Ennui plagues the crestfallen devil,
who decides to find liberation
in seducing the angel.

b l o o d w i n e
the taste of forbidden purity is much sweeter

 

 Chapter 1 – Special Invitation

Long, lean yet masculine fingers reached out in front of him, grasping for the silver-embedded goblet. He brought it to his mouth and took a quick swig before pulling it away; licking whatever was left of the crimson-coloured fluid that stained his pale lips. He released a satisfied breath and leaned back on his velvet-covered chair, eyeing the vintage portraits swathing the walls.

A long chime rang through the dim-lit dining room and he gazed at the entrance door with anticipation as he crossed his legs.

A dancing gypsy leaped inside with grace, twirling a sheer blue sash around her with a certain expertise that could only be mastered after few years of practice. Eyes of prussian green met jaded scarlet and she continued her dancing with such vigour, hoping to bring those striking eyes to life. Her gold anklets clanked together, generating a soft bell jingle. With ease, she twirled around him, wrapping the sash around his neck and pulling it back with a sensual intimation.

He grunted and looked elsewhere.

But his desire for life kept him glued to the dancing girl. He bared his fangs subtly as his eyes roamed her body – from her neck, her firm breasts, and the long slender legs that flexed as far as she wanted. A growl erupted in his throat and with a silent, hand-gesturing command the entrance doors slammed close.

A vice-like grin shaped his lips as a ghastly form of a beast took place of his sophisticated humanly figure. And with ease and enduring swiftness, he pounced on the girl with hunger in his eyes and wet lips.

No one in town heard the ear-shattering screams that reverberated around the spacious mansion.


 

He wandered around the Town Square, curiously watching the lesser people walk the streets with baskets in their hands, looking through display windows of the bakery. Children gleefully played in the center of the square where a playground made of wooden platforms, save the slide and swing, stood proudly. Though old and seemingly worn out by its long-term life, it showed no signs of rupturing.

Enveloped by the shadows, no one bothered to take a glance in his direction as they walked past him.

He scoffed at their slow ignorance.

In spite of this, his eyes caught on to a young woman who had hazily stared at him in uncertainty, perhaps wondering if any one was even standing there. Beauty eyes of brown, traced upon with burgundy whirled with his hypnotic scarlets.

Then, suddenly, she breathed softly before turning elsewhere, now almost sure that what she saw was a deceiving image.

He smirked at the oblique innocence.

Not quite.

Blinking at the sun, he stepped out and revealed himself though causing not a ruckus. With the gracefulness of a cat, he found himself quickly behind the dawning of the present seraph before him, thoroughly interested in nothing more but the flowers that were being sold and presented in wooden barrels. His shadow loomed over her and facing the one who was causing such minor darkness was inevitable.

She squinted and stepped back.

"Hello."

An awkward smile graced her full, rosy lips as she looked on with an inquisitive stare, that of a child’s.

An image floored his mind as his daunting gaze searched her own. He traced her jaw with his eyes and her lips. In his mind, he could see his fingers entwining with her own, the other hand reaching for her face and gently caressing the lips that were curved upwards. His own leaned down to press against hers as he inhaled her sweet feminine scent that wisped off her body. He studied her features, the curve of her neck to the voluptuous body that was her own. Oh, how he wanted to reach for her hair and entangle his pale hands with her cinnamon locks.

And no matter how much he desired to look at her as a whole, his eyes always drifted to her neck, ostensibly inviting him to draw her only breath of life.

"Sir, are you all right?" She questioned, searching his face for any sign of reality.

He shook his head lightly, her music-like voice stirring him awake from his reverie.

"Yes."

She let out a small, nervous chortle before she moved around him.

Before he could let the girl slip away, he grabbed hold of her wrist to keep her where she stood. He released her and cleared his throat.

"I would like to invite you to the welcoming ceremony at the Nibelheim Mansion for Lord Valentine. Will you come? It would be a delightful honor." His eyes glimmered.

"I … I don’t think I could."

