Death in my Veins

There was a breath, a sigh, drifting through the city. Cold. It was cold as ice. And its icy touch lightly caressed my skin. Its whisper cut through my head and penetrated my brain, making me dizzy with anticipation. I could feel the pulse of human activity through the wind, my messenger. I could feel the night waiting for me beyond the rows upon rows of houses, beyond the empty, dead streets. It pushed me onward. It compelled me to go with a surging and irrepressible need.1

The full moon shone brightly over my city. My city. I owned it, as much as anyone could truly own a city. I owned its streets, its houses, each corner and each angle, each word written on every sign. These were all mine. I owned its animals... they all recognized my presence as I passed. I owned those who crawled beneath eyesight. And I owned its people. Its Lifeblood, humanity. I smiled. Full, moist lips curled over sharp, white teeth. Unnaturally sharp. Unnaturally white. Unnaturally long, teeth. And then I laughed. Because, if only for tonight, this place was mine.2

Mine.3

Yesha flew overhead, her body lithe and strong. She rode the wind with as much fervor as a newly born baby suckling nourishment from her mother. Ah, Goddess of the Night, she was the wind, the essence of motion. And in that instant I loved her, for she had the power to take me wherever I wished, wherever new blood is born and recognized. Her beautiful peregrine form glided endlessly from city to city, carrying me with her. I went willingly, letting my body be consumed by my own wanderlust. I laughed again. My eyes, gray as storm clouds and illuminated by lightning, shone with all their irresistible brilliance. I was ready, tonight. I could hear the need pulsing through the city. I could feel my prey moving behind closed doors, in their soon to be tombs.4

I strode, no, stalked through the city, my feet bare and catlike. The moon was too bright for my liking- I preferred complete concealment. There was nothing better than utter darkness consuming the world in a thick shroud, beckoning the dead to come and carry the living away in its swift embrace. But no, tonight was not the night for smothering, for silent death. Tonight, the moon glinted off my glass-pale skin, and the lightning I created was apparent to all who bore the gift of perception. I radiated. No, I shone. Black leather, lined with red silk, barely covered my firm body. I wore as little as possible- I loved the feel of the night breeze against my skin, brushing the soft, tiny hairs on my arms and torso, enfolding me in its vitality. My arms were strong. My legs even stronger. I walked with all the swiftness of storm clouds. Intent, focused, bringing bittersweet rain with every step. Power, and nourishment. I brought Life. Power, and searing hell-hail. Tearing flesh and breaking bones. My pupils dilated. I brought Death. And I carried with me the relentless wind, driving all other power to the depths of the underground, to make way for my own.5

I was alive.6

At last.7

And I had come to take what I needed.8

His apartment complex was like any other. To my eyes, it was perfect, very much like a box. Very much like a burrow, that little mice make in the hopes that no danger will ever find their way in. The streets wound, the tunnels wound. It was part of form, of ritual. And I think he knew that it would never stop me. Only keep me interested. Foreplay. Tracking, following, hunting. I liked his games.  9

I tossed my head, throwing dark brown hair off my face. The wind played with the strands, thrashing them around me like a banner, twisting, turning them, intertwining them. Most of my thick hair streamed behind me, leaving my neck bare to the cold wind, slender and taught, tiny hairs prickling in anticipation. A shiver escaped me. I tilted my head forward, eyes focused on the location of my prey. Such startling eyes, so sharp and deadly. They would be the ones to take him, in the end.  10

I neednt have knocked. He knew I was coming. And I knew he was waiting for me. He didnt run. Silly human. He should have ran far, fast. But, like all the others, he would choose to remain motionless, like a scared rabbit unsure of his enemys position. Except this one wasnt scared, yet. Only transfixed by my raw power, by the vitality that animates me, by the vitality that would consume him as well. I smiled to myself. Some men want to be consumed.11

He knew right where I was, knew when I would come for him. His eyes were smiling, knowing, expecting. He knew he couldnt escape. I had him. I had all the power of lightning on my side. And I would use it all.12

When he smiled, it was as if he knew exactly why I was here, and what must be done. But he could never have known. We had only met once, in an old night club that I had never visited before. It was a moment of complete connection, and he was intrigued. I was intrigued. We never said a word. I only half-smiled, in the confident, smug way that shows off my eyes and the virile strength of my features, my high, graceful cheekbones and strong jaw. He did not smile, as other cocky men might, instead he had just pierced me with the intensity of his glance, and I knew from that moment that I had to have him.  13

