Dream Woman

The heavy rain fell relentlessly throughout the night as Devlin Thorne sat alone on the park bench, drenched to the bone, lost in his memories. Although to him it seemed like yesterday, it had been weeks now since first he saw the statuesque beauty sitting in this very spot. Despite being the middle of the night, she wore a pair of thin, silver framed sunglasses which complimented her long, slender face. They also added an air of mystery to her sexy allure. Her auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders framing the voluptuousness of her ample breasts as revealed by her low cut blouse. Her long legs, so very shapely, looked so smooth in the silvery light of the moon. He imagined how firm they would feel if she wrapped them around him. He believed he was a gentleman and strongly refused to treat any woman as an object but couldn't help himself from wanting her to be his alone.

As he casually approached her, trying his best to hide his desperation and appear aloof, he felt a pang of recognition deep within his soul. Without saying a single word, she looked up at him in that moment as though she had been expecting him and smiled. It was the most natural and comforting sensation of his life. He wanted desparately to ask her if they had ever met before but was afraid it would come across as a cheap pick-up line. She patted the wooden slat of the bench's seat invitingly, "Care to sit and catch up on old times, my love?"

He sat beside her, his mind still racing. He tried to remember every woman he had not only slept or flirted with but even every one that he had ever known. Yes, he admitted to himself, there was a certain, unmistakeable familiarity but it seemed almost too surreal. He knew that he could never have forgotten a woman this gorgeous. Not in a million lifetimes. To Devlin, it was almost like the very fabric of his dreams had offered this fantasy woman to him here in flesh and blood.

Her name, Patricia, struck a chord within him that resonated for the entire length of their discussion into the deepest recesses of his soul. As would be expected from the bizarre nature of the evening, the one topic never mentioned was their past connection despite that being the only thing truly on his mind... well almost the only thing. When they parted company that night, he left with her image emblazoned in his mind and her phone number written on his hand. When he finally arrived at his home, he jotted the number down on the notepad beside the phone and settled down in bed awaiting the dreams he knew would come. He quickly drifted off to sleep.

As the fogs parted and his mind's eye began to see clearly, he saw the memorable azure eyes of Patricia. When he wiped the sleep from his eyes, he realized that everything had changed. Feelings of antiquety and simplicity invaded his senses. Perusing his surroundings, he recognized that he was no longer in the city so familiar to him but in a backwoods location that technology had seemed to have forgotten. There were no high rise office buildings here. No congested highway traffic or the incessant honking or shouting that always came along with it. The concrete jungle was replaced by the solitude of rural living. Simple homes and farmlands became the norm. Where an honest day's living meant so much more than pushing pencils like some desk jockey. Ordinarily a place of peace and tranquility, the purity of this moment had been marred by violence.

"Oh lover, you finally awaken. I was so worried. I thought I had lost you." Her words flowed from her with obvious concern, fear and a hidden hint of malice.

Devlin found himself lying in a makeshift bed of straw in a rundown barn. Still groggy from his sleep and with a mysterious ache in the back of his head that seemed to be drilling a hole straight through his brain causing him to grasp at the origin of the pain. He tried to sit up but failed. Wincing as he touched the open wound, his eyes blurred and refocused on Patricia for what he felt at the moment was the last time. Her clothing seemed out of place to him. She looked like one of the women from those Civil War movies but not quite so elegant as that. She was more rustic. Like she was used to hard manual labour and her appearance exemplified it. The final words he heard her say to him were her vows for vengeance on those who had murdered him and her promises to find him again so they might forever share their love for each other. Then everything faded into darkness.

Devlin sprang up to a sitting position, eyes wide, his body drenched with sweat. He gasped heavily, out of breath as he glanced around the darkened room trying to gather his bearings. He was home. He wasn't dying after all. He would be just fine. Letting out a long sigh of relief, he threw off the covers and rose from his bed. He needed something to settle his nerves, to help him get back to sleep. He made his way to the liquor cabinet in the living room and grabbed a bottle, any bottle. His still trembling hand made the neck of the whiskey bottle titter against the shot glass as he poured his first drink. Downing it quickly, he served himself another, then another. He sat down, sinking into the upholstery of his couch as he thought about his latest nightmare.

