A Sanguine Romance for the Dying

Katrina opened the window to her bedroom and felt the gentle rush of chill air greet her. No matter how tired or weak she felt this sensation always quickened her. Her brittle body shivered under her thin white nightgown as she looked down to the still busy London street. Carriages made a racket on the cobbled stones, horse’s breath steaming in the autumn cold. She could also see the upper class couples pass under her window, frock coats and high hats laughing and chatting with timid women in decent dresses, white-gloved hand clasping grey-gloved hand as their laughter faded and left Kristina alone at her window.

She coughed and braced herself. Nowadays the coughing had worsened and before long she felt the grinding pain in her chest and reached for her handkerchief, coughing in it. Panting, she took the kerchief away from her mouth and looked at the tiny red stain that marred the delicate piece of cloth. The doctor had told her only last week that she might not see the New Year’s bonfires. The consumption had taken a firm hold of her body, and it had no intention of letting go. Katrina’s parents were complacent, realising they could not marry off their eighteen year-old daughter, leaving her be in her room and focusing on Katrina’s older sister instead, a school mistress betrothed to a banker’s son. Katrina lived through her eyes, looking at the bustling of passer-by, dreaming about what they would do, often conjuring up dark tales of murder, lust and deceit in her mind. When she was not too exhausted from coughing or struck down by fever, she would live her lucid moments to the fullest, having adventures in her mind’s eye to make up for the things she would so dearly miss now and in the non-existent future. And of course, there was the book.

As she meekly sank onto her four-poster bed, she immediately reached for the book on her nightstand. The tome was bound in brown leather, with bold black letters embossed on its front. “Vampyre’s Malady, a Gothic Novel by Edmund Ruxard”…the title alone sent tingles through Katrina’s exhausted body. She had read the novel dozens of times while she slowly wasted away in her room, but the epic tale of a vampire gentleman falling in love with a baroness always made her forget the pain and illness, even if it was only for a short while. Simon, the tragic anti-hero of the story visits the unhappy baroness in her sleep but cannot bear to become a vampire as well to join her strange courtier. She dies from grief, and the vampire cries bloody tears as he greets the sun for one last time, hoping that God will forgive him and let him join his love in Heaven. Her family did not know of this book, which is full of sexual innuendo and rather explicit scenes of Simon seducing women so he can sate his thirst for blood, and they would surely take it away from her, had they even bothered to check up on her.

Katrina opened the book, landing on one of her favourite passages, dog-eared and stained with fingerprints from countless times of reading. Katrina’s slightly raspy breathing increased as she soundlessly read the words to herself, quoting them more by heart than reading them.

“With great care he lay the sleeping girl on the soft bed where the baroness lay looking on with a mixture of fear and excitement. Simon smoothed the auburn hair away from her face, raking his fingernails ever so gently across her cheek. Slowly, the nymphet woke up, glassy eyes looking straight at the baroness.

“My love, this is proof of what I am. I hide nothing from you,” Simon whispered “this and more awaits you when you accept my cold caress.”

The baroness could not utter a word as Simon opened his mouth and revealed two exquisitely white fangs and sank them into the neck of the unsuspecting girl. He suckled on her flesh, whilst his soft hands caressed her between the thighs, the nether regions where normally only uncouth men or stern husbands may dare to stray. The girl swooned and let out a small gasp, as her gaze faded once more and she closed her eyes, body trembling in a final throe of ecstasy before she fainted yet once again.

“By God, what did you do to her,” the baroness exclaimed, trying to ignore the damp she felt growing betwixt her legs”, that poor girl…is she dead?”

Simon merely shook his head. “My dear, she is now accompanied by demons disguised as angels in her dreams, where…

“virtuous lust lulls her to a well-earned sleep.” She read those final words out loud, fingers still lingering around her mound. She brought her hand to her face and smelled her own female scent before lapping up the rank fluid. Lovely Edmund Ruxard. His words always moved her, often in very wrong ways. But what did she have to lose? She placed her hand back whence it came, a fingertip rubbing eagerly on her swollen clit. Crossing her legs, she cautiously entered the anteroom of her vagina, not daring or wanting to thrust through the hymen. The single finger probed gently, as she fondled her breasts, teasing the hard nipples through her nightgown. She moaned softly as she conjured up an image of Simon biting her neck, cupping her small breasts, blood leaving her body accompanied by the divine bliss of orgasm. That’s what she wanted; she wanted Simon to take her away from all of this in one final explosion of pleasure. Katrina gasped for air herself, as she fingered herself to a hard orgasm, arching her back to ride the waves as best as she could.