It had been easy to track him. He knew I would, somehow. Perhaps he suspected... but no, the humans do not know of us, they only know beauty, and then they know Death. It has been that way ever since this Age began. Perhaps he merely hid his surprise under a very intoxicating acceptance of the situation. Then again, a barely dressed woman comes to your door in the middle of the night... Hell, there wasnt much to question.14

'I have been waiting for you,'? he said softly, smiling. I smiled back. He made it seem as if it were he that lured me in, instead of I who had tracked and pursued him. My grin widened. Yes, I liked his games very much.  15

I stepped inside, and shut the door behind me. 'You have let me into your safe little burrow so easily. What will you do, now?' I thought.16

I did not have to wait long to find out. He started by giving me a tour of his apartment, which, of course, consisted primarily of the inside of his bedrom. I walked silently, toes first, feeling the hardwood floor beneath my feet. He placed his hand in the small of my back, right underneath my shoulder blade, to guide me through the doorway. His hands were warm, a small presence of heat in my otherwise cold body. I could feel his muscles through that one point of contact, built and ready. Waiting patiently. 17

The room was small, a double bed sitting in the right hand corner, neatly made up. His whole apartment was clean; yes, he must have been expecting me. A closet opened adjacent the bed on the opposite wall. Bookshelves lined the rest of the room, every inch crammed with books, most of them antique. I walked up to the books and rubbed my fingers over the covers of several, running my hand along the book covers as I used to run them along fences when I was a small child. I walked slowly. Deliberately. Glancing at the covers of the books. Historic fiction, mostly, some philosophy and classic novels. I could feel their history through the covers; each one collected bits and pieces of him. They were scattered, fragmented, unorganized, like my thoughts. As I touched each cover I could feel his attachment to them. His favorites were the war stories, WWI novels that depicted the realities of war, the slaughter, horror, injustice of a brief glimpse at reality. Books that depicted the illusion of fighting for a cause, the smoke and cursing and the stark realization that death is but a second away. As I relived each story in my mind, I glimpsed his fascination with every aspect of war and his inability to understand what drew him to the blood, the gory imprints of human life wasted, the raw vulgarity of life as a soldier. I drank each memory with interest, for I knew, perhaps better than himself, that his fascination with war was a reflection of his curiosity about the value of human life. Time and time again in history, that value is questioned, in war it is disputed, in philosophy it is dissected, in fiction it is reflected. In the mind of a reader it is shaped, formed, created, and destroyed with every turn of the page. 18

But at the moment I was more interested in how that curiosity would be satisfied. After all, it was the same curiosity that had brought me to his doorstep, that kept him from running away when he should have fled for his life, and that now held both of us captive. I stroked the cover of Platos 'Republic.'?19

'A scholar,'? I remarked. He came up to me, grabbed my hand gently, and removed it from the book covers. My eyes glinted mischievous. 20

'Please dont touch them, theyre quite old. They were given to me by a good friend.' 21

'Sorry,'? I whispered, but it was clear from my tone that I was not. He still had my hand in his. I ran my other hand up his arm, feeling the flesh underneath soft skin, creating goose bumps as my fingernails lightly caressed his arm. I could feel him tense, but he was holding back. Curiosity overcame me, and I grabbed his shoulder muscle, feeling the veins running through his body. I could sense every inch of him, anticipating, waiting. All too patiently.22

He looked down at me, eyes full of longing. I reached up with my free hand and ran my fingers through his hair, along his scalp. He had black, wavy hair cut to shoulder length, completely covering an all too beautiful neck. His hand reached up to touch my face, and as he did so I grabbed the back of his perfectly sculpted neck with both hands and pulled him down into a passionate kiss.23

He was not expecting it. Through the first contact I grasped a rush of emotion. His surprise and delight amused me. If his eyes werent closed, he would have seen mine glint with devilish intent. 24

I felt the back of his neck tighten in surprise. This one was used to initiating physical contact; he did not expect me to be the one to take it to the next level. He was swept away in my embrace, pleasantly surprised with the ferocity of my passion.25

'She wants me badly,' I felt him muse in the back of his mind. 26

'If only you knew how much I want you,' I replied, although my thoughts were wasted on his deaf human mind. I kept them from him on purpose- if I really wanted to, I could send my thoughts telepathically, but that would probably cost him his sanity. My eyes narrowed into seductive little slits, glancing up at his face as he fully embraced me. I kept my hands on his neck, feeling the muscles tighten as we kissed, tracing the outlines of his flesh as he flexed first his neck and then his shoulders and back. I ran my hand down his back, fingernails experimentally pressing on his shirt, giving him a taste; just a little taste.27

