Author's Note: This is an Aro/Bella drabble, inspired by the song "Salome's Wish" by The Booda Velvets.
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Twilight.
Salome
With his venom in her veins, she was fluid. Liquid night, with ice stars for her eyes and a gossamer galaxy for flesh.
And she danced for him.
The floor ran marble beneath her bare feet, mirroring her shadow and the graceful length of the silk robe she wore. In moments of lust, she would let it fall teasingly below her breasts, enjoying the sight of him, as his fingers curled over the arms of his chair. As he watched her, a skewed smile splitting his lips.
She could only laugh
It was their game. Their mummer's play. And the undulating rhythm of the music made them feral.
She danced to bells and drums and flutes. She danced to the voiceless song, the echo of a heartbeat long forgotten.
He promised her kingdoms. He promised her coffers of gold. He promised her the last drop of ghostly blood in his wrists. If only she would dance for him. Dance and never stop.
And eternity stretched before them, shadowed without the promise of dawn.
But she had desires. Stronger than his, settled in a life she had once lived in a place that was far, far, far away. A place of fragrant pines and a weeping sky.
There were memories hidden in that place. Menacing things. They tormented her, twisted the last of her humanity, her youthful innocence and made her wild.
She had let him thirst for her. And let him drink from her so she could dance for him. Dance for a lifetime and more.
He feasted on her scorn. Her rage. Her pain for another.
For the one who had abandoned her.
She was his Salome. Shedding her robe now. Baring the cream of her body. And her lips were too red. So painfully red.
Her star eyes glinted, flickering with the tears she had refused to shed for Edward, Edward who had let her be stolen from him. Edward who had surrendered. Edward who had made her the dancer.
Night after night the longing bloomed inside her, until at last she ascended his throne, astride his lap and breathed her wish into his ear.
He denied her at first, letting her cries spiral upward, upward, upward, until they tangled with the incense in the rafters.
She begged. Nails of ivory burrowed into his shoulders. She begged him.
Bring me the traitor.
She lets him taste her need for satisfaction. Her need for the blood of the other.
For the one who had abandoned her.
And he was Herod. Unable to deny her this wish.
"Very well." His voice, like a musk, scented the air between them. "I will bring you the traitor's head."