The Vampire

Once upon a time, I wrote vampire fiction. That was a long, long time ago.

There was beauty. There was love. And there was violence, in the taking of a mortal life to sustain another, an endless greed in that taking, however beautiful the words woven in the telling.

Needless to say, I left that world behind. I was tired of existing in the darkness and felt a freedom in stepping away from those characters that had haunted me for so very long.

This is an old story and one of my very favourites. It is very much unlike my previous works here. Still, it being Halloween, I hope you enjoy this look behind the vampire's kiss from her point of view.

I should say, no silver-haired lovers were injured in the writing of this story.😉 It is, in fact, based on another obsession altogether, from a time that no longer exists.

Suggested songs: Love Son for a Vampire - Annie Lennox

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Taking a hesitant step forward, I found myself faltering suddenly. In another moment, I had submerged myself once again with the dark shadows, melting comfortably into their waiting embrace. But why? What was it about this young man that had stayed my course so suddenly? Or was it indeed his doing at all?

I fell to watching him again for some moments... Even the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath the natural encouragement of his breath seemed mesmerising and ethereal. I studied again the brilliant eyes, the perfect imperfection of his beauty, the broken spirit of his lovelorn heart. I closed my eyes and listened for the straining beat of it, carefully filtering out the sounds of the night around us. Slow, steadily, it danced within the deep confines of his chest, just below the hardened protection of his body’s natural casing. On and on it echoed, calling silently to me in a delicate, determined rhythm.

It was too entrancing! A familiar drug that would not relinquish its hold on my desire. Already I could taste the moment of taking, the all too intimate ache that came with the first flavour of his life against my lips. The sweet copper of divine ecstasy that filled my mind with a nearly senseless lust for his heart. The hunger for it began to pervade my very being, leaving me slightly trembling, my lips dry with the desire and sparkling thirst, my breath coming in tiny gasps of anticipation.

I felt my lashes flutter open and for a moment, could see nothing but a dim sheen of red before I quickly blinked my vision clear and found him standing there still, untouched and perfect as before. Once more he reached into his pocket and brought forth the little locket containing the portrait of his lover. Fascinated, I watched his eyes mist as though his resolve had now fully crumbled and he would surely release his sense of betrayal in a torrent of shameful tears.

I could not suffer this! It made him all the more human, ever more endearing, fragile, wanting and I would be denied no longer. Here, at last, I moved forward, my steps barely whispering against the stones beneath my feet until I stood no more than an arm’s length from the young man.

“She must be very beautiful.” My voice was quiet, a mere susurration of sound. Falling through the stillness of the night, the whisper touched his ear in the vague impression of noise a moment before he realized the full extent of its meaning. Still, given his deeply introverted reflection, he had not expected the company and quickly blinking away the shimmer of tears, he righted himself, struggling to regain some measure of composure.

I watched as he nodded slowly, uncertain of my presence and still unnerved at my sudden appearance. I smiled, inclining my head so that the curls fell in tiny rivulets to kiss my cheek, his eyes following the slight movement. Nodding, I indicated the small locket he held still in the hand free of the bouquet of flowers.

“The girl in the locket. She is very beautiful, non?” My voice found the accent of the region easily and the words flowed simply from my mouth. He cast a nervous glance at the little golden trinket before whisking it away to the shadows of his pocket once again. Gallantly, he allowed me a small smile of his own and the gesture left me weakened, aching with the simple beauty of it.

“She is, oui. My belle fleur...” His voice trailed off as though he were going to bless me with the secret of her name and yet had changed his mind at the last moment. Instead, he cleared his throat and made a small bow in my direction.

“Excusez- moi, madame.” His eyes twinkled, cast still in the dim shadows of his pain, but I accepted the greeting none-the-less and moved forward to extend my hand. He lifted it lightly and brought the back of my palm to brush the frigid skin in the light imitation of a kiss.

Dimly, I was suddenly aware of the relative quiet of this little corner. Few people had passed while I had watched the young man and none for some moments now. The night was growing longer and more pedestrians avoided this little corner for its reverent darkness, forsaking it for the warmth of their homes and the more brilliantly lighted main streets.

I laughed lightly and withdrew the hand slowly, allowing my fingers to linger over the curled impression of his own. “Ah, monsieur, you are exceedingly warm and indulgent to this weary traveller.” I fixed his vision with my own and could see now the curiosity behind his careful mask. I paused a moment, then continued slowly, gently. “Votre jolie fleur a tué votre coeur, non?”

His eyes clouded and I felt the shadow of doubt and pain shift over his presence as he considered my words. Reluctantly, he nodded, and the hand that had held the bouquet of flowers more aggressively since my arrival slipped a bit so that they now hung at his side in an unceremonious fashion. He sought to turn his eyes from me, but I lifted my hand and very gently cupped his chin, pulling his gaze back to mine. His skin was so warm! So soft and yielding beneath the cold marble of my own.

Releasing my tenuous hold upon him, slowly, I leaned forward until my lips could have easily brushed against the waiting pallet of his, but I turned them away at the last moment, lightly brushing my words against his cheek instead.

“Vous êtes un bijou sans égale, mon ami. Oubliez-la!” But this seemed to distress him further as he wrestled silently with some internal demon. He was trembling now, and though his heart and devotion fought to convince himself it was disconcertion he felt in that moment, what I felt in the reflection of his mind was desire.