Our lips lightly caressed each other, barely brushing in the tenderest of kisses. The touch was familiar to him, no doubt the way most women liked to kiss, soft, gentle, sweet. I wanted to show him how sweet I could be, that I was unlike any other woman he had taken. Right now he was on familiar ground, but that would change. I would give him everything I had and demand all he could give... and more... in return. My mind raced with the thought. I could feel his heartbeat pulsing as he pressed his chest against me, the rhythm strong and intoxicating. For now, I gave him honey- sweet, deadly honey that would soon work its poison. Gently, softly, I explored his tongue, lips, mouth. I arched my back against him as I felt his hands crawl beneath my shoulder blades, exploring my taught muscles, my smooth, perfect skin. His fingers ran up my spine and I felt a shiver run up my neck, a warm tingle shooting through my cold body. I felt his need, purely sexual energy running up and down my arms in a frenzy that both delighted and intoxicated me. At that moment, I wanted more than ever to destroy him, to create him, shape him, take him, and to know him. Really know him, as more than merely man and woman, but as creator and creation, as predator and prey, as life and death and everything in between. I growled with the need, and, surprised, he laughed a little in the back of his throat.28

'What are you?' I felt him wondering. I felt his wonder, his surprise, his delight. I knew he wanted me merely as a man wants a woman. He wanted satisfaction, to hold me, feel me, fuck me. I almost laughed, but growled again instead. He merely wanted to scratch the surface of what I could do. Before the end of the night I would know all of him completely.29

I started kissing the side of his face along his jawline. My fingers ran up his spine deliciously, sliding up the back of his neck and along his scalp, feeling his beautiful thick hair between my fingers. I bit him lightly, working my way up the jawline and under his jaw, where the skin is delicate and soft, where I could feel his breath surging frantically from his lungs, where I could feel the vibrations from each life-breath as he inhaled and exhaled. His breathing became faster, harder. He swallowed, tilting his head back so that I could roll his throat around in my mouth, tasting it, sampling its texture between my teeth. I ran my tongue up to behind his ears where the skin is so tender. I growled some more. No longer would I give him gentle. He was being patient and loving, but I wanted more. 30

I brought my body closer against his, pressing his back to the wall. I held both sides of his head while he held my body close to his. I reached down around his muscular arms and lifted his shirt off, pulling it over his head. I was in control now, I could feel his heart racing in his ribcage, warmth pumping throughout his body. I bit harder when the shirt was off, grabbed him harder. Need pulsed through my body.31

'Youre vicious,'? he commented, delighted. Emotion rolled off of him like smoke, giving off a beautiful, intoxicating scent of human prey. He began to sweat. I could no longer contain myself. Playing human games is fun, but in the end I prefer to do it my way. I grabbed both shoulders, using my body to pin him against the wall. My breasts heaved in my low cut bodice as they pressed against his pectorals. Even in bare feet I am tall for a female, and I stood only a few inches shorter than him. I felt my body convulse for a second, a momentary orgasm as I changed. My back arched, pressing myself even closer to him so that I could feel his pulsing heart right next to mine. Pupils dilated completely, so that my whole eyes were covered in blackness, except for one small red iris around my huge spiderlike pupils. I smiled, flashing fang for the first time in his sight. 32

I looked into his eyes at that moment. They widened suddenly, realization piercing him like an unexpected gust of wind. He saw me, for the first time, really saw me and what I was capable of. 33

'Shit,'? he whispered, complete awe and terror written all over his face. Fear seeped through his skin, coloring his desire with a sickly sweet taste. I wanted more of it. I wanted it all. I wanted all of his fear, his memories, his passion. He no longer saw me as a mere woman, but as something entirely incomprehensible, a goddess of the night in all her wild untamed beauty and deadly passion. In that moment, he saw an enchanting Venus, an untamable Artemis, and Hell itself coming up from the flames of the Underworld to claim his soul.34

'I will have everything from you,'? I told him, my voice a throaty whisper. For the first time, he truly believed me, completely. It excited him. It terrified him. We were no longer playing his games, but mine. And I play to win. I play to the end.35

