Chapter 1



Chapter 1

Paris France, 1900


"Goodbye, Jon. See you tonight," Elizabeth called to the tavern owner as she prepared to leave. Quietly closing the door behind her, she stepped out into the still night.
The air was cool and crisp. It stung her nostrils and burned her eyes. A frigid breeze swept up the back of her dress, making her shiver. She pulled her smoky gray cloak more securely about her dainty shoulders.
She hated the long walk home in the early morning hours. Even though the streets were deserted, Elizabeth couldn't help but imagine what might be lurking in the shadows, waiting patiently for her to pass by. She believed that darkness was a whole new realm, one filled with unimaginable monsters and hideous abominations that were naked to the mortal eye.
Why wouldn't she just let her father meet her at closing time and see her safely home to their tiny apartment? Perhaps it was stubbornness. It was true; she could be very obstinate at times. But she just couldn't allow him to be subjected to the chilly morning air, not in his current state of health.
After her mother's death the previous summer, he had grown frail and sickly, visibly aging beyond his actual years. Exposure to the cold dampness of this hour could be deadly. No, she would be just fine by herself.
Although she was petite, with delicate features and slender curves, she portrayed a confidence that impressed her ability to handle her own. Elizabeth prided herself in being able to stand her ground and demand proper treatment. She felt as though she could handle just about any situation appropriately, while maintaining an adequate air of femininity.
Over the last two years, she had worked as a barmaid at Jon's Tavern. Elizabeth had quickly developed the facility to turn a deaf ear to the nightly jesting and lewd propositions made by the many burly rogues that came in. Although the clientele frequently changed, the repugnant ones were usually repeat offenders. Why did they assume that just because she served their food and drinks, she was on the menu?
Although many of the customers remained civil and spoke to her in a respectful manner, she never missed the appreciative glare in their eyes as she moved about the room. At least they refrained from taunting her and making obscene gestures. Of course, there were always those few who insisted upon testing her patience.
Elizabeth shuddered inwardly as she thought about the two men who had come into the tavern earlier that evening. From the moment they strode through the door, dirty, disheveled, and obnoxious, she had instantly felt uneasy. Those two are trouble, she'd thought, praying they sat in someone else's area.
Much to her chagrin, they seated themselves at a table in hers. Pounding heavy fists on the smooth, oak surface and swearing in the most blasphemous manner, they had demanded immediate service. Swallowing her repulsion at their distasteful appearance and disguising her irritation at their profanity, Elizabeth had smoothly walked to where they sat and took their orders.
As the night wore on, the two became increasingly detestable. Their descriptive comments and abhorrent suggestions had sickened her, making her stomach churn with annoyance and disgust. Finally, she grew tired of their loathsome behavior and pleaded with Jon to throw them out. She hadn't even graced them with another glance as they were tossed out into the darkness on their drunken backsides.
Elizabeth thought of the time she spent at the tavern as a valuable learning experience. She would need the skills to be able to succeed in a man's world. With her father's quickly failing health, she could foresee becoming solely responsible for her own survival. She would work as a barmaid, a seamstress, a schoolmistress—whatever it took. But one thing was for certain; she would never sell her body. She'd rather die first.
A cool breeze swept across the ivory skin of Elizabeth's face. Although the air was cold, making her shiver, she broke out in a nervous sweat. Uneasiness nagged at her brain. Quickening her pace, she grew anxious to be in the safety of her home, safe from the darkness and the things that crept within it.
The unsettling feeling that someone was following her sent shivers of warning along her spine. Elizabeth glanced around, making sure she was still alone. Finding no evidence of unwanted accompaniment, she sighed with relief and began to relax a little. I'm becoming paranoid, she chided herself.
The clicking from the soles of her high-buttoned shoes on the cobblestone street reverberated through the narrow alley. The sound bounced off the surrounding walls and echoed around her....Her hands were turning cold and numb, the sensitive skin beginning to chafe. She briskly rubbed them together and blew warm air into her cupped palms. Should have brought my gloves.
