The Blood is Love (Dark Eyes 2)

Skarde stood where he was, feeling fear once again.

Do not be afraid, the voice said. Fear is something for humans, not for what you will become. Fear is what they will feel when they look at you, knowing the darkness that has replaced your heart and runs in your veins. Now, come closer and look me in the eye and I will give you what you’ve come here for.

Skarde took in a deep breath, wanting to turn around and leave. But at the same time, he realized it wouldn’t be so easy. He was in this world now, not the one he knew, and he was at the mercy of this place, of that voice. He had no choice.

This was what he wanted. This was what he asked for.

He took a step into the darkness and as he imagined would happen, the darkness reached out for him. He let it take him into the black until it brought him to a stop.

His eyes adjusted.

He was in some big dark space, with walls that turned into smooth, leaking rock, like a cave, like he was underground, that stretched up and up into a red lightning sky.

In the flashes of crimson, he saw a giant creature sitting on top of an equally large throne. A glimpse of horns and eyes and battered wings and decay. A sight so terrible that Skarde had to quickly look away, as if every human instinct he had knew that no one living should ever see such a thing, could ever comprehend it. To stare at it was to die.

He looked down at the base of the chair instead.

At the cloven hooves of the beast.

At the voluptuous naked woman at the creature’s feet.

She was lying there on her side, staring at Skarde with so much love and adoration that he was immediately hard, and his blood was running hot.

“Who is she?” Skarde asked, keeping his eyes on the woman, with her dark eyes and dark hair and red lips and full breasts. Skarde was so hard now that it was physically painful, and he was being driven by this other strange urge, not just to fuck but to feed. To drink her blood.

It made no sense to him but it didn’t matter, because he was being driven mad by the sight of her, the smell of her.

She is the key, the creature said. And she is for you. Take her and take your place.

Skarde approached the woman, keeping his eyes on her, not on the awful creature. The woman smiled, eyes heavy lidded, running her hands over her breasts, down her soft stomach, to the wetness between her legs.

Do what you want, the voice urged him on. Take her, defile her, bleed her. Take everything she has and make it yours.

Skarde didn’t want to hurt the woman, but he was no angel. He had killed several women in his lifetime, war makes people do things they don’t want to do, but need to.

So he stood above the woman, his nose filling with the stench of death and sulfur, and he stripped off his clothes. Naked, his cock larger and harder than ever, throbbed painfully in his hand.

The woman spread her legs for him, spread her folds with her fingers, beckoned him.

He knelt down, salivating, and with one hard, brutal thrust, drove his aching cock deep inside her.

The woman screamed.

Not from pleasure, but from pain.

Skarde stared at her in surprise but it was too late.

He wouldn’t be stopped.

Yes, the voice went on. Fuck her, drink her, eat her. Until there’s nothing left.

Skarde’s vision went red with lust.

He fucked her hard against the stone floor, her head banging against it, her screams echoing in the room, and those screams only ended up spurring him on more, making his blood dance and sizzle, like there was a fire inside him that would not be put out. The more pain he caused, the harder he got.

The blood, the voice said from above him. The blood is life. The blood is release. Drink from her.

Skarde continued to drive his cock inside her at a punishing pace, his orgasm close but never close enough. The thought of drinking her blood felt like it could bring the relief he wanted.

And the vein in her neck was dark and rigid against her pale skin.

Inviting.

He leaned in and bit her neck. His canine teeth weren’t very sharp, dulled by the years, and it took a lot to break the skin. He had to snap his jaws shut, like a rabid dog, and move his head back and forth until the skin began to tear and the blood started to flow into his mouth. He swallowed it down in big gulps, all salt and copper and sulfur.

Yes, drink me.

But it wasn’t the woman talking. She wasn’t even screaming anymore. She was cold, lifeless, dead.