Free Excerpt - Of The Blood

Of the Blood Excerpt


I never dreamed I could feel alive again. The time had long since passed when I could remember the feeling of hot blood rushing to my face, of hands that trembled within my robes. And then I saw her . . . her warm honey eyes; her soft, creamy skin; her burnished auburn hair.

I was undead, long undead, but still I felt the passions of a man as I wandered forward, down the dark lane where she stood rummaging about in her small fabric bag. She pulled out a mirror, old and shabby, and gazed at herself under a burning lamp. She stood, coolly appraising her own face, and rearranged a lock of hair, tucking it behind one ear.

I waited. Time seemed to move faster as I drank in the lines of her young body, as agile as a dancer. I could see the swell of her breasts under her bodice, and the way the fabric clung at her hips emphasized their roundness. She was slim but voluptuous, and as I stared at her, hidden from her view, I wondered why she affected me so differently from the others.

She’s vain, I thought, amused. I felt a surge of pleasure as I pictured her at home in her bedroom, preening in front of a mirror. She knows she is beautiful, and she glories in it. I was certain. I looked down at my own clothes, my perfect suit and waistcoat, my polished shoes. We are the same sort, both of us. But I am undead, and she is soft and warm, and so young.

I longed to take her right there and to swoop down upon her like a great bird. I would kiss the ivory swell of her breasts where they rose and fell as she drew breath. I would inhale the fresh scent of wildflowers, and I would run my hands down the length of her, feel the flesh under her gown, feel her plush bottom against my palm. I would hold her tight, so tight, and cover her mouth with my own so that she could not cry out. Then I would drag her down to the grass where it was dark and pull up her skirts in one, rough gesture. I would fall on her and give in to my passion, the passion so long gone from me, which made me feel like a man once more.

I wanted to drink, of course—to taste. But I would wait until I’d had my fill of her, of her body. Then, I would take everything.

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