Chapter 38: 38
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Slowly, so dreadfully slowly, I nod my head. Tears patter on my dress, and at this point I am no longer sure exactly what it is I am crying at. My body tenses for the impact of something, claws, teeth, a terrible raging fury of shadows, but there is nothing, only his patient watchful gaze, and the slow tap of his claws on the chair.
In a puff of quickly clearing smoke, the rabbit disappears, and Soren leveys himself from his seat, body swaying amorously as he moves over to me, his face serious, eyes shifting in the darkness a low, bloody red. My body grows cold. He leans over to grip my chin and all at once my eyes lock with him, and I am forced to look upon him- at the planes of his face, the slight upturn of his nose, the dark kohl that lines his eyes, or the way his hair parts so beautifully around his horns. I squirm a little. Forced to look, but it's equally hard not to.
"Ah yes, the Scarlet Prince, the 'wickedest and cruellest vampire of all Sezeria.' That is the image I have painted for you," he laughs, clawing a long black nail across my throat just long enough to make me shiver at the thought of what those claws might do. Then he brings up his hand to his face, inspecting his talons.
"Perhaps if I had come home to any other girl on my couch, I would have drained every drop of blood in her body for simply being there," he murmurs, thumbing over my lower lip, letting his words drag on long enough for them to soak into my head and realise the insurmountable truth in them.
"But would you like to know why I keep you alive when I have killed so many others? Why I couldn't care less for all those other women in my court?" he asks, voice sinking to a low, dangerous purr as he cups my cheek with his palm, having the nerve to pout as I gasp a little from the coolness of his touch. I consider pulling away, slapping away his hand and running, but a part of me wants to stay, to listen to what he says- however terrifying it will be.
He must have realised what my answer was because he continues slowly:
"You are strange: bold, clever, fearless, perhaps a little naïve at times, an intriguing wildcard and altogether positively dangerous," I search his face, that odd look beneath it all- some -softness?-, under that mask, in his eyes, that replaces the coldness within him. His words are light, careless, but underneath it all, there is something else, something in the twitch of his lip, the way his throat bobs nervously that tells me he is letting on less far than there is. Seeing I have gone quite, he adds:
"From the moment you spoke to me in the forest I wanted you," he says quietly now, lustily, drawing his body back now and running a hand smoothly through his hair, rings glittering among his dark, curly locks. I don't even realise the moment my breath stops.
"I wanted to drink from you, dance with you, I wanted to kiss you, touch you, taste you. And you seemed to want it too, though you wouldn't dare admit it. When you first saw me, you thought I was the most beautiful person you had ever seen," he states, tapping over his chest where his heart might have been. I press my arms into my chest.
"I bet that gave you a huge ego boost didn't it?" I mock, not letting him see the panic that was slowly dragging its way across my face at how right he is. He laughs coldly, and sits back down on his armchair, nails digging into its fleshy cushioning.
"Your antics never cease to amuse me, and your blatant insistence on denying everything you feel. No matter, I will wait," Wait for what? I ask silently, but no answer comes.
"I suppose you might like to think that it is my vampire instinct drawn to the sweet taste of your fearless blood," as he snaps his fingers and a glass of sloshing red liquid appears in his other hand, and he brings up the glass to his lips so I catch the gleam of his fangs behind his red lips. I roll my eyes and wipe away the lingering droplets of water from my cheeks. Soren's other hand snakes down the bottom of the couch, where he begins to scratch silently at the fabric, as though the mention of blood had awakened something inside him. He takes another sip.
"My blood and my body you mean," comes my huffy remark, and with a flash of red eyes, the scratching stops. Something snaps in him then. Some part of himself that he had tried so hard to restrain. The part of him that wanted, the part of him that was purely and wholly, vampire.
Lust.
He brings up his hand and twiddles his fingers as shadows coil around my wrists, pulling them down to my sides, and surveys me with long, heavy glances from across the room. My heart beat skyrockets. What is he doing?
Panicked I look up at Soren, who takes another sip. Only this time when his gaze meets mine, his eyes are filled with brazen wanton.
"Yes, you do have a wonderfully supple body, it is quite the temptation, I will not deny you that," he muses, letting me watch as he flicks his tongue out to lick away a smear of blood on his lower lip. I pull half heartedly against his firm grip from under his body, but to no avail. I groan.
