Blood By Candle-Light

Chapter One: Forest Cottage

Querina Forest

Twilight

A silver-haired fox of angelic curls and sun-kissed eyes dashed into a burning forest. The treads of her Victorian heels wore, and the flaming fingered bushes snagged her cream skirts. After stopping in a clearing in the middle of the forest to catch her breath, a circle of galaxy flame candles lit one by one. Her eyes widened, then she jerked back to a towering black mist emerging from a smoldering tree.

She turned around, clenching her fists, then took a deep breath.

“Will it hurt?” Thrimina shivered as gloved fingers wrapped around her shoulders. She closed her eyes.

The shadow figure remained silent.

“I see.” She tilted her head, exposing a smooth neck.

The fingers tap-danced to her neck’s center. A metal thimble with a small razor pierced through her flesh, forming a blood bubble. The shadow figure hummed like a sweet sparrow behind her, and his pearl white picket fence gnashers revealed themselves under the colorful, yet dense, candlelight.

“And she said to the devil, ‘Let me serve you until the candle runs dry.’” He dug his teeth in.

Not a single sound escaped Thrimina’s lips. Even a mouse could not lend an ear to help. The forest and all that burned were her enemies dressed under the moonlight.

As he took in his fill of her tangy essence, he tore away at her clothes, revealing succulent breasts and soft, glowing skin. He cupped her tender and milky orbs, forcing her to yelp from the icy touch of his gloves.

“Please… stop,” she uttered out quietly as she slipped from consciousness.

He continued to suck, ignoring her pleas. His member grew, sensing her n*****s perking from over-stimulation.

She went limp, which sent him into a state of panic. He unlatched, then carried her through the brisk, smoldering breeze with trembling arms, whispering empty apologies. From above the decayed trees, he spotted what seemed a dismal, abandoned cottage.

***

Thrimina Feilde’s POV

Next morning.

My eyes flutter open, not knowing how long I’ve been subdued under my dizzy spell. I felt cold. Am I dead? No, I couldn’t possibly...

Wood. 

Planks are puzzled side by side above me. The heavy drafts between the cracks force my breaths to cloud within the sequestering air. I sit up. My head throbbing from God knows what. 

“I have to get out of here,” I whisper to myself.

Looking down, I realize I’m naked. My breasts–bruised from the torturous grips from the malicious endeavors of a man cloaked by night, Augustus Shetherport. Sore, they were, as I press my fingers against the outermost point of my caramel areolas. I groan for several moments before erecting from the plush bed. 

There’s hardly any lighting. Just candle wicks burning on candelabras and the vanity across from me. I look around, in this barren room, wondering if he’s watching me.

Thinking about what has led me here, I weep, for I am the last of my kind. As a feathered-fox from the Florencia Tremadia pack, I share the burdens of my ancestors as I continue their work to subdue and put an end to witchcraft, no matter how wrong it feels. Witches have tried for centuries to rid our species but always failed, until sometime prior to my birth. 

We were picked off one by one. 

My mother, Neilda, has always protected me, but she too died from a random attack. As a pack of only females, we live for centuries, randomly selecting a human male with physically strong attributes every hundred years. The humans never last long as our bodies contain magickal properties from consumed witches. They nearly dissipate as they disperse their seed into our wombs. 

I’m a virgin by choice. It pains me to think of destroying a life simply to procreate. And now that I have come to the conclusion and possibility of dying, I’m considering the idea of impregnating myself with the seed of a vampire.

While still wrapping around these thoughts, I look at the mirror in front of me. Streaks of golden blood from Augustus’s carnivorous bite trail down between my breasts past my inner thighs. For some reason, my hands cover my lips, helping me to suppress tears and screams of anguish. I don't wish to die. Not like this. My body is pale now; even the moon would envy the light reflecting off my glistening carcass from the candles by the door. 

I’m caving as though my legs are vibrating. The heat from my forbidden fruit permeates around me. My cheeks are tinting as sweat drips from my forehead. Leaning over, I clench one hand against the corner of the vanity, and with the other, I apply pressure against my c******s. 

