well met - Chapter 1, Part IV

Soft hair and a velvet tongue
Wanna give you what you give to me
And every breath that's in your lungs
Is a tiny little gift to me
~The White Stripes (Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground)

He watched her approach. His loins tingled from a long forgotten yearning. A burning hunger which had been repressed after many lifetimes of unfulfilled empty encounters. His heart began to thud in His chest, ragged breath puffing out of his flared nostrils in small wisps. The hairs at the nape of His neck tickled erect like fine-tuned antennae. A smile spawned from the carcasses of a thousand dead souls, curled across his lips. A shadow darkened his features. He flicked his tongue once more across his lips as he scrabbled forward silently, the sounds muffled by the soft moist soil of the freshly dug grave he was crouched on. The warm damp smell of the earth enveloped his senses. Buried memories scrabbled at the back of his mind.
She must have heard something for suddenly a glint of steel flashed in the cool night. His breath snared at the base his throat and he froze with the realization that she was armed.
"Shit!" He swore under his breath. This was an unexpected turn of events, but still within his control nevertheless. It just would not be as easy as he had hoped. His mind flashed back to the last time someone had tried to resist. She had put up quite a fight, impressive for such a petite little thing. He had picked her up up not two blocks from here with promises of a hot meal, a shower and $200 for an hour of his entertainment. She was pretty too, one of the better looking ones, long smooth legs, calves accentuated by high heels in that porn-star sort of way that he enjoyed - flowing blonde hair and small perky breasts. A shame about those breasts really - such pretty pink nipples too. She had finally collapsed like a rag doll in her own puddle, ruining the expensive stockings he had asked her to wear. He mused how her nipples had hardened, pushed out by the terror that had raged through her mind, how her pupils had widened as the madness of her death played like a jagged movie reel behind her eyes.

He shook his head, snapping out of his reverie. There was business at hand and this new woman was walking towards him. He marveled at her stride. Back erect, head held high, measured steps so perfectly in time. He could have composed a symphony

(perhaps a swan song?)

He snickered. But His composure was short-lived as she turned towards him and stopped not more than 3 metres from him. His cock jumped within the tight constraints of his jeans, all feelings of relieving himself again forgotten. An icy hand clamped across his chest, making it hard to breathe and his heart pounded so hard against his rib cage, he was forced to steady himself against the cold hard rock of a nearby headstone. How the fuck did she know he was here! Had she heard something or simply sensed him? Had he spoken out aloud? He cursed silently. His face prickled with anticipation and near awe at the sheer courage this woman displayed. She was different from the others. Stunningly beautiful, now that she was so close, her features were soft and delicately carved yet a hardness lurked beneath the surface. A long neck flowed downwards to an ample bosom that rose and fell with every breath. There was a glimpse of defined cleavage beneath her coat, and he knew instantly how he could use that tight confined space. He slurped at the spittle that almost escaped his lips trying to decide His next move-and then she spoke.

"Be you man or beast..."
The soft lilting sound of her voice, delicately garnished by a thousand years, accented by history, sent a bolt of bright blue electricity through him that he had never felt before. It filled His ears, heavy like honey, viscous as molasses, prickling his face and neck as it surged downwards through his belly to jolt violently against his loins. Slowly the Beast awakened. The rude percussion nudging it from it's deep slumber. It raised it's head and growled, low deep and long. It smelt her fear above the scent of her perfume - Lilac and Lavender, and the tattoo of her nails as it tapped atop the headstone, beat in perfect meter with it's cold dark heart. A deep hunger clawed at it's belly. It was time to feed again.

He stepped out of the shadows on silent feet, the silvery moon cloaking him in a shroud of obscurity as he faced her.
"Good Evening m'lady. Please let me introduce myself". Glancing down at the small weapon in her right hand, his eyes flicked upward to meet her emerald orbs, bright in the reflective moonlight. He bent forwards at the waist sweeping his arm theatrically before him. The shadows did well to hide the smirk that crossed his face, the glint in his eyes matching the reflection of the dirk in her hands.

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