, first and foremost, but not just him. It is everything about him, his voice, his body, and most of all the essence that drew her to him like a moth to flame. Every bit of that soul was a revelation, and together they were whole. When separated, they are like mere shells of themselves. Or should it be said that they were when he was alive.

Now, she is the empty carcass doomed to wander this world without hope or peace. There are people who love her, but until her feelings for her lost love have long vanished, she cannot love them in return. Not truly. She doesn’t want to hurt them, but she longs for the pure sense of completion she found in his arms. She misses that feeling that nothing could harm her. She would kill to hear his voice call her name, tell her that he loves her, to have him wrap her in his arms so that she could escape the world around her as he whispers that she is his goddess and he is her slave.

She is haunted, hearing only certain ghosts of words, seeing his face in the shadows of her dreams. She knows it is a lie but still she chases those tiny fragments of her soul with outstretched arms, fingers grasping at nothing but air.

She wants nothing more than to go back to the days when she was happy and he was alive and well, when nothing was wrong and they were invincible. As long as they had each other, they were stronger than anything. She drew her strength from him, from the depths of pale silver eyes that brimmed with love. Love for the one he spoke of with tenderness and devotion, and the one he called beloved. The one who now pines away day after torturous day for no apparent reason.

She lies with her mask of happiness and content when inside her soul is torn and bleeding as it weeps crimson tears of a pain that can never be healed. Her pain is cruel and ravenous, it eats away at her from the inside out. It is unquenchable and can only be accepted.

But in the back of her mind, she feels terror at feelings that come unheeded to the surface. Feelings she vowed never to feel for anyone other than the one she lost in a whirlwind of raw fury and grief. Emotions that have been locked away for centuries and that frighten her to know their sting. They make her cry and reach out to the lover that is no longer there and cling to memories of him with a intensity that surprises even her.

She does not want to feel that way again. She has not yet forgotten the consequences that come with opening her heart to another. She would rather die and give up her fight than to lose and be betrayed once more.