"Please. He would greatly appreciate your presence."

Moments passed as she thought the invitation over. Considering her hiatus from accepting social invites, she couldn’t say she was into the idea. Looking into his scarlet eyes, she thought for a brief moment that a golden hue replaced it. She blinked and found herself nodding without her usual reluctance to dinner invites.

"I’ll be there."

"Lovely."


 

She stared at her reflection in the mirror and leaned against the wall behind her, hands clasped behind her back. Why had she accepted his invitation? She couldn’t remember. It was odd.

But because she had accepted, there was no time to turn her back. If a promise were made with words of her own, she would never deny those promises. Unlike one man she trusted, she engraved verbal promises in stone.

Without further hesitation in her getting prepared for the evening, she dressed herself in a spaghetti-strap red dress made of fine satin material. She lifted her hair into an elegant fashion and pinned it there.

She was ready.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 2 – Dinner Prowl

 

With reluctance, she lifted her hand and knocked softly on the door, hoping that it was quiet enough so the inhabitants of the house wouldn’t hear it. She wanted so much to go home. When no one answered, she let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps she had the chance of going home.

However, before she could turn her heel, the wide doors open. She cursed her good – almost good – luck and tried to catch a glimpse of the man, or butler, who had opened the door. Not gaining anything from it, she stepped inside carefully and swallowed down the lump in her throat. Suddenly, the doors closed with a loud slam and she squealed. She waited for her heartbeats to slow down before she continued down the lightly dimmed foyer and hallway.

A strong light glowed from the farthest room with the massive Victorian-plated doors, and she assumed it was the dining room. To her remarkable surprise, it was.

There a shadowy figure sat on the farthest end of the table. She didn’t miss the smirk and the twinkle in his smoldering eyes. Even from afar, parts of his facial features were obvious through parts of the darkness. It was her end of the table that was strongly lit.

Nervously, she clasped her hands together. It was a habit she had picked up and she wasn’t sure where, but it was enough to ease her from her anxiety.

"Excuse me?"

The figure remained silent.

"Is … Is this the dinner ceremony? There are no guests and I thought-

Her sentence was interrupted as she watched the figure stand up.

"The guests will arrive …"

"Oh."

"Eventually." He finished.

He approached her and she could see a man through darkness, complete with broad shoulders and an able physique. But even so, it was unusual to an extent that he was moving towards her painfully slow.

"Is Lord Valentine around?" She asked carefully.

"You’d be surprised."

He was at the edge where darkness and light merged and in rapidity, he stopped.

"Please. Sit." A hand motioned her to sit down in the chair beside her.

Not wanting to disappoint her host, she sat down. However, she glued her eyes to the table, bedecked with exotic foods, some she had never seen before. With swiftness, he was behind her, hands on her shoulders, his thumbs stroking the base of her neck. She let out a sharp gasp before shivering and finally stiffening to the violating touch.

"Eat now." He whispered before retreating to his end of the table.

Her eyebrows knotted together as she nibbled her bottom lip. He wasn’t waiting for the others to arrive.

Maybe he’s not familiar with the polite customs around here …

Going with that, she ate the food resting on her plate slowly. She noticed that each spoonful she took, he imitated her. She found it peculiar if not insane.

But she continued eating her food and, as soon as she was done, she thanked him.

"Thank you. It was delicious." She complimented.

"Glad you enjoyed it."

He was certainly a man of a few words.

From his end, even the strongest man alive could not have ripped the smile on his face out. However, it wasn’t a gentle smile one could assume but a knowing, conniving smirk that planned corruption.

He had watched her eat all through dinner, following her actions one by one, gazing at the brown locks that had fallen from its holding. Watching lips envelop tasteful foods and her nimble movements. Her eyes were hypnotic – if not truly like his – and curious and almost like his.

Almost.

Finally …

"Would you like a tour of the mansion?"

"Sure."

With two claps, unusual classical music filled the entire household. Possibly not classical music but just … eerie.

