Surrender

He sits in the large Queen Anne style chair across from the bed. His eyes drift over the sleeping woman's form, lingering on the curve of her hip. The pen in his hand is silver, heavy, and the sheets waiting for his words made of fine velum. He smiles, tearing his eyes from her golden tanned flesh, reveling in anticipation of the game they will play out. He begins writing, right hand gliding across the page leaving lines of an elegant, old world script in its wake. Within the span of a few minutes the letter has been completed and he folds the sheet in
half, writes her name across the front before adding a small looping flourish under it. He stands, strides without making a sound, over to the gleaming hardwood to her desk, and places the letter so that when she turns to see her alarm clock, the numbers will be obscured. He turns to the bed and kneels beside it.

“What a shame to hide such beauty and grace behind a mask of apathy,” he whispers while brushing a lock of dark brown hair off of her face. During their evening she had commented that her nose was too small, lips too puffy and her weight too high but he saw her in a different way. The curves she complained about were considered great beauty when he’d been human and Azreal’s tastes have yet to change. His hand brushes over her sheet-covered thigh to the curve of her torso before coming to rest on her shoulder. He leans in close, brushing her hair away from her neck.

“You are mine, beautiful one. Whether or not I let you live,” he chuckles and stands. Azreal collects his black leather jacket from the Queen Anne style chair near the bed. He glances once more at her before he turns and exits her apartment without a sound.

***

I can see your inner most thoughts. Your fears, dreams, fantasies. I walk in shadows while you bask in sun, the dark to your light. Your flesh is hot under my touch. Your pulse flutters against my lips, and my fangs scrape against your throat, just enough to elicit a soft cry from your lips. I slip my fangs into the vein, trite I know but it serves a purpose. My hand sealing your lips mutes your gasp. I only take a little, just enough to sate my thirst. I release my hold on you, body and mind, letting you return to dreams. Licking your blood off my lips I taste White Diamonds, my favorite. I leave this letter where you can find it before slipping, unseen into the night.
Soon
~Azreal~

***

I wake to the scent of his cologne filling my nostrils. Shivering I pull the quilt up to my throat in spite of the heat. Why does he play with me? What's his game? I should contact the police but what would I say? "I'm being stalked by a vampire. He enters my apartment every night, bites me, leaves a letter and leaves." It's almost funny. They'd have me in an institution so fast my head would spin. Would that stop him?

Why am I cowering in bed? It's past sunrise, he's hiding for the day. I throw my quilt aside and swing my legs to the floor, that's when I see it. The letter, a simple piece of paper holds me as those silk scarves he used the first night. I never should've let him do that. I shouldn't have brought him home! Mom never warned me about bloodsucking fiends.

What's happening to me? I'm not like this! I stand, cross the few feet to my desk and snatch the letter. My hands shake as I unfold the paper. Two sheets. The first details his actions last night, as if I wouldn't remember. I slide the sheets apart, revealing the drawing, done in black ink, with loving detail. My God he's even drawn the small dragon statue that sits atop my monitor! He sketched me at work yesterday! I wasn't there past dark! Am I safe anywhere? I sink to the floor and clutch my knees to my chest, not caring that the pressure aggravates the small neat puncture wounds he's made.

A pounding on my door draws my attention, my head snaps up, eyes fixing on the front door down the hall. Has he returned? If he saw me in my office yesterday what's to stop him from coming here during the day? I shiver on the floor, torn between answering the door and crawling back into bed and hiding under the blankets.
"Callie! I don't have all day! Am I driving you to work or not?" Danielle's voice rings through my apartment. I scramble to my feet and rush to the front door, knowing that there's safety in numbers.

***

You try to hide from me. Tonight, you hid your face behind a mask, your body under bulky clothing. You cannot hide from me. This game will play itself out regardless of your desires. Did you find what you sought on your night of freedom? Your friend paid the price; my hunger must be sated. She wasn't half as intriguing as you Callie; perhaps that is why you live while she begins to rot. As I sit watching the moonlight play over your cloth-draped curves, I know our time grows short. I will have you: complete surrender is preferred however, should you continue to defy me, the game can still be played. Pain or pleasure, it is your decision. Once more I leave this before slipping away. Until tonight,
The choice is yours . . .
Soon
~Azreal~

***

I wake in a strange room; panic seizes my mind before I remember checking into a hotel. I take a deep breath; smelling nothing but the astringent scent of the linens, I smile. He hasn't followed me. Laughing I pick up the remote for the television and flip on the news. The anchorman's voice fills the room talking about events in far-flung corners of the world. I sit up and throw the covers aside as the television switches to an anchorwoman; she's local and begins with a 'startling discovery in the French Quarter'. In the distance I hear her describe the murder but the small ivory envelope placed on the dresser, holds my attention. It sits atop a long red velvet box, the kind you get from a jeweler. I didn't run far enough. I cross to the dresser and take the note. He wants me to read it. The bites on my breasts are a constant reminder of what happens when I defy him. As I read the account of Danielle's death, I realize that the anchorwoman is talking about her. Shock settles over me and I let the paper fall to the floor. There's no alternative.

