Bloodlust

Though the vibrations emanating from the speakers made the ground rumble beneath his feet, he felt none of it. His eyes were on the woman walking toward him, hips undulating to a silent beat that spoke of nights that went unslept, wives that were unknown.

With eyes that were soft, it was somewhat shocking that they sent out an extremely blatant sense of sensuality. Her hair was pulled just away from her face, tight curls tumbling away from the knot on top of her head, brushing her neck, and merely gazing at those curls, it gave him the sensation of his fingertips brushing that soft, sensitive flesh.

Only a few moments later, a red satin strap slid down her shoulder as her back pressed against the cold brick of the alleyway. Heated kisses pressed to swollen lips allowed no spare moment for words, let alone an introduction.

His fingers pushed the strap further down her smooth, pale skin. Her lips danced lower to his neck, where she felt the familiar beat and flow of the blood just beneath. Unable to control her façade any longer, she felt her teeth grow, alluring to her, in a way, piercing the skin there with practiced ease and precision.

He didn’t struggle, only a gurgled cry of surprise before he went limp in her arms, allowing her to feast openly.


It was only a week later when Eva found herself on the hunt once more. She was beginning to grow restless with the utter lack of blood in the city – at least blood that was worth drinking. The blood of a virgin was pure, delicious and satiating in a number of ways. Normally, in the city, she grew desperate and took the blood of men that were anything but virginal, as she had the week before. The men in this city only wanted one thing – sex, and they figured that any woman who looked as she did, with her seductive curves, passionate eyes, and an obvious sense of lust about her, wanted the same thing. More and more were gaining the surprise of dying in a fit of passion – howsoever brief that surprise lasted.

Eva remembered when she had been turned, in a time when those who were promiscuous were burned at the stake as if they were witches. It made finding sweet, virginal blood much easier. But times had obviously changed, and Eva was one of the few left of those ancient, mystical creatures who retained so much respect from believers.

The stories anymore were what made a massive difference for those like Eva – being murdered by stakes and silver bullets? Yes, the stakes were true – and painful enough to make any vampire pause. Eva pondered the thought as she walked confidently past a poster for the latest horror movie that most likely parodied her very existence. Silver bullets she knew were a far worse fate for vampires.

Silver, if injected under the skin of a vampire in any way whatsoever, would take away their immortality – “cure” them, for lack of a better term. However, it would take away their resistance to the toxic combination of the various blood types in their system. A mere three days before what had once been their only life support would render their bodies useless husks. They would die a long, agonizing death.

Shuddering at the thought, Eva turned into an alley, her leather boots making a satisfying sound on the damp cobblestones of the old city. The view in front of her made her halt, her eyes widening considerably. Not from fear – there was no reason to be fearful, for she herself had caused such instances as the scene that lay before her – but mostly from shock. The vampire that fed on the blood of a young woman, not even out of her teens, was none other than Julen.

Years ago, before Eva had been turned, she’d had a husband, the love of her life, and she had thought him dead after the vampire’s attack. And yet here he stood before her, his eyes just as wide as her own, both stunned from seeing the other.

Fueled by her sudden bout of anger, Eva punched at the brick to the side of her, sending pieces spinning across the slick ground beneath them, and the building shuddered from her fury. Blood flowed from her fresh wound, covering her hand like a cocoon, healing, rebuilding, before she stood there as she had, unhurt, but pissed as hell.

Dropping his victim unceremoniously, Julen wiped the blood coursing down his chin away with a quick swipe, his anger just as evident. She had been alive these five hundred years and not attempted to contact him? The fear that had been ravaging him for so long was useless, pointless, and now quickly turning into rage.

“I wish you truly had been dead,” Eva said, her voice filled with a great deal of emotion, more than she intended to share.

“Sorry to say, I’m standing before you.” Julen’s voice ripped at her with a sense of urgency.

“Are you in a hurry, Julen?” Eva asked him, crossing her arms, a smirk toying at the corners of her mouth, painted as red as the blood she fed on. “Because four hundred years ought to allow you to be in a much better mood.”