He walked ahead of her and she followed with quiet obedience. They reached the next room over and she found it completely filled with antique paintings. Above the center mantelpiece, a portrait was hung of an elegant man. Handsome couldn’t describe him, but she felt it better if she kept that opinion to herself.

"I suppose that’s Lord Valentine?"

"Yes."

She looked at the picture for a moment before turning to her host who, apparently, lost himself in the shadows yet again. She was certainly piqued with curiosity. Why did he always seem to hide from her? Hell, the fact that he could be the lord himself wouldn’t faze her in the least. She just wanted to see him.

"Interesting how you’d like to see me. Is that what you want?" He asked, unperturbed.

She gasped and widened her eyes.

"You … you just … you read my-

"When I want to." He answered and shrugged. "And if you are curious as to my identification, yes, I am Lord Valentine."

"Then why don’t you just come out?" Her voice was shaky. She needed to slowly adjust to the fact he had a telepathic ability.

"I prefer darkness if you haven’t noticed."

This whole house is dark …

"This isn’t dark."

A resounding clap.

Darkness consumed the room and she was suddenly afraid to move. She couldn’t see her hand as she lifted it up.

What felt like a nail grazed her bare arm, and she shuddered discreetly. Her breath had quickened and she looked left and right for the lord but was unsuccessful. A warm breath invaded her space and she turned around, surprised and on guard but, as she leaned forward to reach out there was only air. She spun around yet again, terrified almost by his mind-playing games.

Unexpectedly, rough and icy hands clamped down on her shoulders, holding her in place.

"This is dark." A deep and sensual whisper it was.

If it wasn’t for logic and morality, she would have abandoned herself to his voice and lingering touch that sparked an unknown reaction from her petite form.

She pulled away from his grasp, however, and stayed her distance.

"I think I should go now …" She said softly and backed away, not sure of where she was going.

She could feel him behind her again.

"But the fun hasn’t started."

An ivory smirk graced his features and an evil glint sparkled in the crimson depths.

"I’ll give you a minute’s head start out of pity." He said with a sadistic chuckle. "If you can find your way out."

A frightened whimper escaped her lips as she turned in endless circles but no indication of light proved her way out. It was a complete black hole with no exits. She was trapped inside a dark room with a madman.

"I will have you." He declared with a promise.

The smirk was still on his lips. He could see her clearly and almost felt sorry for the innocent confusion and utmost fear evident in her red-glazed brown eyes. His smile drifted away and his lips fell into a grim line. He wanted them pure. The purest of red. Blood. Love. Lust. He felt it all. He needed them. He wanted a taste of her sweetness, wanted to use and feel used. He wanted everything.

Everything was her …

and he was determined to get her.

Without hesitation, he bared his fangs and began his prowl for the helpless victim.

There was no more waiting.

He wanted her now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 3 – Dead Ivory

 

Darkness clawed at her body and enveloped her in its blinding grasp as she desperately searched for the door to the antechamber. Tears pricked at her eyes and she wiped them away harshly as she continued her rummage around the room. Her not-so-quiet action caused more than one book to fall, vases crashing to the floor in ice-bit crystals. However, despite her bothersome fumbling her hand fell on the brass doorknob and she gave a sigh of relief.

Yet, suddenly it was wedged in her throat, unable to be released as the lord’s arms slipped around her waist and pulled her body against his. He brought his forefinger up to her throat and traced it down to her collarbone where it resided for a few moments. Then, it sensually eased its way down between the valley of her breasts where it rested. She winced as if he had slapped her; his violation of her space had finally crossed all boundaries that kept her sane. Thus, her body betrayed her and leaned in to his teasing, aching for the pleasure he could only provide.

"Oh dear. My little pet is aroused." She could feel him grin behind her. "That’s lovely. However, I suggest you wrench yourself out of a divulging fantasy and snap back to reality."

She blinked.

He was talking more than his usual two or three word sentences.

"Blood flows at a faster pace when you are at your highest peak of pleasure. You writhe in the adrenaline your body pumps." He paused. "And I revel in this."

