The Vampire's Soul Mate

They had their eyes on Lara for only a couple of hours after they'd found out the last demon destroyer had disappeared from the fold. Well, Ethan'd had his eyes on her for much longer. Near a whole month. He needed her now and had needed her longer, but this wasn't a contest. It was him fulfilling an obligation.

He needed a soul to keep him going and hers was perfect. But was that perfect? He was aware that part of hesitation stemmed from a strong yearning to find the mythical soul mate. Does a ghost soul-stealer get to have a soul mate? Knowing that a soul could be the mate of his animated corpse became such a dream he wanted to see it everywhere, yet he saw it nowhere. Now, stalking her, whispers of his soul mate surrounded around her in his mind, making hazy his dazed vision. He had to have her. But could he doom her to such a fate?

Living off the souls of others, preying on them was what he did. It was disgusting but that wouldn't stop him from letting his existence end. Even if it meant ending the existence of others. Yet, knowing he could be damning her was murderous to his mind and soul. The fear and anticipation that she wasn't the one (and that he was damning her no matter what) could not be a consideration. He had to go in for the kill. After all, if it was the kill, he would have to cope with having her soul coursing through his dead dirt body. He just wasn't sure he could bear a claim to her soul without having her. If didn't have to steal souls monthly to survive and he couldn't gather the courage to end his existence--he knew that without the hope of finding his soul mate and ending his ugly existence. Or was this a vampire fairy tale, like stakes to the heart? Heart? Cha. What heart?

He stalked his prey, following her to her box apartment. He wanted to close around her, possessive and smothering, like her small apartment. He watched her grapple with the silk or tee shirt option to sleep in. He wanted the silk, of course. He flicked his tongue across his eager leaps seeing her choose it and lay down for sleep encircled in its softness. While attuning his awareness of her consciousness to lull and drag her to sleep, predatorily he salivated at thoughts of it being her last sleep. Other sides of him, the souls absorbed into his animated corpse heated with earth's pulsing dirt and maybe some lingering piece of his long-gone human soul, all cried out inside him and fell into sad acceptance of what was going to happen.

He descended atop her small body and crushed the wall of his chest into her soft breasts. The pounding, insistent urge in his pants strained and he felt the animal being not so much within. Ready for the revitalization of his body, he lustily drank of the pounding of her very alive heart He sank his teeth into her, a deep and full penetration in the lush swell of her breast near that pumping heart. He drank of her quicker than the erection in his pants pulsed and heated in response.

And she clung to him instantly, welcoming his penetrating advances on both fronts. Shock was a less important response than seeing to his--and apparently her--needs. A check with fingers--greedily three of them--he explored inside her and found her cunt saturated with moisture, tight yet pliant and practically begging his second entry. Not that he would need an invitation, but the insistent and basic need for him inside her in every way took temptation to a new, delectable level. Her eyes remained closed and a dream state seemed still there, like sleeping beauty still in slumber-- she was still asleep and yet responding to him like...like it was supposed to happen.

Her silk nightgown had been balled into his fist. He swiftly tore it from her along with his clothes from himself. He plowed into her and suckled salty, rich blood from her literally heaving breasts. Her heavy breathing, her hips rocking to his thrusts were a heady potion to his being. They mutually rocked into a violent orgasm--the bed seemed to have snapped somewhere at the now superhuman pounding of their sex--and her teeth sunk into him. Her eyes opened immediately. Not possessing his vampiric, demonic fangs she had to brutally tear through the flesh of his corpse.

His corpse! It was no longer a corpse. Those screaming souls disappeared. A soon familiar warmth smacked him. The realization was near blinding, a shock epiphany: he was no longer a corpse but rather a body. He had no breath, but he had a heart that was pulsing her blood through him. Some of which she was returning to her body.

He noticed her eyes, piercing with the same gray coloring as his own. Before, the gray was only noticeable with careful observation (which his stalking had afforded him). Now it had taken over the once innocent blue of her eyes.

This was a great vampire fairy tale--he had made his soul mate. What of her demon destroying duties if he'd already made her a demon?