Oh, beautiful victim, you should have run when you had the chance.36

I held him, immobile, against the wall, as I showed him a brief taste of who I truly am. My power brought all Hell to life, a bittersweet mix of rain, death, wind, wanderlust, raw sex, animalistic instincts. Thunder cracked outside, even though the sky was clear for the most part. I showed him the bloodlust behind my eyes, the demand. The command. The ferocity, the animal. 37

He couldnt have moved even if he wanted to. My previously concealed strength now became apparent, my eyes penetrated his emotion, his intellect, his soul, and held it in my grasp. I reached into him with my power, a cold rush of adrenaline and agony, passion and torture. I grabbed his life and held it, fingering it, turning and pulling and examining it. 38

'Take your pants off, and get on the bed,'? I commanded. He obeyed, completely transfixed. It would take so little to break him, one simple thought could snap his mind in two, and then he would be mine forever. I let him keep his sanity for a little while. There were other things I wanted at the moment.39

I stripped in front of him, giving him a good look at all I had to offer, teasing him with glimpses of my flesh hidden behind a layer of leather and then of silk. Soon, my true form stood naked in front of him, still shining with all the brilliance of the night, the fires of passion, and the wildness of an autumn storm. I fingered my hard nipples seductively, rubbing my hands over my round, firm breasts. My eyes thirsted for blood. My teeth lengthened in anticipation. I crawled seductively toward his frozen and captivated form, pushing him roughly against the pillows. The bed was springy and the sheets fresh. The room, which had been warm only moments ago, suddenly surged with icy energy. He looked up at me, lips moving but no words forming from his moist, tantalizing lips. His whole form was motionless and warm with energy. His member was long and hard, ready for me. I grabbed it in my hands and ran fingernails lightly up and down its shaft. I laughed at his expression. He was completely transfixed, intimidated, afraid, and yet so eager!40

I rubbed his head in my soft palm, putting enough pressure to cause it to swell in anticipation. I fingered his testicles, rubbing them in my strong yet gentle fingers. He broke into a cold sweat, his salty fear saturating the room. All the while, I fed off his emotions, reveling in the worship that emanated from his body. He was more intuitive than most; usually it took much more to show them the true extent of my power. But, looking into his eyes, I knew he felt all that I gave him, all that I possessed. And it held him as firmly as my grip on his manhood. As firmly as my dark eyes held his brown ones, mine filled with dark passion, his with eagerness and dread.41

He relaxed a little as I continued fingering him, running my soft, cold hands over his thighs and pelvis, playing with his balls as a cat plays with her toys, rubbing his erect cock between my hands. A slight moan escaped his lips as I massaged him harder and faster. I rubbed him over my swollen clitoris, letting his skin connect with mine, teasing, testing. I slid him inside of me, running my hand down his shaft, along his pelvis, and along the line of his abdomen. My fingernails left small indentation marks all along his torso. He arched his back slightly, muscles tensing. I knew what he expected, knew what he needed, knew what he wanted.42

I slid him in and out of me, gaining momentum with each thrust of my hips. Our thighs connected perfectly, and I felt his warmth animating my cold body, bringing it to life. Each motion fed the flames of my desire and passion. I broke into a cold sweat. I gave him life, drawing it out of him like a spider draws thread, spinning it, playing with it, rolling it around inside my body. In that moment, we connected perfectly. I knew his fears, his dreams, his hopes. I pulled them from his beautiful body and spun a tapestry with them, incorporating them into my mind and his, helping him understand.43

His childhood flashed before me, a rich motion of loving parents, shyness, reluctance, fear. Always it ended in fear. I was him at age five, going to school and feeling uncomfortable around the other children. I was him at age 8, frustrated with his older brother, who he looked up to as a roll model. I was him at age 12 when he kissed a girl for the first time. I was him at age 14, alone and angry, when his brother got drunk and committed suicide. Anger, love, jealousy, guilt, regret, anticipation, confusion, fear. Always, it ended in fear. I thrust harder and faster, the memories going deeper inside me, his whimpers and moans sending me deeper into his body, mind, soul. My arms held him down as I had my way with him, muscles spasming in pure ecstasy, fingernails digging deep into his arms. I was him at adolescence when he hated himself and everyone else, when his parents didnt understand him and his friends deserted him, I was him as a teenager, yearning to experience all life had to offer. I was him when his favorite uncle replaced his brother as roll model, I felt the elation as he was given his first WWI book by that same uncle. I fucked him, I became him, I drew him out, I created him.44

