Blood

Time froze briefly. He looked at his hand as it rested on her stomach. The contrast of his dark skin against her smooth whiteness was nothing he hadn't seen before, but it seemed different to him this time. Warmer. More inviting. He glanced at her, but thought for a moment that she could read his mind, so he turned away. If his skin had been lighter, she could have seen him blush, if such a thing were possible for him.

With his face turned, she tried again to determine his age. She couldn't. His face was youthful, but his eyes portrayed a lifetime of experiences, centuries of knowledge. She traced her fingers along his jaw line, felt the strength there. The skin of his cheek was smooth and freshly shaven. She could refuse him nothing. Why was she so reckless with this dark man whom she had just met? He kissed her palm, moved to her wrist, and then paused, feeling the rhythmic pulse with his lips. He could smell the blood through the skin. The sweet nectar that lay beneath. He could smell the diesel fumes from the gas station down the street. He could smell the menstruating waitress in the diner across from the motel. His senses danced. He slowly ran his tongue across his teeth. He could feel them growing. The canines lengthening. The edges sharpening. He held the wrist with both hands and then hesitated.

Not now . . .

He reluctantly broke away, let go of the delicate hand, and sat on the edge of the bed facing away from her. His broad shoulders raised and lowered slightly and even the smaller, intricate muscles of his body flexed as he breathed. She thought for a moment, searching her memory. She was certain that she had never been with a man who was so perfectly formed. His back was a wide, smooth palette of flawless brown flesh.

She raised herself, slid to the beds' edge and placed her feet on the floor. They sat like that wordlessly, on opposite sides of the bed, until she rose. Her legs were weak, and rightly so. She took the few unsteady steps to the balcony, pausing at the table to get a cigarette and lighter out of her purse. She stopped at the open doorway. The breeze caressed her naked body and then wrapped around her, through her, and behind her.

She nervously gripped the cigarette between her index and middle finger and lit it. Beyond the flame, she could see people stirring in the diner across the street. She briefly wondered if they could see her naked form on the balcony. The thought gave her a slight thrill.

She heard him stirring in the bed behind her. In an instant, she felt him at her back. His breath cooled across her shoulder and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand upright. It felt good. She placed her hands on the railing to steady herself. She thought that she heard him whisper something to her. Her ears tried to capture the words, but could not. His hands found her waist and held her firmly. She felt his hardness pressed against her. She wanted him inside her again, but at this angle it would be difficult. He nuzzled her neck with his lips, occasionally stopping to lick and tease. This drove her wild. Then she felt his teeth gently dancing on her shoulder. The thought of him biting her and possibly leaving marks in her neck drove her even wilder. She dropped the lit cigarette and lighter and reached up to hold his head in her hands. It was clean shaven and cool to the touch. She pulled him into her, forcing his mouth harder against her neck. Both of his hands crept up her sides and gripped her breasts tightly. She looked down at them. They seemed larger, but somehow more delicate. More spider-like. The fingernails seemed longer. In fact, they seemed to be growing as she looked at them. He pinched her nipples and she shuddered. Then she felt her skin give way as the teeth sunk into her flesh. "A mistake?" she thought. But he didn't stop. She heard a gentle sucking sound as his greedy lips coaxed the life blood from her. There was no pain. Warm, thick liquid slowly made its way down her left breast which was still tightly gripped by his hand. She could smell it. Her own essence. A tear rolled down her left cheek.

"Violets" she thought briefly. "My blood smells like rotted violets." She thought about the diner patrons again. "Can they see me? Can they see him killing me?"

He held her tightly, still draining her. Her head looked upward and she saw the stars splattered against the black sky. Then her eyes fluttered for a moment and closed. She grew weak. Her legs gave way. He held her up, by her breasts and by the teeth sunk in her neck. The feeling of weightlessness was intensified by the loss of blood. She felt light-headed. Suddenly, she felt as if they were spinning. Not on the balcony, but above it. Connected only by clawing hands and jagged teeth. She dared to open her eyes and when she did, she saw the world around her become darker. Light, wispy clouds seemed to be getting closer.

She felt so cold . . .