The Dawning: Bloodlust 2

by Melodee Aaron

  The chief finally got his feet under him a little. “Kill it!"

  The men fired, emptying their revolvers into Wellington's chest with near-perfect aim. The bullets hurt as they hit, but he had long ago learned to ignore pain. Instead of flinching, he laughed, the rumbling of grating metal coming from deep in his body.

  His eyes sensed the heat radiating from the bodies of the two men, and he saw a gathering of heat in their legs as they prepared to run. Moving like flowing lightening using an efficiency learned in ten millennia of predation, Wellington was on them.

  A swipe of his talons across the stomach of the SP caused the man to crumble to the floor as he struggled to hold his insides inside. The CPO threw a punch that connected to Wellington's jaw, but as the man's fist trailed across the exposed fang, it ripped through the meat to the bone. Wellington grabbed the chief's arm and pulled. The arm came off in his hands, and he tossed it casually in the lap of the whimpering SP.

  "Believe it or not, I am sorry for this. But you will probably be dead in a few hours anyway.” Wellington grabbed the chief's hair and yanked his head back, pulling the man's gaze from where his arm had been until a few seconds ago. He lunged forward, his fangs ripping through the flesh of the exposed neck, tearing the pulsing arteries and thumping veins. The spurting blood from the stump of the man's shoulder stopped almost instantly, instead spraying from the gaping wound in his throat. Wellington drank deeply, feeling the warmth of nourishment flooding his body as the red fluid filled him.

  In less than a minute, he dropped the drained corpse to the floor and turned to the shore patrolman still holding his abdomen and cradling the CPO's arm in his lap. Wellington smiled again, blood staining his face and dripping from the fangs to his shirt.

  "Waste not, want not."

  Gripping the petty officer's head in his claws, Wellington pulled him to his feet and then plunged his teeth into the man's neck.

  After draining the SP dry, he dropped the body to the floor beside the chief. Wellington sat down at the remains of his desk, and the change slowly receded. He pulled a napkin from the desk drawer and patted at his face, getting some of the blood off, but by no means all. He casually wished that someone would hurry up and invent Wet-Naps.

  He wondered what to do with the bodies, and how to explain the damage to the office, but he looked into the memories of his precognitive dreams and saw he did not need to do anything. At 8:23 tomorrow morning, a seventeen-hundred-pound bomb would hit this building, reducing it to nothing but the foundation.

  All he needed now was a bath, a change of clothes, and someplace to hide until this was all over.

  * * * *

  With his firm touching stirring desires within her that always gave her pause, Elisa trembled as Darrel's hands moved over her body. Her kind often succumbed to pure animal passions, blind drive that turned off the cognitive parts of the brain and allowed a violent, single-minded zeal that left even vampires wounded. The vampires would heal, but mortals rarely lived through the event.

  His lips moved up and down her neck, and some part of her longed to feel the stab of fangs in the skin of her throat. She prayed that the piercing kiss of a true love would take away the curse in the same way as that from a false love infected her so many centuries ago. She knew neither would, nor could, happen, and she tried to push the longing from her mind.

  Her body responded to him, though, and she ran her hands over the firm muscles of his chest as they pressed against the material of his shirt. The rise and fall of his breathing quickened as their lips met again, and the wonderful flavor of him filled her mouth as he caressed her.

  His hand slipped from her back, tickling over her ribs, as he moved to grasp her breast. Although some part of her yearned to feel talons ripping through her shirt and into her skin as she would feel with one of her own kind, the odd gentle and firm touch of this mortal made her desire flair. She stayed alert for the change to come on her, but it seemed millions of miles away despite the hunger she held for him.

  Darrel pinched her nipple between his fingers, and a shot of heat fired through her, causing her to yelp with delight. He pushed her back on the sofa and gripped her shirt in his fists. With one pull, the material shredded in his hands, leaving her naked from the waist up. He leaned forward, and she felt the warmth of his mouth encircle her nipple, his teeth nibbling playfully at the hard bud while his tongue flicked in rapid flashes over the tip.