Tiny curling tendrils escaped the thick mane of golden blond ringlets that she had painstakingly secured at the base of her neck. The wind kicked at the curls, blowing them across her face. With tremulous fingers, Elizabeth smoothed the defiant wisps away.
The alley's exit loomed before her. Almost there. She found herself practically running, anxious to be back on the open street and out of the darkened passageway. Perhaps she was just nervous, but the confining narrowness of the neighboring brick walls was nearly suffocating.
As she rounded the corner, Elizabeth felt someone grab her from behind. A grimy hand instantly cut off her scream, and her nostrils were immediately invaded by the sour smell that accompanied a body that was unwashed, unclean. The stench was overwhelming, making her stomach rebel and heave. She retched into the dirty palm.
Hot sticky breath moistened her neck as the attacker spoke against the sensitive curve. "Lookee what I fine, Philipe. I believe is da tavern wench. Lil lady thought she too good for us, din she?"
The voice was absolutely emotionless, and it chilled her. Elizabeth recognized it immediately. Her attacker was one of the obnoxious men that had been in the tavern earlier. Fear knotted her insides, and panic like she'd never known before welled in her throat. Had they waited all this time for her to leave, lingering in the shadows of the darkened alley until she could be caught alone and unsuspecting?
Elizabeth's mind frantically searched for a means out of her dilemma. She struggled against her captor, but his grip was unbreakable. A burly arm around her waist held her confined. His other hand prevented her from verbalizing her attack and alerting anyone to the fact that she needed help. Not that it would have made a difference; no one would come to her aid. People didn't go out after dark, not even to save helpless females.
The one called Philipe stepped in front of her, a toothless smile lighting his stubbled face. He reeked of whiskey and tobacco. The stale smell of his breath enveloped her when he spoke.
"We check da brothel." He gestured down the street with a meaty finger. "Couldna fine any as pritty as ye, so we thought we jus wait 'til ye was finish workin'. Thought ye'd like to entertain us a while." He reached out a grubby paw and roughly palmed one of her breasts.
Elizabeth kicked at him with the pointed toe of her shoe, aiming at the sensitive area between his thighs. She wanted nothing more than to connect with that tender spot in his groin. The blow would send a firework explosion of pain through his body, temporarily rendering him helpless. Then, maybe she could escape from the man holding her captive. But it was not to be. He laughed wickedly and easily dodged her kick.
Philipe whistled, "Whew! Feisty lil thin', aren't ye?"
His broken English made Elizabeth's stomach knot with fear. He sounded like a sailor or seaman. They could do whatever they wanted to her, kill her even, and then board a ship and leave. No one would ever know. She would disappear forever, becoming another unsolved missing person file cluttering the constable's desk. The thought made her heart drop to her knees.
The other man was growing impatient. "Quit foolin' roun', Philipe! We need to git her to da boat an git outta here!" His voice was hard and ruthless.
Elizabeth shriveled a little at the lack of sympathy. She felt the nauseating sinking of despair and disgust. She knew what they would do to her. They would ravish her body, probably cut her throat, and dump her into the cold waters of the Seine River when they were finished. Although she wasn't sure which order the events would occur, Elizabeth knew she'd much rather be dead first. She didn't think she could survive the anguish of having her body violated by the likes of them.
Grasping her about the ankles, Philipe helped his comrade carry her towards the docks. She racked her brain for a means of escape, but there simply was none. She'd have a hard enough time getting away from one determined man, let alone two.
The air near the docks was fresh and cold. It stung her nostrils as she struggled to breathe. The hand remained like a steel clamp across her mouth, locked and secure.
Elizabeth could hear the icy waves slapping against the sides of the ships on the wharf. The sound was foreboding, since learning to swim had never been a big priority in her busy schedule. She imagined frosty fingers from the darkened waters reaching out to pull her under the choppy surface, drawing her into a wet grave. The thought terrified her, causing her to struggle all the more.