I know I shouldn’t, given the circumstances, but I crave being touched by him. That vampire, Augustus, who nearly killed me in the burning forest he created. Augustus, who practically chased me into a witch’s trap, but rather than finishing me off, saved me. There’s no controlling my racy thoughts of what I want him to do to me. I just want him.

As I move the tips of my fingers in a circular motion, the door abruptly swings open. I freeze in position and slowly turn my head in the direction of the door.

I  catch a smile and glowing custard eyes from the man. It must be amusing to see me in such a compromising position. He leans against the archway, tilting his head over, licking his pearl squares and fangs. 

“Don’t look at me,” I say, my voice shaky and nervous.

He chuckles. “Close your eyes, then.”

“No.” I stare into his eyes. My heart beats as he steps forward.

He’s tall, with gorgeous onyx locks, a slick beard, and a well-groomed mustache. The eyes that were once fiery in the shadows, haze to a bluish-green. Biting my lower lip, I wonder what he’s hiding under his leathered fashions and spurred boots.

He strokes his chin with a blood-drenched glove, nipping at his bottom lip. With that same hand, he glides the backend across the edges of my chin, sending chills down my spine. I close my eyes, picturing him jerking forward for a passionate kiss. He grapples my neck, squeezing firmly. The steam from his nostrils mists both sides of my face as I gasp for air.

Now, I need to fight for my life. I’m not a ragdoll that he can toss around and have his way with, but his touch is electrifying. Tingles and sharp pain scatter throughout my body. Must… gain… control.

“Why must you tease me, so?” he asks. “Every second you squirm and moan builds my hunger for your decadent vessel.” His free hand travels down the outline of my torso, landing above my navel. 

My body quivers as his gloved fingers massage my c******s. I can feel my love juices escaping me. 

The man shakes his head and slams me against the wall. I can feel his throbbing cane press against the folds of my flower. It grinds against me and, for a moment, I feel like I’m melting. He unclasps my neck, placing it as a holder under my buttocks. His fangs descend and I swallow hard, with eyes flashing in fear.

“Don’t you fret, my dear, I will go slower this time.”

His head c***s forward, and I feel the heat from his mouth on the unmarked side of my neck. I blush as his tongue traces up and down, and I suppress my tongue from unhinging my lips to let out an exhilarated sigh. 

With my arms free of him, I attempt to push him away, but then he grabs my wrists and pins them above my head. s**t, I think. I will surely die now. 

***

Augustus Shetherport’s POV

My hunger for Thrimina’s blood is more than I can bear. It’s sweet like honeysuckle and citrus mixed with the freshness of a rainstorm. My body craves to enter, to feel her tense vessel as I shower her with kisses and rough touches. 

Her moans and quiet groans were enthralling last night. It was refreshing compared to hearing the screams from the rest of her pack as I drained them, of their rare, magical lifeforce, but I can no longer keep my fangs retracted. I nearly killed her last night and I would have, too, if it weren’t for her sultry eyes of moonlight and petite figure. 

She’s fragile, physically, compared to the rest of her pack. 

Maybe I kept her alive out of pity. “I must rectify this,” I say quietly to myself as I stare into a flickering blue candle. It dances about, teasing me with its playful gestures. Then I think of her, as she's downstairs in this rather large and deteriorating country cottage. 

She's Naked. Physically vulnerable. And emotionally weak.

I run my fingers through my hair, sighing with relief and worry. I feel indifferent as I walk out of this dark room. I'm confident I will finish her.

"Damn it!" I mutter under my breath as my cheeks scorch. There are holes in the ceiling. Vampires don't do well under the light of the sun. 

I don't hiss, however, so I turn back into the room and retrieve my black velvet hat, placing it on my head to shield my eyes and face.

"And when the light of the moon shines through, my lady awaits in a casket of blue," I sing down the hall to a rigid staircase.

Dust flutters about, misting my sensitive nose. Her smell faints away, being replaced with musk and mildew. It's putrid.