  As he lay atop her, his hard cock pressed against her leg, and he moved slowly, rubbing his stiffness against her. The motion caused her to yearn for him to fill her pussy, to thrust wildly into her over and over. She pulled his head tighter to her, rubbing his face over her breasts as he moved from one breast to the other, sucking and licking her.

  Darrel slid down, kissing across her stomach, and his tongue fluttered in her navel, causing her to twitch and giggle. His hands moved to unfasten the shorts she wore, and he pushed them down her legs along with her panties. He stood suddenly, panting with sweat rolling down his face, and pulled her clothing from her legs. As he stared at her naked body, he fumbled with his pants and shirt until he stood nude beside her.

  The sharp definition of his chest that she'd felt under his shirt gave way to a series of ridges marking the ripples of his stomach. Farther down, his cock stood at raging attention, a drop of glistening fluid clinging to the very tip. As he watched her carefully, Darrel knelt beside the sofa, and leaned to her, kissing her stomach again. His hand slid up and down her thigh, tickling the lips of her pussy as he teased her with his tongue and lips.

  Guiding her leg with gentle pulls, he lifted and moved her until her leg draped over his shoulder, his fingers darted around her clit. Spreading her pussy with his fingers, he leaned forward and slowly licked the length of her slit, his tongue swirling around her clit in wild ways that sent shockwaves through her.

  As he nibbled tenderly at her clit, she realized through the fog of passion that she felt only human desires, the same as a mortal woman would feel. No hint of the change lurked in the dark crevices of her mind or body, and she no longer wished for him to rip and gnaw her flesh. Instead, she wanted to feel his touch, strong, firm, and tender as he made love to her, man to woman and mortal to mortal.

  His fingers slipped deeply into her pussy, and his lips sealed tight around her clit, sucking and rolling the nub as he probed her with his hand. When his fingers curled upward to press against her G-spot, Elisa flinched and her back arched high off the sofa, forcing her pussy harder against his face and hands. A billion flashbulbs seemed to explode in her head, the light glittering and sparkling like some tremendous chandelier built by a manic tinker with unlimited resources. The light almost blinded her, or perhaps it was only the intensity of the orgasm gripping her in its velvet fist like a strong man.

  Screams of nonsense leaped from her mouth as she thrashed on the sofa while his mouth and hands still worked her, playing her as a virtuoso plays a violin, knowing exactly how to get the perfect reaction and sound from his instrument. And she responded to his touch, giving her all to please him.

  When Darrel pulled his mouth from her clit and slipped his hand from her pussy, she wondered if the change had indeed come, despite her not feeling it near. Her vision swam, as if she looked at him underwater, and she heard only the pounding of her pulse. He still knelt beside the sofa, resting easily on his knees. Springing from the sofa, she dove at him and threw her arms around his neck, drawing him into a hug. As he fell backward to the floor, he pulled her from the davenport, and they ended up on the rug together, rolling and pawing at each other as their lips locked together.

  The flavor of his lips, now enhanced by the tastes of her pussy lingering there, made her head spin, and she rolled until she was on top of him. Kissing rapidly, she moved down his chest, gently biting and sucking his nipples, and licking his bulging pectorals. His hard cock pressed against her stomach as she moved and slowly slipped to rest between her breasts.

  The slick fl
uid oozing from his cock made a slippery lubricant, and she rocked back and forth as she licked his chest, his cock slid easily between her breasts as his eyes fluttered closed and a soft moan came from his lips. At one point, she rocked downward, and the head of his cock touched her chin. The thought of his dick so close to her mouth pushed her over the edge, and Elisa eased down to swirl her tongue around the mushroom-like head.

  Darrel jerked as her tongue flitted across the tip of his dick, and she wrapped her lips around the head and sucked as hard she could. His hands came to her head, and she prepared herself for when he would force her head down onto his cock, but the event never came. His hands slowly and gently moved over her head, sometimes wrapping a little of her hair around a finger before moving on.

