Post by Maggie_Draken on Jan 22, 2004 3:55:52 GMT -5
Throwing her head back the woman sat looking at the pale from before her. She sighed satisfied, head tilting to the side in observation. The once radiant eyes had glazed over, gliding pale fingertips over the cooling skin, across the fine bones of his face, the strong jaw, and high cheekbones. Leaning forward she placed a tender kiss on the fading pink of his lip. Softly her voice whispered against his ear “Thank you.”<br>
Tongue flicked out against the bloodied wound on his thick neck, the two puncture marks closing as she did. So sensual were her movements, a passerby would have thought her merely seducing the large man lying in her arms. He was not dead yet, but death approached as rapidly as the crisp air blowing down the alley. Again the fingertips stroked his skin, her own touch now filled with his warmth. She sat holding him, not thinking these humans were cattle to feed from and toss aside. It was rare that she fed to the death, but he had deserved it. She watched him night after night creep to his daughters room, sickened by what she observed, watching him warp his wife’s brain, he dismembered his family with the skill of a serial killer. No more. The family would mourn, they would heal, and she would guard them. She took his darkness into herself, and was amazed at the innocent look that returned to this monster in death. He looked almost relieved.
Hand rose and rested over his heart for a moment. She squeezed her hand above his chest feeling his heart within it, carefully she envisioned the way his heart would look if a heart attack struck him. Minute changes took place, blood stream flooded with the proper chemical changes. She lifted him with practiced ease and flung him over her shoulders, she walked to his truck and settled him in the seat. This way the family would not be left destitute. This way they could re-member themselves. With a turn she moved into the darkness, emerald eyes flashed.
Tongue flicked out against the bloodied wound on his thick neck, the two puncture marks closing as she did. So sensual were her movements, a passerby would have thought her merely seducing the large man lying in her arms. He was not dead yet, but death approached as rapidly as the crisp air blowing down the alley. Again the fingertips stroked his skin, her own touch now filled with his warmth. She sat holding him, not thinking these humans were cattle to feed from and toss aside. It was rare that she fed to the death, but he had deserved it. She watched him night after night creep to his daughters room, sickened by what she observed, watching him warp his wife’s brain, he dismembered his family with the skill of a serial killer. No more. The family would mourn, they would heal, and she would guard them. She took his darkness into herself, and was amazed at the innocent look that returned to this monster in death. He looked almost relieved.
Hand rose and rested over his heart for a moment. She squeezed her hand above his chest feeling his heart within it, carefully she envisioned the way his heart would look if a heart attack struck him. Minute changes took place, blood stream flooded with the proper chemical changes. She lifted him with practiced ease and flung him over her shoulders, she walked to his truck and settled him in the seat. This way the family would not be left destitute. This way they could re-member themselves. With a turn she moved into the darkness, emerald eyes flashed.
