The palace is quiet when I enter. Eerie silence fills the grotesquely grandiose halls. My footsteps echo on the marble tile as I make my way inside and close the massive ornate door behind me. The darkness is all consuming. Every window is light tight and covered with elaborate golden curtains. I’d hardly be able to see my hand in front of my face save for the hundreds of candles littering the halls. Their orange flames flicker and cast menacing shadows on the wall, dancing across the wall paper. And then it hits me. The intense smell of iron, the bodies scattered across the floor, the candle light casting gruesome grins of light and shadow on their lifeless faces. Blood pools on the floor and decorates the walls. This was clearly a massacre. There are humans, yes; the servants who worked so hard to please their master, dedicating their short lives to the late Szarr. But there is also spawn, young vampires, their fangs gleaming in the fire light as their faces are still contorted into their final scream. Even the cat’s throat was slit, blood drained and matted in the fur. No one was spared.
I brace myself for what's to come. I know he is here. I would recognize my lover's art anywhere. The way he paints the place in blood you can see his whole heart out on display in the beauty and gore of his work. I know he did this. It is exquisite.
I step carefully over the corpses, as not to trip on the freshly decaying flesh. I head farther into the palace searching each and every room, finding only more and more carnage. He is so thorough in his work, it is truly impressive. As I keep walking, admiring the crimson pools throughout the halls, I finally come to a balcony, its doors flung open wide to reveal the beaming sun. It shines so brightly into the dark hall that it nearly blinds me. Several dead spawn lie about, their faces charred severely by the sun. And there he is, in the center of the balcony with a brilliant sky above him, the hot sun illuminating him like an angel.
He is on his knees, chest bare, his most recent victim lying frightened on his lap. The smell of blood hangs thick in the air and there is a desperate, lustful hunger in his eyes. Suddenly he growls, and faster than I can see, he sinks his teeth deep into her neck, and I can hear her gasp. Ravenous; he is utterly ravenous, blood gushing into his mouth, staining his tongue and lips the most vibrant red. The thick blood drips off his sharp teeth down his chin and neck, and his fingers dig desperately into the body before him. He is pulling her into him, hungrily draining the life from her neck. It is gory and delicious and he cant help but let out a deep moan as he drinks.
He pulls away, chest heaving as he leans back, his eyes closed to the sky and a fiendish grin across his face as a relieved chuckle passes his lips. His hair falls gracefully around his ears, his skin is so pale, it almost glows in the sunlight and shines so starkly against the blood. He is covered in blood, dripping down his lips and chest, staining his hand and lithe fingers. He is perfect.
His hunger is not quelled. Not in the slightest, and as his eyes flit to me, I can feel a jolt of excitement and fear rush through my body. His desire is compulsive and addictive. He is starving, and his red eyes focus on me. His tongue licks his fangs as his attention consumes me. His eyes feast upon my body, as he stands slowly to face me. His latest victim thuds lifelessly to the floor and as he steps forward, I can hear his bare feet splash in the puddles of blood that surround us. His walk is confident, slow, and sultry. I can feel myself quiver and I realize I am holding my breath.
His hand reaches out to touch my cheek, his fingers spreading thick warm blood across my lips. "My darling consort" he smiles mischievously, his eyes still dark with lust. His voice lowers and sends a chill through my body as he commands me, "on your knees."
