OK, so a REALLY short one, but worth it. You'll see. Careful on this one, heed the rating ~ M ~ it gets a little steamy ;)
Don't worry. MUCH more to come.
Please review! Enjoy!
~TLD
Part Nine: BloodLust
She ran her hands along the smooth skin of Joel's exposed chest. He laid back, arms behind his head, smiling that lazy, cocky smile she'd come to love. His eyes alternated between that delighted, smiling look as he watched her enjoy his body and that half-closed, trembling look as he savored the pleasure of her touch.
Wednesday lay to his side, her black nightshirt falling loose around her shoulders. Her black hair fell as a curtain on one side of her face as she held her head up with one hand, and her eyes danced with fire as watched her other hand as it moved slowly across Joel's chest, neck, arms, face…
He shuddered under her soft caresses, his eyes rolling back into his head. She smiled, liking the power she had over him and the pleasure she could bring him.
When he brought his eyes back to hers, they were no longer calmly delighted, but raging with a fiery passion and desire.
Smiling, she raised herself from his side, and climbed over his recumbent form, hovering. He smiled in anticipation and lifted his head to press his mouth against hers.
She smiled back. With a sudden fierceness, she grabbed his hair and pulled his head back onto the pillow, titling his chin so that his neck strained up toward her. He moaned softly, startled by her sudden movement. She felt a tightening in her belly and wicked ferocity that surged out of nowhere, and, with a cry, plunged her razor-sharp fangs into the pulsing vein in Joel's neck.
Joel strained against her, trying to pry her away, but her clutch was unbreakable. She moved as she drank, writhing her body up against his in a sick parody of the love they could have made. Joel's hands, which had been placed sweetly against Wednesday's body, now balled up into fists as he struggled for control, for life. She felt as his life drained out, as his strength failed, as his body quieted.
Finally, she raised her head, the wicked urge in her belly sated, and looked into the face of the man she loved. The man she'd killed. A sudden horror consumed her. Looking down at her hands, she saw she was coated, covered, drenched in blood. His blood? Wait, was it her blood? She looked back down at Joel, and found he was gone, and suddenly she was drowning, drowning in blood, her lungs aching and her body sinking, falling away from feeling, light, love. Dying.
Wednesday shouted out as she shot up in bed, drenched in sweat and panting hard. Her bed covers were wrapped around her legs from her tossing and turning. She grabbed her neck, felt her face, and, with tentative hands, ran her fingers along her teeth. All normal. With relief so acute it was painful, she sighed heavily. She scanned her room. No Joel, no blood, no nothing. Just a dream. A terrible… and wonderful… and terrible dream. Wednesday sat, listening to the rapid beating of her heart, trying to control her breathing, and wiped a stray tear from her eye.
Suddenly she heard a voice, a soft, sweet, seductive voice. It whispered like wind through the trees, like the half-imagined voice from a memory. It was so insubstantial that seconds after it was gone, Wednesday couldn't have said if she really heard anything at all.
"Sweet dreams…"
