A wave of dizziness made her close her eyes, and Maggie knew she'd delayed long enough. The sleep she'd gotten only seemed to have made her groggy rather than rested, and she wasn't sure how many of the symptoms she was feeling could be attributed to this ‘thirst for blood'.
She dragged herself downstairs where he waited in the foyer, lounging against the banister, dressed in unrelieved black like it was some vampire uniform. The glass and blood streaking the floor from earlier had been cleaned up.
Maggie felt her breath catch as he looked up at her. He really was beautiful, in a completely male sort of way. She couldn't remember ever seeing another man that affected her the way he did. Her desire for other men seemed pathetic now, as weak as dishwater compared to the blinding force of his sexual attraction.
Potently masculine, he oozed carnality. Just looking at his face sent her thoughts whirling away from her own hurts to imagine sensual aches that would hurt so good in all the right places. She craved it with a hunger equal to that to ease her pain. If she could think about sex while feeling like she'd expire at any moment, she felt her chances were pretty good that she'd live.
She wasn't sure how long she could stand to be around him, knowing that he'd found something repulsive about her. She preferred not knowing exactly what it was and just picking at it with her brain rather than know that it was something she'd never be able to change about herself.
He held his arm out expectantly, and she wrapped her hand around it, surprised when he led her away from the front door down the hall that went beneath the stairs. In the back, past the kitchen and other rooms sealed off from her view, there stood the back door. It was boarded up from the inside, but as he unlocked the knob, she found it was only an illusion. That, or he'd come in here while she was upstairs and pried all the nails loose.
She was surprised to see the moon high in the sky. It was later than she'd thought it was.
Here at the back of the house, parked under an oak tree sat a car covered with a tarp. She couldn't make out the model, but whatever it was, by the curves, she could see it was sporty.
Instead of leading her to it, he took her into the woods. Close to the house, the land seemed to have only recently been taken over by nature. Scrub cluttered the ground chest high, and fresh saplings grew with trunks no thicker than her forearm, but the ground was perfectly flat, which led her to believe it had only grown over perhaps five years or so ago. Surprisingly, despite the dappled light making it darker than it should have been, she could see well enough not to fall on her face.
Her night vision seemed stronger than it had been before, but she couldn't know if that was an overactive imagination or not. She hadn't displayed any other ‘super’ powers.
They didn't talk as they worked through the woods.
She breathed shallowly, creeping behind him as he moved silently to the leaner wood, thicker and dark, with a covering of leaves thick enough to stifle the growth of underbrush. She sensed he was tense, watchful. He looked up suddenly, as if he'd heard something, startling her with his abrupt reaction.
Without warning, he took off at a run.
Maggie trailed after him, but dressed all in black, he blended into the dark so completely she lost him within seconds. She stopped, holding her breath as she listened for him. In the distance, snapping sounded, echoing through the trees like a rifle shot.
She jumped at the sudden noise and ran in that direction. In seconds, another wave of dizziness washed over her, leaving her weak. She stopped, leaning against a tree as she waited for it to pass. Each heartbeat accentuated the feeling, until her entire body throbbed with acute pain. She dropped to her knees as her stomach spasmed on a hard knot. Gasping, she clutched her belly, closing her eyes tightly as she tried to meditate and convince herself it didn't hurt so bad. Over and over, she repeated the mantra, a cold sweat drying on her brow, giving her chills.
Behind her, something fell to the ground. The scent of blood assaulted her nose, making her want to retch.
She swallowed with difficulty, huddling on the ground, trying to control her shivering.
"It's worse than I thought,” Danior said from behind, moving around before her. In his arms he held a young deer. It was still alive, but its eyes were glazed as if it had been tranquilized.
Just by looking at it, she knew that he held it enthralled.
He knelt before her and produced a butterfly knife, flipping it open with one hand as he lay the deer on the ground. He sliced its throat open without preamble, without struggle or pain to the animal. It lay there as it's life bled out of its throat.
Blood scented the air, sharp and pungent.
"Drink,” he whispered.
Maggie shook her head, closing her eyes against the sight. Her teeth seemed to pulse. Her gums swelled.
Saliva pooled in her mouth, making her feel like she'd drown.
Danior moved until he caught her by the back of the neck, pushing her inexorably toward the deer. Her lips touched its neck, warm liquid wetting the sensitive skin.
"Drink if you want to live,” he commanded.
Fighting nausea, she opened her mouth against it, letting her teeth sink in to the bare flesh. Her gums convulsed as her teeth connected, she felt something ejaculate from her teeth—like a stinger releasing poison ... or fangs. The pain in her head ceased immediately, as if a fluid had been built up, causing unbearable pressure that had now been released. Fresh blood welled into her mouth in that instant, making her gag. She choked on it, tried to pull back to spit it out, but he wouldn't ease the pressure on the back of her neck, forced her to drink.
She swallowed. Warmth spread into her belly, quieting its painful uproar. She felt the same as if she'd gulped a draught of wine.
"More,” he said, urging her to drink. She did, drinking more as he commanded her, until her body prickled with sensation.
Apparently satisfied she had had enough, he released her.
Maggie turned away from the dead creature, standing as she wiped blood off her mouth with the back of her hand. She bit a knuckle, choking back tears. She continued to taste it and feel the pulse beating, growing weaker beneath her tongue. Worse than drinking it's life, as her belly had filled and the warmth spread into her arms and legs—she'd enjoyed it. The pleasure was akin to orgasm, not the peak, but the afterglow. Waves of energy traveled inside her, like a sigh of endorphins radiating through her body.
He closed his arms around her, wrapping her in his heat and scent, obliterating any chance of seeing her kill as she recovered.
She was repulsed by what she'd done, the way she felt. How could she enjoy something so horrible?
Would her humanity drain away each time she fed, until she was nothing but a monster? “How often will I have to do this?” she said brokenly, sobbing against his chest. “I'd rather die than do this every night."
He rubbed her back, rocking her in his arms. “Each vampire is different. Some require constant feeding.
Others do so perhaps once a month, or a few times during a year. We won't know how often you will have to feed until the next time it happens."
"I can't stand it. I can't be here, Danior. Take me back to the house, please."
Though she'd been sleeping most of the time since her attack, Maggie was exhausted. She felt emotionally drained by everything that had happened. Her nerves were raw, easily rubbed to the point where the smallest, inconsequential detail would hurt her, memories an agony. She was so tired, so ill at the turn of her life, that all she wanted to do was sleep.