As they carried her onto a small dinghy, Elizabeth realized that she had to do something fast. If they succeeded in getting her onto that boat and departing the slip... Her mind conjured up horrible images of what they might do once they reached their destination. The sickening reality of her situation made her insides wilt.
Even if she managed to escape by jumping from the floating vessel, it would result in almost certain and immediate death. Neither outcome looked promising. No, she had to escape now. It was the only option.
Seizing her one opportunity, Elizabeth bit down hard on the hand covering her lips. She had to fight the urge to vomit when her mouth filled with the foul taste of dirty skin, but it worked. The startled man yelped and loosened his grip.
Then, she kicked at Philipe as hard as she could. The bottom of her shoes connected with his chest, sending him reeling backwards into the boat. He landed with a surprised "oomph!"
She didn't wait for him to get up. As soon as her feet landed on the ground, Elizabeth elbowed the man holding her from behind. She heard the air rush from his lips as she caught the unsuspecting fellow in the solar plexus, doubling him over with breathless pain. Shoving as hard as she could, she knocked him off balance and into the frigid water.
Before her ears registered the splash as his body was enveloped by the darkness, Elizabeth made her escape. Hiking her ankle length dress up to her knees, she leaped from the boat and took off running.
If the drunken man in the water had been her only concern, she could have easily out-distanced him before he managed to pull himself back onto the dock. But then there was Philipe, who apparently wasn't as drunk as she had thought. As soon as he regained his footing, he gave chase, quickly overtaking her.
The air was ripped from her throat as the weight of Philipe's large body hit her, forcefully taking her down to the ground. Elizabeth rolled onto her side, inhaling deeply to refill her lungs. But he was upon her, slapping her repeatedly and screaming in his off-color accent.
"Where ye goin'? Huh? Anser me, ye lil bitch! We ain' through wit ye!"
He struck her over and over, until her ears rang and she felt unconsciousness gripping her brain. Then, as though a great wind had blown by, Philipe was lifted from her body. Elizabeth heard the startled gasp in his voice when he saw his attacker. The sounds of a struggle reverberated through her hazy awareness, and then...silence.
 
From the recesses of the darkened alley, Adrien watched the young woman approach. His gaze was sharp and assessing, carefully taking in every detail of her delicate form. A faint light twinkled in the depth of his blue eyes, making them sparkle like icy sapphires. He felt the current of some unidentifiable emotion ripple through his chest. It was an unsettling sensation.
He took note of her slender hips and tiny waist. She was petite and flower-like, with firm, high-perched breasts. The material of her plain green dress clung to her form, suggesting the luscious curves beneath. The lace at her throat was slightly parted, revealing the soft shadows of her bosom.
His tall, black-clad figure stiffened as her footsteps brought her within inches of his hidden visage. He could reach out and touch her soft skin, if he so chose. Adrien looked on with appreciation as the same cool breeze that ruffled his long, unbound, wavy black hair, blew tiny tendrils of golden curls about her face like a wispy halo. Unaware that he shared her solitude, she continued past him, on her way to a destination known only to her.
Adrien's powerful, well-muscled body moved with easy grace. Like a cat, he silently followed her, carefully remaining a safe distance lest she turn and see him. He was the master of illusion, skillfully blending in with the dark surroundings and becoming invisible in the still, black night.
His head was puzzled by new thoughts, and vague memories of emotions swirled in his brain. His chest swelled with a feeling he had believed long dead. An eternity had passed since he'd felt anything beyond coldness, emptiness, and loneliness.
Perhaps it was only physical attraction. He did find her seductive young body quite appealing. Yes, that must be it. These strange and unsettling feelings were of desire, nothing more, certainly nothing mortal. That part of him had died many years ago.
