After some consideration, I decided to mix the Lorena from True Blood with the Lorena from the books since they're a bit different. The one from the books has an accent and is supposed to blonde while the TB one has dark hair and has no accent, etc…
This is a two-part story purely done to flex my writing a bit more and play around with my imagination.I do my own editing so forgive any mistakes. =D
Anything here belongs to Charlaine Harris and/or HBO except for Rose and another minor character I'll add later.
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For several nights now, Lorena had chosen to bring him a human- a brunette and fading beauty from one of the more miserable cabarets in Seattle. The woman had mostly likely dreamt of becoming an actress or singer but hard times had caught up with her and her dreams had been dashed away. Instead, she had been forced to use her body in order to survive in this lonely world. This woman- Rose- was now dead and sprawled facedown across the bed.
He had liked Rose.
He had wanted to break her away from the life she was leading.
He had wished to help her regain her life.
Instead he had only brought her to death and he hated Lorena for it.
"We have tired her out beyond help…" Lorena purred as she ran her small fingers down Rose's naked back.
"You killed her." He accused her and glared at her from where he sat. He could get a clear view of Rose's face and her lifeless blue eyes as her left cheek rested on the rumpled bed sheets and matted dark hair. Lorena only shrugged and pushed the body aside far enough so she could lie on the bed. She was wearing her rayon nightgown and nothing else. He was sitting on the chaise lounge on the far side of the room but with a clear view of her lovely legs as she moved them softly across the sheets. Rose's body was at the edge of the bed now, lifeless and empty.
"No. She killed herself the moment she chose the path to perdition." It was so abrupt and cold that it smothered out the rising lust he had begun to feel for Lorena despite himself. Would it ever end for him? He hated himself at times for craving her so much but he was determined to put an end to it. He simply had to for his own sake. For Rose.
After all, it had been Lorena who had brought Rose to him as a peace offering from a previous fight. He had seen Rose several times in the cabaret she worked at and had often found himself fantasizing about her- mostly because Rose bore a close resemblance to his now deceased wife, Caroline. It was morbid, this fascination with the lovely Rose that had begun to cloud his thoughts.
Lorena, always apt to notice his change in mood, had noticed the growing interest he had developed for Rose and she had brought her to him. She is my gift to you. Enjoy her well. With those words, Lorena left them alone as he set out to enjoy this lovely peace offering that graced the bed. What's more, he enjoyed his lovely Rose nightly and exclusively after that and he often found himself whispering fevered pleas for forgiveness though they were not meant for Rose.
He really had wanted to return to her after the war. She had been all he ever thought of in those lonely days and nights filled with war, famine, and children… How were the children?
He had loved her.
Rose would nod and forgive him. She would indulge him because in the end, it was her job to soothe and listen to the men she shared herself with. But once he found himself needing to glamour her after taking blood from her, he remembered that she was not his beloved Caroline and he was no longer human. Caroline had long passed away and he should have been old and gray as he sat in his rocking chair in the old Compton home, surrounded by his grandchildren. He should have been nearing ninety-two.
Instead he was fucking a miserable whore with more stamina than in his human youth and it filled him with shame.
Lorena was no fool. She had noticed that his fascination with Rose had extended beyond shallow lust. He was sure Lorena had heard his whispered cries for forgiveness meant for his wife Caroline. Rose had been brought as a peace offering, a brief tryst to bring him satisfaction and variety and nothing more. Lorena could tolerate sharing him for a few nights to distract him but she could not compete with the memory of a deceased woman; Lorena hated competition.
So instead, Lorena joined in as he was busy mounting Rose from behind. She had begun to play with Rose's breasts, taking one in to her mouth as she looked up at him with mischief. It was enough to drive him out of control. Here he was, with the ghost of his darling wife Caroline and the tempting fiend that was Lorena, his eternal lover.
He drove into Rose a few more times before he bit her neck and enjoyed the ecstasy her blood gave him. His beautiful Rose, her blood was so sweet and aromatic. He found himself wondering what Caroline would have tasted like; he imagined it was her, pushing herself against him as she began to reach her own climax. Without thinking of the consequences, he shouted out Caroline's name, as he usually did, once his fangs detached from Rose's lovely neck and it was enough for Lorena to end it all. Rose's moans of pleasure quickly grew into whimpers of pain as Lorena, who had been taking blood from her breast, latched on with force and drained her dry. It was over in seconds and it was so sudden he pulled out himself out and stepped back as Lorena let Rose's face land facedown on the bed.
Lorena licked the last remainder of Rose's blood from her lips and her fingers caught the small trickle of blood that had run down her chin before it ruined her nightgown.
"Caroline," she mulled the name over, "Was that the name of your little human wife, no?" Her accent, which she deftly concealed when necessary, was clearly evident and a sign that she was not as serene as she appeared to be.
That was how he found himself sitting down, naked, trying to gather his thoughts and his temper. Oh yes, the desire to kill Lorena was definitely strong tonight, more than any other night. Possibly stronger than the night she turned him or the night she dragged him away from his home as he whispered a silent goodbye to his wife and children. To his adored Caroline.
"You had no right to end her life this way." He tells her, straining to control himself because after all, Lorena is his maker and nearly three hundred years old.
"She was a gift. A temporary pet like your common dog or cat. They all die in the end. Bill, you must accept that her time was due." She runs her tongue across her extended fangs and closes her eyes as she savors the flavor of the blood. "Though she was lovely while she lasted."
"How can you be so callous to end her life this way?" his voice is quiet, resigned as he places his face in his hands.
In mere seconds, Lorena's hands caress his hair and begins to pry his hands from covering his face. She lifts the hem of her nightgown up to her waist and lets him see that she has nothing underneath as she straddles him.
"She had a far more pleasurable death here with us than the one she would have received at the hands of some of the brutes she tended to." She whispers against his ear as she grinds against his growing member. No! She will not overpower him with her trickery and velvety voice. Before she can react, he grips her throat in his hands and growls at her, fangs bared in both arousal and anger.
"You wanted her dead because she was important to me. You are a demented demon, not a woman." His voice is laden with hate and anger and years of oppression.
Lorena laughs despite the pressure that he has placed on her throat and her hands trail down to touch and guide him into her.
"Not a woman?" she asks once his grip on her throat has loosened and she begins to grind down on him, slowly. "Caroline… still longing for that lump of dead flesh that lies buried in the earth. You are here, with me. Now and forever. " Her pace begins to quicken and to his own disgrace, he begins to succumb to her as he lowers the straps of her nightgown to reveal her breasts and he begins to kiss them. "How can you pine for a life of weakness and death?" Her hands pull his head back from her breasts with such strength that his scalp begins to hurt. She is still angry despite her controlled expression and she is ready to bring him pain.
He loves her.
He hates her.
He wants to fuck her.
But most of all, he wants to kill her.