This only seems to please him more.
"From all the moans you are letting out, one might presume you like being tied up, little dove," he says with a cruel, monstrous smile as the shadowy cuffs around my hands tighten. I flash him a death-stare.
"I'm not moaning you hedonist," I spit, but by the clear set look on his face, I know there is no convincing him.
He waits for a moment, smirking, his fingers twitching, inching towards my body, trembling with the prospect of temptation. He looks like he wants to touch me, to run his hands over my body and claim me as his own, to strip me of all my clothes and pleasure me for long hours into the night. I shiver. A part of me, a small and dangerous part of me wonders what would happen if I let him. To have his body on top of me, to let him love me like he probably had many other vampires. Hastily I shove that thought from my mind.
Soren's lip twitches upwards. The lust brewing in his face is almost tangible.
Slowly, he downs the last drops of blood in his glass and places it on a coffee table, taking his sweet time as sways over to me. He leans over and presses his lips to the shell of my ear.
"Then stop thinking about wanting to fuck me, or I might get the wrong idea." I shudder.
"I'm not-" I start, but he cuts me off, sliding his finger down my chest, lower, lower,
"Don't lie to me." he growls, fingers circling over the swell of my breasts, taunting, teasing. I bite my lip, but surprisingly nothing in my body makes a move to stop him. Traitorous body.
"Soren," I warn, but it is no use. His eyes sparkle with glimmers of a maddening red, already lost.. Slowly, he leans me down against his bed, and presses his lips to my neck.
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Slowly, so dreadfully slowly, I nod my head. Tears patter on my dress, and at this point I am no longer sure exactly what it is I am crying at. My body tenses for the impact of something, claws, teeth, a terrible raging fury of shadows, but there is nothing, only his patient watchful gaze, and the slow tap of his claws on the chair.
In a puff of quickly clearing smoke, the rabbit disappears, and Soren leveys himself from his seat, body swaying amorously as he moves over to me, his face serious, eyes shifting in the darkness a low, bloody red. My body grows cold. He leans over to grip my chin and all at once my eyes lock with him, and I am forced to look upon him- at the planes of his face, the slight upturn of his nose, the dark kohl that lines his eyes, or the way his hair parts so beautifully around his horns. I squirm a little. Forced to look, but it's equally hard not to.
"Ah yes, the Scarlet Prince, the 'wickedest and cruellest vampire of all Sezeria.' That is the image I have painted for you," he laughs, clawing a long black nail across my throat just long enough to make me shiver at the thought of what those claws might do. Then he brings up his hand to his face, inspecting his talons.
"Perhaps if I had come home to any other girl on my couch, I would have drained every drop of blood in her body for simply being there," he murmurs, thumbing over my lower lip, letting his words drag on long enough for them to soak into my head and realise the insurmountable truth in them.
"But would you like to know why I keep you alive when I have killed so many others? Why I couldn't care less for all those other women in my court?" he asks, voice sinking to a low, dangerous purr as he cups my cheek with his palm, having the nerve to pout as I gasp a little from the coolness of his touch. I consider pulling away, slapping away his hand and running, but a part of me wants to stay, to listen to what he says- however terrifying it will be.
He must have realised what my answer was because he continues slowly:
"You are strange: bold, clever, fearless, perhaps a little naïve at times, an intriguing wildcard and altogether positively dangerous," I search his face, that odd look beneath it all- some -softness?-, under that mask, in his eyes, that replaces the coldness within him. His words are light, careless, but underneath it all, there is something else, something in the twitch of his lip, the way his throat bobs nervously that tells me he is letting on less far than there is. Seeing I have gone quite, he adds:
"From the moment you spoke to me in the forest I wanted you," he says quietly now, lustily, drawing his body back now and running a hand smoothly through his hair, rings glittering among his dark, curly locks. I don't even realise the moment my breath stops.
"I wanted to drink from you, dance with you, I wanted to kiss you, touch you, taste you. And you seemed to want it too, though you wouldn't dare admit it. When you first saw me, you thought I was the most beautiful person you had ever seen," he states, tapping over his chest where his heart might have been. I press my arms into my chest.
"I bet that gave you a huge ego boost didn't it?" I mock, not letting him see the panic that was slowly dragging its way across my face at how right he is. He laughs coldly, and sits back down on his armchair, nails digging into its fleshy cushioning.
