In Death's Arms, I Wait For You

Hunger

Cheryl was restless.

For the past decade she had been roaming the eastern coast of America, taking in the bright lights of the city that never sleeps and immersing herself completely in the pulsing energy that seemed to pump from the city's core. She had become familiar with every museum, every venue that offered live music, dug through hundreds of antique bookstores but on nights when the moon was especially clear, she drew.

She drew moments that stood vividly in her mind, even after two centuries of walking the earth. Her departed family, past lovers, significant locations, each memory becoming tangible on canvas as her hand confidently stroked each line without pause. Yet, on this night she felt an overwhelming feeling of dissatisfaction.

The sounds of the city seemingly became overwhelming overnight. The rattle of cars, noisy conversation and everything big city were much too loud for Cheryl's acute hearing. For a moment she simply closed her eyes and stood in front of her unfinished drawing, her crimson tipped fingers rubbing her temples in order to alleviate a small build up of tension.

Alas, the pressure remained. With a discontented sigh, she appraised the work in progress before her. It was rare for her to stop before completing a drawing. Her mind and fingers always seemed to work in tandem to create a visual representation of her most buried thoughts. It took only a moment to recognize the fine lines of European architecture.

Thornhill Manor.

A property belonging to the Blossom lineage. One that she had lived in when warm blood still coursed through her veins. It had been many years since she had walked through the halls of her childhood home. Though those walls held many memories, she could not fathom why her subconscious had led her to draw the gates stamped with the Blossom insignia, the stone pathway and surrounding woodland.

She set the pencil down, unable to continue. Trying unsuccessfully to block out the noises of the street below the high ceilinged loft, she wondered if she simply needed to feed. Fresh blood always had the dual effect of calming and exciting her. Her thoughts became much clearer yet the act itself was highly arousing. Perhaps she could do with a temporary distraction.

Without so much as a glance in the mirror, Cheryl left the unfurnished loft to find something, or rather someone, to satiate her hunger. A look in the mirror would only tell her something that she had known since a very young age.

She was breathtakingly beautiful.

As if the universe had been privy to her macabre fate of having to roam the earth as a vampire, she had been graced with a gothic beauty. Porcelain skin, dark lashes, and hair red as hell fire drew looks of admiration and lust from both men and women. Though she preferred the fairer sex when it came to sensual unions, her thirst saw no allegiance to gender.

Wandering the streets of New York City led Cheryl to step into a nightclub she hadn't visited in quite some time. She was not one for clubs, the loud music quickly became too much for her sensitive ears and the level of hormones made it increasingly difficult for her to control her hunger. Yet, on the other hand, she revered clubs for providing the perfect setting for entrapping the blissfully unaware. The darkness, alcohol and desperation for connection made finding a willing donor a simple task.

Barely disguised desire vibrated in her direction as she elegantly walked the floor, shedding her coat and revealing a blood red velvet dress. Panels of smooth, alabaster skin teased a taut stomach and unending legs. As any skilled hunter, she understood what lured prey, and she was well aware that her lithe body, on top of her beauty, was a seduction in itself. In less than ten minutes, she was approached at her perch at the bar but one inhale told her everything she needed to know about his blood.

It was sadly mediocre.

Undoubtedly tainted by nicotine. She never understood why so many humans knowingly poisoned themselves. Numerous beautiful women had been denied a night of sinful pleasure with her because of the habit. A true shame.

After being met with nothing but silence and an impassive expression, the man finally accepted that she had no interest and left with sagging shoulders. She ran the tip of her forefinger along the rim of her glass as she observed the crowd of bodies move in a staccato of shadows against the pulsing lights.

And then she smelled him.

Healthy. Virile. Utterly intoxicating.

He was handsome. A self-assured smile already prominent on his rugged features as he approached. She felt the waves of envy rolling off many women as he sidled up beside her. Little did they know she was interested solely in what pumped through his veins and not the protrusion that lay between his legs.

---

"I'm a fitness and underwear model," he shared with a smug smile after ordering a third round.

She was practically salivating with him being in such close proximity. The healthy beat of his heart was audible at such an intimate distance. It was almost as if she could see it, red and rhythmic, pumping pure, unadulterated blood throughout his veins. Raising the still full glass to her ruby painted lips, she drained the alcohol, never taking her dark eyes off of the man beside her.

"I assure you we can find something more entertaining to do than standing here exchanging trivial details that we'll only forget come morning," she husked, her tone low and provocative.

The victorious look in his eyes forced Cheryl to bite her bottom lip to suppress the strong urge to let out a mocking laugh. She simply watched him with ever increasing hunger as he motioned the bartender to close out his tab. As soon as he finished signing the receipt, Cheryl felt his arm wrap possessively around her waist as he led her through the crowd toward the exit.

Men were fools when it came to satisfying their carnal desires.

Upon entering the man's condo, Cheryl allowed the previously restrained hunger to wash over her. Her brown eyes became a luminous black as she pushed the unsuspecting man onto the couch. His dark eyes betraying his growing arousal as she straddled him in a single smooth movement. She ran her pale fingers ran through his short, curly hair, eyes roaming his features.

So willing.

No longer able to take the growing tension, he surged forward, strong hands gripping at the curve of her waist, connecting their lips, conveying his desperate desire for her.

She allowed it.

It would be a small token of her appreciation for offering the viscous nectar, the only form of sustenance that quelled her thirst. Pressing a hand to his chest, she pushed his back against the couch and leaned forward, lips parting in a seductive, dangerous smile.

His excitement grew. She could hear the increase in his heart rate, could feel how he gripped her waist tighter. Heat radiated off his body. Running the tip of her nose against his cheek, drawing a trail down to his jawline and finally to his neck, she took a deep inhale, taking in his masculine musk, as well as the smell and sound of blood rushing through his veins.

It was as if she was delaying her own pleasure. And she was. Beneath the thin epidermis lay what she wanted, no, needed, most in this agonizing, eternal life. Thick, nourishing blood. She enjoyed the moment, her senses heightened, before pressing full lips to his pulse point, feeling the powerful thrum against her mouth.

The tension filled her stomach, her incisors lengthened and she quickly sank them into the soft, yielding skin of his neck. A sharp cry of surprise fell from his lips as Cheryl drank deeply, her eyes rolling back as the seductive taste hit her tongue and pleasure coursed through her body. She detached from his neck, swallowing a mouthful of warm blood and let out an earnest moan.

God, she didn't know what was better, consuming fresh blood or experiencing a powerful climax.

Licking her lips, she looked down at the man to admire the dreamy expression on his face. She wondered what it felt like for a human to be fed on, the agony and ecstasy of it all. The thought was fleeting as she sank her teeth into him again, taking another drink of his life essence.

Absolutely divine.