The fragrance of a flowery perfume floated to his nostrils on the tail of a cool breeze. Adrien closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The heady aroma of delicate jasmine and soft water lilies permeated his every pore, saturating his empty soul with her alluring essence.
His curiosity, as well as certain aspects of his male anatomy, became aroused. Who was this creature? How had just a glimpse of her lovely visage invaded his dark existence, stroking cords deep within him?
She radiated vitality that drew him like a magnet. The very air around her seemed electrified, and tiny sparks of energy reached out to him, offering a taste of her spirit. Adrien absorbed them with fevered urgency, hungrily devouring their incredible strength.
He felt an unwelcome surge of excitement. If his heart had not ceased beating at the time of his rebirth, he imagined it would now be pounding through his chest. A delightful shiver of desire coursed through him, driving him forward.
Adrien's pace quickened, closing the gap between them. Laying claim to her body and soul, he knew he had to have her. First, he would sample her softness, and then he would taste her essence, taking his fill of her life force. It called him, taunted him, and beckoned him to hurry.
He was within a few feet of her now. His hand reached outward, ready to halt her step, when he felt the invading presence of another. Quietly receding into the darkness, Adrien waited for the intruder to manifest.
The figures of two men separated from the shadows. He watched as one quickly grabbed the young woman. Holding her firmly about the waist with one strong arm, the attacker's other hand silenced her screams while his comrade proceeded to grope her breast.
Adrien's features clouded in anger, quickly transforming into the beast within. When crossed, his temper could be almost uncontrollable, a vortex of fury. Who did these scoundrels think they were? She was his conquest, his joie de vivre.
He seethed with mounting rage as the two men proceeded to drag the struggling woman away. His eyes glowed a deep royal blue, and his lips thinned with anger, pulling back to reveal sharp, fang-like teeth. His nostrils flared with outrage, blowing out puffs of white smoke as he exhaled forcefully. Trying to maintain control, he pursued the struggling trio towards the docks.
Although the two men were large and sturdy, their bulky frames moved clumsily as they fought to keep the woman quiet and load her onto the dinghy. Adrien had no doubt he could overtake them both, but he didn't want to risk losing her in the process. Waiting for the right moment to attack, he forced himself to remain calm and bid his time.
Although she was much smaller than her attackers, the woman resisted and fought fiercely. Adrien found himself admiring her courage. Most women would have resolved into tears by now. But not this one—she fought all the more vehemently.
He tried to ignore the mocking voice inside that wondered if perhaps all of his human attributes weren't absent after all. Could this one female penetrate the walls of evil and darkness that he'd so carefully built around the last mortal thread in his body? Could she awaken emotions and feelings that he'd painstakingly suppressed for over a century?
Before his lips could voice the denial, his mind had already come to the conclusion: yes. The admission was dredged from a place beyond logic and reason. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was his destiny, if he chose to accept it. The question was: Did he dare?
Pulling his wandering thoughts together, Adrien concentrated on the task at hand. There would be time to pursue those questions later. Right now, he had to dispose of those two vagabonds and remove her from the current dilemma.
Just as the two rogues attempted to load her onto a small, docked vessel, his opportunity arose. He wasn't sure how, but she had managed to free herself from both men. And on top of that, she had disoriented them, giving him a deliciously unfair advantage. One man fell awkwardly into the dinghy, while his comrade tumbled backwards into the river.
Wasting no time, Adrien emerged from his hiding spot in a blur. His lithe body moved with lightening-fast motion. Within seconds, he reached the first man. Roughly yanking the soggy form from the river, he quickly dispensed with him, twisting his neck in an abnormal fashion.
As the stranger's lifeless body fell to the ground, Adrien turned his attention to the retreating backside of the other. His lips curled back in a menacing snarl, allowing his brilliantly white teeth to glisten in the moonlight. Bloodlust filled his thoughts, sending the hunger coursing through his veins. He approached his next victim with eager anticipation of the kill.