Luckily, the dust resides as my feet plant on the planked ground, and her scent comes back to me. It's another long stroll to the room on the opposite end of this makeshift space. I fix my leather coat and untie my handkerchief from my shift. 

“Here I come.”

Groans echo from her room. She must have noticed the bite marks and bruising from my carelessness. I relish this moment. I scurry toward the room and press my ear against the door. She’s moaning now, soft and so animal-like. It’s harmonious and enchanting, but I must kill her. 

As I barge through the rotting door, I see her bent over the countertop of the mirrored vanity, pleasuring herself. Luckily, she can’t see me blushing in the shadows of the doorway. It’s perfect. She’s… perfect.

She seems frozen now. The moaning stopped abruptly and I wish I was quieter opening the door, but I’m feeling quite thirsty at the moment. 

Her silver hair bounces to and fro, and she quivers as though she’s aching for someone to touch her. She slowly tilts her head in my direction. I’m shocked really, I had never looked at her face before. She’s like silk and lace on a brisk evening–wonderful, with the sun’s rays crackling in her eyes. If I had a heart it would be palpitating at the speed of a shooting star. I can’t help but smile.

“Don’t look at me,” she says quietly. Her eyes dart about cautiously, I suppose, to not look me directly in the eyes.

I can’t help but chuckle at her nervousness. “Close your eyes, then,” I say to her. 

“No,” she responds. She stares directly into my eyes without hesitation. 

Well, well, I think to myself. You have my attention. I begin strutting forward, my chest out to help exuberate strength and control, and I ponder what to do with her. Again, she’s naked and vulnerable. I can do anything I want at this moment, and no one would be able to save her. 

I stroke my beard, breathing in the dried blood from last night. I’m losing control of myself. She stands there, almost like a statue. Even under the candlelight, she looks pristine. I reach over and touch her chin. Damn these gloves, but what choice do I have? If I take them off, she will surely be dead.

This woman’s scent is intoxicating. My hunger is too strong. I need to do my best to–I’m choking her! Why must my body betray me so? There’s pain and fear in her eyes, and I can do nothing but watch in my soulless cage. My body craves to suck her dry, while my lips yearn for a never-ending kiss. She’s so close to me, but I must keep this illusion that I’m dangerous. Once I break her skin, I can gain more control… I’m sure of it. 

Her body fidgets in my clutch. She’s stronger than she looks. 

“Why must you tease me so,” I playfully and unwillingly say to her. 

Tears pool by her eyelashes, I know she wants to scream. To fight. I want to fight, too.

“Every second you squirm and moan builds my hunger for your decadent vessel.” With my free hand, I glide my fingers down her skin to see her react to my touch. I wish I could feel her skin, the warmth she must possess in her living, breathing body. I need to hear her moan again. So, my hand inches past her navel to her soul-keep, and I gently rub and pinch her c******s. 

Something sweet drips from where I rub her, and I look at her as her eyes roll back, refraining from moaning into my ears. So, faster I must go. Even after a few moments, she still refuses me. This won’t do.

I’m growing impatient with this woman, so I push her back, pinning her to the wall by the bed. She’s afraid now, which is something I didn’t mean to do, but it’s too late. I need to feast. 

My shaft of delight wants her as well.  Heat must radiate all around her, acknowledging my member’s attention, and I sense that she feels the same about my icy aura. I want her to wrap her legs around me as I grind against her. To feel her body cave to pleasure will do me the honor of making this an auspicious occasion.

I force myself to release her neck, so that she may breathe. 

“Don’t you fret, my dear, I will go slower this time,” I say to her as I breathe down her neck, licking the sweet, salty beads that drip from her hairline. I never knew a woman to be so flavorous.

Fast, she is. All I see are arms flashing by as she tries to pry herself away from me. But I need her now more than ever. I will feed on her. 

Snatching her wrists, I pin them above her head, pressing my groin further against hers. Fear flows back into her eyes, and not bearing the guilt any longer, I lean over and sink my fangs into her neck. 

I will go slower; don’t want her to pass out this time…

***