A throng of revelers fills the streets moving around me as the full moon begins its journey across the star filled sky. I step up to the front door of my apartment and unlock the door as his cologne fills my head. His arm snakes around my waist gentle as a lover while I push the door open and step across the threshold. Azreal closes the door and guides me into the living room. I swallow hard as his free hand brushes the choker around my throat.
"You wore it." He whispers.
"Yes."
"Very good." He guides me into my living room filled with few possessions and none with any sentimental meaning, the trappings of an empty life. "I am afraid that tonight must be our last." He murmurs in my ear brushing my dark hair aside.
I feel his cool breath on my skin and shiver, teetering on the brink of succumbing to desire, again. I slam my heel into his instep and move toward the kitchen intent on the butcher's block. His weight slams into me. I slam into the island. There's no time for me to throw up my hands before my mid section meets the marble surface. The air is expelled from my lungs in a rush. Azreal spins me around and throws me to the floor. My head whirls as I fight to remain alert; laughing, Azreal kneels over my prone form. His legs pin my arms to my sides as he pins my shoulders with his strong arms.
"A shame to ruin such beauty." He whispers before his tongue slides over the pearls. I open my mouth to reply, but the white-hot pain of his fangs ripping into my flesh makes it a scream, his hand clamps over my mouth, muffling the sound.
The world swims in and out of focus as his mouth flexes against my flesh. His lips are like ice, goose bumps spring up as he moans, enraptured.

My will to fight is gone. Is this what Danielle felt in her last moments? It's fitting that I should die in the same manner. After all, it was my fault; I'm the one he's wanted since that first encounter. Color begins to drain from the world but the pain of his teeth never ceases. With every flex of Azreal's jaw muscles I feel those sharp points driven deeper into my flesh. Then it is gone. The world is painted in shades of gray with wide swaths of soft focus ringing my vision as he pushes himself to his feet.

"Not so full of life anymore are you, my little firebrand?" He chuckles and drops into a crouch on my right side. Those eyes I know are so dark brown they appear black on first glance. Fix mine with such intensity. I want nothing more than to turn away but my muscles no longer respond. "Would you like to become a member of the blood, my little firebrand? I would not have time to teach you. You would have to discover everything on your own." He draws a long thin blade from his sleeve and rolls it over his fingers as I struggle to make him see that I want death. "You should do well." He mutters after a few moments.

The blade flashes in the dim glow of the moon a moment before it slices into the dark flesh of his wrist. He drops the blade and catches my hair with his free hand before pressing the wound to my mouth. I press my lips together and hold my breath. The fingers of my right hand seek the blade he's set aside. White tracers speed through my vision as my lungs scream for air but I continue to fight. Azreal chuckles and waits, he knows that in time, I'll have to breathe and with blood covering my nostrils my mouth will open. My fingers close over the cold steel. The blade slices into tender flesh, bringing a gasp to my lips.

Cool coppery blood flows into my mouth; I fight to keep from swallowing. Concentrating on finding the blade's hilt, my throat convulses. Azreal releases my hair and smooths it down as I scream. The blood coursing through my veins is scalding. What feels like thousands of knives shred every inch of me, from the inside out.

"Easy; it is not unusual for you to feel some pain." He soothes. I want to scream that this is more pain than can be endured. Through the pain I feel his fingers at the buttons of my blouse, opening each one. Instinct is to push him away, but the hunger for his blood grows with each passing moment. His hand slides my blouse to my sides. In the back of my mind, I'm aware of his hand exposing my left breast.

The world explodes in a tidal wave of sound and color as his fangs plunge into the flesh of my nipple. I scream into his wrist and my back arches, my body wracking with convulsions, something akin to a seizure. I have no control. I can feel every cell in my being burning with desire, need. I can feel Azreal's jaws flexing, he moans, a sound I know well, pure contentment. A moment later my throat echoes his as my body begins to relax. I snarl in frustration as his left hand moves to my chin and eases my mouth open before he takes his right wrist away. My entire body tingles from the changes that ingesting his blood has brought on.

I want to scream in frustration as examines the wound. I smell his cologne mingling with my perfume and the Jasmine outside my window. None of that matters. I watch Azreal clean the blood from his wrist like a lion grooming after a hunt. The need grows. My hand closes around the dagger hilt. I rise and slide my arms around his torso. I kiss his chest and feel his low chuckle. His free hand fondles my flesh but the sensation is dulled, something deeper than my desire wants his blood. The wounded wrist moves toward my hair, the flesh is perfect. Enraged I plunge the dagger into the left side of his neck. Azreal howls and clutches the wound. With his right hand he grabs me by the neck and flings me across the room. In a heartbeat he is towering over my prone form, menace radiating from every inch. His hands reach out.
He cups my cheeks, and whispers.

"I offer you immortality and this is the thanks you give me." Before I can frame an answer his left hand falls away and he thrusts with his right. The world explodes.

The End