 
Elizabeth rolled onto her hands and knees, still gasping for air. Her head was pounding, and she felt dangerously close to fainting. As she looked up, expecting to be the next victim of attack, she saw it, or rather him.
He returned the stare, pausing over his kill. His smoldering gaze bore into her; glowing blue eyes pierced the distance between them. A bloody smile crossed his lips, and dark red liquid dripped from his chin.
Elizabeth screamed. It was an ear-piercing shriek that would have awakened the dead if it hadn't already been there with her, staring at her with its captivating intensity. She pushed herself to her feet and began to run, knowing he would come for her next.
She rushed blindly though the deserted streets, not knowing or caring where she was going, as long as it was away from him. The mist was so thick and heavy that she couldn't even see her hands in front of her face. It enveloped her body, drawing her into a confusing gray void.
Exhaustion rapidly began setting in, and the muscles in her legs rebelled. Involuntarily, her pace began to slow. Elizabeth's lungs heaved, feeling as if they would explode if she dare draw one more breath of the cold night air. Walking cautiously, she searched the darkness with eagle-like eyes, expecting the thing that killed Philipe to find her at any moment.
There were creepy noises all around her, scraping, scurrying, but for some strange reason, Elizabeth wasn't afraid. Her fear was centered on the thing that had stared right through her, searching for her very soul. And then, she felt it. Even before she saw the looming shadow in the silvery mist, she knew he was there. He was coming, and there was nowhere left to run.
Her legs shook, threatening to give out from under her. But she forced herself to remain standing and face the thing that came for her: death.
Glancing over her shoulder, she debated on running back the way she had come. Her body seemed unable, even unwilling to move. Elizabeth knew she had to escape, but she remained fixated on the emerging silhouette that was merely a few feet in front of her, its visage still hidden by the thick fog.
The dark figure of a man, big and powerful, emerged from the shadows. He was tall and handsome, with a beautifully proportioned body. His profile was sharp and confident. It spoke of intense power and ageless strength.
Full, wavy black hair flowed from his face like a crest. His dark brows and sapphire eyes were stark against his alabaster skin. Rubicund lips were firm and sensual. Elizabeth's eyes strayed to the dominating set of his shoulders. They filled the black coat he wore, straining against the fabric. He had an air of authority and the appearance of one who demanded instant obedience.
She took an unsteady step back, panic beginning to rise like bitter bile in back of her throat. She wasn't sure what frightened her most, the knowledge of what he really was, or the overwhelming power of his maleness. He was absolutely devastating.
Adrien's mouth curved into an irresistible smile. He took a step toward her, extending his hand. "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you," he said with a silky purr. Slowly and seductively, his gaze slid along her shapely body, mentally caressing her with its intensity.
Elizabeth looked at his outstretched palm. Uncertainty plagued her brain. His compelling blue eyes, the firm features of his face, and the confident set of his shoulders were enthralling, drawing her to him like magic. Temporarily forgetting her fear, she took a shaky step toward him.
As though obeying a command, the fog separated, allowing silvery fingers of moonlight to shine through and caress his brilliant smile. It gleamed off his dazzling grin, illuminating the sharpness of his elongated fangs.
Elizabeth was shockingly reminded of Philipe's death. The gruesome picture filled her brain with reality, bursting through her dream-like trance and breaking his illusory spell. Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling a strained gasp.
Panic overcame her, and she turned to flee, but he was there, directly in front of her. Elizabeth turned the other direction, and he was there also. He was all around her, surrounding her, smothering her with his overwhelming presence. Escape was impossible.
"No!" Elizabeth protested, as he wrapped his strong arms around her slender frame and pulled her against his immortal body. She struggled fiercely within his steely embrace. With mixed feelings of overwhelming fear and excited anticipation, she watched as his sensual mouth descended upon hers, covering it and sealing her fate.