Julen scowled as he stepped toward her. “The same old Eva, tempting fate and courting disaster.” Distaste dripped on his every word. “Don’t you know it’s rude to cheat on one for the other?”

“I always thought that was your game, Julen, or do you think I never knew?”

Julen laughed, a great fury sounding off the walls around them. “Woman! Tossing up old grudges is never healthy for a vampire’s appetite. Or am I wrong…lycan?”

Hissing at the insult, Eva shoved at his chest with her palm, making the stones he was standing on groan and snap for the effort he put into staying in his place – he never moved.

“Don’t lie to me, Eva,” he said, his voice becoming soft and husky. “You cannot tell me that you don’t wish to bite me with those pretty little teeth right now. As much as I want to your neck – smooth as porcelain, as fine as silk.” His fingertips grazed the flesh there as Eva’s blue eyes burned dark with a fury she didn’t quite understand.

“How dare you touch me,” she said, though she did not turn away, did not flinch, her eyes never leaving his own.

“But it is what you desire, Eva.” Julen’s hand grazed lower, to her collarbone, following the curve of her body to her waist, though, somehow, never crossing the line that would make her attack.

Eva, on the other hand, said nothing. Her body rejoiced in the renewal of a man’s touch – a man who knew how to touch, or maybe it was just that he knew how to touch her, specifically.

Regardless, it was only a few moments before her hands were pressed against his chest, his mouth ravaging her own, sharp teeth nipping here and there, allowing blood to flow between them, intensifying the sudden bout of passion that consumed them.

It was stunning that, after half a century, they could become reunited so wholly. Eva’s body shuddered in pleasure as Julen’s hands explored her scantily clad body, her heartbeat pulsing under his expert mouth and fingers.

In the darkness of the alleyway, Eva suddenly pushed herself away from him, her arm coming up sharply to meet with the bottom of his ear. The attack caught him off guard, making him fall to the ground from the blow, and it was only a few moments more before she stood over him, one leather boot pressing him into the grunge of the alley street with surprising force.

“Did you think I was dead?” Eva asked him, allowing blood to flow from the cuts he had opened on her lips. “That I haven’t tried to find you?”

“Yes,” he spat, out of breath and still unable to move. “How are you any different from me, wench?”

Pressing her sharp heel deeper into the flesh of his chest, Eva frowned, almost pained to admit her frailty. “I did look for you. I stayed in that damned place for three years searching for any trace of you. You were still – ”

A shot rang in the air around them, causing a horrifying stillness as blood blossomed from Evas’ chest and coursed down her front. Eva fell, allowing Julen to jump to his feet with surprising speed as the Slayer, the gun in one hand, a wooden stake in the other, ran toward him.

Eva landed hard, knowing what would kill her, and it wasn’t the silver bullet lodged in her heart, slowly ridding her body of immortality. She watched the fight as her eyes blurred with unshed tears, time moving too slowly.

It was quick – Julen was still obviously shaken from the attack, his movements sluggish, his punches hitting more air than human flesh. The wooden stake penetrated his chest with such fluidity that a wave of dust caught the wind, disappearing on down the alley.

The Slayer didn’t bother to check if her other victim was dead, but disappeared into the bright lights of the street that lay beyond Eva’s vision.

The combination of blood in Eva’s body was only beginning its toxic transformation that, in three days, would leave her dead. Shocks of pain bit at her stomach, though the blood was beginning to mat over her wound.

Wincing, Eva pulled herself up. She cast a dark look in the direction the Slayer had walked before turning the opposite way, forcing herself to walk past the small pile of dust that remained, and disappeared into the night, to wait for that infinite darkness to wholly consume her.


Author's Note:
This is an old one, as most of these are, but this one's REALLY old. I wrote it in about 2006, I think. I was pretty naive to the vampire/werewolf bit, but I still think it's a pretty original take. (I kinda have a thing about werewolves lately, so one of my upcoming stories might be along those lines :p )