This wasn't the first time he'd had this type of dream and lately they were becoming more frequent. Like the farmhand he had appeared to be in this latest vision, he often found himself portrayed as a working class victim of some grievous tragedy. Only the time and place varied. The key to it all seemed to be Patricia. It was always her that was at his side as he lay there bleeding... dying. Each time professing her love for him and the regret that she felt which always sent her seeking vengeance for him. But now she was here, the living, breathing version that made Devlin wonder if these were even dreams at all or some unnerving memories enhanced and multiplied by her arrival.

He returned to his room and was startled by the melodic voice coming from his bed. "Now that is the man I remember," she scanned his naked form, moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue, "hope you don't mind, I kinda just made myself at home here."

She looked beautiful lying there on his bed, so open, so inviting. He realized right then that he truly did love her. A deep, timeless love that could never be destroyed. A love for the ages. He practically fell into her arms in fervored desire to be with her in that moment. His lips met hers as his body pressed against her wanting, no... needing to feel her warmth. His hands explored the suppleness of her skin through the silky material of her nearly transparent nightgown. She writhed under his touch, moaning in the kiss. She grabbed his hand and led it down between her thighs, into her velvety dampness. He plunged two fingers deep inside her, massaging rapidly, causing her to cry out in delight. He continued working his digits in and out as she squirmed, driving her hips upward in perfect rhythm.

She grasped him by the shoulders and forced him onto his back. With a playful grin on her face, she straddled Devlin guiding his stiff member into her. She arched back and let out a scream of ecstacy. While she rode his hardness he bucked against her, spearing her with the physical manifestation of his love. The lovers intertwined their fingers and Patricia leaned down to kiss her consort.

Devlin parted her lips with his tongue, kissing her passionately in return. His lust driving him to explore her inside and out. It was then that he felt the sharpened fangs in her mouth and everything, all the memories of his past lives that he had kept meticulously bottled up, came rushing back to his conscious mind. The images that he saw were more than he had bargained for.

During the Inquisition, Devlin had been one of the most successful inquisitors. He always managed to discover the truth behind accusations and dealt with the guilty accordingly. Despite his accomplishments however, many were upset with him when supposed "witches and demons" they wanted put to the test for whatever reason (usually for not wanting to have sex with the accuser) were released by him. He had only ever made one mistake in his decrees of guilt and innocence and that was with Patricia. He knew her for what she truly was when she was brought to him... a stealer of lives, devourer of souls, predator of mankind... a vampyr.

Devlin had been tempted before by pretty faces and buxom beauties and never gave in. He was too dedicated and strong willed for that, unlike many of his fellow interrogators. Never before had he given in to his sexual desires. Something about Patricia was different. Whether she was more powerful than he could have ever imagined or simply that she honestly grew to love him, he would never know. He realized how he felt however as she surprisingly answered all his questions very openly and candidly. It was then he thought with his heart and not his conscience and judged her innocent of all charges put against her. A mistake that would cost him his life and, now it appears, his very immortal soul.

Charged with heresy and trekking with demons, Devlin Thorne was sentenced to be put to death. Burned at the stake beside his beloved Patricia. With her supernatural strength she managed to escape her death and vowed vengeance on all who would dare to take her love from her before fleeing to freedom. Devlin died that day still torn between his love and the shame he felt in his weakness... his failure. At that moment, his destiny changed forever. Until this wrong was righted, he was doomed to return life after life to remake his decision and live or die with the consequences. Thus far he always chose love.

The crashing thunder awakened him from his memories. He looked up into the night sky wondering if he had made the right decision this time. He knew that his destiny had changed for him once again and that the cycle he had been trapped in had finally come to an end. He was determined to live this life to the fullest for it might actually be his last. He pulled his collar tight around his neck and began to walk home when he saw a beautiful woman. Maybe this would be the perfect time to start his new life. He approached her.

After a short time of laying on the charm with a little flirtation, she offered herself to him. He began by kissing the soft skin of her neck. She arched back allowing him easier access. The moment seemed timeless, his new lease on life. Then instinct took over. Devlin bared his fangs and pierced her flesh, drawing out the precious lifeblood. That was when he felt the hand grab his shoulder. Startled he turned quickly, prepared for the worst. It was Patricia.

"Congratulations my love. The first one is always the hardest," she licked the blood from his lips. "If you are finished, let's go home."