  A series of low moans escaped his lips as she swallowed as much of his length as she could, and Elisa looked up to see his eyes locked to her. A weak smile struggled its way to his face. “That's wonderful, baby."

  She paused at that. Something about what he said sounded familiar, but maybe it was the way he had said it. All mortal men spoke softly and gently when she sucked their cocks. A vampire would simply ram his cock through the back of her throat. She would heal. But something about Darrel was different from other mortals. Something made him very special.

  His hands pulled her head away, his cock slipping from between her lips with a loud pop before he sat up and rolled her to her back. He knelt between her spread legs and massaged her thighs as his cock strained to reach the ceiling. Darrel leaned forward, and his cock slipped into her pussy, parting her lips to make way and reaching the full depth of her.

  He supported himself on his hands, looking down into her face as he thrust slowly into her and then retreated until only the head of his dick remained inside. He stared into her face, as if he saw some wondrous thing there that no man had ever seen before. A soft smile rested on his lips, but he spoke not a word, as if afraid the sound would break the spell woven around them.

  She clenched her teeth against the rising tide of her orgasm, wanting to wait for him, and she didn't have to wait long. He tensed, the tendons in his neck standing out like cables under the skin, and he gave a mighty thrust into her, burying his cock until his balls slapped against her ass. As the velvet fist closed around her once again, his cock throbbed in her, his hot come filling her to overflowing. Her hips bucked against his, trying to get just a little more of his length into her as they grunted and screamed incoherently in the throes of mutual climax.

  Darrel started to roll to the side, but she pulled him against her chest, taking his full weight onto her. His breathing felt like an overworked steam engine, gulping and gasping for air as he rested on her. Her own rapid panting added to the exchange of air, and the sweat pouring from their bodies mingled and ran slowly to the floor where the rug absorbed it.

  He kissed her lips softly, like the touch of a butterfly's wings, and smiled at her.

  "You're so very beautiful."

  "Thank you.” She sighed. “You're not planning on leaving now, are you?"

  "Not unless you tell me to leave."

  She hugged him to her. “I don't think that's going to happen."

  * * * *

  Honolulu, Present Day

  "Really, Roland, I'm just fine."

  He didn't know if he should believe that. He trusted Valerie fully, with everything he had, including his life. He'd do anything that she asked of him, even kill or die. Roland knew his primitive male brain equated that kind of trust and obedience to love. He also knew that she probably didn't see it that way at all. It bothered him that he didn't fully believe her when she told him she was OK.

  "Baby, I know you think that, but something is wrong."

  She put her hands on her hips, a move that always grabbed his attention because it accentuated the shape of her hips, waist, and bust line. He fought the urge to lick his lips.

  "The doctor and I both say you're wrong."

  "Yeah, well—"

  "Well, nothing."

  He'd come to recognize the attitude she had now. At this particular moment, the subject wasn't open for discussion, but she would, at some point, allow him to return to it. “OK, I get the picture.” He hesitated before risking putting his hand in the blender. “Just tell me if the voices, or whatever they are, come back again."

  She sighed. “They haven't bothered me much for the last five or six months, and that's no worse than usual.” Valerie came and put her arms around his neck. “I'll tell you if gets worse, though. Promise."

  He slipped his arms around her waist. “That's good enough for me."

  * * * *

  Honolulu, December 7, 1941—0110

  The dreams, showing an often-shadowy future that she never learned to piece together, came to her, just as they did to all of her kind. She saw the bombs hitting Kaneohe, and then Hickam. The torpedo bombers came in low and slow, dropping the long, narrow mini-ships into the harbor, where they sped through the water to strike their targets. Elisa heard the call, as if she had a radio in her head, of, “Air raid Pearl Harbor. This is not a drill.” She turned in the dream to look at the clock on the wall. It read 7:48.

