Summary: He vowed to love her for all eternity. She vowed to kill him, if
it was the last thing she ever did. A Vampire Story
Prologue:
She woke up and instantly felt the elongated incisors on her tongue. So it wasn't a dream. Scenes of terror from the night before flooded her mind.
Walking down the street to see her sister in a play. Leaving the play. Hearing a noise in the shadows. No, hearing a voice in the shadows. A voice calling her name. That's where it all began. All the horror, all the regret, all the shame. All the darkness. And nothing could change it or make it go away.
She wished she could go back to the night before and stop herself from following that melodically beautiful voice; stop herself from going with the unreal man to whom the voice belonged. But most of all, she wished she could stop herself from believing that all of this would go away. She knew it would not go away, but her mind refused to accept that fact.
Why was he so intriguing to her? He was only a man. Yes, he was beautiful. And yes, he was… mythological in a way. He looked exactly as a god should look—deep piercing black eyes and long flowing black hair. That hair… she just wanted to run her fingers through it. And those eyes. She would never forget his eyes. They were so deep and she found herself wanting to look into them as she lay in her bed cursing him.
For the first time since waking up, she looked out the window. She wasn't sure what she expected, but she was shocked to find that it was dark outside. It couldn't be any earlier that 8:30 or 9 o'clock p.m. She wondered why she was so late waking up, but she realized that it shouldn't surprise her too much since she knew what she was now, and she could not tolerate sunlight. In all the stories she had read, which was quite a lot because she was fascinated by them, she found that one did not know that he (or she, in this case) had become one until a few days after the transformation. However, she found this to be untrue now.
Maybe she was just imagining it. That was it. One too many books before bed about them. She kept telling herself that until she really believed it, but deep down she knew. She knew there was no way she would ever wake up this late—this was when she usually went to bed at night. She also knew that her teeth were not naturally like they were now. And the hunger. The gnawing hunger in the pit of her stomach that twisted into pain as time wore on. She knew that only one thing could sate her yearning, if only for a night.
Blood.
Many miles away, a man woke with a start. He felt his beloved's pain and anger. Anger he had caused. Oh how he wished he could take it away, but then she could never be his and oh what pain that would cause them both in the end.
He vowed to love her forever.
She vowed to kill him.
Prologue:
She woke up and instantly felt the elongated incisors on her tongue. So it wasn't a dream. Scenes of terror from the night before flooded her mind.
Walking down the street to see her sister in a play. Leaving the play. Hearing a noise in the shadows. No, hearing a voice in the shadows. A voice calling her name. That's where it all began. All the horror, all the regret, all the shame. All the darkness. And nothing could change it or make it go away.
She wished she could go back to the night before and stop herself from following that melodically beautiful voice; stop herself from going with the unreal man to whom the voice belonged. But most of all, she wished she could stop herself from believing that all of this would go away. She knew it would not go away, but her mind refused to accept that fact.
Why was he so intriguing to her? He was only a man. Yes, he was beautiful. And yes, he was… mythological in a way. He looked exactly as a god should look—deep piercing black eyes and long flowing black hair. That hair… she just wanted to run her fingers through it. And those eyes. She would never forget his eyes. They were so deep and she found herself wanting to look into them as she lay in her bed cursing him.
For the first time since waking up, she looked out the window. She wasn't sure what she expected, but she was shocked to find that it was dark outside. It couldn't be any earlier that 8:30 or 9 o'clock p.m. She wondered why she was so late waking up, but she realized that it shouldn't surprise her too much since she knew what she was now, and she could not tolerate sunlight. In all the stories she had read, which was quite a lot because she was fascinated by them, she found that one did not know that he (or she, in this case) had become one until a few days after the transformation. However, she found this to be untrue now.
Maybe she was just imagining it. That was it. One too many books before bed about them. She kept telling herself that until she really believed it, but deep down she knew. She knew there was no way she would ever wake up this late—this was when she usually went to bed at night. She also knew that her teeth were not naturally like they were now. And the hunger. The gnawing hunger in the pit of her stomach that twisted into pain as time wore on. She knew that only one thing could sate her yearning, if only for a night.
Blood.
Many miles away, a man woke with a start. He felt his beloved's pain and anger. Anger he had caused. Oh how he wished he could take it away, but then she could never be his and oh what pain that would cause them both in the end.
He vowed to love her forever.
She vowed to kill him.