Elizabeth's mind began to whirl as his lips moved over hers, devouring their softness with delightful expertise. For a long moment, she felt as if she was floating, and her feet seemed to be drifting on billowy clouds. Parting her reluctant lips, she granted permission for his probing tongue to explore the moist recesses of her tremulous mouth.
Fear receded as warmth began to spread throughout Elizabeth's chaste body. His touch was so compelling, his allure so potent, that she could feel the delicate threads of her humanity beginning to unravel. With reckless abandon, she pressed her yielding body against his, wanting to feel every inch of his wonderfully hard frame.
His mouth burned a path down her neck, pausing on the pulsating hollow at the base of her throat. Elizabeth felt his lips brush lightly across her skin like a silken whisper. The feathery touch made her tremble, sending currents of desire across her innocent flesh. She marveled at how the tender caress made her toes curl and her insides melt.
His male scent clung to her body, surrounding her in a cocoon of heady sandalwood, spring pine needles, and freshly cut cedar. She wasn't sure if it was just the trick of aromatic cologne, or if it was his very essence that permeated her nostrils, coursed through her body, and invaded her soul.
"Your name?" Adrien asked, his voice stroking the delicate curve of her neck.
A delightfully pleasant shiver of wanting raced through her insides. Weakened by the quivering of her limbs, she clung to the lapels of his coat. "Elizabeth," she breathed out in a heated rush.
"Hmm...Lizbeth," he purred.
She tingled as he called her by the shortened name and wondered how one word, spoken from his lips, could make her pulse race and body yearn for his touch. The underlying sensuality of his voice captivated her, once again drawing her into a state of dreamy bliss.
Raising his head, Adrien sought her eyes. He looked deeply into their sparkling jade depths. "You belong to me, Lizbeth. Now and forever."
The smoldering blue flame she saw in his gaze startled her. A voice of warning sent alarm bells ringing in her head. Her pulse skipped frighteningly, and her heart beat wildly, pounding with erratic rhythm.
Powerless against his alluring enchantment, she watched with growing horror as his handsome features shifted, changing into that of the undead. He became one of them, a creature of the night, a child of darkness. Only he was no infant. The hardness pressing against her belly vouched for that. He was her death, her maker, her damnation.
Elizabeth's senses became instantly awakened. She gasped as sheer black fright swept through her, hurtling her back to reality. What had gotten into her? Was she a fool? This was no game. She had to get away! It was not only her life that was in jeopardy, but her very soul.
Elizabeth tried to shove away from him. She pounded her fists against his solid chest. "Let me go!" she demanded with a trembling voice. But struggling proved useless; he was too strong.
A spark of humor flashed in his mesmerizing eyes, and a low chuckle escaped his lips like the growl of a wild animal. Elizabeth's body began to shake violently. "Please," she begged through chattering teeth, "I don't want to die."
Her long curly locks, now free from their restraint, blew softly around her face. Elizabeth felt his hand tenderly brush the hair away from her neck. The gentleness of his touch was unsettling and disturbing.
"You have no idea what I'm giving to you," Adrien replied, a faint tremor in his voice as though some unknown emotion had touched him.
"Death." The declaration was barely a whisper as Elizabeth found herself unable to fight any longer.
"Immortality," he corrected, grasping a handful of golden curls and pulling her head back to expose the soft flesh of her throat.
A sickening realization washed over her. She understood what he meant, an eternity of killing and feeding off the innocent. She would be like him, a vampire. It was unbearable, unacceptable.
He ran the tip of his finger along the pulsating artery in her neck. The mere touch sent an excited shiver down her spine. Part of her was terrified. The other waited in eager anticipation, wanting him more than she could have ever imagined, yet fearing the price that it brought.
His mouth hovered briefly above the contour of her throat. The brush of his lips caressed her neck, and his soft breath heated her skin. It was warm and welcoming, making her shudder with frightful expectancy.
