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Red Glow – III
Hot. Hot, sharp spikes
piercing my throat. Hot sticky blood oozing down my neck. Hot breath in my face followed by cold lips
encircling the wound. A shudder. A lingering moan. Heat rises through my body
when he lays his cold, hard hands on me. Sucking at my neck now, insistent,
throbbing pain/pleasure. Because it is both and I am lost.
Sunlight streams in
through my window bringing me instantly alert. Sitting upright, a sharp pains
knifes into my brain making me cry out. I look around the room, dazed, confused
by my dream the night before. I don’t remember going to bed. I don’t remember
removing my pajama pants and folding them neatly. I look up suddenly – never in all my 25 years
have I ever folded clothing after removing them. I am suddenly afraid, a
strange feeling, alien in my sunny bedroom. I stumble off the bed and make a quick check
of the room. No one here. But of course there isn’t. There never is. I blush as details of the dream
come back to me, the strong hands gripping me tightly, the ice cold lips, the
teeth tearing at my throat. Unconsciously I raise my hand to where the wound
was in my dream – and scream. The sound echoes through the empty house,
echoing, frightening me even more. I scramble into the bathroom and stare at the
band aid. It’s not possible. No way. A vivid dream yes, but come on – vampires?
With trembling fingers I slowly peel away the tape and a neat incision stares
back at me, a faint trickle of blood dripping down my neck. Breathe Mia. Just breathe. Willing away the dizziness, I walk
slowly back to my room. It looks the same as it always did (with the exception
of the folded clothes) I snort – just my luck to find an anal vampire. My mind
trips over the word effortlessly and I whisper it out loud. Vampire. Vampyre.
Blood-drinker. Lost soul. Night stalker. Every scary movie flashes into my mind, but I dismiss them.
Cyrus wasn’t like them I think. Cyrus. He was real. A shiver travels down my
spine, remembering his hands, so cold, icy on my warm skin. I blush again,
thinking of where his hands went, the feelings he evoked in me.
Glancing again around
the room I notice a piece of bloody paper stuck to my computer. I grab it,
desperate for some scrap of explanation. In beautiful, old fashioned script he
had wrote:
My darling Mia,
You cannot possibly begin to understand the
depths of my feelings for you. Last night was enchanting, you were so much more
than I ever dreamed you would be. It pains me to leave you, but I must. The
movies were true in some respects, sunlight is fatal. Rest assured that I will
come for you tonight, for I am eager to see you and touch your innocent face,
taste your blood on my lips, hear you moaning my name. Wait for me, my love,
and welcome me with open arms, for it is undeniable. I am your destiny as you
are mine and we shall be together always.
Until tonight
The bloody outline of
his lips ended the note, the crimson smear stark against the white paper. I
dropped the note and turned towards the mirror, my mind reeling. Blood had left
a gruesome trail across my shirt. I undid each button, my fingers tense and
fumbling. Letting it drop to the floor I gazed at myself in the mirror,
starting at the bloody imprint of his lips on my breast. Shivering, I touched the dried blood
raising goose bumps and tightening my nipple. I turned and crawled back into
bed, burrowing under the covers my thoughts in tangles. Cyrus. Blood. Heat.
Tonight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I must have slept all
day, the room was dark and silent when I awoke. I tensed, knowing I was not alone.
A white gleam in the dark, a ghostly smile punctuated by sharp, pointed fangs. Frozen
with fear I watched as he glided towards me, his feet making no sound. I
stiffened as he took me in his arms and buried his face in my hair. “I missed
you so much” he whispered, his lips sending shivers down my spine. I could feel
his chest crushed against mine, his skin icy. My legs gave way when his lips
found my own but he held me effortlessly. Gently
he laid me down on the bed and gazed into my eyes. I felt mesmerized, feeling
his gaze on me, knowing he could feel every tangled thought running through my
mind. Time stood still when he bent his head to me, breathing softly into my ear, shivers of
pleasure running up and down my spine. I moaned when his razor sharp fangs
embedded themselves into the neat wound on my neck, fire and ice raging through
my body. His lips moved against my skin in delicious agony as I felt my blood being
drained. My heart pounded in my ears – or was it his heart? It didn’t matter,
because from this point onwards, we would be one. He raised his head, the blood
dripping from his fangs onto my face and I reached for him. Like a man dying of
thirst I strained up to meet him, my tongue lashing his face, my lips meeting
his, my blood binding us in a black eternity.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Darkness. It was all
around me, inside my soul – I could feel it. Feel is coldness pulsing with the
force of a brand new heart. My heart. Transformed into a living, breathing object of lust
- the Bloodlust. I felt it rage within me and I moaned, the sound tearing at my
ears. Turmoil was blistering its heavy path through my soul and I knew I was
dammed. Dammed to live this life over and over until the end of days. And
beside me was Cyrus, a twin core to my diseased heart, a lover, a teacher, my
unholy companion for eternity.
Copyright 2007 Shelly
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