Marianne by Gravez

Marianne by Gravez

The first time I saw her was the first time I lived. 500 years of silence, and then, everything was vibrant.

Porcelain skin gleamed under the throbbing lights of the club, a beautiful testament to the fruits of the modern age. Her neck… Oh, how my eyes lingered as I took in her long and slender neck. How fire crawled through me as I took in her smell. The smell of innocence, the smell of beauty.

In a club full of the degenerate, the depraved, and the downtrodden; there she stood, a black dress clinging to her milk-white skin, almost ethereal in her presence. She was a dark angel, an oasis in the mundaneness of life that I had come to experience in the drudgery of the bowels of Chicago.

I watched her dance. The simple sway of her hips, abundant flesh, perfect skin. She was skinny then, made all the more obvious the black she wore and the dark hair that came down to her back. Jittery movements showed her lack of comfort, even in a club like the one we were in, she was nervous and tender.

And that wasn’t the last time I’d watched her. Night after night, I came back, hoping to see her. During my wait, I learned her routine and familiarized myself just by watching her. When you watch someone long enough, you learned little things about them. I learned the intricacies of her smile; perfect teeth, pearly, rarely shared but lighting up the room around them when they were. I began to be able to pick her voice up from the sound of the crowd, light and innocent, cheery, a sound I’d never come to forget.

Week after week, I continued my watching.

As time went by, I grew tired of watching. I followed her home, one night, and the next week when she visited the club, I found her. I learned her name, rifling through what she had left. Marianne. Or Mari, as I learned, laying on her bed perusing the account she had so stupidly forgotten to password protect. I found little, save for an old account in which she barely used to keep up with family. A mother, no siblings, and a father missing. A perfect target.

I found her collection of music; haunting and gloomy. I read through her writings, morbid or romantic, poetry sprinkled with morose. And on her laptop, I found something startling. An obsession with vampires… With the macabre.

I left and returned to my schedule of watching and waiting until I could watch and wait no longer.

It was a Friday. The club that night was busy, packed with so many dark clad people that I did not even look out of place in the black trench coat I wore, standing in the corner of the club, right beneath a throbbing light that irritated my sensibilities.

She smelled of lavender. An ever so sweet scent, mixing with the sweetness of her blood. I smelled her in a crowd of a hundred people.

That night, I was hungry. An unbearable hunger, gnawing and ravenous, pushing me to action. I’d feasted on a woman two weeks ago and now my stomach gnawed, wanting more satisfying blood. That happened often, my lack of satisfaction. Humans in this day and age were so loose and corrupt. Their blood always showed it. But not her.

Unlike the nights before, I made myself known to her. Crooning from the corner, I called, “Marianne.” Alert, she turned to face me. Dark eyes danced to my own, widening in surprise. I savored that moment, the first moment she ever looked at me, tensing up like a doe about to bolt. I found heaven in her glance, euphoria in her look, and eden in her expression. I was there, and then I was gone.

Weeks passed, and she never returned to the club, afraid, I assumed. The night she showed up, I was ravenous. I had saved myself for her because I knew that no blood would be as sweet as hers. No taste would be satisfying, except her taste.

And as I saw her that night, a frilled dress, I decided tonight would be the night. I stalked her through the club, always out of her range of vision, after a night of dancing, she saw me. Her entire body stiffened, the racing of her heart becoming the only sound I heard in a room full of people, tight white muscles showed in the vein of her neck. Wickedness showed as I smiled at her, large enough to show my fangs. Again, I vanished.

Several more times that night, I startled her, each time her growing more terrified as she set eyes on me. Each new time our eyes met, I felt her drain more of my soul, I felt that hungry rumble in my stomach grow, the tingling possessive need in my hands, oh so powerful

The last time she looked at me in the club, she turned to flee. I followed her out into the night, out into my territory, out into my place, where she would find no reprieve from me. How simple it was to flit, to lift her off the ground, take her in my arms, bring her into the nearest alley, and pin her against a wall. She barely had time to gasp as I swept her off into the night, but she did when I set her down. At first, she thought to scream, but I grabbed hold of the bottom of her jaw preemptively and forced her mouth shut.

Touching her, I touched the nature of humanity. “Quiet, my raven…” I called, my voice soothing as if coaxing a wounded bird. I used the hand now holding her mouth shut to stroke the side of her face, using the side of my fingers. She struggled, kicked at me, but I barely felt it, barely felt anything but the exaltation at having what I’d been waiting so long for. Helpless, her resistance was useless, bouncing off of me like it meant nothing in the world.

“Oh, how long I have been waiting. Watching.” She murmured into my hand as I met my body with hers, intoxicating heat and friction generating a palpable tension. The more I stared, the more I touched, the more I smelled, the greater my need became, holding her still, looking her in the eyes.

“The world is so dark. Yet you have lit up an eternal night.” Affectionately, I continued my stroking, doing nothing to stop her relentless bucking or the fear at which she showed as I held her tight.

I drew ever closer to her, until my lips were inches away, holding her jaw shut. “And who wishes to return the dark when they’ve found the light?” I felt f my teeth unfurling, riding the wave of my hunger, then removed my hand from her mouth as I leaned in to sink my fangs into her neck. Copper flooded my mouth, that ever-familiar taste I could never get enough of, and oh how sweet it was. My fangs sunk into her perfect porcelain neck, arousal flooding me. Her body went limp as the strangled gasp only allowed to come as I allowed it, me feeling the entirety of it soften where it once was hard. She moaned in pleasure.

Euphoria coursed through me, her blood sweeter than I ever imagined. My body met hers with a fierce impact. Anatomy responded, blood flowing downwards, preparing to take, mixing with the thrill of the hunt. I drank and drank, her stunned by the sudden influx of feeling created by the gift of my fangs. I could smell her arousal fill the air, the smell of sex, strangely sweet. Blood flooded from my mouth down the moon of her skin, pooling on the top of her bust.

My hand found warmth as it spread in between her legs and found the source of the sweetest smell. I rubbed, staring her in the eyes, her glassed-over eyes mostly hollow, lost in pleasure. Her body writhed as I rubbed her, rippling with the effect of my control, both repulsed and compelled at the same time, coming towards me and then away. It did not take long to feel her release on my hand, sweet, and ever so stick. I pricked myself with a nail to mix my blood with her fruit, then moved it to her mouth, drawing a circle below her lips, ever so delicate.

“You’re mine.”

I turned her around with a firm hand, and I made her mine. Slippery wet entrance penetrated, a noise came from her, one full of pleasure, one full of headiness. Her hips bucked against me as I took her the first time, me feeling the velvet part for me as I so aggressively filled her with myself.

Blood coated my crux, crucifying her with my need, taking her as she gasped wildly, out of control. Again and again, I thrust, until even I could no longer stand it, falling into her back. Breath rising, she sang for me, gasping, wanting.

I turned her around, slit my wrist once again, to fill her mouth with my blood, make her drink deep, and took her home to begin her new life.