Elizabeth's body, bent on betraying her, pressed against him. Her soft curves molded perfectly to the contours of his enticing frame. Arching her neck, she offered herself to him, no longer caring what she became, or whether his bite brought death or damnation.
Adrien's mouth curved into a satisfied smile as he felt her complete surrender. With his tongue, he traced the line across her throat where his finger had been just moments ago. He tortured her skin, nipping slightly at her neck, but not yet drawing blood.
His hand possessively traced the shape of her body, eagerly memorizing every inch. Cupping her breasts, he gently caressed their fullness, marveling as their tips firmed beneath his fingers. Next, he explored the soft lines of her back, her waist and her hips. Molding his hands beneath her buttocks, he pulled her roughly against him, grinding his groin against hers.
The hardness of his arousal made her even more impatient. The prolonged anticipation was almost unbearable. Elizabeth's whole being was filled with waiting. "Please!" she cried out, grasping the lapels of his coat and leaning her head back even further, tempting him to take what he so desired.
Her breathing was raspy and labored, coming in gasps as though they had already made love. Elizabeth was confused by the way he was making her feel. There was a tingling in the pit of her stomach, and heat spread rapidly across her thighs. She wanted him to touch her, to make love to her, to drink from her.
Pain seared through her neck as his sharp teeth pierced the delicate flesh. She screamed and tried to push him away, but his embrace was unbreakable. Her heart jolted in her chest. Then, it pounded erratically, desperately struggling for survival. She felt the life being drained from her body. Her pulse, so strong before, began to slow. With each passing moment the rate slackened, becoming alarmingly sluggish.
Elizabeth's mind began to spin and careen, dangerously drifting on the verge of unconsciousness. Her last thoughts were of the words he had spoken to her, the promise he'd voiced. He had lied. He would not gift her with immortality, but condemn her to extinction. She knew this, as her heart, unable to sustain her existence, thudded for the last time like a hollow drum.
She was unaware of the words that escaped her lips just seconds before expelling her last breath. "You are not my maker. You are my death."
The words had barely been audible above the roaring of blood in his ears, her blood, that he drank from so deeply. It tasted like sweet honey, warming every part of his cold, lifeless flesh. It had been a long time since he'd felt this way, almost human.
The heat of her essence spread through him like liquid wild fire, seeping into every cell, every pore, and every fiber of his being. He had intended on taking the last drop from her small body, leaving her to perish as all the others had before. But her words chipped at that stone-like wall hidden deep within his chest, rousing those unwanted feelings, unwanted emotions.
She had passed judgment on him, accused him of something hideously despicable. She was right. Adrien was death to any and all who crossed his path. A dark angel, a mercenary of mortality, his selection knew no bias. Loathing his wicked existence, he'd spent most of his immortal life ignoring the truth, killing with a vengeance, and trying to block the agony that came with the reality of what he really was.
Was he pure evil, a curse, a profane blasphemy of life? Was he truly damned to walk through eternity in a state of misery and loneliness? Killing rarely brought him pleasure anymore; it was merely a necessity for existence. Could this beautiful creature before him possibly change his wretched state of being?
Adrien felt the last pulse in her throat and tasted the last surge of blood as he drew it into his mouth. When the last breath left her lips in a whispered sigh and her body fell limp, he gently let her slip from his arms and onto the ground below.
He stood for a while, indecisively looking down upon her motionless form. He knew he could save her if he wanted to. The idea nagged at him, yanking at the crevices of his brain. It had been such a long time since he'd made a companion for himself.
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as Adrien closed his eyes and thought of Mikel. They had hunted and killed together for over half a century. Town to town, city to city, they had traveled as a menacing duo.
Together, they had been like a tornado of terror, leaving a bloody trail of death in their wake. Adrien had grown to love Mikel as he would his own brother. It had been the closest he'd come to having mortal feelings since the death of Antoine, his teacher, his mentor, and his friend. Until now.
