Its In The Blood The Beast Pt 01

Mmmmm. What was that heavenly warmth radiating through my prison, vibrating my very essence? I love waking up like this. Every. Single. Time. I can't even recall Millennia or more at this point, and it still never gets old. All of the ways a mortal can wake me, and this is by far the best. There are so many ways too. Humans came up with so many silly things to associate this ritual with. It would be foolish of me not to admit that each offering had its unique benefits. I could feel their arousal wash over me as my energy grew. Cute. They can barely contain themselves. Yes. A lusty sexual sacrifice on top of blood was by far my favorite sacrifice of all. It was the smallest amount of blood, but it would do. The spoken words and the speaker's intent were truly all that mattered. Without offerings, though, they'd be at this for a fortnight or more. Their intent washed over me.

There is much more power in sex than these humans realize. Power? They would call it magic, I'm sure. Either name was of little relevance to me. I reveled in it. The power that is generated through the connection between two beings joining their body and mind. Oh, yes. If I had my physical form already, that oh-so-familiar tingling of warmth would wash over my skin. These were virgins. Two little innocent human virgins. No. Not human... not quite. That just wasn't quite right, was it? I couldn't pinpoint the little signatures coming to me in small waves. Lycanthrope? No. The energy signature was far too faint. Perhaps they came across one in passing? The savage brutes never were against an ambush after a full moon shift. Not the only time they can't seem to control themselves, mind you, but the worst.

My thoughts had distracted me, but I snapped back to the present with a jolt. Is that Fae I'm sensing? That's... interesting. Wildly rare that a lycanthrope pack would reside close to a Fae nesting, but it was unmistakably there. I may have been asleep for... who knows how long, but my senses are always keen. I am the night. There's something else there, too. I'm not exactly sure. Another creature of the night? I can't quite place it. When reaching out with my essence to try to gain more sense and clarity it hummed against me. It sent an impossible sensation, a chill down a spine I had not yet owned. Delightful. I love it when I'm brought surprises. I've been around a long time. It takes a lot to surprise me.

I soon began to bore in my anticipation for my physicality. My excitement quickly burned into impatience, and a steady drip of rage soon followed. Spending long slumbers not quite awake or sleeping, drifting in a void of partial existence. It grows weary. Who knew when I turned my back so long ago that it would lead to this place? It was my own choice. I made it when I decided to stay. Stay in this purgatory I am in. This existence, while better than the one before, was its own personal hell all the same. Not only in the time between each form but in each existence. Even during my mortal coils, there lay a longing. A desire always waiting. An uncontrollable hunger is constantly growing. Would they say the words already so I may be released from my prison? Just ride one another and be done. If I must sit here and ponder my endless existence for much longer, I will kill them both as soon as I am able just for insulting me by making me wait.

No one makes me wait. At this point, they had a death wish. I would be more than happy to oblige them. They've been fumbling over the words, but like a melody, each correct note joined in coursing through me--my very essence. I could feel, with each one, physicality forming. It is hard to contain such energy in a human form. It takes time and strength. Usually, a secondary being, or sorcerer, would be required to lay the proper foundation. They needed to gather their totems and herbs for their rituals. The rituals were more for them, though. Time is necessary for them to gather strength and set proper intent, and humans especially need things in life to hold a deeper meaning. This fact was one of the reasons my family was against interbreeding. There were other reasons, too, and some of them were valid. I don't care who's up there. I just needed them to say the damn words.

My last thought brought back a very distasteful memory in a flash. I groan internally, hoping this would not be like the lifetime before the previous. A group of young humans had come across an old necromancer's book of sorts and attempted to raise me. I say "of sorts" because it was a haphazard journal written by a half-crazed man. Only half-crazed, though. He was on to some things, for sure. Four agonizing years it took for my body to form fully. I had their scent, though, their energy signature engrained in the back of my mind. I hunted them down and slayed them where they stood simply for their stupidity as soon as I was able to do so. It didn't take long. When will the humans learn? If you aren't sure what it is, leave it the hell alone.

The more I came to form with their words, the more I could sense beyond the energy. I could hear them now. A young man and woman. Fresh. Very fresh. Timid was in their way about one another's bodies, yet some comfort was shared between them. I get the sense they recently came of age. Delectable. She giggled. A sweet song to behold with a melodic ring to it. Fae, no doubt. My non-existent mouth watered at the thought of sinking my teeth into that special place on her neck. Right where it meets the shoulders. They'd swoon and fawn. Worked every single time. There was something else within her, though. A half-breed? I couldn't place exactly what, though the Fae blood ran truest within her veins. Regardless, it was rare, and I grew more curious about the world above me.

Above me? Yes. I was most definitely underground. I could smell the cool, wet earth around me. Walls made when water ran over soft limestone centuries ago. The acid in the water slowly eats it away, creating holes. Then, over time, the passages become larger and larger as the water finds its escape. Something else cold was directly around me. Metal. Iron and silver, most definitely. I mused about the humans and their ever-extending ignorant innocence. I can't blame them for mistaking me for a cold one. We both preferred the night and enjoyed a blood feast. They more so than I; however, the methodology was extremely similar. I created the cold ones, after all. Born of the night and my blood. My first sentient children. I couldn't fault the humans for confusing that. I mean, I could, but I wouldn't. They and I could walk amongst the sun, but they could only do so for a short time before symptoms began: red eyes and a pink rash. The mood issue would then follow not far behind. So, how could I genuinely fault them? I rather enjoy my warm, yummy toys. That's probably why I always preferred to exist alongside them since the very beginning.

The family had assumed we created the humans during the Life Expansion and went unnoticed until they were a prevalent population on this planet. A happy little accident living and existing right beneath our noses, being ravaged and plundered by our children. They didn't care about the humans. I saw them as more. Capable. Adaptable. Strong. Fun. My family saw them as nothing more than mere livestock--an unintended benefit created to supply our growing food chain. I'm afraid I have to disagree. I don't agree with my family too often about many other things. It had been a long-time theme. They still blame me for everything. Being stuck here in this universe. We were supposed to be constant movers and expanders. We were never meant to exist. To live a life. To fully be.

The humans were a gift in my eyes and always will be. They were practically made to worship and revere us. They craved it. Begged for it even! For something more than them to tell them what to do and put them into their place. See? Fun! Who was I to not provide for them what they want and need? What a gift, indeed. We could coexist. We could feed from them without pushing them to extinction. The hunt was rarely necessary because of how docile and giving the humans were. Indeed, a shepherd can and still does care for his livestock while simultaneously knowing their purpose and function.