He leaned in as if to kiss her ear but paused only a centimeter away to whisper something all too sensual but equally dangerous.

"Get ready."

His mouth suddenly dipped in the crevice of her shoulders and neck and he sunk his ivory teeth in her warm skin. Trails of crimson poured out in dark rivers, dripping further down into her dress. He watched her reaction from the corner of his eye and was pleased at her sudden paralysis. She stood there, unmoving, as he continued to suckle the skin caught between his lips.

He savored her blood and drew in some more, which provided him with life and an unknown emotion that engulfed him at his roots. He ignored the numbness in his heart and paid no attention but to the task in front of him.

Then, as quickly as he had started he released her with a loving lick of the wound before completely parting with the young maiden.

She was of no use to him any longer.

Before he retreated back into darkness, however, he left her with a few foreboding parting words.

"You shall see me again but for a different a purpose."

She still stood there.

Waiting. Watching.

Dead to the world. She would remember nothing afterwards.

It was only a matter of years before the memory enclosed in her heart would resurface again.

The memory of terror and much worse.

The cost of her innocence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 4 – Ad Infinitum

 

A peach-coloured petal slowly danced in wispy fragrances on the tips of his fingers, caressing his callous skin with its supple texture. Eyes of claret darkened and misted as the single petal stopped dancing at his palm and leaked blood. He snarled and crushed it between his palms, watching the burgundy drips amount to pouring rivers at his hands. It fell to the ground with a splash and created a puddle in its wake.

Concentrating at the situation before him, he was unaware of the slender hand snake over his shoulders and down to his waistband. The hand slipped underneath his shirt and stroked his abdomen with corporeal ease and he faced her abruptly, growling at her with stained fangs at the intrusion of his privacy. Her hand retreated back to her side and the smirk that so playfully moved across her face faded into nothingness, as she perceived his glower to be an insult to her whole existence.

"You deny me?" Her voice was soft as velvet but was carefully etched in something dangerous and poisonous.

He released a tired sigh and leaned on the armrest of his chair, his elbow charily propping himself.

"I now find the act of committing you to immortal sin has indefinitely put me at high stake for a dominating status." He said calmly, not paying attention to the glare being burned at the back of his head.

She scoffed. "You don’t seem worried."

"You are not worthy of being vexed about. Your body and soul sickens me. Your appearance alone makes me want to shoot you."

"My body and soul is what keeps you alive." She reminded him with a growl.

"Which is exactly why I need you at my side until the day I die." He explained with a conniving grin. "That is, if that day ever comes."

The hands at her sides clenched together as the urge to strangle him was at her fingertips. However, she possessed no greater power than her counterpart, as he had been the chosen heir of the golden relic that hung on a silver chain around his neck.

"Why don’t you just find another bitch to toy and fondle with? I’ve had enough of this!" Her hazy eyes snarled. "Being by your side is vile and corruptive."

"I believe that is not what you said moments before. And, correct me if I’m wrong, love, but my touch on your skin has been nothing but irresistible these past years."

She said nothing and looked into the shadows.

"Also," he paused to stand and face her, "that lapel around your neck has you bound to me."

"Not until you find someone new. Then I am released if I wish that to be so."

"Or I could always have you for dinner."

There was a glint in his eye before he turned around and disappeared into nothing. Hot breaths escaped her lips as anger surged through her veins, thirsty for revenge. In a sudden misty plume, the woman arched her back and clutched at her stomach as she writhed in unimaginable pain and ecstasy. She screeched, her voice echoing in the majestic hall, bouncing off the mural-painted walls.

Then the mist dispersed into wispy smoke, enveloping a dark creature in its hold. A dark dress pooled around the four legs that made up the werewolf that she was. Angry eyes of gold glittered as she choked back a howl that remained pent-up for centuries, her ancestors not able to do what she was about to do.

The howl finally emerged from her lips, a cry from pain and torture. It ached for restoration of a broken heart.

Her howl beseeched freedom.

 

 

 

 

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