He mentally shook his head, trying to suppress the painful memories. His relationship with Mikel had ended over five years ago. Their companionship had been destroyed by his selfish ignorance. Besides, none of that mattered now. He didn't even know where Mikel was.
Although he deeply missed having someone to travel with him around the world and through time, he wasn't sure it would please Lizbeth to live in such a sinful state. Kneeling beside her still form, Adrien agonized over the decision. Did he have the right to make that choice for her?
He brushed the back of his fingers across the delicate features of her lovely face. Stroking over her breasts and down her abdomen, his mind echoed the sound of her soft virginal moans before. The memory set his blood on fire. It surged through his fingertips and pulsated against her skin.
Beautiful profile, dainty features, a mere slip of a girl. "She would make a perfect mate," he thought out loud, trying to find approval for the resolution he desired to make.
She clung to life by a tiny thread. Her heart had already ceased beating, and her breathing had stilled. In a matter of moments, it would be complete. She would drift away into the afterlife, gone from this world forever.
Leaning over, Adrien kissed her deeply, tasting her softness for the last time. So intent on savoring every second, he ignored the sharp sting on his lip and the taste of his own blood, mixed with hers, as the tiny life-giving wound quickly healed. It was an injury that, unbeknownst to him, was inflicted by her in a last effort to grasp salvation.
Adrien stood then, knowing that she would be miserable with the life he offered, preying on the weak, feeding from the unfortunate, living off the blood and flesh of mankind. Making her immortal would not be a gift of life, but a sentence of slavery. It would be an act of selfishness, since his only purpose to giving her such existence would be to service him.
Glancing down once more at her beautiful features, his eyes drank in her lovely face with parched thirst. Then, he turned and walked away, leaving her to die a quiet death, alone in the darkness. He abandoned her, granting permission for her body to be consumed by the misty fog and the things that crawled within it.
The moments passed agonizingly slow as the distance grew between them. Adrien thought again of the way she had pressed against him, offering everything of herself with such trusting innocence. His manhood immediately reacted to the memory of his mouth tasting hers, growing painfully hard as he envisioned his hands touching her breasts, caressing her thighs, and pressing against her shapely, round bottom.
He found himself running, desperately trying to escape the torturous vision, and praying the haunting image would go away. Squeezing his eyes shut, Adrien uttered a sound of dismay when he realized he had to have her, all of her. He wondered if it was already too late. Had her soul already crossed over? He hoped for her sake that it had.
He rushed back to the spot where she lay, but when he got there she was gone. Adrien searched frantically, knowing he'd left there just moments ago. The air didn't feel right. He could smell another presence, one he recognized but couldn't pull from the recesses of his memory to name. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up in warning. Someone or something had already been there. He was too late.
The early morning hours crawled by as night slowly melted into day. Adrien continued to look for her, knowing if he found her she would be beyond redemption, but wanting and needing to know her fate. Uneasiness overcame him when, due to the impending sunrise, he had to abandon his search to escape the death that would come with daylight.
Her mental aura still clung to him. It lodged in his brain, connected with his soul, and rooted to his essence. Could it be that she had somehow managed to survive? And if so, how? Vowing to resume his search that night, Adrien hurried to his lair as the first rays of the early morning sun stretched its lazy fingers across the sleeping earth.
As he lay in his bed, images of her body, hungrily pressed against his, invaded his thoughts. He could still taste the sugary sweetness of her mouth. Could feel the shape of her full breasts in his hands. Could hear the breathless sighs that escaped her throat when he suggestively ground himself against her.
He grew angry with himself. Why had he been so impatient? He should have indulged himself inside her lovely body before tasting her sweet nectar. Now he would suffer this torturous image until his release could be found elsewhere.
Perhaps he would visit the brothel that night. Surely one of the comely whores could erase Lizbeth's invading presence. But Adrien wondered if that were possible. It seemed as though her spirit, albeit just a memory now, had already embedded itself deep within him, implanting itself in the center of his soul.