As the sparks faded and her breathing turned back to normal again, she burst into an intense fit of coughing. She turned on her side and retched, every muscle in her body cramping. Another clot came from her mouth, leaving a red smear on the pristinely white bed sheets. She morosely tried to bring her breath back to normal, sucking on her wet fingers to keep the image of her fantasy lover alive. Shivering she pulled the spread over her body, trying to hold back the tears that inevitably show up after another self-exploration. For her bond with Edmund Ruxard went beyond the book. Ruxard himself had died at the age of twenty-four, months after writing the book. He died of consumption, struck down by the same disease that gnawed at Katrina’s body. She would often fall asleep with Edmund’s book clasped in her arms, pressing it tightly to her heaving chest. Maybe the spirit of the book would make the disease go away, but Katrina knew better. And tonight was no different, for she clutched the book closely to herself, turning away from the blood on the sheets and falling into a dreamless sleep.

After some time, her eyes sprang open and she sat straight in bed. Her heart beat fast, but she had no idea as to what might have caused it. Could it have been a dream? She turned on the oil lamp on her nightstand, looking around her room. Shadows darted up the ceiling as the light came on, sprawled across the ceiling and the walls. The door was closed. No one would have dared, or bothered, to come in. Everything seemed to be perfectly in order. The boudoir was there, with her brushes and powders. Yet still Katrina’s heart beat frantically. Somewhere far off, she heard the noises of the city, ships coming into port…the window! She stared at the light pink curtains, flaring in and out of the room with the slightest gust of wind. There the shadow of the rocking chair. But there was another shadow there, unfamiliar and undoubtedly the cause of her fear, since her heart throbbed in her throat, as Katrina trembled from the cold and utter fear. She gathered the spread and covered herself with it.

“Who is there? Should I call my parents, or the butler? He used to serve in Her Majesty’s army, he’s dealt with nasty men before, I’m warning you!”, Katrina said in a non-too-brave voice. There was no response. The figure shifted slightly, and Katrina swore she could hear the…

thing

laughing.

“Don’t you mock me now! I will get the butler right now, he’ll show you!” Katrina said, her voice quivering. A gust of wind suddenly blew the curtains apart, offering her a glance of the mystery assailant.

“No you won’t. You’re too curious, Katrina.”

The thing knew her name! And it wasn’t a thing at all. Before the drapes fell back in place, she clearly saw the figure of a young man with flowing auburn hair sitting right there, on the windowsill. And he knew her name. Katrina tilted her head and drew back against the wall as the man stepped through the curtains, grabbing the book again and half-covering her face with it as if it were a talisman of some sort. She hated to admit it, but this midnight assailant was gorgeous. He was tall, taller than most men she knew, and his hair fell beautifully on his shoulders. His eyes were a sparkling dark blue, and his pale cheekbones made him look noble, a prince from an exotic monarchy come to visit London…

“I’m not a prince, my dear. And thank you for the compliment”, the man said as he came closer to the bed, not making a sound. Katrina was baffled, but the soft smile on the man’s face made her forget all about fear.

“Just who are you?”, Katrina asked with a meek voice, right before she coughed violently from the stress, her body shaking, making retching sounds. The young man rushed to her side and held her. Katrina leaned back against his greatcoat, closing her eyes for a moment as she held in her coughing. She felt weak, chest rising swiftly as she tried to breathe normally. The man carefully took the book from her hands, opening it at a seemingly random page.

“The baroness wept for nights on end, grieving for her dark lover who would never return. Oh, how she would say different words now, how she would tell him to hold her, kiss her with all the love in his damned soul, to make her just like he is, to walk under the stars hand in hand for all eternity! Alas! It would never be, and that very night her heart could go on no longer and tears streamed down her face as she let out her last breath.

And on that dreadful night, Simon did return. How he regretted the things he said! All during his day’s slumber he vowed to go back just once more, for he could not believe his ears the other night. She loved him, he knew for certain, and she belonged with him…that he knew. But as he stepped into her room, coming in through that blessed window, he found her lifeless on her bed, dried up tears ‘pon her face. He sank to his knees and looked up to uncaring Heaven: “Dost thou curse me again, God! Wasn’t one man’s suffering enough?” And blood streaked his face, and blood he no longer wanted…”

Katrina looked up with wide eyes at the stranger. Tears welled up in her eyes. The way he spoke those words, in that solemn tone…he was Simon, he was the mourning baroness. She looked up at him, and saw that he was staring at her, a sad smile upon his face.