  The American personnel, caught off guard and sleeping at the dawning of a Sunday morning, reacted slowly at first but with increasing ferocity. Many ships lacked experienced commanders, but the sailors fought valiantly even without direction. Chief petty officers assumed the role of captains, petty officers acted as lieutenants, and seamen were pressed into duty as chiefs. But other dreams told her that all this bravery, all this dedication to duty, would be in vain. The Japanese would complete their attack with minimal losses and maximum surprise.

  After two waves, the Japanese would withdraw, making their second mistake of the attack. The first had been to attack at all. The attack would fail to cripple the U.S. Pacific Fleet, despite dealing a heavy blow to naval operations. The planned third wave might have completed what the first two only started. The attack would, however, galvanize the United States to action, breaking the political stalemate between the doves and hawks. In just four months, next April, a daring raid would be led by an Army Air Force officer to drop bombs on the Japanese mainland. Despite three more years of war to come, Doolittle's Raid would mark the beginning of the end for the Empire of Japan.

  She saw those on the battleship Arizona fighting off the attacking aircraft. Men manned the guns, and the mighty ship gave a good accounting of herself. Her dream vision saw a man on the deck, in civilian clothes but wearing the Dixie-cup cap of a sailor, down on one knee firing a rifle at passing aircraft. A man she recognized because he slept soundly beside her now.

  Suddenly, a single bomb pierced the deck of Arizona near one of the forward gun turrets, and the ship seemed to explode, all at once and nothing first. A scream caught in her throat, and Elisa sat bolt upright in bed, awake and panting wildly. She felt the bed next to her, and Darrel still slept there.

  Hughes's voice spoke from the darkness. “The dreams have always bothered you."

  She wasn't surprised he was there. “You know they have."

  Her eyes let her see him clearly wearing civilian clothing in the darkness. “Come, let us go to the other room before we wake your friend.” He left the bedroom by the door to the living room. She eased out of bed and slipped on her robe before following him.

  "Why are you here?"

  Wellington shrugged. “To give you one more chance to leave. A few of us have found a cave in the mountains on the other side of the island, and we will wait there for a few days, maybe a week, and then come back. Things should be cleaned up well enough by then that we can resist the frenzy."

  She nodded toward the bedroom door. “He's more than my friend."

  "I know that, but I also know his fate.” He sighed. “And so do you."

  "I know a possible fate for him. I believe it can be changed."

  "You always do this to yourself, Elisa.” Wellington chuckled as he sat on the sofa. “You fall in lov
e with these mortals, and then when they die, your heart is broken. It pains me to watch that."

  "Then don't watch."

  "You just do not understand that no matter how you may feel about me, I love you. I always have, and I always will. What happens to you, that you are hurt, matters to me. I wish I could make it different."

  "You're four thousand years too late for that."

  "Perhaps I am. You have never believed me when I have said that I am sorry for infecting you."

  "No, I don't believe you."

  "Be that as it may, it is true."

  She hesitated for a moment, wondering what else to say to him. “I'll come to your cave, but I can't go now."

  "It may be too late if you wait."

  "I'll take that chance."

  "Very well.” He stood and walked to where she hovered near the bedroom door. “Do not wait too long.” Wellington again brushed his fingertips across her cheek. “Until we meet again."

  He walked out the door and into the night.

  * * * *

  Something woke him, but he didn't know what. Darrel felt around in the bed, and Elisa wasn't there. He pulled on his trousers and followed the light leaking under the bedroom door to the living room, where he found her sitting on the couch staring at the front door of the apartment.

  "What's wrong, baby?"

  She turned to face him and smiled, but it looked forced. “Nothing, really. At least nothing you need worry about."

  He sat next to her. “If you say so."

  She laughed softly. “I guess I do."

  "Why are you out here?"

  "I just had a bad dream, that's all.” She hesitated for a moment, studying his face. “Just a dream."

  "Why don't you tell me about it? That helps sometimes."

  She paused again, her eyes running over his face. “You wouldn't believe me if I did tell you."

  "Try me."

  She laughed a little. “All right. The Japanese are going to attack Pearl Harbor in a few hours.” She nodded toward the clock hanging on the wall. “At 7:48."