The Last Kill
Quick One shot Tanya POV. Please do review.
She remembered it well. Often her mind would drift back, back to the day when she made the right decision. Too late.
Her sisters had stopped, hundreds of years before. She had enjoyed it more than them she realised, the seduction, the fuck and then, the blood, slacking all hungers as one.
Or so she had thought.
She had been roaming alone. When the others had stopped, it had become hard to be around them. They claimed not to judge, but she saw it in their eyes, every time she returned.
They thought she was missing something. That they knew something she didn't.
So she left them in Russia and travelled south, down through Europe towards Spain.
She knew better than to venture into Italy. She could hardly think of the place without shuddering.
Tanya however had always liked Spain. Though the near constant sunshine made her lifestyle a little tricky, she enjoyed the stares that her near white hair invited from the local men.
It made the seductions almost too easy.
She had settled into Vallirana, a small town near Barcelona, and had fallen into a comfortable pattern, of hunting, feeding and traipsing aimlessly through the surrounding countryside.
One evening, just past dusk, a smell had filled her noise so poignant that venom rose up in her throat, so fast she gasped to herself.
She had followed the smell, out into the countryside, to a field filled with cattle. The young shepherd watching them could not have been more than 19.
There was a moment, more of an instant, within which she wished to stop and talk to the boy.
It was only when she was laying his bloodless corpse down, that she looked at his face.
He was the most handsome human she had ever seen. She brushed his dark, long hair out of his eyes. Beside him, lay a pipe that she assumed he had been playing.
She would hardly have noticed, the bloodlust was so great.
Had it not been so irresistible, she might have seduced him, kept him a while.
She traced the shape of his lips, parted in what would have been a shout.
He seemed to be a town favourite; the hysteria that followed his death was astonishing. Tanya observed, from a distance, the hordes of sobbing girls at his funeral.
They would have been no match for her, she knew.
If she had been able to stop.
It was that lack of control, she told herself, that made her turn to the blood of animals. She hated the idea that she was ruled by mere instincts. She was 500 years old,for goodness sake. She should have been able to stop.
Her sisters were delighted to have her back. She didn't tell them why.
She didn't think about the boy, often, she told herself. Because, if she had she might have felt her chance had passed her by.
When, if by chance, his face did enter her mind she wondered what would have happened if she had been vegetarian.
Whether, she would have stopped herself, talked with him even.
If she ever did think of him, which she rarely did, she wished she had.
But she doubted any vampire could have resisted such a scent.
That gave her comfort.