Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
There is a struggle, but he’s already agreed. Once you make a deal with me, it’s done. There’s no going back now, my boy. I bite my lip, bare my teeth at him as our shared blood rushes down my chin, and then he’s right there.
I didn’t even have to convince him. Not even a little prod. And, oh, he has no idea what this simple act does to me. It makes up for centuries of disappointments.
His mouth covers mine in a kiss. Our tongues dancing in the blood. Twisting together—a metaphor, perhaps. He sucks on me, taking my blood into his body, and I take it back into me.
We share ourselves and when he pulls back, his eyes hazy and drugged with his newfound bloodlust, I just look at him.
Beautiful him. Gorgeous him. Perfect him.
“More.” He’s moaning the word over and over again, reaching for me.
I tap him on the nose and chuckle. “That’s enough for now, my boy. But don’t worry. There’s more to come.”
I take his hand and lead him to the little house where I’ve been staying. I strip his clothes off, and take him in my bed, and press my mouth to his, and I let him drink all he wants. Just this one time, he gets all he wants.
And when my hand slips down his body, and I find him awakened and hard, I know—I feel in my shriveled-up heart—he is special.
He eagerly clings to me. Begging for more. His mouth searching for a faster flow than my lips will allow him. His teeth grazing across my neck.
I let him.
He is the only one I’ve ever afforded this privilege.
I give him bliss until he is moaning and writhing, his hands pumping between his legs.
Bliss.
When it’s over, and he’s settled down—half on top of me, half on the bed—I tell him the cost of this bliss.
“You are mine.”
And he agrees.
Not that he had a choice, but he agrees.
I come out of this memory sucking on the old feeder’s neck, her disgusting blood flooding my body.
Oh, to be back in that night with Ryet. That first night when his blood was so young and so pure. He was my bliss too.
He ruined me. He really did. I will never find another like him.
But I can be satisfied with one. I can.
Suddenly the blood in my mouth tastes like mold, and piss, and shit. I push the feeder off and she falls sideways off the bed and onto the floor with a thump.
I feel tainted. Gross. I want to vomit, actually.
She got in my head, I realize. She got in my head and—
“He will never love you.”
All of my thoughts pause. “What did you say, witch?”
“You heard me.” She’s growling at me, baring her teeth, her mouth filled with blood from my long drink. “He will never love you.”
I force a smile. “Ryet, you mean? Oh, my dear. He’s loved me since the moment we met. I am his bliss.”
“You are the Devil. You are not worthy of a man like him.”
“We’re talking about the same man here? Zecharyet Wagner?” This time I force a laugh.
“You think you’re stronger than us, don’t you, demon? But you’re not. And when you took my blood just now, you took my death too. And the next time he drinks from you, he will die.”
“Shut up, you bitch.” I pick her up and throw her across the room. My body begins to change as the anger inside me brings out the memory of the devil I am. “Lies!”
“Truth! You are killing him! And you can’t hurt me now.” She sings these words out. “I’m already dead, you see. You drank the dead blood, monster!” Her cackling laughter fills the room.
“What are you talking—” But I stop mid-sentence. Because I know what she’s talking about. “No.”
She’s hysterical with laughter now. “You’re still drinking, demon! You’re still—”
I wake up, the dead witch in my arms, my mouth full of black blood. Black witch blood. Rancid, foul, putrid, dead, black witch blood.
I spit it out, then vomit. It comes up, and up, and up. And my body, unable to retain the human form due to the poisoning, reverts back to demon form. Wings unfurl, clothes rip apart, claws appear.
I am at the door. Out the door. Down the hallway.
Echo is there. “What the hell? Paul?”
She has never seen me like this. Almost none of them have.
I need to get away. I need to dig, and bury myself, and heal.
But there are hundreds of humans here. Watching me.
Watching me be weak.
I stop on a small rise of a hill outside near the steaming-hot pool where dozens of naked humans are frolicking. And I look up at the moon like a wolf. I tip my head back and I scream.
It echoes through the night. The terrifying bellow of a demon.