The Vampire's Beacon

Oh but her blood was sweet; intoxicating and rich. He had only inflicted a shallow bite, again he did not understand why, but her blood had flooded his mouth with such exquisite nectar that for a moment he lost himself in its complexity. He drank slowly, savouring it on his tongue. He was conscious of her low, wordless moans in his ear and, after a while, he raised his head to look out her. His lips stained red, the only colour on his otherwise bone white skin. She met his gaze with the deep languor of an opium addict and yet, he knew, she was aware of what he was doing. For the first time in his life, he was lost.

After a moment he spoke, his voice cracked and weak:

'I don't understand', he said.

She shook her head: 'Neither do I'.

Her voice was stronger and, to the vampire's amazement, she cradled his head in her hands and, unresisting, he was pulled back down to her. He saw the wound he had caused in her neck, and blood still oozed weakly from the teeth marks. However, as he opened his mouth to fasten on them again she turned her head the other way, her eyes now fixed on the door to her bedroom. He had a moment of confusion until he realised what she was asking, what she was offering. As his teeth tore into her unblemished skin, her cry was louder but again, she held him close as he drank. She sank back onto the bed; and the vampire followed.

Outside in the night, the church bell tolled the hour of two.

Part Five

They remained in that position; Natasha lay unresisting as he slowly fed. The fear was gone for both of them and the only sounds were her sighs of surrender, and occasional pain, and the wet swallowing sound as he sipped gently from her. They no longer sought to explain the connection that bound them together, nor did they seek to deny it. His hand on her breast felt her heartbeat as its rhythm began to slow. Outside, time passed, though they themselves were oblivious to it, immersed as they were in each other. Sensing every change. She grew gradually weaker, whereas she could sense his strength returning.

The clock tolled three times, and the noise broke through their idyll. He looked up for the first time and she gasped as she saw the change in him. He face was no longer lined with age and his skin, though still pale, had lost its cadaverous quality. She smiled up at him, sensing her own weakness and yet, at the same time, feeling very much alive. Her senses seemed to be heightened and she could see him clearly in the gloom.

'Who are you?' She whispered.

He hesitated, but only for a moment. 'My name was Arkardy...' His voice too seemed stronger, '...a long time ago'.

She whispered the name to herself, it sounded so familiar.

'Arkardy...' she whispered 'Please don't stop'.

His response was a low, animalistic groan as he sat up.

'You don't know what you ask of me....' He said, 'To take your life would be too much of a sin even for me, and the alternative... I would not choose that way for you.'.

She reached up with one pale hand, and gently caressed his face, 'It is not your choice to make. Don't you feel it? There are no choices here. Not for me and not, I think, for you. Do what you will but don't leave me here.'

He looked down at her sadly. He noticed the paleness of her skin, the kind beauty of her eyes.

'I am no hero, do not look for salvation in me, I live in darkness', He said, 'There is no light, no life'

'Neither is there here', she whispered, 'but I would sooner share your darkness with you, than remain alone in mine'

He knew then that he could not leave her and an old forgotten hunger rose up within him. She noticed the change in his features and she felt a moment of alarm as she sensed the animal side of him threaten to take over.

Running his hand over her body he took hold of her nightdress, and with both hands he pulled, the first tear parting the fabric down to her navel. She cried out at the violence of the action, arching her back as she felt the night air wash over her exposed skin. His hands, moved to her breasts, cupping each of them. Never before had a man touched her this way and a wild, delirious wave washed over her. This was not Alexander's clumsy, drunken attack. She knew that this far something far more real, and dangerous. His eyes burned fiercely as he gazed at her exposed skin, flawless and soft. Leaning over he brushed his lips over one of her breasts, his tongue flickering out to dance over her skin. She arched further off the bed, groaning as his mouth seized a nipple. His tongue moving in slow circular movements as he felt the nipple harden in his mouth. This time the moan came from him. This was something he had forgotten. Something he had resigned himself to never experiencing again. This was life!

For a moment, she felt his teeth graze her nipple and for a moment, she prepared for his bite. Her emotions when he released her without breaking the skin were a curious mixture of relief and stinging disappointment.

Again, he tore at the nightdress, and the dark curls between her legs were revealed. He ran a palm over her stomach, down between her legs, causing Natasha to bite her own palm to stifle her sounds of pleasure. A further rip and the nightdress were in two halves and he gazed at her slender body in the moonlight. Her beauty was heartbreaking, a reminder of all he had lost, and yet he suspected that this was something quite different and unique in this woman. Something he had never experienced before, even as a mortal.

For the first time, she sat up, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her body to his. Feeling the strength of his body, his size threatening to overwhelm her. He held her, feeling her breasts against his chest, his hands sliding the remnant of her nightdress from her bare shoulders. She released her hold on him long enough to discard the now useless garment. Her heightened senses now driving her wild as she felt the cold air seep in from the open window, caressing her bare back, her buttocks. She gave a little laugh when his hands began to map out the same path, her smiling mouth finally finding his.

Again, he hesitated; for him the mouth was for hunting, but his resistance crumbled as he parted his mouth against hers and her sweet breath filled him.