"Your antics never cease to amuse me, and your blatant insistence on denying everything you feel. No matter, I will wait," Wait for what? I ask silently, but no answer comes.
"I suppose you might like to think that it is my vampire instinct drawn to the sweet taste of your fearless blood," as he snaps his fingers and a glass of sloshing red liquid appears in his other hand, and he brings up the glass to his lips so I catch the gleam of his fangs behind his red lips. I roll my eyes and wipe away the lingering droplets of water from my cheeks. Soren's other hand snakes down the bottom of the couch, where he begins to scratch silently at the fabric, as though the mention of blood had awakened something inside him. He takes another sip.
"My blood and my body you mean," comes my huffy remark, and with a flash of red eyes, the scratching stops. Something snaps in him then. Some part of himself that he had tried so hard to restrain. The part of him that wanted, the part of him that was purely and wholly, vampire.
Lust.
He brings up his hand and twiddles his fingers as shadows coil around my wrists, pulling them down to my sides, and surveys me with long, heavy glances from across the room. My heart beat skyrockets. What is he doing?
Panicked I look up at Soren, who takes another sip. Only this time when his gaze meets mine, his eyes are filled with brazen wanton.
"Yes, you do have a wonderfully supple body, it is quite the temptation, I will not deny you that," he muses, letting me watch as he flicks his tongue out to lick away a smear of blood on his lower lip. I pull half heartedly against his firm grip from under his body, but to no avail. I groan.
This only seems to please him more.
"From all the moans you are letting out, one might presume you like being tied up, little dove," he says with a cruel, monstrous smile as the shadowy cuffs around my hands tighten. I flash him a death-stare.
"I'm not moaning you hedonist," I spit, but by the clear set look on his face, I know there is no convincing him.
He waits for a moment, smirking, his fingers twitching, inching towards my body, trembling with the prospect of temptation. He looks like he wants to touch me, to run his hands over my body and claim me as his own, to strip me of all my clothes and pleasure me for long hours into the night. I shiver. A part of me, a small and dangerous part of me wonders what would happen if I let him. To have his body on top of me, to let him love me like he probably had many other vampires. Hastily I shove that thought from my mind.
Soren's lip twitches upwards. The lust brewing in his face is almost tangible.
Slowly, he downs the last drops of blood in his glass and places it on a coffee table, taking his sweet time as sways over to me. He leans over and presses his lips to the shell of my ear.
"Then stop thinking about wanting to fuck me, or I might get the wrong idea." I shudder.
"I'm not-" I start, but he cuts me off, sliding his finger down my chest, lower, lower,
"Don't lie to me." he growls, fingers circling over the swell of my breasts, taunting, teasing. I bite my lip, but surprisingly nothing in my body makes a move to stop him. Traitorous body.
"Soren," I warn, but it is no use. His eyes sparkle with glimmers of a maddening red, already lost.. Slowly, he leans me down against his bed, and presses his lips to my neck.
Slowly, so dreadfully slowly, I nod my head. Tears patter on my dress, and at this point I am no longer sure exactly what it is I am crying at. My body tenses for the impact of something, claws, teeth, a terrible raging fury of shadows, but there is nothing, only his patient watchful gaze, and the slow tap of his claws on the chair.In a puff of quickly clearing smoke, the rabbit disappears, and Soren leveys himself from his seat, body swaying amorously as he moves over to me, his face serious, eyes shifting in the darkness a low, bloody red. My body grows cold. He leans over to grip my chin and all at once my eyes lock with him, and I am forced to look upon him- at the planes of his face, the slight upturn of his nose, the dark kohl that lines his eyes, or the way his hair parts so beautifully around his horns. I squirm a little. Forced to look, but it's equally hard not to."Ah yes, the Scarlet Prince, the 'wickedest and cruellest vampire of all Sezeria.' That is the image I have painted for you," he laughs, clawing a long black nail across my throat just long enough to make me shiver at the thought of what those claws might do. Then he brings up his hand to his face, inspecting his talons."Perhaps if I had come home to any other girl on my couch, I would have drained every drop of blood in her body for simply being there," he murmurs, thumbing over my lower lip, letting his words drag on long enough for them to soak into my head and realise the insurmountable truth in them."But would you like to know why I keep you alive when I have killed so many others? Why I couldn't care less for all those other women in my court?" he asks, voice sinking to a low, dangerous purr as he cups my cheek with his palm, having the nerve to pout as I gasp a little from the coolness of his touch. I consider pulling away, slapping away his hand and running, but a part of me wants to stay, to listen to what he says- however terrifying it will be.He must have realised what my answer was because he continues slowly: "You are strange: bold, clever, fearless, perhaps a little nave at times, an intriguing wildcard and altogether positively dangerous," I search his face, that odd look beneath it all- some -softness?