“I’m glad you like my book, although I think you’re the only one who does.”, he said in a level voice. Katrina blinked. “You are…?”

“Edmund Ruxard, that is correct”, he said. He took her hand and gave it a courteous kiss. Katrina swooned, her favourite writer kissing her hand, a cold kiss, in her bedroom. It was almost too much to bear. She shook her head and drew away slightly.

“How did you get here? And why?”, she asked, with an indignant tone in her voice. Edmund laughed, a sonorous sound that was warm and comforting.

“Well I came through the window obviously, and why?” He shifted slightly, folding his hands in his lap. “I heard you reading from my book and I…was curious. It had been a long time since I heard those words. Ages ago, it seems.” He bent his head, the smile gone from his face for an instant. Katrina pondered this.

“You say you’ve heard me, but how? I was only whispering!”, she said when something sprung to mind, and she turned red at the thought of it. “Just for how long were you watching me? Did you see…did you?” She felt so ashamed to say what she had done, little closet libertine that she was. Again there was that wonderful laugh.

“Yes, I did see that,” he said “, and I was…surprised by it. But I heard you all right. I can hear anything nowadays.” He leaned in close to her face, his odourless breath falling on her eyelashes. “Do you remember when Simon could hear what the maid was saying about the baroness, and the baroness did not believe it? When the maid was summoned and confessed to it all before Simon took her?”

Katrina nodded. She remembered, it was one of the myriad saucy scenes in the book. She loved the near-divine command of Simon, her erotic hero, and now Edmund here…

“Is just like him.”, he said suddenly. “I’ve become what Simon is in that book. Not quite dead, not quite alive. A vampire.” His blue eyes shone down on her like a pair of moonbeams. Somehow she felt he was not lying. His eyes had something of a predator, and as she gazed in them she felt the same mixture of curiosity and fear she once had felt when she saw the tigers at the zoo. And the same sensation she felt when she woke up. Yet his face had nothing of a predator in it at all. He looked glum, as if he had committed some horrible crime.

There grew a silence between them, and Katrina felt the urge to break it.

“So you drink blood, sleep during the day?”, she asked.

“Yes, all that and more.” He turned away from her. Katrina looked at the pages of the book and saw red droplets on them. So just like Simon, she thought to herself.

Despite the weariness of sleep and decrepitude of illness, she righted herself and placed her hands on his shoulders. Only now did she feel the cold beneath the thin cloth of his coat, a general feeling hanging around him like an aura. She rested her head upon his shoulder.

“I’m dying. Consumption. Your book…it’s the only thing that comforts me at night. I read it time after time. Somehow…” She paused briefly.”…somehow your words touched me. As if you knew what I am going through. You do, don’t you?”

There was no response. He seemed a statue, uncaring. Katrina felt all hope run away from her. This was not how it was supposed to end. Not like this.

“Take me. Do to me what the baroness never felt. Passion from the undead. I want it…it is my dying wish.” She bit her lower lip, nuzzling her head on his shoulder. Suddenly he turned around, his marble face streaked with tears. Red tears.

“You don’t know what that passion brings along. How can you ask for it!” He seemed agitated and despairing at the same time. Katrina scowled slightly, stifling a cough.

“Then how can you dare to write about it, and now live the very same…life that you depicted oh so dramatically in your novel! The doctor said I wouldn’t see the new year. Now are you going to deny your most devoted reader this wish? Well, are you?”

She was crying as well and fell back in Edmund’s arms. He embraced her tightly before laying her down carefully on the bed. He smoothed her soft hair and kissed her gently on her lips, lingering but a moment. Katrina shuddered as his cold lips touched hers and before she realised what she was doing she pulled him close to her and kissed him passionately, her warm tongue seeking his. She heard Edmund whisper her name in between kisses, and let out a small gasp as his icy hand sought the warmth between her legs. Katrina felt a cramp in her belly and looked surprised as Edmund showed her his finger. It was streaked with watery blood, which he sucked up unblinking. Again she felt a cramp and knew that her period had begun. Edmund merely smiled, his eyes dreamy and seductive.

