Vampire Narrative - Making You Mine

Transcript

You see me across the room. I stare in a way that should incite trepidation. You do not flinch under my gaze.

Instead, you find within yourself a boldness you did not know you possessed. It has to be you who makes the first move. It is.

The crowd appears to part as you make your way toward me. My eyes take an age to travel the length of your body before meeting your own. They pierce into you.

You see in them a gentleness and yet so much more. Already there is a question on my lips and you beg and will you for me to voice it? Will you come with me? You nod and open your mouth.

Your breathless yes, the last word you'll speak this evening. Your friends mouth unheard protests as we pass them by. Perhaps I catch one's eye because the air suddenly reeks of fear.

You remain oblivious. Without bidding them farewell, we exit and you fall into step beside me. My fingers bump clumsily against yours as we walk.

Your mind briefly registers their coldness, the contrast between them and your own. I say nothing. You wonder if you should speak.

You ask yourself whether it's normal to feel this comfortable in silence. Question why being led by a stranger into unfamiliar surroundings doesn't make you more uneasy. But you glance at my face, calm, inscrutable, and decide you don't care.

The thoughts chattering away in your normally busy mind fade once more into nothingness. There is nothing within you now but anticipation for what's to come. It takes a moment to register we've come to a standstill.

The unassuming building across from us bears one word on its black and white sign, bronze. You want to make a joke, something witty about silver or gold and not being good enough. You wish to witness my smile, to be the one to break my cold demeanor.

But another, louder part of you knows that would be wrong. The part of you that felt a thrill looking into my eyes and not knowing what you saw there beyond, you think you know. Dangerous desire.

So your silence continues and it feels that as a reward I lace my fingers through yours. We stand waiting for what you do not know. You're quickly learning not to question even yourself.

Your heart skipped a beat when my hand gripped yours, ice cold on a summer night after an evening moving in close quarters. Still you do not question. You're lucky, you realize, to be the one whose hand I've chosen to hold.

Then I step forward, moving us toward the nondescript doorway. We go to cross the threshold and your brain makes one last attempt at recognizing the danger you might be in. You begin to turn your head.

At the slightest inclination of your neck, my grip tightens, such a minuscule amount but it tells you, no. You listen. Your eyes adjust to this new darkness.

We are in a club. I am leading you towards a bar. There are cages hanging from the ceiling.

People are inside of them, locked, trapped like animals. You do not know if they chose to be there. You do not care.

You realize, if I told you, you'd climb willingly inside the sole empty cage a meter to your left. You'd beg me to lock it, without knowing its purpose, without knowing how long you'd be trapped there, or what might happen to you once you were. I am amused, though I do not show it.

I see the images flashing through your mind and I feel your pulse increase. Moving my lips next to your ear, I whisper, I can hear your heartbeat. You feel my fingertips rest lightly upon the part of your chest you chose to expose this evening.

You want so badly in this moment for me to undress you, to expose the rest of your flesh to those around you. What would you have me do with it? You're unsure whether I asked you this or whether it was a thought.

It matters not. One of my fingers moves, the sharp nail pressing now into your warm, soft skin. You inhale at its touch and I draw it swiftly across your breast.

Your eyes widen in shock, in pain. You do not understand, and yet you do. You cannot want this, and yet you do.

I look directly into your eyes for only the second time and you know this will be the last time I ask your permission. A small gasp escapes your parted lips and you nod. I lower my head and taste you for the first time.

Your heart has never beat this fast, this loudly. The sounds of the club fade in and out, and the blood coursing through your veins drums in your ears. My lips press against your skin, moving gently, hungrily.

It is a new euphoria and you do not wish for me to stop. But a few more moments and I pull back. Your blood, my lipstick.

I take your hand, raise it to my mouth and you touch instinctively. My fingers grip your wrist, but it is your choice to dip yours into the red wetness there. Your choice to enclose your own lips around that finger as I hold it now to your mouth and command, taste.

You do not think, you simply do. Your eyes glaze over. You cannot see my smile.

You are ready. I run my hand over your hair downwards until it reaches the back of your neck. Let it linger for a moment and then slowly, my fingers trail across to where your pulse feels strongest.

I leave them there for what might have been an eternity. I allow my eyes to meet yours for the third time, but there is no question within them now. I do not seek permission.

I am telling you what's about to happen, but you already knew. The last realization of your human existence is this. You saw this future the first time our eyes met and your yes sealed your fate.

I move as if to kiss you and I do, the briefest of kisses. Cold against warm, both soft, both needing. And then, my teeth are grazing your neck, your hand flies to my arm and you grip harder, harder, as I sink into you, as I drink from your life source, as I make you mine.