-, under that mask, in his eyes, that replaces the coldness within him. His words are light, careless, but underneath it all, there is something else, something in the twitch of his lip, the way his throat bobs nervously that tells me he is letting on less far than there is. Seeing I have gone quite, he adds:"From the moment you spoke to me in the forest I wanted you," he says quietly now, lustily, drawing his body back now and running a hand smoothly through his hair, rings glittering among his dark, curly locks. I don't even realise the moment my breath stops."I wanted to drink from you, dance with you, I wanted to kiss you, touch you, taste you. And you seemed to want it too, though you wouldn't dare admit it. When you first saw me, you thought I was the most beautiful person you had ever seen," he states, tapping over his chest where his heart might have been. I press my arms into my chest."I bet that gave you a huge ego boost didn't it?" I mock, not letting him see the panic that was slowly dragging its way across my face at how right he is. He laughs coldly, and sits back down on his armchair, nails digging into its fleshy cushioning."Your antics never cease to amuse me, and your blatant insistence on denying everything you feel. No matter, I will wait," Wait for what? I ask silently, but no answer comes."I suppose you might like to think that it is my vampire instinct drawn to the sweet taste of your fearless blood," as he snaps his fingers and a glass of sloshing red liquid appears in his other hand, and he brings up the glass to his lips so I catch the gleam of his fangs behind his red lips. I roll my eyes and wipe away the lingering droplets of water from my cheeks. Soren's other hand snakes down the bottom of the couch, where he begins to scratch silently at the fabric, as though the mention of blood had awakened something inside him. He takes another sip."My blood and my body you mean," comes my huffy remark, and with a flash of red eyes, the scratching stops. Something snaps in him then. Some part of himself that he had tried so hard to restrain. The part of him that wanted, the part of him that was purely and wholly, vampire.Lust.He brings up his hand and twiddles his fingers as shadows coil around my wrists, pulling them down to my sides, and surveys me with long, heavy glances from across the room. My heart beat skyrockets. What is he doing? Panicked I look up at Soren, who takes another sip. Only this time when his gaze meets mine, his eyes are filled with brazen wanton."Yes, you do have a wonderfully supple body, it is quite the temptation, I will not deny you that," he muses, letting me watch as he flicks his tongue out to lick away a smear of blood on his lower lip. I pull half heartedly against his firm grip from under his body, but to no avail. I groan.This only seems to please him more."From all the moans you are letting out, one might presume you like being tied up, little dove," he says with a cruel, monstrous smile as the shadowy cuffs around my hands tighten. I flash him a death-stare."I'm notmoaning you hedonist," I spit, but by the clear set look on his face, I know there is no convincing him.He waits for a moment, smirking, his fingers twitching, inching towards my body, trembling with the prospect of temptation. He looks like he wants to touch me, to run his hands over my body and claim me as his own, to strip me of all my clothes and pleasure me for long hours into the night. I shiver. A part of me, a small and dangerous part of me wonders what would happen if I let him. To have his body on top of me, to let him love me like he probably had many other vampires. Hastily I shove that thought from my mind.Soren's lip twitches upwards. The lust brewing in his face is almost tangible.Slowly, he downs the last drops of blood in his glass and places it on a coffee table, taking his sweet time as sways over to me. He leans over and presses his lips to the shell of my ear."Then stop thinking about wanting to fuck me, or I might get the wrong idea." I shudder."I'm not-" I start, but he cuts me off, sliding his finger down my chest, lower, lower,"Don'tlie to me." he growls, fingers circling over the swell of my breasts, taunting,teasing. I bite my lip, but surprisingly nothing in my body makes a move to stop him.Traitorous body."Soren," I warn, but it is no use. His eyes sparkle with glimmers of a maddening red, already lost.. Slowly, he leans me down against his bed, and presses his lips to my neck.