“You…you may have it. My gift to you” Katrina whispered hoarsely, as she felt her own fluids mingling with the menstrual blood. Without a second thought Edmund lifted her nightgown over her head and kissed all of her body. Katrina swore his lips felt slightly warmer and succumbed to pleasures, her breathing fast and superficial, pulling off his white brocaded shirt and running her pink hands over the snow-white flesh of his back. Edmund let his tongue swirl around her nipples, making them a flustered red from arousal, hard and firmly pointing upward. He traced the fragile curves of her body and Katrina let out a deep feral cry as his tongue met with her clitoris, licking her lips as Edmund lapped at the cream that seeped out of her vagina.

Edmund’s licking became more intense, grabbing her by the legs and lifting her slightly off the bed as he goaded Katrina to her first orgasm. She gasped for air, sweating profusely as she clenched her eyes shut, determined to ride out every surge of orgiastic pleasure. Edmund looked up and met her gaze as she finally opened her eyes again, her breath now raspy as it always is after such bliss. A trickle of blood ran from her mouth, but she did not care about that now. He would welcome it, and indeed Edmund leaned in and licked it away. She could see two small fangs, felt them graze her skin. His face was a bit flushed now, looking very much like her own diseased countenance.

“That was…lovely…a great gift,” he said “now let me give you something of my own.”

With that he took off his trousers and lay on top of her. Katrina smiled, covering him in kisses. Edmund rolled her on top of him, and put her on his lap. Katrina saw his swollen cock, his pale shaft rife with thick veins and crowned by a wonderfully formed glance, a single drop of dark blood pearling on the very top. Her eyes grew wide, and as if in a trance she wrapped her hand around the shaft and stroked it delicately. Edmund grunted and grinned with surprise when he saw some of his own predatory nature in her eyes. With great care, she straddled Edmund and very slowly guided his cock to her still soaking wet love mound. As the head made its way inside her, Katrina let out a low moan and let herself fall onto it, his full length leaving her hymen torn to tatters. The mixture of pain and pleasure drove Katrina mad, and as she moved her hips up to feel it slide out again partially the muscles of her cunt clamped Edmund’s cock tightly, the orgasm sending shocks through her body. Edmund thrust back, his hands cupping her small breasts. They now fucked each other in a slow rhythm, Katrina leaning back to support herself on his legs. Gyrating her hips, she felt every inch of Edmund’s cock explore her insides more thoroughly than any finger or tongue in the world could. Edmund righted himself and kissed Katrina, his tongue coiling round hers, and he pulled her back down. He pumped her faster now, lifting his own body from the bed as Katrina moaned and called out his name.

“Oh Edmund, yes! Take me,

fuck

me!” Katrina was beside herself with lust, forgetting the clock that ticked away her final days. All of that meant nothing now. This was eternity. Edmund was unrelenting, sliding his cock in and out of her body for the good part of an hour, sending her into new heights of passion each time as she came. Katrina felt her body grow weak, wary of the numerous climaxes. Edmund laid her on her back, never leaving her body and kissed the nape of her neck.

“Now…my gift to you” he said in a tone of voice more a growl than a whisper. Katrina gagged as she felt two sharp jabs in her neck and when a whirlwind of ecstasy claimed her she knew what he was doing. She could hear her own heartbeat, and with every pulse she felt the blood, that diseased fluid, flow out of her body and into his mouth. She swore she could hear his heartbeat now, beating faster and steadier with every drought he took, as her own heartbeat became nothing more than a distant drum, no longer of any importance. Still he fucked her, truly fucked her, and the sensation became more intense as she felt life slip away from her.

With a grunt he drew away from her neck, his face flushed and eyes sparkling with delight and bloodlust. He increased his thrusts, and Katrina beheld him with glassy eyes, ready to die.

“No, you shan’t die, Katrina dearest. Heaven doesn’t deserve you. All the world will marvel at your beauty as I…as I make you what I am.” With that he groaned without sound and pulled Katrina’s hips close to him, shuddering in a tremendous orgasm. Katrina felt liquid fire rushing through her insides, spreading through her body and she seemed to cave in. Screaming, she dug her nails in Edmund’s warm flesh. The flow never stopped and he leant in and kissed her, the same magma now running down her throat. After what seemed an eternity of this sheer rush of pleasure, Edmund let his body sink on hers and they both lay still.