Blinking, she came back to the balcony and the city lights shimmering below. But the hollowness, the emptiness, and the pain remained. Suddenly, her anger surged with such a sudden intensity it caught her off guard. Her veins scorched red hot. Her hands shook. She let out a roar and pelted the half-full glass across the room. It smashed against the wall. The red wine splayed across the carpet.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Keep it the fuck down!” the guy from next door roared, thumping the wall so hard the pictures quivered.
He would need to be taught a lesson.
She marched across the carpet, barely containing her rage, and slipped her heels back on. She stormed from the room, knocked three times on his door. A man, resembling an overfedape, answered, wearing only black boxers. His stomach hung like a hairy stuffed sausage over the seams.
“What—” He paused, eyed her over with a bold arrogance that belied the harsh construction of his squashed, physical reality. Desire found a place in his eyes, and probably in his pants if she’d cared to look.
She smiled and spoke sweetly, “I'm sorry, I won't bother you again. I promise.”
He stared at her open-mouthed, eyes wide like teacups, and let out a sharp, startled cry. They all did, fucking weak fragiles. She cocked her head to the side, her teeth glinting sharply in the pale light.
He made a garbled sound in his throat and stumbled back slamming into the hallway wall.
In a blur of movement, she stepped in and her lips clamped over his neck. He tasted of sweat, salt, and fear. She paused, hovering over the beat of his artery. It pulsated furiously against her tongue. His horror was her exhilaration.
“No, please,” the man whimpered. His eyes were wide and his nostrils flared. Fear, so much fear.
She closed her eyes and smelled its erotic perfume. An exquisite, excited tremble crawled through her veins, filling her body like a potent mind-altering cocktail, until every part of her body fired to life with feverish primal desire.
He took her closed eyes as a chance of escape and punched into the side of her face, a decent enough hit, but it didn’t have the effect he desired. He tried to jerk back and at the same time reached for the door to slam it shut.
Black Death slammed his head back into the door frame and jammed her palm under his chin, forcing his jaw closed, trapping his scream in his mouth. She pulled back a fraction, her teeth rearing like a spider’s fangs, and thrust into his skin, piercing his carotid artery. The blood spurted and pumped intoher mouth with each furious beat of his heart. She allowed her mouth to fill up with sweet red liquid, savouring the divine taste, floating and rolling it across her tongue. She delayed the final gratification with the same sweet suspension as a slow-climbing orgasm. She swallowed, and then she was displaced into a world of euphoria. The blood gave her a surreal high. She craved more, to float higher, her thirst was insatiable, she began to suck like he was a bag of water handed to her after days in a desert. The warmth of thick ecstasy flowed and seeped down her throat, settling itself in a warm glow in her stomach. The high was unlike any drug man could ever concoct, and she knew because she’d tried them all.
His legs buckled, she held him up with one hand under his chin.
She sucked and swallowed, sucked and swallowed, until she heard his heartbeat slow, weaken, then finally halt.
She released his throat and let him drop like a limp rag doll to the floor. She licked the remaining traces of red from her lips, savoring the last drop. Older men didn't really satisfy her, now she had the taste for it, she’d need to go hunting for more.
“I told you I wouldn't bother you again,” she purred, looking down at his ash-colored torso sprawled awkwardly on the floor.
He didn’t respond. It was a lesson well learned.
She pulled the door shut and headed out into the darkness of the night, not fully satiated, desperate for someone younger, sweeter. She’d find the young man, fuck him, then wrap her lips around his neck. She smiled at the thought, perhaps she could redeem the night after all.
Chapter 39
Vampires Lair
Iwoke as a film of early morning light drifted into the room. I lay there for a long moment, staring up at the intricately painted golden edgings of the high ceiling. My head thumped. My mouth was bone-dry and tasted like acid.
I rubbed my eyes. They were burning and sore, as if all I’d seen last night had physically wounded them. Groaning, I sat up. My bag had been bought in and was sitting by the bed. My stomach clenched. I whipped my head around. The bedside table was back beside the bed, the lamp back in its place. The other chair was back beside the window.
He’d been in while I slept and I didn’t hear him, sending a message that said, ‘Don’t try and defend yourself, if I want to get you, I can. There is nothing you can do to stop me.’
I felt my temper flare.Son of a bitch.
I clambered out of bed and went to the bathroom, turning the shower on and stood under the hot jet of water.Vampires exist.I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. The images of the vampire losing his head slammed through my mind. The terrible tearing and bone crunching sounds, like meat through a grinder. His eyes blinking. I jerked my eyes open and rested my forehead against the cold, hard tiles, trying to retain threads of strength.
I don’t know long I stood there for but it was long enough I began to feel faint from the heat. I climbed out and brushed my teeth.
Vampires exist.Okay, okay, get it together. Vampires were real, yes; that was a bad thing. He’d killed a man, yes; that was another bad thing. But he’d also saved my life. If he hadn’t killed the man, I’d be dead. That was a bad thing for the man, but a good thing for me. He’d risked his life to save mine from the fires. Definitely a good thing. He’d held me when I cried, cradled me to his chest; also a good thing. He wasn’t all bad then? Perhaps the dark side of him was just a small part of who he was?
I spat out the foam, rinsed the toothbrush, and sat it on the vanity.
