Bloodlust

He was beautiful.

Even through the mist he stood out, his shadow opaque against the silver slivers of sky.

She couldn’t see his face, didn’t want to. It might ruin the picture she had painted in her head.

She hated it.

Hated it when they turned out to be less than perfect, when they waited and dithered and groveled and whined and shattered her fantasies with the fact that there was ‘emotion’ and ‘feeling’ and ‘oh-we-can-think-for-ourselves’ to the body that she wanted.

Couldn’t they just shut up and leave her to it?

To them?

Masks seem so much more attractive these days.

The moonlight glinted on his face as he held her close. She could feel the muscles tense in his shoulders, big strong hands holding her alive.

Perfection had never smothered her so close.

She savored it preferring to shelve its price tag, breathing him in.

He was flawless, like in her dreams.

Her only fear was waking up to a cold empty bed with nothing to stare at but her face in the dark.

He bent low making her skin dance and her eyes darken with desire.

She could see his teeth, sharp ivory daggers glinting in his mouth,

Pleasure laced with pain,

Perfect.

So close…

Lower

Lower still

Teeth

Bite

Suck

Blood

Teeth laced with blood,

Big strong hands holding her dead.

He was beautiful.

Vampires can never resist a damsel in distress.