The Vampire's Edenian Inamorata

Tempted by Flesh

Äút vę skætï süølē x ÿ cövœis whęyå` „Döâkk nę etq öá nå` äút nå åz  fäēv lę påfvërkønä vår`„

(And her skin sang to the heavens above, "Take me for all I am, and I will give you passionately more." )

The delectable essence of Sövœk bred havoc and mutiny in Babel. His salacious tongue descended from the heavens, lapped up the prideful and greedy, and churned their speech to nothing more than strange mumbles and sinful blabber.  Their colloquialisms—their way of life—were destroyed by a single, ethereal kiss. 

Yet, the forlorn mountain-like tower remained erect in her image—a mortal maiden man called Tôpęshnå. Men believed her to be their true center of the universe and heaven. Their muse. Their Edenian goddess of nature. 

Sövœk searched for their so-called Tôpęshnå, howling for her flesh that they depicted as soft as Aazur Cream petals filled with the fragrance of morning dew and honeysuckle. He groveled in the blood of man, thinking of her violet eyes, which her worshippers claimed to have beckoned men to her side. Her worshippers, whom he fed upon in the dead of night, filled his erotic thoughts and wonderments—besting his archaic admonishments. 

And so, it came to pass when his thirst for Tôpęshnå diminished, and all was well in the dwellings of mortals. Sövœk’s hunger for man dwindled the longer he remained above ground. And the blazing orb of fire in the sky scorched his tissue—albeit—squelched his thirst.  

As he receded to the Forests of Älk, he froze in awe of the being splashing in the golden river of Aüstøsæ. He gazed at the floating woman, who blissfully swam about the currents. The moon glistened upon her rose-beige skin and soaked in her perky bosom. Her curve-tipped nose aimed toward the twinkling blanket of night, and her lips curved upward, sending a silent wish to the stars. 

Feeling embarrassed by the aching rod betwixt his thighs, Sövœk hid behind a laurel trunk and spied on the dainty woman through the leaves. His silver irises captured the curves of her thighs, and erotic thoughts poured into his mind, growing as she moved in the waters. 

Famished was he as his canines convulsed and retracted, longing to pierce her flesh. So, Sövœk crept among the shadows until he dipped his toes into the river of gold. Morphing into the sand, he trickled in, working against the current to reach her. The grains of his body swarmed her, melting and reconnecting under her silhouette. Staring at her backside, he smirked, compelled to graze his sharpened nails across her spine. Instead, he grappled her neck and pulled her under, plunging his teeth into the crook. 

Her thrashing sent him, so he cupped her breast, pinching her engorged n****e. Fearing her all-so-sudden calmness and submission, he dragged her out of the river. She laid there on her back, statuesque and pale. The ringlets of her primrose mane haloed her, extending past her hips and thighs. She was a goddess man would die for. It was then that Sövœk knew wholely: she was the one and only, Tôpęshnå.

Truly, he could have killed her, but he succumbed to her beauty, scooped her off the ground, and fled to her temple—that tower in Babel.

Impressive, he thought, drinking in the sculpted marble. A golden staircase wound about from the feet to the belly. Another set of marble stairs climbed toward her chest, stopping at an iron door that sat between her breasts. 

Approaching the door, Sövœk gripped tighter to Tôpęshnå and kicked the door down. Worshippers were there. Torches burned along the walls. Along with a drawn bath that simmered in a cubic hole fixed into the floor. Flower petals floated on top, and bottles of goat milk and perfume were gathered in the corner beside an obsidian mirror that reflected the water. Across the way sat a straw bed layered with bear and fox pelts. Warm and inviting. 

Sövœk placed Tôpęshnå on the bed, salivating over her plump lips. He pulled away and set his eyes upon the steaming bath before him, hoping to shake the licentious notions brewing inside. Shucking his pleated robe, he descended into the liquid, his muscles relaxing as they made contact with wandering lavender buds. 

Sleep took him, and his body gradually sunk into the depths of the cube. Tôpęshnå’s body swept through his dreams. His thirst bloomed as a set of small hands caressed his bare chest. The dragging of fingers across his pectoralis forced his eyes open, staring at a pair of violet orbs.

They were flames that sparkled like amethysts. Specks of silver and lilac pooled around the pupils, drinking in the darkness that spread toward the purple rims. Then suddenly, the warmth of those fingers vanished, and those violet eyes receded under the pelts. 

Astonished by how fast the little woman was, Sövœk fled the bath, reaching for a fouta to dry himself. He detested mortals: men, women, and children alike, but Tôpęshnå left a frivolous feeling to flourish in the cavity that once held his heart. It was not of love or admiration for her soul. No. But for the flesh. It beckoned him. Seducing his fangs and seeding a fire within his groin. 

Lust. 

Fallen angels have whispered this fate to the stars beyond the drifting cotton. The constellations adopted afflictions associated with such a word. For as long as the cosmos existed, Sövœk deprived himself of human indispositions. As a god, he applied anachronistic ideals to his followers of the night: consume endlessly, live eternally. Lest the soul seeks the Etherean Flame of endless light, then shall the vessel wilt evermore in the pits of Lebab. Believe in the moon, for it births generations of darkness that only shadows can soothe. And spread the gospel to thy neighbor, letting the word sink into their flesh until they are reborn in the rivers of the Red Sea.

As he stopped before the bed, he glimpsed at the lump in its center. It trembled, with gasps escaping from the crevices. Sövœk chuckled, then tore the pelts away, revealing Tôpęshnå’s naked form. He reveled in her body, his stomach rumbling loud enough for her to register. 

She lay there, frozen. Yet, her eyes pierced through him, forcing his throat to swell. They held wonder and curiosity—both delightful and frightening amongst the flickering candles. Chills coursed through his veins and tightened at his bulbous staff. 

Testing the ever-growing tension between them, he climbed over her, leaned into her reddening earlobe, and chuckled. Gruff and sultry like a wanton maiden in heat. She whimpered, teasing her lips with the protruding tip of her tongue. His fangs grazed her neckline, venturing to the puncture wounds he inflicted upon her in the waters of Aüstøsæ. He licked them, clearing her flesh of the visible, rustic stains. 

He savored her blood, reflecting on how he came to be… this monstrous form in which the universe cursed him to be.