Breathe
A hand gently touched his face, its delicate fingers tracing his jaw line. Its warmth made his cold heart shiver, and he wished it would begin to beat again. Their noses touched, her breath playing along his cheek, and he recalled something vaguely familiar to happiness.
"God forgive me," he heard her whisper, "I have given myself over to abomination."
One red eye snapped open. Once he had determined the waking world was upon him, not another unwelcome vision, the other lazily followed. He folded his hands calmly in his lap, and shifted, only ever so slightly. He suspected, that had he still the need to breath, he would have sighed. When she sighed, he remembered suddenly, he recalled the insane desire to remember how, so he could see their breath mingle.
He blinked slowly. A passing fancy, he lied miserably. The eyes shut as he drew the dream back to him. A memory, which should have long been forgotten.
She is free of you.
He recalled the way her skirts rustled when she walked, her favorite color was blue. He remembered the distinct thrum of her heartbeat, the warmth of her skin, how alive it was. A gloved hand twitched.
The eyes reopened and stared at nothing, glanced right once, than down at the side table, at the wine glass resting on a book he hadn't bothered to read. She had loved to read, when she could sit still long enough. She loved the sun too, her skin was perfumed with it. Her breath (he loved this the most) smelled of apples-or was it strawberries? It had been so long, even then, since he had tasted either. Still, it was sweet and rolled off her tongue like honey.
When she spoke, when she sighed, when she tilted her face to his…
Am I defeated?
It would be dark soon, and he had business to attend to.
Yes, vampire, you have been won.
Hah. I was bored.