Page 52 of Blood Lust

Another wave of ecstasy takes hold of her body as I feel her tight little cunt ripple around me. She screams soundlessly, and her wetness drenches me as I fuck her. Seeing her like this is too much and my thrusts are too fast. If she had been human still, I would have broken her frail body with the sheer force of me.

With a last buck of my hips, I feel the release I’ve been seeking. My cock pulses and twitches inside her, filling her with my seed. The final moments of her climax tugging and pulling at me, walls pulsing in pleasure. I kiss her mouth hard and release her throat.

I don’t want to leave her. No, I want to harden while still inside of her and fuck her raw.

Glancing around, I know this isn’t the time. I only gave her this because of the dark version of herself that has yet to merge with her mind. She is still trying to keep her control, and if I don’t give her what she wants, she will take it, likely in the middle of the dance floor. Pulling from her, I stuff myself back into my pants and lower Wren gently so her feet can touch the floor again. She fixes herself, and I notice her eyes look back to normal. My Wren is in control again.

I kiss her temple and whisper, “Let’s go home, my love.” She nods, still trapped in the afterglow. I help guide her out of the club, down the street, and back to where the car is parked. Rolando and Charlee are already waiting for us so we can go to the safe house. None of us fed. The only purpose of tonight, is for Wren to learn how to feed and for the human to walk away.

Our goal is an apartment building a few doors down from Charlee’s shop. The tiny five-story building is a property we maintain for sporadic use. I lead Wren to the top floor, but she grows heavy against me when we get there. Opening the door, I gather her into my arms. The sun is still an hour from rising, but she’s had quite the evening.

Laying her gently on the bed, I remove her shoes and clothing as well as my own. Nestling in beside her, entwining my body with hers, I watch the rise and fall of her breasts as she takes deep breaths in her sleep.

I fall asleep thinking that one day I will lose myself in her body and never surface. This brings about the most beautiful dreams I’ve ever had.

CHAPTER 15

THE WARRIOR

Days pass by, and the house is in a state of calm serenity. Wren spends her evenings in art mostly. I spend many nights simply watching her.

Compelling a handful of humans at a time, Wren is getting better and better at controlling her wild side. With only one more notable time that she had any difficulty stopping, and she didn’t drink from that human nearly as much as the last. The following time, she stopped on her own.

It is a relief.

My theory is that her first feeding experience being what it was, affected her deeply, and she had been creating a loop of self destruction that she couldn’t get herself out of. Being unable to control herself a second time and ending the life of someone she knew, albeit someone who deserved it, did a number on her confidence. She couldn’t restrain herself twice, so she thought she would never be able to.

With encouragement from myself and other coven members, Wren has blossomed. Sparring with Chandra and sometimes Zach helps to satisfy her physical need for exertion. I have offered to help her there, but for some reason, she insists we can’t spend eternity in bed. Now, her art satisfies her mind.

Creating from nothing.

It fits her.

I watch her breathe her kind of life into this place. She sketches different coven members, capturing them when they least expect it. When their facade is invisible, she can see the person beneath. She paints scenes of our gatherings, moments when our coven truly feels like family.

Wren has bonded with everyone in some way, shape, or form. She is ours. Our family for eternity.

I can spend all night just watching as she draws inspiration from the world around her, somehow her skilled hands know how to draw a specific curve—moving with such surety, such grace. When I’m not absorbed in watching her process, I throw myself into research. Rolando and I look up everything we can about the history of vampire changes. So far, we haven’t found a single record of another vampire failing to merge during the turn.

Strike one.

When that fails, I try to research why the mate bond telepathy would have triggered while Wren was still human.

Strike two.

I document what happened and what it felt like, and that my theory is the sole reason I could hear her while she was human is because her life was in danger. In a moment of desperation, she could channel the bond she didn’t even know she had with me. Our initial meeting, coupled with my being near, gave her access. The circumstances, however, gave her the will to use it.

There may not be another case like it, but there will be now if this happens again.

The last thing to archive is the bond itself, its creation, and the experience of sealing it. Bonds are known, but they aren’t documented well.

Strike three, I’m out.

Had I known more about what to expect, I may not have kept it from Wren as long as I did. Maintaining a distance from her had been pure and utter torture. It will be wondrous if our experience can spare another couple the same fate.

Vampire covens are responsible for documenting their history as it occurs. Back in the old days, we only had the option to journal. The printing press allowed us to create books with more longevity, and now, the internet. If I hadn’t lived through its creation, my past self would’ve thought of it as magic.

Rolando has taken it upon himself to transcribe everything and digitize it. Better him than me. Now, our records will live forever. Having worked in graphic design, Wren helped him to create a website-style mechanic to access anything we want quickly and easily. A damn search bar is installed at the top to help find specific entries. Each piece is carefully typed to be legible, with photographs of the original journals. It is indeed an amazing feat.

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