Friday, April 13, 2007

Valentine tried hard to swallow but his mouth was dry, nervous tension obstructing his throat. The nerves in his lower abdomen stirred as Vivant's words triggered his memories. And he remembered in glorious hues of red. As he thought back to those times he could not stop himself from sighing. A low growl made its way up his throat as his primal nature began returning, triggered by remembering he and Vivant on their legendary hunts. He remembered both of them lying on their backs, chests heaving with exertion, soaked from head to foot with fresh blood and picking shreds of flesh and clumps of hair from between his teeth. He remembered having a human heart in his hands, staring at it with fascination and squeezing the last of the contents of the organ into his mouth. And he remembered the two of them, fangs locked into each other's veins and feverishly drinking in the potent vampire blood. No sensation on earth - human or vampire - could compare to that of one vampire feeding from another. The sensation was beyond bliss, beyond sex and sensuality. The sensation was beyond the religious ecstasy of the stigmatic feeling Christ's pain and suffering. It was, quite simply, beyond compare. His cock stirred and he had an intense urge to put his hand down the front of his pants and start stroking it. He wanted to grab Vivant by his tousled black hair and make him sink his fangs into it and drink from him.

A knowing grin spread across Vivant's ruddy lips.

"You don't have to lament the passing of those days anymore, Valentine. I'm back. We're together again. And we can feel what we once felt again."

Tears welled up in Valentine's eyes as he realized he was again powerless to resist him. His mind and body screamed at him to be strong, but the vampire heart that beat inside him told him to go out into the night and be what he was supposed to be - a ruthless killer, a murderer, a beast. The feral heart that beat out a tattoo inside his chest told him to go out into the night and be the only thing that he could be - a vampire.

Valentine walked, stepping heavily across the floor, and slumped down on a low stool at a table in a corner of the club. He had no idea what he was going to do. He was torn inside, a war raging in his head between the man he was now and the beast he knew he could be. And he knew which one was stronger. He knew which one would be triumphant. Questions filled his mind and his brow furrowed as a satisfactory answer evaded him.

What is it that stops me from being what I am and doing what I know I want to do?

These humans do nothing but make me insane with their smell and their falseness and their pretense and their...their...everything!

I'd love to run rampant through this club when it's full to capacity and slit each and every throat from ear to ear and bathe in the arterial spurts that would paint the walls a beautiful shade of vampire red.

"So, come with me then, Valentine. Don't just dream about the old days - let's live them again. Let's be more than we were even then. We're older now, stronger, more powerful. The world is at our feet and there is nothing beyond our grasp. It is all there for the taking and if you want it, all you have to do is reach out and take hold of it. Come with me."

Vivant held out his hand to Valentine, crooking his fingers toward himself in a come here gesture. Valentine didn't move; he sat there, body rigid, hands on his knees and his fingernails digging into the flesh on his legs. He still tried to resist him, still tried to deny Vivant his dominion over him, but he knew it was futile.

Valentine rose, shoulders slumped, his head heavy, defeated by himself and his own desires. He put his hand in Vivant's hand.

Vivant's grip tightened around his fingers and his eyes changed.

His eyes, he remembered, only changed when he was in a state of blind rage.

Valentine watched as the near-black of Vivant's irises bled into the whites turning them dark and the iris flooded with scarlet color. His pupils became feline, elongated and a snarl curled his upper lip and showed Valentine a stab of keen white enamel.

Before he could blink, Valentine was slammed into the club wall with such a brute force that each one of his ribs shattered and he felt sharp shards of bone protruding through his skin and the heat of his own blood running down his front. Immediately, his bones began to knit back together again and within seconds he was new again, unharmed.

"You think it's going to be that easy, you fucking prick?" Vivant's voice emerged from a growl that rumbled in his throat.

"But...but...I thought..."
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