And then, I destroyed him.45

He began moaning louder. I felt his spine stiffen in anticipation of climax. I smiled, laughed with pleasure. It felt so good to be inside him, to take him inside of me. I felt warm fire build up in his body. He was ready. I lay down on top of him, holding him down with my whole arms, hands grasping the smooth ridges of his collarbone as I fucked him once, twice, three times, to give him the last bit of pleasure that would send him over the edge. 46

'Hello, beautiful victim,' I told him, letting my telepathy be revealed in the most intimate communion of predator and prey. I have your soul between my teeth. I am Life and I am Death to you, as you are Life and Death to me. Do you want me to finish you off? 47

'Oh God yes!'? He screamed as I felt his warm fluid inside me. And as he screamed out in pleasure, I pulled his head back by his lovely hair and crushed his windpipe between my teeth.48

His eyes widened and he tried to scream, writhing under me, struggling with all his strength. I reveled in the pure agony as he gurgled and thrashed, muscles contracting against my strong grip. Eyes rolled in terror and pain, excruciating pain that he had never before believed possible. I had him completely, and now, I would destroy him. The blood was so red, his throat so raw. The colors stood out in striking brilliance, dark clots speckling the wound with crimson stain.49

I let him bleed all over my slender neck, eagerly licking the blood that oozed from the wounds. I let a few drops fall on my breasts and run down their curves, bathing in his raw emotion as an animal does with its kill. I bit him again, sucking the blood into my body. Searing fire shot through my veins, intoxicating madness that meant only Life, animating my icy form with metallic, liquid fire. I felt its Life wake my sleeping heart, and I orgasmed as my heart started beating for the first time in days. Life flowed through me, illuminating me with my victims soul. I became him, his life complete now that it was coming to an end. Beautiful entrancing emotion, trust, regret, hurt, passion, lust, love, hate, indifference, confusion, terror, pain. Pain. Agony. And elation. I had completed him, given him everything. Now I was taking everything in return, and more. Salty, metallic Life poured down my throat, warming my lips, teeth, throat, veins, heart. I felt it spread to every inch of my body, flowing from veins and arteries to capillaries and organs. I felt his touch all through my body, taking his Life, and his Death with it. His fingers grasped mine, pressing as hard as he could. His fragile heart fluttered as I took its last slowing rhythm into myself.50

Slowly, the human grew still, twitching his last, breathing his last. I took his last breath with one final kiss, feeling his lips cool under my passionate embrace, then lapped up the rest of the blood, licking it off my warm fingers. I held him for a moment, feeling his body cool, reveling in the feeling of departure. His Death consumed me, and I felt invigorated by his final thrashings, his last screams, his pure anguish and ecstasy. I was invigorated, brought to Life; finally, completely. I lay his cold body on the bed and conjured up a small flame. I walked over to his bookshelf and ran my hand over the titles once more. Best that they would burn with him. I had the memories of every page that he remembered in my soul, now. 51

The war, the fight, the struggle. I remembered him struggling against me on the bed. A human life so valuable, lost in all that blood. No, made more vivid underneath all the blood. He held more Life in the moments before Death than he had probably ever had in his previous years put together. All the fear, all the pain, all the frustration came back to him, became part of him, intertwined with the love, the anticipation, trust, and peace. Yes, perhaps at last he came to the realization that there is ultimate peace in war. That there is the most vivid Life nestled in the bosom of a violent Death. All his life captured in a single, beautiful moment.52

I selected a couple of his favorite books and let the fire consume them first, letting a few rest on his body and the cum-soaked bedsheets, letting the fire claim all evidence. Soon the apartment would be ablaze, a raging fire as testament to his legacy. A cleansing fire, pure and unblemished.53

Swiftly, I dressed and departed through the front door, a mere shadow in a brilliantly vivid night. My lips still held faint trace of his life-blood, my eyes still full of the sweet madness that comes with the change. I smiled, flashing fang at no one. I saw Yesha circling, my herald of change, beckoning for me to follow her to the next city, waiting to be conquered. Like a conqueror, victoriously pillaging the city of all its treasure. I laughed aloud with the pure pleasure of the thought. Tonight, I owned this city. Tonight, it was all mine. Its houses slept in safety, oblivious to the blood spilled while they dreamt of work and love and sex and ordinary, human things. Their time will come. Sleep safely, little town, for I will return.54

And when I do, I will leave with your soul in my veins and your blood on my lips.55