Authors Note: This is a longer story with a lot of time spent on emotions and character and development. If you enjoyed this story or if you hated it please take the time to vote and to tell me why - Aspiring Romantic.
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I thundered through the shadowy alley, paying little mind to the cast of unsavory characters lining its walls. I paused on the other side trying to ascertain which direction I should follow. It was dark and foggy, and I had managed to lose sight of the voluptuous redhead, but I could still hear the sound of her clicking frantically on the pavement in the distance. After a brief moment of deliberation I was able to pinpoint the direction, and I headed after her.
It was nearly 4 a.m. on a foggy Tuesday night in the middle of Atlanta. The streets were virtually abandoned, except for the occasional vagabond, prostitute or lifelong criminal. In other words, the type of people who would notice a well dressed man chasing after a beautiful girl, but were unlikely to interfere. They were the type of people who were used to running from the cops instead of calling for their help. I suspected that several of them considered mugging me, but some instinct they didn't quite understand convinced them otherwise.
I ran past a crumbling apartment complex and turned a corner just in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of my target. She darted across the street and began to cut through a vacant lot. I realized that she wasn't running haphazardly. She had a destination in mind, and I suddenly knew what it was. More importantly, I knew a more direct path.
I slowly crossed the empty street and turned down another shady alley. I briskly walked past the crack houses and vacant lots, making my way back towards the park and a nicer part of the city. The tenements gradually became nicer and finally I stopped in an alley next to a large brick townhouse. I sat patiently in the shadows and was shortly greeted by the sound of footsteps growing near. I stood and flattened myself against the brick wall and watched anxiously as Sophie approached on the sidewalk next to the main street. She didn't even notice me in my dark hiding place, a careless mistake I thought. She passed by and with one quick, graceful movement I darted out from my hiding place and seized her from behind.
She wheeled around to face me. Her bright emerald eyes were blazing with surprise. "How did you...?" she started to ask.
I flashed her a wicked smile. "I anticipated where you were going, Love, and I took a short cut."
She stared at me flabbergasted, trying to process my words. Finally she just flashed me a coy smile and pushed me away playfully. "Oh Darien," she pouted in her distinct British accent, "You are no fun. I wanted you to chase me. I wanted to get your blood pumping."
I took her hand and drew her near to me. "My blood is already pumping," I responded. "It's been absolutely boiling since our meal." I leaned Sophie up against the brick wall and pressed my body against her, allowing her to feel the pulsing member inside my tight leather pants. I could tell she was still enjoying the afterglow of our dinner as well. Her normally, pale white skin now had a pinkish glow about it, and her flesh was warm to the touch. I could feel her heart racing. Her lips were blood red, and with good reason. She flashed me a seductive, toothy smile, and I noticed her long canine teeth still displayed some red streaks--the last remnants of the feast we had shared earlier. I briefly flashed back to the two young lovers who had taken an ill-fated stroll through the park. Their lifeless bodies would undoubtedly be found in the coming days, but the police would just assume them to be the victims of robbery. I had taken all of their valuables and would put them in the chest where I kept the goods of all my victims, saving them until they could be turned into cash without drawing attention.
I leaned forward and gently kissed Sophie's lips. There was a sweet hint of our earlier meal on her breath, and it caused my heart to start pounding in my chest. "It's been to long," I whispered. "I've missed you, Sophie."
"I know, my love," she answered, "But I'm here now." I stepped back and gazed at her—a picturesque vision of loveliness. She stood five and a half feet tall, with a voluptuous, curvy figure. Her most noticeable feature was her long, curly red hair. Along with her pale skin and bright green eyes, it made her look like an indescribable goddess. I had been captivated by her looks from the moment I first saw her in a small London nightclub nearly two years earlier. I suspected every man who had encountered Sophie during her brief adult life felt the same way. She had been indescribably beautiful as a nineteen-year-old mortal. In the two years since The Change she hadn't aged a day, but she had become even more radiant. Her porcelain flesh and vibrant eyes had adopted a glow that made her inconceivably mesmerizing to man and woman alike. The young couple in the park had found out just how dangerously intoxicating she could be.
She stood gazing up at me, taking in my own ageless beauty. At a little over six feet tall, I easily towered over her. She reached up and ran her slender fingers though my long, dark hair, pushing it back to expose my pale face. "So," she began, "We've already dined, and we've already played. What do you say to going inside and having a proper reunion?"
I flashed her my own bloodstained fangs. "As you wish," I replied. We left the dark alley and climbed the steps in front of the large brick townhouse. I turned my key in the lock and moments later we stood inside the large edifice. The main room was decorated with numerous pieces of expensive, antique furniture, but that wasn't our focus at the moment. We rushed to the back of the house and down the small stair case that winded its way beneath street level to the cellar below.
The room had no windows and was pitch black, but neither of us minded. Our gift allowed us to see extremely well in the dark. Nevertheless, I went to a corner and ignited each of the candles in the large candelabra, giving us a touch of light. Aside from the candle stand there was only one other piece of furniture, which sat in the center of the room. The floor was covered with thick red carpeting. All four walls and the ceiling were covered with black velvet tapestries.
Sitting in the center of the room was my most prized possession. Perfectly distanced from each of the walls sat a massive sarcophagus. It was nearly eight feet long and wide enough for two adults. The exterior wood was stained black and covered with ornate carvings. The lid stood open, revealing an interior that was lined with luxurious satin. The pillows and mattress were covered in the same material. The material was a shade of red that matched the carpet perfectly. They both matched the streaks that were now fading from my teeth. They were the color of the sweet nectar that Sophie and I needed for our survival.
The entire home was filled with expensive pieces of furniture, most of which had been around for hundreds of years. The various homes I owned around the world were equally posh. Still, in my mind, all of it together did not compare to the value of that sarcophagus. Inside its confining walls I had been born into the dark life, when at 23 years old I had been enchanted by the enigmatic temptress, Alana. Nearly ten years had passed since I had been discovered by the gorgeous vampire, sitting alone in a small bar in New Orleans. I put up little resistance when she invited me to her home; once there she had easily seduced me into the coffin. I had laid there naked, as if in a trance, as the raven-haired beauty made love to me. WHEN I climaxed, I felt the sharp prick in my neck as she began to consume my nectar. She had nearly taken my life, but in the last instant Alana guided my teeth to her own neck, instructing me to drink of her. I obeyed, and thus the Change commenced.
I'd slept through the entire next day, and woke as the sun was setting. Alana had vanished, and I'd not seen her since, although I heard from others that she was still out there somewhere. She didn't give me any instructions or advice. The only thing she left me was the box where my creation had taken place. In that box I had spent the first month of my new life, trying to come to grips with what had happened, and trying to understand my new powers and urges. I left only to feed, and the first few times that had been quite a debacle. Eventually, I gained comfort with the new me and adopted my new life with vigor, but I kept the sarcophagus with me. It felt like a part of me, and was the only place I felt truly comfortable when I slept. Over the years, many a young ingénue had spent the last moments of her life with her naked body sprawled across the slippery red satin mattress as I satisfied my hunger and my lust. It was on that same mattress that I turned a young English barmaid into a lust-filled animal eight years after my own Change.