I scented him before I ever saw him. Drakkar Noir, as suitable as any could be. He continued on past me, unawares of me watching him. A finely formed head sat on large, broad shoulders, narrow hips, and long legs. He stood over six feet, and walked with a calm authority. He radiated the need to be left alone by the rest of society. He ducked inside a small, exclusive bar, and intrigued, I followed him, slipping past the bouncer as a wisp of shadow.
After he sat and ordered a drink, I walked up and sat at the next stool over. He watched as I ordered a drink, as I knocked it back without even a moments' hesitation.
"Can I buy you another?" Damion asked the darkly attired woman next to him.
"As you wish," she replied tossing her long, dark hair back over her shoulder, "My name is Arandiel."
"And mine is Damion. What brings you to The Devil's Keep? This isn't a usual refuge for one as striking as you," he replied, looking at her more fully.
She is dressed in tight leather pants, with a low-cut, laced shirt and a long trench coat. She is the very essence of sexuality, looking like she could eat even someone like me whole. And yet there is a palpable edge there as well. A bit of danger lurking under the surface, something you wouldn't perceive at first unless you really looked into her.
"Those are beautiful tattoos you have Damion," she says running her finger up my arm. Chills follow in its path, leaving my flesh quivering with excitement. She seems dangerous, yet all the more alluring because of it.
I see the look in his eye. He is as good as gone, lured by the mystery and the need to find out what I offer. He doesn't even recognize the basic instincts that cause his pulse to quicken with something just a little past desire and excitement. Some deep-ingrained instinct recognizes me for what I am, and pulls his mind away, but his body speaks a different tongue entirely, wanting every decadence I can offer. It longs to sate itself on my body, and then slumber next to me until late into the next day.
"They were designed by a close friend of my father's," he says, "someone a bit outside the influence of popular culture."
"Many of life's most affluent people are. Such a shame really, to outcast people based on trendy thinking instead of true crimes or social inability." She sighed, her personal thoughts weighing heavily on her.
"What can I do to make you happier? It must be a crime against nature for such a beautiful creature such as you to be so sad. You could make the angels in heaven weep", I asked her.
"Not much makes me happy, allows me to forget," she said, "Fighting these feelings is not an easy task."
"I bet I can think of something." He said, leaning in closer, his lips gently taking mine.
I smiled as the kiss got deeper, his tongue intruding into my mouth, tentatively, teasing, making me want more. I began to wonder if I could do this. He was so genuinely concerned; all I wanted to do was tell him all. Maybe if I could get it off my chest I could finally connect in a way I never could with others, even when I was alive. The centuries I had passed as the undead hadn't exactly helped me get closer to others, in fact it did the exact opposite. Not that I could blame people, what's so sexy about being with someone who has no pulse and hasn't for over a hundred years. No amount of sex appeal can bring back that mood.
As he cupped the back of my head, I slowly came up for air.
"Maybe we should go somewhere a bit more friendly...." I whispered, looking deep into his eyes. Compelling him to obey, though I doubt it was necessary.
"My apartment is across town," he says, looking down in frustration.
"No matter, mine is but a breath away," I purred in his ear.
He quickly settled his tab, and escorted me out of the club. Before he knew it we were turning to an ominous looking doorway. As I unlocked the door, he hesitated for a moment, and then followed me in, firmly shutting the door behind us.
"I don't usually do things like this," he whispered, pulling me against him, kissing me firmly.
"Me neither, "I said, holding onto the lapels of his jacket, lest I fall down. My legs felt like jelly, and my whole body was trembling at his touch. I felt like a school girl with my first crush. And that was saying a lot, it must have been almost 700 or more years ago since I first felt that way.
He slid off my jacket and placed it on the rack by the door. I moved to light some candles around the apartment, luxuriating in the feel of his eyes following my every move. Slipping into his mind for a moment, I grabbed a bottle of chardonnay from the wine rack, and brought him two glasses, a corkscrew, and the bottle. He immediately proved his manhood and opened it perfectly. I picked up a remote from the coffee table, and music began filtering in from spots around the room.
As he sat back on the leather couch, he shrugged of his own coat.
"This is a beautiful apartment. Do you live alone?" he queried.
"Yes, I have been alone for longer than you can imagine," I responded.
"That's a shame. Someone as beautiful as you shouldn't have to pass so many nights alone, especially in such a dangerous city." He remarked quietly, capturing my hand with his, handing me a glass after kissing my palm.
After taking a sip of the potent wine, I took her glass from her, since she was just playing with the glass, not drinking the contents. I set both glasses on the table, and pulled her to me again. After tracing her lips with my finger tip I followed the path with my tongue, and finally my mouth. She put her arms around my neck, and pulled me against her, deepening the kiss. I followed the line of her jaw from her mouth up to her ear, then along her throat to her collar. I peeled her shirt up, and she lifted her arms to help me remove it. Her breasts were exposed to the cold draft, and her nipples peaked, visibly hardening. She moaned quietly, biting her lower lip and watching me through lowered lids.