In the end it was Natasha that broke the kiss as, her former weakness forgotten, she began to work loosening his clothing, seeking the touch of skin on skin. She worked the buttons on his tattered shirt loose, pulling the material back to expose his chest. She paused for a moment, taking in the sight of the numerous scars that seemed to crisscross his entire skin like spiders webs. For a moment, Arkady felt something akin to self-consciousness, another long-forgotten emotion. Nevertheless, before he could speak she leaned forward and he felt her mouth, warm and soft, trace the outlines of his old wounds. Received so long ago he had forgotten their cause. As he felt her tongue on his skin, he let his head fall back and let loose a sigh that sounded like the release of countless years of solitude. Cupping her head in his hands, he bent down and kissed her, full and hard, his tongue tasting the inside of her mouth.

As they kissed, she worked on the buckles around his waist with fingers that shook with anticipation. She felt the hardness straining inside his clothing and, once she had loosened his belt, she reached down inside to feel it's strength. Sensing her frustration, and matching it with his own, he stood, quickly stripping the remainder of his clothes and she saw, for the first time, his cock, erect and filled with a life long forgotten.

He climbed onto the bed and she took him into her arms again, kissing him as her hands traced over the contours of his body. He was muscular, large, and she felt small in his arms. She broke the kiss to gaze down at his cock, her hand stroking it, encircling it, feeling its weight. There was no talking, there was simply no need as they lowered themselves down to the sheets. Natasha pulling the now naked Arkady down with her, feeling his weight as he covered her. Her legs parted and there was no holding back. They had both waited too long, though neither of them had known it.

Her hand reached for his cock, feeling the hard, rigid tower in the palm of her hand. Demanding an end to it, she guided him into her. He readily complied and she felt his cock press against her lips for a moment only before he pushed himself into her in one smooth stroke. As he eased into her, she tensed, letting out a small cry of pain as he took her. She had not expected this and she clung to him as he pulled out, almost to his tip, before slowly re-entering.

His love was so similar to his bite; painful at first and yet so intimate, so sensuous, that she forgot her pain and the whole world contracted down to what he was doing to her. They kept eye contact, sharing kisses as he moved inside her. At first he was gentle, but as her passion increased so did his, and his thrusts began to become more forceful. She urged him on with her kisses and her moans, pulling her legs up, wrapping them around him. The ache between her legs changed, as heat piled on heat and the pressure began to build. She matched the violence of his thrusts, holding onto him as he lifted her from the bed, kissing him deeply, cutting her tongue on his teeth and not caring. Tasting the blood as it flowed between them.

And then, in the midst of their passion she felt him break off the kiss and, taking his own wrist to his mouth, she saw him bite into it, the blood flowing down his arm. Understanding without words, she took hold of his arm and, bringing it to her mouth, she began to drink. The taste of his blood filling her mouth and, it seemed, her body, with warmth. Her tongue worked on his skin, drawing more blood out and, eventually he had to wrench his own hand away.

She gazed up at him, her lips red with his blood and a new intensity seized him. She noticed it too and, with a wild look in her eyes, she nodded her acceptance. As his thrusting became more savage, his mouth returned to her throat, but this time, the cry she made was one of release, not pain. She held on to him as her body caught fire. He carried on fucking her even as he took her blood, and they both knew there was no stopping it. She felt the pressure building even as she felt herself weakening, felt the darkness closing in. As the orgasm finally hit her, she was too weak to make a sound and her eyes dimmed as the darkness engulfed her.

She welcomed it.

Part Six

It was one o'clock in the morning and Alexander, as usual, was drunk. It had been nearly a week since Natasha had gone missing and he had spent most of that time in various states of inebriation. There had been no accusations levelled against him, not even by the bitch's uncle. No one seemed to blame him, many going so far as to say that she had clearly done it herself. Prising the wards from her own window frame in a final act of petty rebellion. Many people had muttered that they had known all along that she was destined to self-destruct. However, he knew there were mutterings. When her bed had been found, empty and bloodstained, her Uncle had visited him, asking him questions. Of course, he was too powerful, too respected for him to be accused directly but he knew there was talk. But what should he care? He had learned to deal with his guilt, with wine. Besides, maybe they had a point. Hadn't it been self-inflicted? If she had not refused him then she would still be here. It had been her choice and she must have known there would have been consequences.

He collapsed on the grass opposite the church, spilling most of the bottle of wine down his tunic as he fell. He cursed loudly at the waste before gulping down the remnants. As he drained the last of the liquid, he paused, noticing for the first time that he was not alone on the grass. A shadow moved into his field of vision and, with a start, he looked behind him. What he saw made him start. A low moan of horror escaped his lips.

She stood, clothed in a black cloak, her face pale as moonlight. Her face expressionless other than her eyes, which burned with a cold fire.

He stood up shakily, his hands instinctively reaching for the ward round his neck. He showed it to her, his voice weak and pitiful:

'Go away', he cried, 'You cannot touch me'

The smile that spread over her face turned his bowels to ice water.

'Oh Alexander...' her voice sounded like an ice storm, 'they protect you from him, not me'.

With a cry, he turned tail and ran. She stood watching him for a moment, giving him a moment of hope. And then, with a hiss, she launched herself after him, taking to the air and enclosing him in her arms. He screamed once, and then he felt her ice cold hands pull at his head, forcing it back.

He had wanted her kiss for so long but now, when it came, it was so very sharp.

After she had finished she rose into the air. The town, sleeping and silent lay under her like a carpet. She took a moment to take it all in, and then she moved her attention back to the castle on the hill. It's light, shining in the dark. She had been afraid of that light her entire life. Now she saw it for what it had been all along.

A welcoming light.

A beacon, calling her home.