Once more I raised my hand this time to cup the expanse of his cheek, smiling as I very slowly brought my lips to brush the very cusp of his own. “Oubliez celui qui vous a fait souffrir.” There was no warmth in the breath that slipped past my lips against his own, yet he trembled slightly with the intimate exchange. Slowly, gently, my mouth met his and he gasped quietly before submitting to the kiss, his mouth pressing gently against the pallor of my lips.

Yes. He wanted to forget her. He wanted to set aside the pain, the betrayal, the hurt. But he was afraid! So frightened, even now. So delicate! So fragile was his heart that I could feel the bittersweet pain of it even now. Gently, I broke the kiss and left a trail in its stead across the heat of his cheek, finding the sweet hollow where it sloped over his jaw into the fragrant warmth of his throat.

Ah! I wanted to breathe in the quiet seduction of him! To savour the very scent of his being before I could touch so radiant a thing. I felt myself move against him, pressing the length of my form against his own, my arms falling naturally about him so that he was surrounded by my embrace. Without truly knowing how, I was aware that we had fallen more closely against the bricks of the building so that now we were away from the spotlight of the moon. No one would see us here, caught in this lover’s embrace.

My mouth opened momentarily to take the softness of his earlobe between my teeth. Not biting, but very lightly suckling the heated skin, I quickly smothered it in kisses that disappeared into the line of his golden hair. I heard him moan softly, the breath of his sound gently stirring my curls, whispering past my ear. It was almost a painful sound that brought a crushing desire to my chest, leaving me nearly breathless with the desire of him.

“Oubliez-la et soumettez à moi!” My whisper disappeared into a soft groan as my mouth opened and I tasted the first drops of the blessed elixir. There was a light sound, miles away it seemed, but it was only the soft drop of the flowers he held as they fell in disarray, scattering at our feet as his arms lifted to cling to my form. I held him tightly against me, trembling as I sipped from the heated skin that fed my soul.

Such sweetness! Such innocence! In the shadow of his blood, I tasted the few, innocent tumbling embraces he had shared with his flower. Light kisses, stolen in the darkness against her lips, her cheeks, the exposed curve of her breasts. Soft dreams of their quietly wrought lovemaking, his cheek resting against her bared breast, the memory of his hand disappearing beneath the volumes of her skirts in a guilty search of pleasure that had left them both blushing and giggling in a bed of hastily discarded clothing.

His mind was as an opened volume before me and every page was scribbled with her name. ‘Flora’. Ironic. Absurd. As I savoured the lilting laughter of his blood, there came at last the final memory of her earlier that evening. Of this gorgeous young male watching as the minutes slipped away into hours that had found him waiting endlessly for the woman who he would later find nestled in the arms of another.

Ah, and so that was the betrayal! The piercing pain that had all but shattered his delicate heart. But I could not pity him. I could feel nothing but the pleasure that flooded my fingertips, seeping into the tips of my toes, coursing through every parched and thirsting vessel of my being.

“Please!” His whisper was low, desperate even as his clinging hands slowly released the handful of my hair that had caught in their blind grasp, so that at first I could not be certain I had heard the sound. “Please... I love her!”

I stopped.

Instantly. Almost viciously. Cold. Chilled in the sudden iciness of the frozen moment. My mouth released its hold upon his flesh and I carefully lapped away the remaining droplets with a shiver of exquisite pleasure. Only a faint trembling and a quiet sigh betrayed his own release as I deftly slit my lip and allowed the few pearls of my own blood to fall upon the telltale wounds, sealing them instantly and completely so that they would be no more than a nightmare to his lingering consciousness. My breath was ragged and strained with the breaking of the spell and in a mad notion, I kissed his lips in a greedy attempt to capture a last lingering of his warmth.

He went limp in my grasp, as though he had fallen into a deep and dreamless sleep. But there was life in him yet, and I knew I had taken only a small offering of what I could have indulged myself in. Yes, he would live many years yet, if his pain for the girl did not drive him to suicide or worse. And I would be little more than a memory to him. The phantom of some dismal dream, all of his own imaginings in the height of his misery and loneliness.

Gently, I lowered him to the cold stones. They seemed poor companions for such a beauty, nestled against the bed of his discarded flowers. Lifting the bouquet easily, slowly, I plucked several flowers from their stems, separating the petals in my palm as I allowed my breath to slow and the euphoria to calm in me. At last, I stood, gazing down at the sleeping man, his chest rising and falling slowly, evenly.

“Love her then, fair sparrow.” I smiled lightly and opened my hand releasing a shower of florid petals that covered his lowered lashes and blanketed his slightly parted lips. The scattered flowers fluttered in a pretty rain to nestle in his curls where they spread upon the ground, cupping his cheeks and curling into his lapels, some resting as gentle lovers upon his shoulders. A large, ruby rose petal floated perfectly alongside the large pearl at his throat.

How I coveted it still!

Beneath the covering of the delicate flower petal, I could discern still the shimmer of its perfect light, caught in the brilliant light of the stars that shone clearly now from the cold, dark sky. Each radiant light seemed to be reflected now upon the surface of that single gem so that it shone with an iridescent light.

“Aimez votre fleur cruelle...”

I felt bare here suddenly. As though even the shadows afforded me little protection from thousands of wandering eyes. But this was absurd! The night was drifting away. And I was now late for the guests that awaited me in the little house at the edge of the woods. With a last glance at the young man, I turned quickly, no longer lingering in the heart of the city, I hurried through it to the hidden path of the woods.

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