tow?
His shriveled conscience debated that for a moment.
His unwanted guest wasn't doing well. A sheen of sweat had broken out on her forehead. Her chest heaved with her rapid breathing. She'd lost a great deal of blood. It was entirely possible she was dying in his arms. He should call 9-1-1.
But how would he explain this to the police? The last thing he needed was a charge of biting without consent, manslaughter, or even murder.
His mind raced. Why would someone harm a beautiful woman and leave her on his doorstep? He had many acquaintances and few friends, but until tonight he didn't think he had any enemies. At least not in the vampire world.
Something about her predicament pulled at him, touching his frozen heart. What it was, he couldn't say exactly. It might have been the way he held her life quite literally in his hands. Or perhaps it was merely that they were both victims in this strange situation. Someone had attacked her, someone who meant to harm his reputation by leaving her on his doorstep.
Still, creating another vampire was not without consequences. Not everyone made it through the change, and he'd never made another of his kind. He wasn't entirely sure he could help her.
She uttered another soft moan full of pain and torment. That tiny, pitiful sound finally made up his mind. He simply couldn't let her die.
He knelt beside her and stretched one arm under her neck to raise her head. For a moment, he hesitated again, knowing there was no going back from what he was about to do. With a deep sigh of resignation, he bent his head over his right wrist.
He shivered at the foreign sensation of his own cool lips brushing his skin. His incisors lowered. The thin skin offered little resistance as they slid into his vein with a keen mixture of pleasure-laced pain. Thick, salty blood poured over his tongue. He swallowed convulsively. He shoved his hunger into a gnawing little ball in his stomach and yanked his mouth away.
He watched in fascination as a scarlet drop of his blood splashed onto the carpet, mingling with hers. He rarely saw his own blood, had never tasted it before. He raised her head, bringing his wrist to her lips.
For a moment, he feared it was too late, that she had slipped too far into unconsciousness and now lingered on the brink of death. His blood dripped onto her slightly parted lips only to run in bright rivulets down her neck.
Drink, he whispered.
Her eyelids flickered. Her cool lips latched onto his wrist. She gulped the first mouthful.
Easy, he warned.
But she sucked strongly at the wound, drinking his blood as if it were the finest ambrosia. Her hands gripped his arm, holding him to her as if she were afraid he might get away.
Looking down at her in the candlelight, he could see the color beginning to flush back into her skin. Her breathing came in deep gasps as she swallowed more of his blood. Still, her strength was returning. He could tell by the death grip she had on his arm.
Enough, he ordered, even though she likely wasn't conscious enough to obey. He let her take another mouthful before he attempted to pull his arm away.
She hung on, but in the end his superior strength won out and he ripped his wrist from her grasp. Her eyelids twitched once before she lapsed into a deep stupor. Vlad pulled his arm out from under her head and let her slide back against his couch.
He lapped at his wounded arm until the blood began to clot. The last thing he needed was more of it on the carpet. One last sluggish drop of his blood oozed from the wound. He licked it away. His body was already healing itself, but that wouldn't take care of the crushing hunger that raced through him. His blood surged through her veins. When she awoke she'd be well into the throes of the change. And in the meantime he needed to feed.
Vlad looked down at the blonde. His blood was smeared across her mouth giving her a bizarre rictus grin. He stared at her for a long time, wondering who she was and what he'd say
His shriveled conscience debated that for a moment.
His unwanted guest wasn't doing well. A sheen of sweat had broken out on her forehead. Her chest heaved with her rapid breathing. She'd lost a great deal of blood. It was entirely possible she was dying in his arms. He should call 9-1-1.
But how would he explain this to the police? The last thing he needed was a charge of biting without consent, manslaughter, or even murder.
His mind raced. Why would someone harm a beautiful woman and leave her on his doorstep? He had many acquaintances and few friends, but until tonight he didn't think he had any enemies. At least not in the vampire world.
Something about her predicament pulled at him, touching his frozen heart. What it was, he couldn't say exactly. It might have been the way he held her life quite literally in his hands. Or perhaps it was merely that they were both victims in this strange situation. Someone had attacked her, someone who meant to harm his reputation by leaving her on his doorstep.
Still, creating another vampire was not without consequences. Not everyone made it through the change, and he'd never made another of his kind. He wasn't entirely sure he could help her.
She uttered another soft moan full of pain and torment. That tiny, pitiful sound finally made up his mind. He simply couldn't let her die.
He knelt beside her and stretched one arm under her neck to raise her head. For a moment, he hesitated again, knowing there was no going back from what he was about to do. With a deep sigh of resignation, he bent his head over his right wrist.
He shivered at the foreign sensation of his own cool lips brushing his skin. His incisors lowered. The thin skin offered little resistance as they slid into his vein with a keen mixture of pleasure-laced pain. Thick, salty blood poured over his tongue. He swallowed convulsively. He shoved his hunger into a gnawing little ball in his stomach and yanked his mouth away.
He watched in fascination as a scarlet drop of his blood splashed onto the carpet, mingling with hers. He rarely saw his own blood, had never tasted it before. He raised her head, bringing his wrist to her lips.
For a moment, he feared it was too late, that she had slipped too far into unconsciousness and now lingered on the brink of death. His blood dripped onto her slightly parted lips only to run in bright rivulets down her neck.
Drink, he whispered.
Her eyelids flickered. Her cool lips latched onto his wrist. She gulped the first mouthful.
Easy, he warned.
But she sucked strongly at the wound, drinking his blood as if it were the finest ambrosia. Her hands gripped his arm, holding him to her as if she were afraid he might get away.
Looking down at her in the candlelight, he could see the color beginning to flush back into her skin. Her breathing came in deep gasps as she swallowed more of his blood. Still, her strength was returning. He could tell by the death grip she had on his arm.
Enough, he ordered, even though she likely wasn't conscious enough to obey. He let her take another mouthful before he attempted to pull his arm away.
She hung on, but in the end his superior strength won out and he ripped his wrist from her grasp. Her eyelids twitched once before she lapsed into a deep stupor. Vlad pulled his arm out from under her head and let her slide back against his couch.
He lapped at his wounded arm until the blood began to clot. The last thing he needed was more of it on the carpet. One last sluggish drop of his blood oozed from the wound. He licked it away. His body was already healing itself, but that wouldn't take care of the crushing hunger that raced through him. His blood surged through her veins. When she awoke she'd be well into the throes of the change. And in the meantime he needed to feed.
Vlad looked down at the blonde. His blood was smeared across her mouth giving her a bizarre rictus grin. He stared at her for a long time, wondering who she was and what he'd say
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