Le Amor De Vampire: Part II
The Seduction
to: Jenna
Alone, in an ocean of satin slept a vulnerable Mireille, with only a soft sheet of crimson to cover her naked body. Tossing and turning in a restless conflict with the demons of a subconscious mind; the glass doors to the balcony slowly crept open to let in a cool breeze, calling little bumps up to the surface of fair skin. And through the double doors of French glass, fell the shadow of a vampire, cast by a cream colored moon, full as the shapely breasts of the sensuous woman before him, covered only by a sheet of blood colored satin
An aura of seduction hung over him like a halo of sin as he approached the bed. He looked over her, tenderly, as the beat of his heart increased to the point of audibility. All the while, the elongated teeth, held within a mouth that had grown fond of the taste of flesh, had reached the extent of no further progression. He bent over her, whispering such things as would enslave the heart of any dame so worthy as she. And in her sleep, Mireille had found peace, a sensual ecstasy spawned from the articulate and serenely spoken words that fermented into the wine of sedation, deep within the wounded chamber of blood and feelings. Becoming soft and warm, her lips grew a dark magenta as her body became engorged with rich arterial blood.
The lust within the heart of a vampire had matured and his eyes became drawn to the side of her neck, immaculate and untouched. She was helpless.
With great strength, he retracted, resisting the temptation to take her vulnerable, feminine figure into his arms and taste of her pure sweet flesh, drinking thirstily from the vein in her neck, with a passion unknown to mortal men. Giving in to such irrational ideas, he departed the same way he came, wishing to leave before he changed his mind.
In the middle of the night, two sets of eye lashes parted, and the blue eyed Governess of Death awoke with such a hurt in her as she had never felt. Dressing herself in a silk gown, she walked out through the double doors and on to the balcony. Before her, lay her beloved Paris, lit up so brightly in the night, and off in the distance, stood the Eiffel tower, a beacon of light, shinning in the dark. . . .
A lovely Mireille sat across from her red eyed partner in crime, out on an open terrace, sipping some caffeinated, French, culinary masterpiece. A little girl with black hair stared into her cup as a set of big blue eyes gazed off into space; yearning for something she did not know. A desire so deeply rooted as she would betray her standards of rationale to satisfy it, a desire so heavy upon her soul as every sacrifice might be compensated in exchange for its satisfaction, a sacrifice even so great as the lifestyle she has lived for so long and has become so accustomed to. And in the cool night lighten by many a street light, a sentiment grew within the heart of an assassin, soft and aimless, like a feather on the wind. If only Kirika had known, would she understand, that such a distraught Mireille had been offered true happiness? And yet, her decision would be slightly swayed, by a feeling inside, for such a guilt did overcome her at the thought of leaving a child alone to fend for herself, and it was not just the feeling of impending guilt, but also something else. Love, perhaps; a subtle love, never spoken of, like the love two sisters would share with each other in such secret as would never be mentioned aloud, yet would last forever. And with the senseless jumble of feelings collected within, the two sisters of non-blood relation, finished their coffee and strolled off into the picturesque Parisian evening.
The Seduction
to: Jenna
Alone, in an ocean of satin slept a vulnerable Mireille, with only a soft sheet of crimson to cover her naked body. Tossing and turning in a restless conflict with the demons of a subconscious mind; the glass doors to the balcony slowly crept open to let in a cool breeze, calling little bumps up to the surface of fair skin. And through the double doors of French glass, fell the shadow of a vampire, cast by a cream colored moon, full as the shapely breasts of the sensuous woman before him, covered only by a sheet of blood colored satin
An aura of seduction hung over him like a halo of sin as he approached the bed. He looked over her, tenderly, as the beat of his heart increased to the point of audibility. All the while, the elongated teeth, held within a mouth that had grown fond of the taste of flesh, had reached the extent of no further progression. He bent over her, whispering such things as would enslave the heart of any dame so worthy as she. And in her sleep, Mireille had found peace, a sensual ecstasy spawned from the articulate and serenely spoken words that fermented into the wine of sedation, deep within the wounded chamber of blood and feelings. Becoming soft and warm, her lips grew a dark magenta as her body became engorged with rich arterial blood.
The lust within the heart of a vampire had matured and his eyes became drawn to the side of her neck, immaculate and untouched. She was helpless.
With great strength, he retracted, resisting the temptation to take her vulnerable, feminine figure into his arms and taste of her pure sweet flesh, drinking thirstily from the vein in her neck, with a passion unknown to mortal men. Giving in to such irrational ideas, he departed the same way he came, wishing to leave before he changed his mind.
In the middle of the night, two sets of eye lashes parted, and the blue eyed Governess of Death awoke with such a hurt in her as she had never felt. Dressing herself in a silk gown, she walked out through the double doors and on to the balcony. Before her, lay her beloved Paris, lit up so brightly in the night, and off in the distance, stood the Eiffel tower, a beacon of light, shinning in the dark. . . .
A lovely Mireille sat across from her red eyed partner in crime, out on an open terrace, sipping some caffeinated, French, culinary masterpiece. A little girl with black hair stared into her cup as a set of big blue eyes gazed off into space; yearning for something she did not know. A desire so deeply rooted as she would betray her standards of rationale to satisfy it, a desire so heavy upon her soul as every sacrifice might be compensated in exchange for its satisfaction, a sacrifice even so great as the lifestyle she has lived for so long and has become so accustomed to. And in the cool night lighten by many a street light, a sentiment grew within the heart of an assassin, soft and aimless, like a feather on the wind. If only Kirika had known, would she understand, that such a distraught Mireille had been offered true happiness? And yet, her decision would be slightly swayed, by a feeling inside, for such a guilt did overcome her at the thought of leaving a child alone to fend for herself, and it was not just the feeling of impending guilt, but also something else. Love, perhaps; a subtle love, never spoken of, like the love two sisters would share with each other in such secret as would never be mentioned aloud, yet would last forever. And with the senseless jumble of feelings collected within, the two sisters of non-blood relation, finished their coffee and strolled off into the picturesque Parisian evening.